sortinghat_rp | Seven Smuppets

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Seven Smuppets

Alright everyone gather around, because Bro has an announcement to make for all of you bitches. But first you're probably thinking 'whoa suddenly grammar!'

Yes. That is definitely something that I'm doing now. Because I have a new job.

But don't let your heart break yet, because I'm still here. I'm not actually leaving, so calm your breasts. Okay no, I'm sorry, even though I'm trying to be all fancy, I just can't say that. So calm your tits.

Anyway, yeah. I'm transferring to a new position; I'm your new Magical Languages professor. It's the best fucking new elective Hogwarts has ever had and I'm sure you all wanna join. I have bad news though, because it's only third year and up.

Unless you beg. If you beg, I'm sure I can pull a few strings with Dumblebro. He's a rad guy, considering he actually let me have this position. But yep, that's my announcement. You can go ahead and sign up, just write your name and year and owl it over. That way I can know how many of you to expect.

Also if you have any questions, I guess you can ask. It never hurts to give a few more deets if you're that interested.

Oh and Kishitani, that means I'm a real goddamn Professor now, so if I hear you question that anymore, I'm giving you detention for real.

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I love her too.

Do I still get to go to Hogwarts?

I would never let this stop you from going to school. It's your fucking birthright. So yeah, of course you're going to school. Don't worry about that.

Okay. I guess there isn't anything else to talk about then.

[That's a lie. Bro knows it, but... After everything, he's almost afraid to push Dirk for info. He doesn't want to upset him.]

Are you sure?

I mean.

I really am here, you can talk to me about anything.

I don't know what there is to talk about.
It's fine.

[Inkblots. Just... Inkblots.

There's not much more he can say on the matter. If Dirk still feels like he can't talk to him, then just... Okay.

Cool.]

Ok.

[And that's really all there is to say on the matter. Guess that means the conversation is over.]

_{[It's not anything personal. Dirk just doesn't know how to talk about anyone. He spent the majority of his childhood self-coping and confiding in Cal. It's different talking to a puppet and talking to someone who can actually respond.

That isn't to say that there's nothing on his mind, though. His mind is racing. He's scared. He doesn't like change and it was already a change enough to come to live with his uncle. That transition had been smooth enough, but now he's just scared of the idea of being sent off to the other side of the world and being isolated from everyone he cares about.

Even if Bro says that's not going to happen, Dirk has a hard time believing him. That's nothing particularly personal to Bro, it's just the habit he'd developed from the entirety of his childhood. That sort of thing doesn't change over night.

He inhales sharply through his nose and closes the journal. There isn't anything to respond to. He tucks it under his pillow and climbs off the bed before making his way to the kitchen. Fanta is a thing he wants right now.]}

[After a few seconds, it becomes clear that Dirk isn't going to respond. He didn't know what he was expecting after his response. Clearly he wasn't going to get an actual confession. He wished he knew what he'd done wrong. He wished he knew why the hell Dirk wouldn't just talk to him. Maybe he wasn't always the most approachable person, but... Ever since Dirk had come to live with them, he'd tried. So. What was he doing wrong?

He kept staring at the journal for a long while, before letting out a frustrated groan. He twisted and fell back to lay down across the futon, resting his head on the arm. He didn't realize he was clutching his journal to the point of crumpling up several of the pages until a second or two later. It was around that time that Dirk was coming out of the room and into the kitchen, but he didn't even realize it.

If he'd realized it, he wouldn't have chucked the journal over the back of the futon in frustration like he did. He also wouldn't have buried his face in his hands and let out another groan.]

_{[Dirk is observant by nature, and even more so after the incident at camp. That in itself made him a little antsy. After maneuvering the swords and getting a bottle of soda from the fridge, he glances into the living room.

He wouldn't have thought much usually; he couldn't see Bro from where he's standing. But he can hear the groan and he's not sure how to interpret it.

After a moment of hesitation, he walks towards the futon. What he wasn't expecting was for the journal to come hurdling toward him. He manages to sidestep it enough there it hits the edge of his shoulder instead of his face. He stares at the journal and then back to the edge of the futon.

He's even more confused now. In a way, he doesn't really feel anything at all. Maybe that's just how much he's bottling up everything.]}

Uncle Dirk?

Edited 2012-08-18 03:28 (UTC)

[Bro hears the sound of the journal hitting something sooner than it should've, but he doesn't think anything of it immediately. He figures his aim was just shit or something. When he hears Dirk's voice though, realization hits him immediately and he freezes entirely as his stomach drops.

He just hit Dirk with the fucking journal.

That... really doesn't make him feel better. At all. In fact, it really just makes him feel even shittier than he had before, which was saying a lot.]

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

[Just add child abuse to the list of reasons he'll lose his kids.]

I'm sorry.

[His voice is shaky because now he's thinking about it and it's making him sick and fuck, why does he just keep making mistakes? Why couldn't he just... Not throw the journal. Why couldn't that have been a thing? Fuck.]

It didn't hurt.

_{[That's all he can think of to say. Because he's not sure what to think of this reaction. It seems a little much. Just a flippant "oh, sorry, man" seems like a more appropriate reaction.

He can tell something is on Bro's mind, and there's no doubt it's what they were just discussing. Which means maybe things are just as serious as he was thinking. That things weren't really okay.

He can't think of anything else to say, either, so he just topples himself over the back of the futon in a stupid attempt to give his uncle a hug. Because walking around clearly takes too long.]}

[Bro doesn't respond. He doesn't even know what the hell to say, because he's too busy just. Thinking. Making himself worry. He's been fine up until today. Really, he has. He's managed to keep confident about the custody battle and everything pertaining to it. But only because he's not let himself... think about it. The day's events have made him do that.

So much for being able to be happy about his job. But when is Bro ever able to be happy for long? The answer is never. At least, that's what he's starting to think. But maybe it's a good thing that he's actually thinking about it. Maybe it's a good thing he's starting to worry. At least now he can take it seriously and not try and prepare last minute.

It's still hard though. It's still scary. It still doesn't change the fact he just hit Dirk with a journal and he's thinking of all of the ramifications of that. Maybe that's why Dirk doesn't confide in him. Because he hits him with journals.

Okay that's stupid, considering this was a one time thing. But still, maybe... The reason is similar. Because fuck if Bro would confide in someone who threw journals at him.

He's caught off guard when Dirk suddenly rolls over the back of the futon right on top of him. He tenses up at first, but after a few seconds, he relaxes a little. His shades were knocked off when he'd put his face in his hands earlier, so when he moves them off his face slowly to wrap his arms around Dirk, his eyes are visible briefly before he closes them.

Because it's then that he realized he'd started crying somewhere along the lines and just didn't know it. He draws in a deep breath to calm himself, though it doesn't work very well. Hugging Dirk is a comfort though. It makes him feel better. It also makes him feel bad, because.

He just threw a journal at him. He shouldn't want to hug him. He should go off into his room and not talk to him for... Forever. Forever is a good period of time to not talk to someone over something like that. Or maybe that was his current self hatred talking.

It's several minutes before Bro even manages to find his voice and when he speaks, it's quiet and a little shaky.]

We have to stop meeting like this.

[It's a stupid attempt to lighten the mood, and his tone is feeble enough to make it sound kind of pathetic.]

I'm sorry. I really shouldn't have thrown the damn thing. Where'd it hit you?

Edited 2012-08-18 04:06 (UTC)

_{[Dirk all but clings to his uncle. He doesn't know how to make this better, and it occurs to him that this is his fault. But in a way, it isn't. It's their conversation's fault. He doesn't know. This is confusing. He doesn't want to think about it but he can't help but think about all of the things that could happen now.

He just knows he doesn't want to have to move. He doesn't want to live with his grandparents. He doesn't want to be separated from his uncle and Dave and Roxy. He just assumes his cat would go wherever he would. And if she doesn't, well fuck, he'd just hate life even more.

He also just wishes his dad hadn't died. It brought him closer to Bro and Dave, but that probably would've happened anyway once he started school. So in that sense, it was a needless loss. And it still is. It hurts and it's sad and Dirk has been trying to hard to push it away and not feel anything because it's easier that way.]}

It just got the side of my shoulder. It's seriously doesn't hurt.

Are you ok?

[It makes him feel better and yet at the same time, it still upsets him just as much. He's thankful he didn't hit Dirk in the head, but he still hit him. Jesus fuck. He tries not to cling back to Dirk just as much. He doesn't want to let on to the fact that something is wrong. He wants to pretend that everything's fine.

But that's hard to do when Dirk asks that question. He doesn't know what to say to that at all. Because the answer is no. He draws in a breath though. It's time for him to truly show off his mastery of the pokerface. Or rather, pokervoice considering the fact that he still has his eyes closed. His eyes would give everything away.

When he speaks, his voice is casual. It's not shaky anymore and it sounds calm. It takes a lot of effort, considering he's so upset, but he manages to keep it out of his voice.]

Yep. Why are you worrying about me? I just felt guilty there for a sec because I thought I hit you in the head. I'm fine. Everything's fine. I told you that already.

You were upset before hand. Unless you like throwing journals for shits and giggles.

_{[He shrugs slightly. Maybe it's not even that big of a deal. Besides, who is he to even push it? That's a tad hypocritical.]}

My reason for throwing it has nothing to do with you.

[He hates lying, but... Well, he has no choice. And it's not like Dirk is telling him anything, so. They can both just not tell each other things.

As much as he hates that that's a thing. But still, it's best that Dirk doesn't know.]

After we talked, somebody pissed me off. So instead of putting my foot in my mouth by responding, I took my anger out by throwing it.

[At you.

A thing he'll never stop feeling bad about.]

So it has absolutely nothing to do with the possibility that I'll get whisked off to Texas to learn how to be a real cowboy? Or that for whatever reason you think I'm damaged goods and I haven't the faintest idea why because I feel fine?

[He tenses up again. Dirk's last question hits him and a part of him feels angry, but when he speaks he still sounds calm, though there's an edge to it.]

Just because I think you're upset doesn't mean I think you're damage goods, Dirk. There's nothing wrong with being upset. I'm not asking you because it's a bad thing. I'm asking you so I can help.

Because there obviously is something wrong, and for the life of me I can't. figure out. Why you won't tell me.

[The more he speaks, the more his voice betrays him and the hurt and fear starts creeping in and he just can't help it.]

All those things you mentioned? If you weren't upset about each one of them, you never would've brought them up. But you did. You did, and you still deny the fact that there's anything wrong.

What did I do? What the fuck did I do to make you not wanna talk to me? If you're mad at me about something, if you don't trust me, if I've done something to make you afraid to talk to me then just... Tell me! But don't lie to me and tell me there isn't something wrong. Have more respect for me than that. Have more respect for my intelligence than that, because I'm not stupid and I'm not blind!

[All of that was said pretty much in one sentence, thanks to having the lungs of a professional rapper. He finally does have to draw in a breath, but he continues only a second or two later.]

And please, for fucks sake... If you can't talk to me about it, then find someone you can talk to, because I can't stand the fact you're just bottling it all up. It hurts. It hurts a whole fucking lot, because I worry about you and I know how it feels to bottle shit up all the time.

_{[Dirk visibly tenses in reaction to Bro's words. It hurts, but he just... is at a loss. It's just really hard to talk about this, but he doesn't really have a choice. If he doesn't say anything, Bro'll think he hates him or something and that's not the case at all.]}

It's not you, Uncle Dirk. I just. I don't know what to even say about it anymore. Because nothing I say makes it better. It's not going to make it hurt less. It's not going to bring him back. So what's even the point? It's easier to just not talk about it and to try to not think about it. It's easier to just push everything away and not feel anything at all because it doesn't hurt that way. Not as much. I can just pretend that nothing is even wrong at all and I can try to be normal.

It's easier that way because then no one asks you questions. But then I always got asked questions even before. Like why I'm so quiet or why don't I this and that blah blah. But that's easier than the other questions. The worst ones are why do I live with my uncle. Am I ok? Do you miss your dad?

How the fuck am I even supposed to answer that? Shouldn't it be obvious? Why even ask? Sometimes it just makes me feel so angry. And everyone. Everything. Even him. And then I feel bad. Other times I don't feel anything at all and while that's a relief it's scary when I can't make myself feel anything when I really want to feel something.

[He thought he would feel better once he finally got Dirk to open up. Stupidly, he thought that it would all just magically be okay once it happened. He'd never been more wrong in his life. Listening to go on only made him feel worse and there's a part of him that wonders if it was even a good thing. But he can't back out now, nor does he really want to.

When Dirk is finally finished, he doesn't know what to actually say. He doesn't have the words to actually fix it. Because he hasn't fixed himself. He's felt all of this before. Not just recently, but... Several times throughout life. It's how he's dealt with things. But he's never really had anyone to talk to. He's just... gotten through it on his own, every time. Somehow.

But he actually has to be here for Dirk and help him. He can't just... give up.

He wraps his arms tighter around Dirk, one hand going up to curl into Dirk's hair.]

It's okay to be mad, Dirk. At everyone, at me, at him, at nothing. It doesn't make you a bad person. And it's okay to not feel anything at all. I've been there, I've done that. It's not fucking fun at all, but it gets better. You just... You just need to tell me whenever you're feeling that way, so I can help you through it. You don't have to be alone when it happens. You don't have to hide it.

_{[Now that he's gotten everything out, he doesn't know what to say anymore. He managed to get himself upset all over again because these are things he just never talks about and actually bringing them to them to the surface is acknowledging that these are very real feelings.

It isn't until Bro's hand is in his hair that it happens, that he starts crying. He hates doing it, because it makes him feel like a baby, and he doesn't care what Bro or Dave say about that. Just because they say he's not a baby doesn't mean that it stops him from feeling that way about himself.

Once he starts, he can't stop and he's reduced to clinging.]}

I just hate feeling this way and I... I want it to all go away.

[A lump raises in Bro's throat when Dirk starts crying. It's almost enough to make him cry, but. He knows that right now, he really needs to be strong for Dirk. Or at least, he's pretty sure he should. Suddenly all of the advice he got from everyone is out the window and he doesn't know what the hell to even do.

He just... settles for keeping his arms wrapped around him, holding him a little tighter, scratching at his head slightly with the fingers still curled in it.]

I know... I know, and I really fucking wish I could make it all go away.

[But he doesn't have the magical answer. He wishes he did, but he doesn't.

He considers bringing up therapy, but... Not now. Maybe later, when he isn't so upset. It's the only thing he can think of that would help, though.]

_{[He doesn't do more than nod. There isn't much else he can do; if he speaks his voice will crack and it'd make his crying worse and he already just feels really pathetic for being like this. In the end all he can do is just cling and bury his face in Bro's shirt.]}

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