inbox for balance_rpg

[oculusriffs]

TG: this is going to be fucking stupid isnt it


[want to get in touch with Dave? you can leave a TEXT, VOICE, or VIDEO message — or alternatively, he shouldn't be too hard to track down in person.]

Comments

[oculusriffs]

[well over a year later, and it's still so fucking wild to have Dave's own thought processes mirrored right back at him. considering how often it occurs to him how similar they are, you'd think it'd be completely expected by this point.]

[back on the meteor, back in a Sburb session that was falling apart and fizzling out, he'd casually, or crassly, tossed out a fact or two about his upbringing. it hadn't really gone anywhere — and if he thinks back on it, he wouldn't think it's because nobody was listening. it was partly because literally everything else was happening, another partly because it's kind of doubtful that trolls would have understood anyway, and a final partly because Dave, in his multitudes of attempts to do the exact same thing Ryuji's always done too, didn't try to really, sincerely convey how shitty he felt.]

[one of the troubles with irony — or at least hiding behind it. it's hard to take yourself seriously.]

[but another thought is there, too, though his memories of it are pretty fuzzy. it was back a dimension ago, on a different space station. Ryuji had been the one to find him. and he had won himself a brand new Strider backpack while he tried to talk Dave through a particularly dangerous Torture Curse of the Month.]

["I think this is the part where I'm s'posed to tell you to walk it off or some inspirational shit like that," he'd said — and then, he immediately walked it right back. he's not great at this inspirational stuff, he'd said. but, you know .... and Dave's sure as hell not going to call himself any authority on sportsball metaphors or anything, but. but, if he were to think about it, he'd probably eventually figure that Ryuji was more on the nose than he realized.]

[suffocating out in the middle of space isn't something you can just walk off. neither is trying to shoulder years of a tortuous childhood by yourself. Dave doesn't really feel ready to be talking about his own childhood, but Ryuji's also right in that he probably won't ever be. and, if they're going to actually stand up and walk out of here without the sports reference, then ... he'll do it. he'll hear what Ryuji needs to say, and he'll try to get his own story out in the open, too.]

[Ryuji gets to be the — well, maybe not literal — backpack now.]

I know, dude. [it sucks so fucking much how much that is coming from a place of understanding. it's all he can do to keep his own voice steady.]

I think I just kinda realized something, though. If, after all this time of like. Acting too fucking cool to care about my own shit, and making a joke out of it and pretending it was something else, instead of just saying what it was ... if that doesn't make me feel better, then ... maybe I've kinda reached a point where just talking about has to.

So, whatever details you wanna talk about or elaborate on, you can. Don't feel like you have to hold back.

[ryuji]

[They're an entire universe away from not acknowledging the elephant in the room as a mode of general living. Going through it, it was pretty much the same feeling for everyone: shit sucked. Acknowledging that it was a lot worse than just being at the wrong place at the wrong time felt like it was admitting to something being wrong with everything the way the space station was set up. And so many people were hanging on by a few loose threads that processing pain and everything that went along with it was primed to be pushed out and pushed aside. Just like Dave trying, at least once, to talk about the things that hurt him went nowhere, back at Reverie, so much of it was just... everything else was happening all the time.

Breaching a place like Wonderland, in a universe like this? Remembering what it was like to live in fear or lost and depressed that this was it, there was nothing else but the confines of metal walls and simulated life support systems... Ryuji doesn't want to go back to the station, or relive the moments and thoughts and frustrations of being back there. It's when he looks in the eyes of his fellow Reclaimers back on base that it strikes him; these are the same faces of the people back in space, and that's enough to make everything feel compounded in malignancy.

But it reminds him, too, that he does have agency in his own story, in how he talks about what happens. Coming to Faerun with Dave, it was the first time that constant, awful, horrible things weren't happening every second of every day, and it was, if Ryuji owned up to it, the first step toward healing some of those experiences.

So much else is still happening, but at some point, Ryuji figured out that stuff will always be happening. He cherishes moments of being with Dave when things aren't, and he holds himself accountable to be more open with him. To be patient. And supportive. To be okay with not being okay about a lot of stuff, and also treading unstable ground no matter how scary that is.

He listens to Dave intently, because he's searching for something there. Not just affirmation, or a sound- he's not choking and paralyzed in position- he's there, and he's saying what he's saying. But he's right, and Ryuji understands that so, so unfortunately well. Everything else that he's tried to do to cope with it hasn't really done much for him, either.]

Okay.

[There's a pause because... god, where does he even begin? It lasts a lot longer than it should, because Ryuji still thinks he's awful with words when he's one of the most straight forward people in the world.

After a respite of a minute or so, he comes back and, without making Dave make promises to talk about his own deal, and without implication that there has to be any expectation hinging on any of this- he just. Gets it off his chest.]

My dad was an alcoholic. At some point, I guess, maybe before I was born, he was probably really good to mom, but. Then I came around. And I know it ain't my fault, that he had a whole host of messed up problems, but I kinda think that he never really wanted to be a dad. Or, shit, I'll never really know because he walked out on us when I was in middle school and I never saw him again. And honestly? I'm okay with never meeting the guy again.

[He swallows a lump down, his fight or flight instincts rearing its ugly head because that's what he's learned how to do to survive; to fight back with anger or rebellion whenever it came close to this point.]

And my mom, y'know? She put up with all of it. She was the first line of defense against him, and he was just. I mean, man. He was. Awful ain't even the word. He'd... he'd beat her. I used to hear it all the time when I was a kid, just. Scared outta my goddamn mind 'cause I didn't know what to do when it'd happen.

When I got older, he started. [Ryuji has to stop, because talking about himself is probably the hardest part about this, and he's teary and can't even see correctly. He breathes through a clogged nose and lets go of Dave's hand so that he can press the inner part of his palm against his eyes.]

Started on me, y'know? And I. I just. I don't under... I don't know why he. I, shit.

[oculusriffs]

[Dave is one of those people who are really good at falling over themselves coming up with words to say; even if they aren't remotely in the park of the right words, he still tends to upturn an entire bin of them in the hopes that he can string together something sensible. something comforting. he's had mixed results throughout much of his life — that's just kind of who he is, he's long since accepted that about himself.]

[but, what happens when he actually doesn't have any words?]

[Ryuji's sitting there, not holding back like encouraged, and yet still struggling to get his question out, and it's all too easy to catch where it's going, it's coming from a place of shared pain — and Dave just doesn't have an answer for him. he doesn't understand why, either. and it isn't just that he can't begin to guess what other people are thinking, he genuinely doesn't get how a universe in the business of perpetuating itself saw fit to create him for a specific purpose, and also saw fit to give his other friends three loving, if deeply flawed, guardians, while he got.]

[well. that. and some resentment over it, frankly.]

[so, what happens when Dave doesn't have any words? when they actually aren't there, when his mind goes blank, and he doesn't have anything in his arsenal to try to string together something cogent?]

[he defaults to something he's been doing his best to learn the past 15 months. he scoots as close as possible, until their legs are up against one another. he snakes an arm around Ryuji, holding him gently, and leaning closer, so that Ryuji definitely knows that he's there. it isn't a big spoon maneuver, that's not his usual spot anyway, and part of hitting the play button is, for a moment, not hiding yourself or your hurt, right? this is more about the two of them being on the same level while trying to share with each other.]

[of course, the opening is there if Ryuji would like to anyway. Dave doesn't have his words, but he does have his presence. maybe, somehow, that'll be just enough.]

[ryuji]

[All of the fear and resentment at talking about is still just as vibrant as ever; it's never something that's going to magically de-escalate from existence by just straight up talking about it. But it does help. A little, by a little, by a little. Like chipping away at a giant pile of clothes that've been left on the floor for far too long, dissecting piece by piece and breaking it down into smaller chunks that are easier to manage. Ryuji's taken the first step forward to admitting and owning up to the fact that the pile's even there to begin with, which is more than he's even been able to do in the last year or so of dating Dave.

And he's ready, at least, to share that part of himself with someone he so obviously and deeply loves. Someone who doesn't need to say much to show that he gets it- someone who, under all pretenses, has a penchant for never really knowing when the heck to shut up as a means to layer his own problems behind wit and banter. Ryuji leans, the exhaustion of the moment clear on his features, and finds a place where he can rub his face against Dave so that his eyes aren't as blurry as they've gotten. He bathes in the closeness he has with him, an incredibly high defense armor that protects his heart, and breathes heavily through his nose.

After a moment or two passes and he centers himself from what he had just said, he furrows his brow and looks at the guy currently koala attaching himself to, well, himself, and his lids lower, fighting back that bad brain feeling that manages to creep its way up into his brain bowl every so often... that he has no idea how he even kind of deserves Dave when he's got so much shit he still has to deal with. Which is a dumb thought, and he knows that, and he tells himself that mentally in order to shut that voice up. There's no such thing as deserve when it comes to people or the love they have for others within them. That's... probably his childhood doubts seeping into something that doesn't belong, and recognizing that, he slouches a little more and just lets Dave do his thing in his supportive way, and continues to lean on him.

Which is something that also took a year for Ryuji to get better at accepting.]

I guess, uh. Maybe I'm not supposed to find out why. But. I.... it also doesn't mean that... I dunno. I don't gotta give him power over me either.

[He looks downward, not entirely sure what to make or say of anything at the moment. But he doesn't feel weaker for sharing with Dave. Not by a long shot; in fact, it's quite the opposite.]

[oculusriffs]

[Dave, for his part, is relieved that Ryuji's both able to talk about it at all, and to seek comfort in him, whatever thoughts may be running through his head at the moment. it's miles ahead of what Dave's ever been able to do — and as much as it sucks, for all the hurt that's been tossed out in the open for them both to sit there and take in, he feels a twinge of encouragement, too. like maybe it's okay to do this sort of thing to begin with.]

[Dave's always known that, of course. it's just hard to make old habits made out of self-preservation catch up with the obvious.]

[there's ... still not really a lot he can say. there isn't a whole lot he can do, either, other than just let Ryuji stay right where he is, let him be as messy as he needs to be. he leans closer, enough so that their foreheads are just barely touching. this is an intensely private moment, with words only meant for each other, after all. effectively, the rest of Vista Virs just doesn't exist.]

You're right. [he pauses, sorting through what he wants to say.]

Doesn't mean it just ... goes away either, you know? I mean ... I get it. And I get how weak and shitty and small it can make a person feel, especially when you're also on the track of thinking you should be over it.

I guess, just. You don't have to worry about dealing with it alone.