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cozza-frenzy · 2 years ago

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Fanfic: A La Carte (Part 1: Appetizer)

It’s a big part of what makes us human; believing we have a soul that needs to be fed, too. So this one has been in the works for a little longer than the others! Not only has my Discord “job” been keeping me VERY busy, but I also wasn’t sure where to go with this, exactly... but after seeing a certain art post yesterday, I know now... and I also know it needs to be a 2-parter. Yep, this one’s LONG, folks. And it’s about food! I’d like to give my thanks once again to @chronicsheepdrawing for their wonderful designs and autistic character headcanons. This is going to be less angst, more fluff this time, so content warnings are a little more sparse! May we all experience moments of Autistic Joy like those found in this story. Happy Autism Acceptance Month! Part 3 of a series: Anything Not Saved A Perfect Moment

CONTENT WARNINGS: Body Dysphoria (Not Gender Related), Messy Eating, References to Sensory Deprivation, Mild Sensory Overload

So whose birthday do you think it is this time? Ah, yes, I suppose it DOES say “Happy Celebration To Whomever”, doesn’t it? It might not even BE a birthday. It might even be celebrating all of the incredibly productive work we’ve been doing! Gosh, imagine that! FINALLY some recognition for all those years of- …And you’re gone. Of course. No doubt you have more important things to do than talk to the likes of me. Honestly, I don’t even know WHY I bother - I swear, it’s almost like some sort of COMPULSION! Just rambling on, and on, and on, and… oh dear, and I’m even doing it when there’s nobody to listen… …Hm. Actually, come to think of it… I wonder if he got the memo… ? 427? Ah, Employee 427? Hello? …Stanley, it’s ME - open the door! Oh, there you are Stanley! I do hope I wasn’t interrupting anything; oh, you were waiting for-? Well you… you didn’t HAVE to, you do realize that, right?? You were really just going to sit in your office, pushing your buttons, until I just HAPPENED to call out to you? I mean for heaven’s sake, Stanley! Don’t you want to take the initiative for even ONCE in your career? It could result in you getting promoted! Or possibly- well, probably more than likely, fired. But aren’t some things worth the- …What do you MEAN you already got one?? I just BROUGHT you a- Oh. Oh Stanley, you-you didn’t! You didn’t… heeheehee, really!? Well come onl, come on, get inside, quick! Shh! SHH!! Hahahahaaa, I can’t believe it!! I can’t BELIEVE you-what? NO, I’m not going to TELL! Gosh, what do you take me for, Stanley?? I mean you’re one of our most valuable employees; who ELSE could push buttons like you can, I ask you?? No-one, that’s who! Though I must say, haha, I never would have pegged YOU as the secret Bad Boy of the office! Mister Employee Four-Twenty-Seven, pilfering an extra slice of cake from under everyone’s collective nose! They’ll never suspect a thing! Hahaha…! …Oh come now, stop that, we’re not going to get CAUGHT. And even if we did, it’s probably my fault, anyway. Ugh, I must be a truly terrible influence on you, Stanley, I really must… it’s that horrid little rebellious streak in me. Probably why I never seem to get anywhere in this bloody office… Ah? Oh thank you Stanley, I’d love some coffee. Little more sugar if you could- yes, and- oh, you remembered! Ah yes, that’s lovely, I… oh, um, are you sure? I know how much everyone looks forward to our scheduled Standard Issue Office Sheet Cake, but you took that fair and - oh GO ON then, you absolute rascal! Since you’ve already cut it and everything… heh. Happy Whatever-It-Is, Stanley… —————————————————————————————————- This is a story about a man named Stanley. Today - if there even is such a thing as a ‘day’ any more - Stanley is in the Employee Break Room. A place he’d stopped by countless times previously, just to admire; the gray walls and dark blue carpet as comforting and familiar as they ever were. The couch; just as soft, yet firm enough to encourage the good sitting posture that was vital for employees. The whole place still smelling vaguely of printer ink, paper, and coffee. It was quiet now, given that all of Stanley’s coworkers had mysteriously vanished, leaving him alone in the office. Or, well… not quite alone. Not any more. Next to Stanley, on the couch, sat his Narrator. Some time ago, they’d had a fateful - and completely intentional, absolutely no mistakes were made - encounter in The Memory Zone. And since then, he’d decided to stick around. It just felt far more comfortable than unloading his model; it gave him something to anchor himself to, something that reminded him he was real. And all things considered, it wasn’t that bad. Even if he was still slowly learning to tolerate his… eh… he twisted the words around in his head, tossing aside epithets like “silly-looking” and “bizarre”, completely ignoring “ugly” and “monstrous” for a change, before finally settling on something. Unusual form. Yes, that will do for now… Ahem. Anyway; overall, The Narrator was, at least, willing to tolerate the unusual situation he’d found himself in. Since then, he’d found there was one thing more important to him than how he felt… and that was how Stanley, his protagonist, felt. After all; without him and without his co-operation, there was no story. There was no Stanley Parable without Stanley. So of course, as his Narrator, he couldn’t have him become lonely or depressed. Especially since the last time the Parable ended, The Narrator could have sworn they’d finally found freedom… They’d finally stepped outside; onto real grass and real dirt! Surrounded by real trees, under a real sky! On his very life, he could have sworn that they had... and yet… like a dream, or perhaps a burning memory, curling up in the flames like a discarded photograph, they’d found themselves back here. In the office. Right where they’d started. Perhaps they’d made a mistake somewhere… Stanley moved his hands, and the Narrator glanced downward. No, wait, he wasn’t saying anything; he was just fidgeting. And, he noticed, Stanley’s head had been resting against his shoulder - but it seemed from his half-laying, half-sprawled position on the couch, he’d slid down until his ear now rested against the Narrator’s stomach. Something that - the Narrator now realized - had probably been intentional. It was a comfort thing for him, apparently. Something about the liquid sloshing around in there helped him calm down. And perhaps it was the weight of Stanley’s head, or the soft sound of his breathing, or the gentle touch of his button-calloused fingers, but the Narrator couldn’t help but feel calmer too. It made things seem more… alright. Not entirely alright; not just after what they’d both been through, but more alright in himself. Like maybe he didn’t hate this body quite as much as he had previously. It certainly seemed to help keep his thoughts from going to much darker places... Stanley moved his hands again. The Narrator heaved a huge sigh. “Stanley, if you’re going to say something, just say it. I know you were disappointed with how our story ended, but we can’t try again if we just sit here and stew in our own failure… slow-cooking in regret… a crock-pot of misery and hopelessness, with a side dish of pointlessness, and a bitter-sweet ‘we’re never going to get out but at least we’re still here’ sauce… ” The Narrator’s words caught in his throat, and he stopped himself before he choked on them. No, no, he wasn’t going to let this get to him! This was his story! Nobody could tell him how to feel about it except him! He wasn’t about to backslide into utterly crushing despair… No, not him… definitely not… <Do you miss being human?> “W-what??” The Narrator boggled - he’d retired, undefeated, from Professional Boggling, but still boggled casually when the mood called for it - and looked down at Stanley. “You… “ He wondered for a moment how Stanley had remembered, but… of course he had. Back in the Memory Zone, they’d talked for hours, perhaps even longer, and of course sooner or later, everything had to come out. The fact that The Narrator still had memories of being human, once. Memories of having a real face, with makeup he’d painstakingly applied with real hands, that in turn had real nails, painted in office-appropriate colors. And how he couldn’t remember what he looked like, or what his name had been, but- “...You already know how I feel about that, Stanley. I can’t go back.” Somehow, the thought of returning to that time terrified him. Slowly, something had been coming together, at the core of the shattered funhouse mirror that made up his memories. Something that stared into his soul with a white-hot, searing sense of wrongness. Something that gave him no choice but to look away. I can’t go back to what I was before. I can’t. <I know that.> Stanley signed; taking a moment to sit up, he paused to think about what he was going to sign, as he often did. <But you really don’t miss anything?> “Stanley-” The Narrator started with a warning tone. Stanley certainly liked to push buttons; and apparently not only did he not know when to quit, but his obsession with button-pushing also applied to pushing other people’s buttons. But The Narrator couldn’t deny; the look on Stanley’s face held no malice. It was the same way he looked at The Narrator’s hands, when he ran his thumb over the line of stitches. The same way he watched the liquid inside his transparent globe of a belly slosh back and forth, and the way the light reflected off his plastic eyes. He remembered when Stanley had noticed his tie resembled The Stanley Parable Adventure Line™, and the biggest smile had crossed his face as his fingers traced its shape and felt its silky texture, wide eyes drinking in its bright color. Then they’d both just sat for a while, and reminisced about how they’d teamed up for the mis-adventure dubbed The Confusion Ending... It was pure, simple curiosity on Stanley’s face. The Narrator felt his cheeks flush involuntarily; it seemed he was still inexplicably fascinated by everything about him. And that, apparently, included what was inside his head. <I was just asking because…> Stanley hesitated again, looking away nervously. <Because you were talking about food. Do you miss it?> “Talking about-? Wait, was I - oh! Oh, Stanley… ” The Narrator laughed a little; “That was a metaphor! I wasn’t literally talking about those things, I was simply describing-” Stanley shook his head vigorously; waving his hands. Oh no. He wanted him to stop talking. The Narrator’s words had apparently got him thinking, and now he was practically buzzing with questions, a torrent of them starting to spill out like angry hornets from a disturbed nest. <Do you ever get hungry?> “I, ah… ” Did he feel hungry? He’d never really thought about it, but come to think of it… no. He’d never felt hungry; not once since he’d woken up like this. No urge to eat meant he’d never even tried to, though he had no reason to believe he couldn’t… and what was equally strange was he’d had no urge to drink, either. Or sleep! Or - well, this one was convenient, at least - use the facilities. And yet somehow it had never crossed his mind that this was unusual at all-? The Narrator wondered for a moment if it was simply the way his body was now; transformed from a mere human into some kind of immortal and ever-moving construct, perhaps by a Higher Power with a twisted sense of humor. But then… that couldn’t be true, could it? Because now that he thought about it; not only had he never felt hungry or thirsty since The Parable began, but neither had Stanley. But Stanley - dear, simple Stanley - seemingly hadn’t noticed anything was amiss. And he was still persisting in asking questions. <Do you still eat?> “I don’t have to.” The Narrator said curtly, prickling with defensiveness. “Why is this so important to you, exactly?” Dodging the Narrator’s question like a protagonist from a much more exciting genre would dodge bullets, Stanley was already tilting his head quizzically, locking and loading yet another question. He squinted, like he was trying to make sense of something. The Narrator squinted back. The questions were already annoying him, but there was very little that irritated him more than being ignored, and he was about to launch into a lengthy rant when Stanley pointed to his face and asked... <Where is your mouth?> “What!?” The Narrator huffed, immediately caught off-guard by such a ridiculous question. “I mean, really?? Goodness, Stanley, I can’t believe you have to ask that! Obviously it’s right here!” He pointed to his mouth. Stanley just looked hopelessly confused. “Ugh, don’t look at me like that... you look like a puppy with a headache.” The Narrator sighed, rolling his eyes a little as he relented. Evidently, this wasn’t going to stop unless he did something to stop it. “Alright, just give me a moment. This should put an end to all these bloody questions… ” He reached into his memories. No, not all of them were smashed, broken, piled up in ways that only sort-of made sense like some kind of junk yard - oh no, not at all! Events, people, faces, things that had happened when he’d used to be human, anything that was complicated was a mess… but memories of things? Ah yes, things! Things were simple. He could handle things; hell, he’d even fabricated an entire Memory Zone out of things! Things were great! In fact, things were fantastic. There was no way things could possibly end badly. So of course, taking a memory of a simple chocolate chip cookie and manifesting it was hardly any effort at all; Stanley jumped a little as it appeared in The Narrator’s hand with a small ‘pop’. “Since you’re so utterly fixated on this for some reason, Stanley - allow me to demonstrate.” He took a bite. ————————————————————————————————— Meanwhile; a man named Stanley wasn’t entirely sure what he’d just seen happen. Nor was he entirely sure what he was still seeing, right in front of him, right now, as the Narrator took a second bite of the cookie he’d just created out of seemingly nothing, with the mouth he didn’t seem to have. But he was chewing all the same, complete with crunching sounds as if he had teeth… and there was a distant look crossing his face for a moment, as if he was taking a moment to taste it… “Mm, that is… my, that is actually rather good… ” said The Narrator, his voice slightly muffled from a mouthful of cookie. “In fact it's very good - I think perhaps I’ve outdone myself!” He brought the dessert level with his face, and - again! - a big bite suddenly disappeared. Stanley couldn’t help but stare. Not just because of how unreal it looked, but because The Narrator looked… happy. Very happy. His whole body seemed to have relaxed; and as he took another bite he actually made small, happy sounds, one of his glove-hands touching his own cheek as he rocked back and forth on his heels. “Mm… mm! Oh, I wasn’t expecting… Stanley, I know I made this, but this really tastes home-made! It’s simply del-i-cious!“ - munch, crunch - “So crisp! And chewy in the center… dark chocolate chips, a little sprinkle of salt… my gosh, it’s divine!” Stanley watched as The Narrator… licked the chocolate off his fingers? Somehow he knew that was what he was doing, even though he didn’t see a tongue. Trying to make sense of it, as the man pulled a napkin from his pocket and cleaned himself off, was starting to make his head feel weird… “Oh, Stanley! You simply must try one!” The Narrator said eagerly, offering a cookie with his other hand - he actually laughed a little, the experience having made him almost giddy. “Go ahead, it’s not going to bite you!” Stanley hadn’t even heard a ‘pop’ this time and yet here it was - another cookie, being held between glove-fingers, right under his nose. He looked at it for a moment; just like the other cookie, it had come from seemingly nowhere. But the smell of vanilla and brown sugar was real enough to make his mouth water, and the chocolate chips almost seemed to glisten under the office lights, like they were just slightly melted… “Oh come on, Stanley! I make an entire Memory Zone for you to walk through, and a bloody cookie is what makes you stand there, mouth agape??” The Narrator snapped, irritated by Stanley’s continued hesitation. “This is quite the treat, I’ll have you know!” Stanley carefully reached out his hand. “Don’t make me change my mind, because I will scoff the entire thing if you don’t.” Stanley snatched the cookie like it might run away from him and took a big bite. Immediately, Stanley exhaled through his nose; yes, now he understood. Now he felt that tingling from his very core; that rapidly rising tide of joy! The cookie was warm, and sweet, and its perfectly crispy edge practically melted on his tongue like buttery cotton candy. The crunchy exterior and soft, chewy interior were a symphony of textures. The chunky, bittersweet dark chocolate was a rich, heavy bass. And popping here and there to balance out all that sugar were little crystalline flakes of sea salt, that came in a flash and vanished like falling stars… He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a cookie this good. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a cookie. And now he desperately wanted a glass of milk to go with it. Stanley gestured frantically at the Narrator, hardly able to form a coherent sign. “A glass of-? Oh of course, what was I thinking!” Another pop, and there was suddenly a glass of milk in his hand. Suppressing his excitement for just a moment, Stanley steeled his nerves and sipped, letting the ice-cold drink contrast the gentle heat... and sighed. It tasted like how a warm blanket felt in the night air; his whole body wrapped in a comforting, nostalgic hug, made all the sweeter from the chill that lurked just on the edge. “Stanley, are you alright? You’re not allergic to something, are you?” The Narrator asked, squinting at him. “You’ve got a funny look on your face… ” Stanley couldn’t answer. Stanley was frozen in place. Stanley felt like he might cry. Stanley was unbelievably, overwhelmingly happy. Stanley desperately wanted to stim; to flap his hands out of sheer, overwhelming excitement, wrap his arms around himself and rock back and forth as his heart fluttered in his chest… but obviously he couldn’t, not with a cookie in one hand and a drink in the other. Then a particularly mischievous thought crept its way into his head, very softly, on tiptoe… and Stanley bit his lip. He shouldn’t. He really, really shouldn’t. He did. Stanley tore into the cookie like he was starving to the point of near-death; alternating between it and the milk in desperate gulps, crumbs falling between his fingers. He devoured the snack without any regard for table manners, office etiquette, or anything vaguely resembling human dignity - and he relished every single precious, visceral second of it, ending his frenzy with an utterly contented sigh. He stimmed gently, touching the backs of his own hands, enjoying the moment... “You, ah, must have been… hungry.” Then Stanley turned towards The Narrator. The smile fell from his face. And it may as well have shattered into pieces on the floor, from what he saw. The Narrator looked… pale. Almost like he was about to faint. Almost like he was expecting to get the worst news he’d ever heard in his life; news which would break his heart in such a way it would never heal right, and he’d carry this moment’s phantom pain for a lifetime. And Stanley, somehow, could tell clear as day what he was thinking… much like The Narrator seemed able to read his thoughts sometimes… In his obsessive quest to get his perfect ending, had he let his protagonist starve? <NO, NO!> Stanley shook his head, waving his hands in protest. He hadn’t been hungry, not at all! He knew he hadn’t been hungry in a long time and that had never really bothered him! After all, as The Narrator’s very important and heroic Protagonist, he’d had no shortage of very important and heroic things to do! But… Looking at the remaining chocolate stains on his shaking hands, he couldn’t deny, something else inside him had been absolutely ravenous. Something that had been so, so hungry, and was so, so thankful to be finally fed. With that hunger finally sated, there was a warm feeling curled up cozily inside him, like a purring cat on his chest. …It was almost like… “Like when you put your hand on me for the first time.” mused The Narrator, distantly. “You’re not hungry, but you haven’t tasted anything in hell knows how long… ” <And you haven’t, either!>, signed Stanley, a desperate, sympathetic look on his face. <Didn’t you ever make anything for yourself??> “I suppose the thought just never really occurred to me…” The Narrator sighed dejectedly, his face still a picture of regret. “I mean, I’m honestly surprised I even remembered how food tasted at all, but… knowing you were deprived of that joy… ?” Uh-oh. Stanley knew that look on The Narrator’s face; he only got that look when he was about to have another ‘crisis’, remembering or realizing something awful that sent him into a spiral of self-loathing and hopelessness. Sometimes he’d even ‘unload his model’ and disappear for what felt like hours, leaving nothing but the distant sound of sobbing; or worse, a horrible, yawning chasm of silence. Stanley reached out, gently taking the Narrator’s glove-hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb; just like The Narrator did for him, when he felt overwhelmed. He just wanted him to be alright, please just be alright, but those big plastic eyes still looked so sad... “Oh, Stanley… you didn’t deserve that… ” The Narrator closed his eyes. He wasn’t crying, but Stanley listened to the sound and speed of his breathing, trying to gauge his mood, his emotions, trying to somehow figure this out and make him be alright again. Somehow, he had to try to take The Narrator’s focus off the idea that he’d hurt him… he needed to… he needed to sign something to snap him out of it, maybe? It was worth trying, if it meant even a slim chance of breaking the terrible, slowly rising tension. <Can you make more?> Not to mention the anxiety he himself was struggling to keep at bay; that maybe this time would be the time The Narrator wouldn’t come back. That he’d be alone again. And that it would be his fault somehow. “I… wait, what was that? Didn’t quite catch-” Stanley smiled excitedly; The Narrator had his eyes open again - and what was more, the stars had somehow aligned and fate had weaved its threads to grant him an idea! <You can make anything! You made the Memory Zone! You made the Baby Game! You even made me fly through space! So different kinds of food should be easy, right?> A cheeky little smirk crossed his face. <...Or is it too hard for you?> “WHAT?? Too HARD?!” The Narrator huffed, getting so riled up it almost looked like the liquid in his stomach was bubbling, boiling like a kettle. “Too hard indeed! What, do you think a vast, sprawling imagination like mine is restricted to mere snacks? That the depths of my wildest dreams contain no more than simple, infantile finger foods!?” Stanley relaxed his shoulders. Ah, much better; all he’d had to do was push the right buttons, and there was no more cringing, shrinking, or apologizing! The loud, proud, pompous voice that he adored was back! Though he’d have hardly called a chocolate chip cookie like that one ‘infantile’... “I mean after all, this is my story! And even if it is irrelevant to our ultimate goal, well, isn’t the journey just as important as the end? Is it not important to let our heroes breathe? To let them laugh, and love, and feast??” Stanley watched excitedly; The Narrator was gesturing energetically, pointing his finger in the air. He’d learned from their time together - that is, actually together, now that he could actually see him - that meant he was on a roll. And that always led somewhere interesting. “Well we shall feast! In fact, we shall have a veritable buffet!” Stanley snorted and bit his lip as he tried to keep a straight face; he’d pronounced it ‘boo-fay’, with a great amount of dramatic flair, which tickled him terribly. But he allowed him to continue… “Yes, a collection of culinary concoctions and creative cuisine! I see it now… there’ll be appetizers that delight and entrance! Entrees and side dishes, rivaling the banquets of kings! Desserts and patisserie to make you weep sugary tears of joy! Cocktails! A cheese course! Little things on sticks! Yes, yes, it’ll be fantastic! Stupendous, even! In fact, it’ll be-” …Until Stanley bravely put one hand on The Narrator’s shoulder, his gaze suddenly steely and determined. This could be his only chance he’d ever get for The Narrator to go along with an idea of his in its entirety. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it now - and he did, signing with his free hand. “A picnic in the Memory Zone… ?”

#The Stanley Parable #TSP Narrator #TSP Stanley #Stannarrator #TSP #TSPUD #Stanley/Narrator #Fanfic #Employee 436 #NO BETA WE DIE LIKE I DIED OVER HOW CUTE THESE TWO ARE

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otomeramblings · 4 years ago

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Welcome Home

Pairings: None Characters: Sakuya, Mankai as a whole. Warnings: mentions of abandonment because Sakuya’s relatives suck A/N: @flavovitta posted a really wholesome headcanon yesterday and my brain’s immeadite response was “but what if we made it sad?” so this fic was born.

“Ya’ sure, man?” Banri questioned with a slight raise of his eyebrow.

“Yes! I’ll be right there!” Sakuya’s signature smile was plastered on his face; Banri’s quickly distracted by a notification on his phone and went inside with a quick mumbled “‘kay.” Masumi, on the other hand, stayed behind with a look on his face that many would describe as ‘annoyed’ but Sakuya could discern the tinge of concern and the silent question that hid behind his friend’s usually aloof expression.

“I’ll be okay, Masumi, really. It’ll only take a second,” he reassured him, the corners of his smile softening in response to Masumi’s unspoken worry.

The boy pursed his lips together but nodded nonetheless. As soon as Masumi went through the door, Sakuya accepted the call before she hung up on him. He knew it would only earn him a lecture if he made her wait too long. It was ironic, really, considering that she never really wanted to talk to him in the first place.

“Hi, aunt,” he greeted her.

“You took a while to answer,” she replied with a clipped tone. No “hello”, no “how have you been” and, as he felt how strained his smile had become, he wondered why he even expected anything else.

“Sorry! I just got home from school since class ran a bit long.” They had actually gone to get meat buns from a store Banri frequented since he had insisted to treat them after he found out they had never tried some from that specific place, but he knew she didn’t care and would probably reprimand him because if he had time to go out with friends, he had time to answer the phone, and he had time to study so that the money they put on his education wouldn’t go to waste.

She responded with a non-committal “hmph” and then started going through the usual list of questions. “How were his studies going?”, “Did he need to buy anything else for school?”, “Was he causing trouble for the company that had taken him in?”, “They weren’t gonna change their policy about housing, right? Because he would have to come back home if they started charging them” and the one that always made Sakuya grit his teeth: “Acting isn’t interfering with school, right? Because I know it’s your hobby but remember that it won’t take you anywhere serious in life.” Just like he did every month, he answered each question with a level tone. And just like she did every month, his aunt pretended to be interested in what he said.

It wasn’t until she hung up that Sakuya finally released the tight grip he had on his phone. He let out a deep sigh and felt his shoulders drop; he knew the routine and every step he had to follow to avoid any landmines when talking to his family, but even to this day a small part of him wished they would show even the slightest bit of interest in his life.

“Agh, get it together!” he taped his cheeks in an attempt to make himself snap out of it. That was just the way things were and there was no point in him being moody and making the others feel bad for him. With that thought in mind, he opened the door that led to the living room and he was immediately hit with the smell of chicken broth and vegetables that wafted from the kitchen.

“Uh….I’m back,” he called out while his feet took him in the direction that delicious smell came from.

“Welcome home, Sakuya!” Izumi smiled while she worked on setting the table. “Banri and Masumi said you were answering a call from your family, is everything okay?” Her smile didn’t waver but he could still see the concern that tinted her expression. The director was the only person in the company who had ever interacted with his aunt apart from himself; because of that, he knew there would be no point in trying to lie to her of all people but he still didn’t really want to talk about it so he settled for a shrug and a small grimace.

She didn’t push further, she knew that Sakuya needed his space from time to time, but she did reach up to run her fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. He jumped slightly -the open and sincere affection he’s been subjected to since he joined Mankai still took him by surprise- but he couldn’t help but lean towards her hand, thankfully for the reassurance her touch brought him.

Suddenly, her grin returned and she started pushing him towards the kitchen. “Omi’s making dinner! Doesn’t it smell wonderful? He asked me to tell you to go to the kitchen once you got home because he wanted to ask you something.” The barely hidden excitement in her voice sparked his curiosity, so he took a small detour to leave his backpack on the couch before going to find Omi.

Omi turned around when he heard his footsteps and beckoned him over with one hand. “Perfect timing, Sakuya. I’m making chicken noodle soup today and I would like your input.”

“Me?” he exclaimed in surprise.

Omi smiled. “Yes, you mentioned this was your favourite, right? I thought it would be best if you tried it first so I know if I have to change anything for next time.”

He had mentioned it, yes, and despite knowing that Omi had already done this for a couple of the others as well, a part of him couldn’t believe he had gone through the same effort for his sake as well. Omi was kind, so kind; all of them were in their own ways, and sometimes Sakuya had to discreetly pinch himself just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.

So, after blowing on it, he didn’t hesitate to try the spoonful of soup Omi held in front of his face.

Honestly, when Omi had asked him what his favourite soup was, he almost told him he didn’t have one. He had spent most of his life bouncing from family member to family member, being tossed around like an old family heirloom that had lost its value after the original owners were gone; no one wanted to keep it but everyone was too afraid to throw it out. He was used to having to settle for whatever was handed to him, to not ask for extra things, to not be greedy because he was imposing so much on his relatives already, and that meant that he really didn’t have a lot of favourite things. But then it came to him, a distant memory from the time when his parents were still alive. He was probably around four or five years old and the details had been fuzzy, but he remembered the soup his mom used to make him whenever he caught a cold. That’s what he told Omi and the man had followed his instructions to a T: the broth was a perfect balance of vegetable and chicken, the noodles weren’t too big, and the chicken and the carrots had been cut in smaller than usual pieces because that’s what his mom would for him so he wouldn’t have any problems chewing when he wasn’t feeling well.

Omi’s startled voice brought him back to the present.

“Hey, are you okay? Was it too hot? Was it bad?” Omi had reached over to grip his shoulder and was peering down at him with a concerned frown on his face.

Sakuya was so confused that he almost asked him what he meant but he quickly realised how wet and hot his face felt. He brought a hand to his face and confirmed his suspicions: he was crying; it wasn’t full-on sobbing, but the tears were streaming down his face without him being able to stop them. They weren’t sad tears, no; well, not exactly. He had eaten just one spoonful but that was all it took to make the blurry edges around that old memory suddenly clear, and he was suddenly transported back to his old room, with his mother’s gentle smile and the soft hand on top of his hair. It was just one instant, but he could have sworn that he felt the tender touch of his mother’s lips on his forehead.

He placed his hand on top of Omi’s and smiled through the tears, “It’s perfect, Omi.” He couldn’t think of what else to say, the emotions were overwhelming him; sadness, longing, happiness, and a trace of slight bitterness, all of them were swirling inside of him and he didn’t know where to start. He needed a moment, and while he was calming down the director had come into the kitchen and had begun rubbing his back in a soothing notion; from his peripheral vision, he could also see Masumi and Citron, looking like they wanted to step in but waiting to see what he wanted. He could feel their worried gazes and the warmth of their hands seeping throw his blazer and his shirt and reaching his very insides. It was like his heart was being squeezed inside his chest, but instead of being painful, it felt grounding. He had felt alone for such a long time and he hadn’t realised how much he had gotten used to the cold loneliness that permeated his life since his parents had passed away. His parents weren’t by his side anymore, but as he looked around after wiping his eyes and with Citron draping himself over him and asking him if he was okay, a small smile settled on his face. Yes, his parents were gone, but his new family was now here.

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#sakuya sakuma #mari writes

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jcmorrigan · 4 years ago

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It's giovanni's bday today! (or yesterday if you get this ask tomarrow) Any HCs for the birthday boy?

Okay I am once again doing this off the top of my head because I wanted to go improv style, but here is a story called THAT TIME THE BLASTERS TRIED TO THROW A SURPRISE PARTY AND IT DIDN’T GO WELL.

-Crusher has Giovanni’s birthday marked in his personal planner, and in his phone, and he also has the week leading up to it marked, and his calendar has that entire week outlined in pink marker, and basically mid-January he bursts in on a meeting of the other Blasters and goes “THE BOSS’ BIRTHDAY IS COMING UP YOU GUYS”

-One of them - I’m gonna say Flamethrower - actually has a late January birthday and is like “Can we not focus on my birthday first? Please? No? Okay.” (Don’t worry. Giovanni himself will throw Flamethrower THE BIGGEST PARTY)

-So for a while, Giovanni has been going around like “So my birthday is coming up. I sure hope nobody..............IS PLANNING A SURPRISE PARTY”

-Crusher: “So, guys, I’m not sure, but I think he might want a surprise party.” Car Crash: “Are you sure about that?”

-They resolve they are indeed going to throw him the most surprising of parties! Which means they CANNOT acknowledge his birthday until the moment of truth. They have to make him think they FORGOT.

-Which is not easy when Giovanni enters the temporary lair (I still love “abandoned library”; pry that one from my cold fingers) and goes “THE BIRTHDAY BOY HAS ARRIVED”

-There’s a host of grunts and vague acknowledgements. Nobody gets up from what they’re doing.

-Giovanni clears his throat. “I SAID. The birthday boy HAS ARRIVED!”

-Ben: “Happy birthday.” Giovanni: “SHUT UP, BEN!”

-So he tries to just focus on heist planning since nobody seems to be up for birthday talk. Halfway through detailing how he’s going to break into the local public pool after hours for illegal swimming, which is TOTALLY a thing high-profile criminals do, he just slams his hands down on a table and goes “SERIOUSLY, DOES NOBODY CARE THAT IT’S MY BIRTHDAY?”

-Nope. (At least...that’s what they WANT him to think.)

-”That’s fine. This is fine. It doesn’t have to be about me all the time. I can take it.”

-Ten minutes and he’s crying in the corner, wiping his eyes with the corner of his cape, because nobody cares about his birthday

-Ten more minutes and he just storms out. Spike: “So I’m thinking maybe we didn’t think this plan all the way through...”

-Nobody wants to celebrate Giovanni’s birthday? He’ll throw HIS OWN BIRTHDAY PARTY

-He spends, like, four hours making the world’s most perfect layer cake, with the layers dyed all different colors

-His mom walks in on him hanging a “HAPPY BIRTHDAY ME” banner in the living room and is just “Giovanni what are you doing”

-(She then hands him a watch and a gift card because she might argue with her son a lot but she’s a good mom)

-None of the Blasters seem to care about Giovanni’s birthday...so he’s going to invite his OTHER friends!

-Except Molly’s...busy. Busy? With WHAT? Does she not get that it’s her boss’ birthday?

-(She’s helping the other Blasters prep for the party later.)

-Fast forward fifteen minutes and Giovanni has rounded up one (1) party guest. And the only reason Sylvie is here is because it will get Giovanni to stop blowing up his phone. (Bonus reason: there’s cake. Sylvie doesn’t like to admit it but he loves cake.)

-Sylvie starts to rethink his decision when Giovanni makes him wear a sparkly party hat

-Sylvie realizes that generally one should give a birthday-haver a birthday gift. He doesn’t particularly WANT to but it’s only polite. So he offers for a free therapy session

-(..............is Sylvie the THIRD therapist character with weird nightmare powers that I like? That’s for another post)

-Giovanni: “Please. I am completely self-actualized. I don’t need any help with my emotions.”

-Giovanni, two minutes later, on the couch sobbing: “AND THEY ACTED LIKE IT WAS NO BIG DEAL AND I THOUGHT WE WERE ALL FRIENDS”

-Sylvie is...weirdly sympathetic. But also curious. Why would everyone bail on Giovanni? People mostly seem to like him.

-”And then Bear Trap was busy with some weird appointment she couldn’t even tell me about - “

-It hits Sylvie like a freight train, and he says it before he can think through the consequences: “You...you realize they’re all planning a surprise party for you, right?”

-Giovanni: “They WHAT”

-Sylvie lines up the evidence. Everybody loves Giovanni, but they’re acting like his birthday is nothing, meaning it’s a fakeout.

-Giovanni: “WHY THOSE NO-GOOD DIRTY LIARS - I LOOOOOOVE THEEEEMMMMM”

-Well, the problem is that he and Sylvie have already put away an entire layer cake. Oh, well! Birthdays are for eating two cakes. Birthdays are for doing whatever you want, really!

-Crusher calls him to tell him to come down to the temp lair at once and Giovanni’s just “Riiiiiight. I gotcha.” He winks, even though Crusher can’t see him wink over the phone. Then he goes to head out -

-And at the last minute, invites Sylvie to come along, because Sylvie is his rival, and to a true villain, a rival is as important to you as any friend! (Read: Sylvie is his friend and he wants him at this party)

-Crusher, in the meantime: “I think he figured us out.” Molly: “Probably.”

-So when Giovanni shows up to find the temp lair decked out in confetti and streamers, and a big ol’ chocolate cake on the table, the Blasters all yell “SURPRISE!” with these looks on their faces like they don’t know if he will actually be surprised

-Giovanni: “OH MY GOD I AM SO. SURPRISED!”

-Sylvie: “Yeah, literally no one here is surprised by anything. You all knew what each other was doing.”

-Giovanni: “Though I am touched that you guys gave me the surprise party I’d been bugging you about for weeks - “

-Sylvie: “YOU MEAN YOU TOLD THEM YOU WANTED THIS AND THEY STILL FOOLED YOU? WHAT THE HELL”

-And they all dance the night away to rock songs that probably have too many swear words for Molly to be listening to, but she doesn’t care.

That was more of a story than headcanons but I hope you enjoyed it anyhow

#giovanni potage #HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY DUDE!!!!!!

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moonlight--cafe · 4 years ago

Text

{GENRE} ~ Hurt, AU, Slight Angst, Childhood Memories

{SYNOPSIS} ~ Where Jongho discovers an old photograph that leads him to a forgotten friend.

{WORD COUNT} ~ 1.8k+

{AUTHORS NOTE} ~ Hi loves! I’m leaving for my Christmas Vacation next week and will try and post a handful of things before I leave. I’ll still post ships but they may take longer since I’ll be leaving my laptop behind, in the mean time I wanted to post this. This was written for my birthday twin Jongho for the Atiny writing competition, it wasn’t posted anywhere besides the KQ forum. But alas this is finally seeing the day of light on this blog, this was the first thing I wrote after a year long writers block and this is basically what encouraged me to post more. I hope you like this and if you want to request anything (x reader or solo members like this) feel free to, this includes, headcanons, scenarios, mtl’s and any other pieces of writing. I won’t write smut at this stage but will possibly consider it in the future. P.S Apologies for the basic title, I had a catchier title but I didn’t write it down and it’s pretty much forgotten so Jongho’s Wanderings will have to do xoxo

“I was too young to know how to reach out to my lost friend. Where am I now? Where should I go?”

The egg yolk sun poured through Jongho’s blinds, its warmth causing him to stir. Despite his own reluctance to leave his bed he rose, reaching for his red coat lazily shrugging it on. He intended to make a quick dash out of his room but came to an abrupt stop when he heard something shatter from beneath him. Jongho huffed out a loud sigh as he knelt down brushing the glass aside, ignoring the slight sting of the glass jabbing into his fingers. Wiping the small droplets of blood on his coat he looked down at the weathered photograph. It depicted two young children, both wearing cheap pirate costumes and large gap-toothed smiles. Reaching for his backpack he pocketed the photograph between the pages of his speckled composition notebook. He had found the piece of hidden memory stuck to the bottom of a patchworked cardboard box, he recognized himself immediately but the other child remained a question mark up until this day.

Usually Jongho would have taken the most direct path to the track he trained at, however, his need for silence overweighed the need for getting there quicker. He instead decided to take a route that Yeosang had shown him, the shy, dreamer of the group had claimed that this was one of the few places where you could actually see the stars. Not that Jongho would know he was usually asleep during the ungodly hours that Yeosang was out exploring. Prompted by the eery silence Jongho’s mind wandered back to the days he remembered spending with that boy, each one happier than the last. The sudden realisation that he hadn’t felt the same happiness that he had felt back then left a sour taste in his mouth. It was as if when the question mark was erased it took all of his happiness with it.

Though he was only seven years old, Jongho had felt that he was smarter and stronger than all of the adults he knew. The only way he felt disadvantaged was when he stood next to the messy haired boy who was all knees and elbows. Even though he was a month younger the boy towered over Jongho. Both boys stood against a brick wall as they watched the other children play. They had tried everything in the playground at least two times and their excitement was replaced with exhaustion. It was clear that they were both half asleep when his friend spoke up. “You got taller Jongho.” “How can you tell if you’re taller than me?” His friend turned to him a smile blooming on his freckled face, “I can tell because you were here” he said pointing to a place just above his elbow “And now you’re here.” He spoke excitedly as he pointed to a place that was half an inch above where he previously pointed. Jongho’s eyes lit up as a cheeky grin formed on his face, “I told you! I’m going be taller than you, just wait and see.” “I have an idea! Why don’t I mark your height here? We can measure you until you’re taller than me”. Not waiting for the shorter boy to respond he ran back over to the playground picking up a stub of chalk and returned. “Up against the wall partner! Not like that, put your hands down dummy” Jongho put his hands down, fidgeting with them out of embarrassment. Reaching over he drew a line above Jongho’s head and scrawled his name next to it. Both of them moved away from the wall admiring the line and crooked writing like it was a piece of art. Hearing the familiar call of the friend’s mother the two said their goodbyes. His mother let out a chuckle at the first words he spoke to her, not hello but an excited “I’m taller! I grew this much.” Jongho brought his tiny hands up to illustrate his statement, it was very exaggerated but his mother just smiled, glad that Jongho had a good day.

Ignoring the harsh rays Jongho shed his jacket and placed it to the side with his belongings, running in his attire was strange but completely justified. He wasn’t going to spend the whole day running, he had other plans and was willing to put up with the slight discomfort he felt. Following one more initial stretch Jongho crouched into a starting position, counting under his breath:

One

Two

And Jongho was off, not bothering to count to three he was always ahead of the game. On the few occasions where someone was present to witness him run, they were caught off guard. Jongho would just burst into a harsh sprint, no one could predict when he was going to make his first move. His heart thumped in his chest mimicking his powerful steps, he ran like a man who had been running his whole entire life. In many ways that was true, no matter how hard he tried to find the truth part of him wanted to move on. He wanted the boy to remain a memory, but he couldn’t bring himself to destroy the photograph. A stray tear streaked down his face; leaving the tear there he continued running only wiping it after he had circled the track two more times. The usual satisfaction he felt after a successful run was replaced with a vile combination of anger and frustration. With a clouded mind Jongho quickly made his way to the bag. When his fingers brushed the withered edges of the photograph his throat tightened. He had approached his mother directly, yet he still wasn’t able to get an answer, even she had forgotten the boy’s name. Jongho had it in his hands, he could have easily crumpled it up throwing it as far as his eyes could see, but he didn’t.

Yesterday they were astronauts, today they were pirates and tomorrow the duo would be superheroes. Jongho stood proudly, chest poking out as he stood at the wheel as his shipmate scanned the seas trying his hardest to spot land. This wasn’t too hard thanks to his height, “Avast Jongho, I see land!” Jongho put his hand to his looking in the same direction as the other, his eyes lit up “I think, I think I can see it!”. Both of the boys bounced around the deck excitedly, rejoicing at their discovery. Returning to the wheel Jongho spun it at a furious speed, when docked at the sandy shores of the island the boys slid down the slide. The boys moved over to the pirate themed cake, Jongho thought he’d be taller than his friend by the time he turned eight. As disappointing as that was Jongho had still had one of the best days of his life, it was a dream he didn’t want to wake up from. Jongho pulled the taller boy over to him “You blow out four and I blow out four, we can both make a wish.” A wave of happiness washed over the boy, “Really? You’re the best Jongho!” And with that they both made a wish. Jongho prided himself in keeping secrets, no matter how many people pestered the boy he still refused to tell anyone what the wish was. The boy actually managed to keep his wish a secret for most of his life, it wasn’t until he had come to learn that wishes didn’t always come true that he said his wish out loud.

“I wish this day could last forever…” Jongho placed the photograph back into his backpack “What a joke”. Wiping away the mixture of sweat and tears Jongho pulled his jacket back on and made his way east to the basketball court. When Jongho had arrived, he was immediately given a whistle and told to sit on the bench and supervise the children. If it was his choice, he would have gladly taken a more active role. He didn’t care what it was as long as he was able to preoccupy is mind. The sound of the whistle blowing combined with the rhythmic thud of the basketballs nearly lulled Jongho to sleep, instead of sleeping he fell into a deep line of thought as he remembered a day that he had tried his hardest to forget.

Contrary to popular belief superheroes did in fact cry, this was something Jongho had discovered the hard way. His cape fell limply on his shoulder as he bawled his eyes out on the floor near the front door. His family had made several attempts to get the boy to stop crying, but nothing they did could completely dry up the stream of tears that fell down his face. “H-h-he said we were going to be superheroes today; I want to be a hero today.” Jongho’s voice was coarse and sore, no matter how many times he had asked to see his friend, they refused to take him. Jongho didn’t even need his family to take him to see the other boy, he could go there by himself if only he knew where to find him. The only thing he was told was that ‘He was going away for a long time and had asked Jongho not to cry for him.’ Those words did nothing to ease his sorrows, he was a defeated hero who was struck down by the people he thought he could outsmart and outrun.

Jongho rested his head in his hands, trying to trick everyone into thinking that he was tired and nothing more. The evening sun had just started to set when the last whistle had blown for the day, the coach immediately dismissed the kids who ran as soon as they were free to go. Jongho beat the burly man to the chase “Don’t worry I can pack every thing away, I’m dropping by to see Mingi so I can give him the keys”. Knowing that he couldn’t sway Jongho, the coach tossed the keys to Jongho thanking him for his help.

“I was too young to reach out to my lost friend. Where am I now? Where should I go?” Jongho was always so sure of himself, but here he sat, mind riddled with questions. He was too young to do anything back then, but he was old enough now so why hadn’t he tried harder? He was lost in a sea of orange rubber with no way out. Jongho could hear footsteps approaching him, figuring it was the coach who had forgotten to tell him something. Composing himself Jongho looked up, his blood running cold. Standing before him was a messy haired boy who was all elbows and knees. Jongho rubbed his eyes in disbelief, words failing to leave his mouth. “Jongho, you’ve gotten taller.”

Jongho smiled at the words of the boy in front of him, “It’s good to have you back buddy.” On that day, amidst the sea of orange Jongho looked at the boy who wore a black coat and a matching fedora. Somehow the sands of time had reversed, bringing him back to the question mark he was searching for.

#ateez #kpop fic #atiny writing competition #jongho #choi jongho #ateez fic #illusion-ships writes #jongho fanfic #sentimental #angst #au #atiny

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raleigh-ocean · 4 years ago

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troubles of a learning heart, part 1 | billie dean howard x dara ann lynch

words: 12,580

summary: Love was quite the difficult thing at times, Billie thought many times, and she admired Dara for spending the last seven years how it felt to be truly loved, however when she started to try and give back that love to her...well, let’s say she didn’t expect that there would be moments in which she would have to step forward and actively show it. But, as she lies in bed with Dara still by her side, she thinks that she will make it as long as her heart pick up quick in the habits, in the ways of showing her dear love that she’s being reciprocated. First part of two.

warning: anxiety attack? Idk I kinda wanna give y’all some warning that there’s a heavy part near the end.

n/a: I want to thank @grilledcheeseandguavajelly for encouraging me to post it, because I’ve been feeling like a no-no since I finished this yesterday. This is full of tiny headcanons and bits from other of my stories and some others I want to write, so I hope you enjoy it. This first part is like a prequel to put a context to the next chapter of ‘over my skin, part 3’ and the second part would be the resolution of this big thing, because it goes deeper. I’m trying to make Billie finally build her love, all those raw feelings she has for Dara and put her into a few situations I think it will help her.

"Here you go papi, take it easy, don't want your mother to scream at both because you spilled your ice-cream all over your new shirt so soon."

Billie looked at Dara in that moment with a mix of fondness and amusement, trying at the same time to find a way to help the other seven year old boy, who was smiling at his brother with all the happiness a kid could gather up when given what they wanted.

Her attention drifted a bit when a loud chuckle interrupted the moment, the teenage girl that was fighting her chocolate ice-cream from melting all over her hand snapping her out of the calm picture and getting a scowl back from the last boy.

"Auntie always has shirts to spare around because they get messy," the scowling boy - Ezra, Billie recalled his name this time - was barely two months older than the twin boys, but since she met him, Billie found out that he was an intelligent and straight-to-the point kid.

"I figure, y'all lot have the same curse with food and clothes," Dara smiled at him with the sweetest dimpled smile, which was returned with a similar one from Ezra. "I remember when your sister was around your age that your abuelita always had sweatpants ready in case of an accident."

That made the teenager blush fiercely and the kids to giggle, Billie trying to hide her own smile eating some of her own ice-cream.

Today was being a good day so far even when she had her doubts about it when it started, taking in count she was not used to babysit. But she thought it was good in someway, an exception to make her remember that even when she was in some kind of vacation from work, it felt good to be able to do something instead of just sitting around in a house that was still pretty much unknown for her.

"What? Did I lie mami?" Dara, in a smooth move, saved some vanilla ice-cream from falling into the table and then ate a spoonful of her own - Billie always found funny how most of the time Dara picked fruit flavors.

"Please aunt Dara, stop calling me that," Eva - Billie remembered that one easily - gave Billie a quick glance before trying to hide somehow her embarrassment.

"Yeah, give her a rest babe," Billie was fast to pick up that and with the pet name, she had Dara smiling at her and throwing her hands in the air, all of that before lowering her voice a bit. "I think her friends overheard you enough back at the mall."

"Fine, fine, I'm only stopping because you gonna get enough of it once we are back at the house," Dara took a look over her niece and nephews before standing up. "I'm getting some more napkins before any mess happens."

It was weird for Billie to see that 'doting aunt' side of Dara, but she couldn't help but think how much it suited her. Hearing her talk with soft and cheerful voice here and there, only made Billie believe that her partner was a natural when it came to take care of the rest.

She looked at her for a second, seeing how much Dara was limping but not complaining about it, and it filled Billie with some sick respect for her...and worry.

However her attention drifted once again when Ezra asked her if he could try some of her ice-cream in a shy tone, mostly because his sister didn’t seem to let him indulge in that. Not having Dara by her side made Billie nervous for some reason, probably because she wasn’t used to be in her own in this situation. And also because she didn’t know much about Dara’s hometown, so it was a strange situation for sure.

“Kids!” the sudden masculine voice startled Billie, making her heart to start beating faster. “Where’s your mom, hmm?”

“¡Tío!” it was then when Billie entered the panic zone because two of the four kids were moving faster than she could, going to hug a man that she never saw before. “We’re eating ice-cream!”

This tall man, with leather vest, an old t-shirt of some kind of festival and baggy jeans. His hair was slicked back except for a few loose strands that fell over his forehead. He had tattoos covering his arms and some showing through the neck of his shirt.

“That can I see and taste,” the man laughed because he had pick up the twins, they were kissing him in his cheeks and giving him to try their desserts, and then his eyes went to Billie first before looking at the teenager girl. “Where’s Diana or your mother, Eva? I thought Carla didn’t let you go alone outside.”

“We aren’t alone,” Ezra interceded, scowling once again, but not looking at the man. “We are with aunt Billie…”

If Billie was nervous and about to panic, hearing the kid addressing her like that calmed her in a weird way. She wasn't a stranger to be called aunt, her own sister had a couple of kids, but she visited them so little that it was just as weird. She smiled at him, but the man didn’t even seem to acknowledge Ezra nor her because he kept looking at Eva with an inquisitive look. Eva didn’t seem to want to talk and Billie wasn’t sure if she was afraid or just the stubborn teenager part, but she did it the same with a strange glint of pride that Billie already saw somewhere that she couldn’t pinpoint at the moment.

“Working. Aunt Dara came a few days ago, she’s watching over us,” it was time for the man to go pale suddenly.

“Edo, Ev, you’re gonna make a mess all over your uncle, get down papis, c'mon.”

Obedient as ever, the twins wiggled their way to the ground and Billie got her stomach in a tight knot only by feeling how the still cheerful situation dropped to one more serious. Dara was leaning in her cane with both hands, looking at the man that was now facing her, a nervous smile over his lips.

"Ana, how you doin'?" There wasn't a visible height difference, but Billie got the feeling that the man shortened when he leant to kiss Dara's cheek in a friendly way - and receiving a soft one back in response. "Didn't know you were back."

"For a few days, yeah, we're on vacation and decided to spend it with my family," the sentiment in Billie's guts got tighter when Dara was adamant in making a point with the way she said the 'we', tapping her cane in the ground twice. "And I've never been better Godo. I'm spending the morning with my niece and nephews, what else could I ask for?"

"That's amazing th-"

"Tío Godo asked where's mama, tía," Eduardo, the twin with the bright green shirt, was quick to speak over the adult while hugging Dara's good leg.

Billie saw the way Godo sunk a bit more with that, how Dara's brown eyes hardened and how Eva looked away almost immediately.

"Is that so, hmm?" Dara hummed, fixing Eduardo's messy black hair with quick fingers, the gold of her rings shining a bit while her attention went from the kid to the man.

"Just checking in Ana, y'know I worry about the kids and they were alone," Godo chuckled nervously and Billie immediately felt a soft static in her skin. "I bet you understand."

"Uncle here asked for mom too," Eva chirped, only making Dara to tighten her jaw a second before flashing one of her smiles.

"But they weren't alone, my partner here was with them," Billie absolutely didn't want to get any attention, unlike the rest of the time in her life. "As I am, so now you can go your way with your worries eased. I'm sure you can give my sisters a call if you wanted to speak with them, right?" Godo nodded and the static went away, Dara smiling at him again as if she was even glad to have met him there. "Great, then it was nice to see you, Big G."

When he was gone, Billie smiled almost shyly at Dara and was met with the purest form of happiness in the way the woman smiled her back. It was as if the encounter didn't happen and Billie knew right off the bat that there was a long story behind all of the animosity that the kids missed by a head - except maybe for Eva, which started to act a bit softer towards her little brother.

After that they resumed the ice-cream time a few minutes later and decided to make a quick stop to get burgers for take out. Billie knew Dara always liked to actually eat in the place, but by the way her leg was acting up, it was for the best to take everything back to the house instead of staying for lunch.

"Annie, everything alright?" asked Billie while the kids were already running towards Dara's parents and Eva was carrying the bags with the food.

"Yeah honey, just a bit tired but nothing a nap can't fix," Dara leant for a kiss, one longer than the tiny pecks they shared over the morning. "I'm hungry actually, and you?"

"I'm hungry too," Billie chuckled, wrapping her arms better around Dara's waist and drawing a giggle from her. A new slow kiss making them forget their chances of making out like teenagers against Dara's mother's car were getting high. "But nothing we can’t fix before your nap," that made Dara laugh and Billie smiled big at her. "If we can, of course, I mean...did you see your nephews? We should be running before they eat our food too."

"Their stomachs are like black holes, incredible, isn't it?" Dara pressed her lips against Billie's in a lazy and tired kiss, before lacing their arms together so they could walk inside with the rest. "I think is a genetic thing."

And after only one day around Dara's family, Billie knew that it was true. She never saw so much food disappear so fast in a long while, and she was living with Dara for almost four years now and with her for almost three more.

…

“Who was the guy?”

Billie managed to pull away from the charm that was Dara spreading body cream in her legs to finally ask the question. They’d claimed the main bathroom for themselves after everyone had their turn and they were taking every extra second of that privacy.

Against the odds, Dara passed out the second she touched the inflatable mattress and Billie took that time to indulge in answering some emails at first, but after the few first ones it became impossible to do something else with Dara cuddling her right side with such sweet face. Would it be hard to take a quick nap? When they woke up, Billie thought she had been hit with a rock, her eyes too heavy, but tiny kisses helped her to get rid of the sleep.

If they tried to get some well deserved private moment, it was broken the second Darziel - Dara’s little brother - came through the door complaining about how their mother was doing some kind of zafarrancho to get ready for tonight’s dinner. Dara had hit him with her cane, repeatedly, until she managed to get him out of the room and then Ezra came in running from the twins, trying to get a place to hide. Billie knew it was a matter of time they got interrupted again and she was right the moment Deirdre - Dara’s biggest sister and Eva and Ezra’s mom - came into the room, hiding as well from her own mother…

...and in a matter of time, the room was crowded.

“Who?” asked Dara, fixing a bit her loose robe, but not stopping from going through the little routine. Billie was used to see it and appreciate it by now and seeing her so bare, raw, natural, helped greatly each time to remind her how much she loved her girl.

“Badass Godo-guy,” explained Billie, getting as comfortable as she humanly could, sitting in an old stool and her back to the tile wall. “He was pretty adamant in ignoring not only me but your nephew. Ezra told him I was with them but turned a deaf ear on it.”

For a second Billie forgot what was she saying because Dara turned around, the robe loose again and letting her see...well, some pretty nice things; and walked towards her - barely two steps because the bathroom wasn’t really big - to sit in her lap. Billie feared for a second the stool was going to collapse under their weight, but it was resilient enough. Hands on hips, hands on shoulders and Dara was sighing softly while playing with the ends of Billie’s blonde hair.

“My brother-in-law’s brother...Diana’s,” Billie silently thanked the clarification, drawing her thumbs over Dara’s thighs in random patterns - she was extra careful with the one scarred. “He’s a fucking bully, went with me to high school. Godofredo doesn’t like many people and the sentiment is mutual.”

“For being a bully, you got him acting like a tiny pupper, doll,” Dara was the one smiling shyly this time, getting a kiss just for that.

“Let’s say that I...beat him up really hard once,” Billie kissed Dara’s knuckles and fingers, bare from her usual rings, and then the inside of her wrist were one of her cross tattoos rested. “And twice, and thrice...and broke a chair in his back.” It was then when Billie looked at her wide-eyed. “That one had to do with why he ignored my nephew like that.”

Billie knew they would’ve been at it right away again, but she felt satisfied with what they did in the shower for some reason. That’s why they were last to shower, because Dara took in her hands all the things her siblings didn’t want to do - helping her mother in the kitchen, per example; driving her uncle Cedric to his appointment afterwards while Billie tried to help Dara's father in the backyard - to have the rest of the time from there to dinner free.

It was their time, only theirs to do as they wanted, and Billie wanted to actually fill it with more than sex.

Talking was good, she liked hearing Dara talk, and hearing more about her was even better. She was genuinely interested in whatever she was about to hear...because all she could focus in was the woman sitting in her lap, not in whatever was floating inside her brain almost twenty four seven.

“Godo and Berto’s oldest brother is Eva’s father,” Billie saw Dara frowning and she leant to kiss her chin, getting one in her cheek in response. “I don’t even care where the fuck he is now, Berto neither, but Godo always looked up to his big brother. Fifteen years has passed and he still forgets that his brother lost any right as father and partner the day he left my sister to her own devices, and that’s only the top of the list,” there was tiredness in Dara’s voice and a hint of rage that faded when Billie focused in keep drawing soft patterns in her skin. “It took my sister eight years to finally move on, she got married and soon Ezra was in the way. Godo still takes that as a treason or I don’t even know at this point...and well, the rest is story.”

“But I don’t get how you ended up breaking a chair in his back,” it was a lot to take in, to be fair, but Dara couldn’t help but laugh when Billie tried to lighten the mood in the bathroom.

“He decided to be a super duper asshole towards Deirdre while we were doing groceries, and well, a twenty-five years old me was really...let’s say I had a lot of pent up anger. I was invited to a party and you know how I get with the gin and he had the fucking audacity to show up,” Dara shrugged a bit and kissed Billie on the lips, sweet and slow while indulging in the intimate embrace. “If it wasn’t for Daya, he would have had a broken pool stick going clean through his thigh.”

“Wait, twenty-five, we already met when you did all of that?” Billie blinked fast at that and Dara blushed hard. “Now I can see why you were so-”

“Oh shush, I still am like that or did you forget what we did a week ago?” it was time for Billie to laugh and Dara to act like she was offended by what she said. Act because of the way she bit her cheek playfully. “But I did soften since then.”

She didn’t think that Dara actually softened, sometimes Billie could see that fierceness in her eyes, but she let her have that because she decided to move when someone knocked on the door. It was Dara’s father, Jeziel, telling them that they needed help to set up the table. Billie muffled a laugh against her hand when Dara silently punched the air and pinched the bridge of her nose before replying that they were going down in ten.

“See?” Dara started to gather their things to get back to the room. “This is why I like your sister."

"Do you now?" Billie raised an eyebrow, because she knew how much Dara despised Josephine - Jo wasn't really polite with her and openly declared her dislike for Dara, even when Dara herself always tried to be the most polite ever, to the point that even Billie and Jo's father had started to make positive comments towards the younger woman.

"Yeah, with her at least I see the knife that's gonna stab me," Dara laughed openly and Billie couldn't help but chuckle with her. "Bunch of traitors, I'm telling you, we gonna steal the natillas and the vodka bottle and go feast by the pool."

"Baby, you're on your medication," Billie caught Dara by the waist, spinning her around so she could kiss her once again. "You can't get hammered."

"Calamities never come alone," Billie knew it was a rough translation of some spanish words just by how weird was it phrased, but it was okay, who cared anyway? "Would my lady in shining armor come save us from doing the dishes tonight?"

God, why was she so goofy unexpectedly? Dara didn't seem to want to let go, her arms circling Billie's neck with care and pressing slow kisses down her cheeks to her neck. It wasn't fair, it had to be illegal!

"We'll use one of the twins as distraction and the other to steal the car keys, I'll take you anywhere you want me to," she tried to sound dreamy, fairy tale-sque even, but all she did was sound a bit desperate. "Pick a direction and I'll drive."

"God, how much I love you Billie Dean," the next kiss was glorious, taking in count it was probably the big last one until they were again in their room late at night later. "But we should go already, honey, let's go."

And that was it, their private moment ended with a dreamy sight and a kiss to die for, and Billie felt like something in her chest beamed with pride, love and a deepness she was getting fond of.

Dara was a slow walker now, to her own dismay since she hated moving slow, so it was easy to capture her hand and intertwine their fingers. Billie opened her mouth for a second, thinking about what she was going to say next, and Dara looked at her with curiosity filling her tired eyes. Without make-up, Billie could see the tiny freckles over her nose and cheeks better and it only added her a whole new level of cuteness.

"Are you okay Bills?" it was a question in a whisper, genuine worry laced with the words.

"Yes, it's only that I...well," she wanted to say it, she really wanted but it was too difficult. "I…" Dara's eyes shone in anticipation, one that made Billie feel a bit bad. "I think you didn't softened, you only got wiser and more patient."

How hard actually was when Dara said it to her almost everyday?

"Absolutely, if twenty-five me would had been in the same situation as thirty-two me today, that man would had been at the dentist to get fake teeth for real as of now," Dara giggled, hiding away the little disappointment upon not hearing those words she wanted to hear so bad, and kissed Billie's cheek sweetly. "Not letting him go with the soft warning of 'go already or I'll break your ribs with my cane'," one more kiss to Billie's nose and a dimpled smile. "Now let's go, before Diana breaks a new plate in the way to set up the table."

...

Billie didn’t know what to do at that point and it perfectly showed.

She always had easy talk ready to overcome awkward situations, that’s how she survived to lots of parties all those years. But Dara could see that it wasn't that easy for her right in this moment, not when she was watching Deirdre and Diana argue over God knows what and none seemed to want to stop them.

Dara was used to that, Deirdre was always out of touch with the fact that Diana was sensitive and Diana always forgot that Deirdre loved to burn every argument down to the base. It didn't help at all that her mom was trying to give Billie some pointers about, again, God knows what and that was messing up with any tempo her dear medium was trying to keep. She wanted to go save her before it was too late for her head, but she was busy getting the plates over the table in order while Eduardo tried to talk her ear off about the show he seemed to love so much these days.

How could a seven years old talk that much and so fast? If she wasn't trained with the old ladies at the store, she would've gone insane only five seconds in.

"¿En serio, papi? Give me that," Dara smiled at her nephew, not wanting to cut his speech but needing the cutlery in his hands. Eduardo gave it to her without taking a break from talking. "Hmm, abuelita gave you more forks, someone's coming?" But the kid was too deep in his world of explaining to his favourite part to actually pay more attention than the necessary to his aunt. "Well, we'll see later then."

It was something that didn't worry Dara at all, taking in count in her house there was always more people than the usual. Maybe her parents invited some friend over or her siblings, who knows? Reaching for her cane, which she left against the table, Dara decidedly tried to move towards Billie now that she was free.

Her grandfather, Bruno, saved the medium from the little chaos and they were sharing a comfortable silence in the couch, or at least that much Dara could see. Seeing both like that, two of the most important people in her life getting along well, made her stomach explode with butterflies as if she was a teenager again. And she wanted to be part of it too, even when she overheard some ruckus in the front door.

However, the ruckus had a name and Dara was interrupted in her tiny quest of making her way to Billie because of the new guest at the house.

"Oh God, Dara!!!!!" Loud as ever, the asian girl crossing the backyard door was smiling directly at her, running with open arms towards her and meeting in a big hug. "How long since I last saw you? Instagram posts doesn't count, it's been forever!"

"Don't be dramatic Gemma, I was here a couple months ago," Dara couldn't help but laugh at her soon sister-in-law's antics. "I hope Darziel is treating you right."

"Your brother will always treat me well," Gemma's laugh was clear and soft, making Dara feel at ease only with that. "Where's your mom, by the way? My mom made me brought over some desserts and other things."

"Kitchen...I think? You know the drill, follow the panicked voice and you'll find her," they both laughed with that and Gemma hugged her again, Dara indulging on it because well, she missed her friend, to be honest. "At my left at dinner like always?"

"Of course! Your right is for your grangran, how can I stole his sea-"

"Actually, tonight Billie is at my right," the statement made Gemma stop from walking and she looked back at Dara with surprise and curiosity written all over he face. "He's at her right."

"No way, is she here?" Hearing Gemma so excited only because Billie came to Sacramento this time, made Dara happily hum and nodded where Billie was now shyly chatting with Deirdre's husband. "Okay, okay, later you'll fill me with details and I'll try to sell my soul to the devil so you two have a table at the restaurant before you go back home," Gemma squeezed Dara's hand over the cane and smiled big at her before Ezra drew her attention, hugging her by the thighs. "Hey, big guy! Let's go see your granny, I brought your favourite mini-cakes."

When Gemma was gone, Dara couldn't help but chuckle to herself. Who would have tell that an eight year gap was something difficult in a friendship? She practically saw Gemma grow up in the woman she was today, her brother and her the bestest of friends until the spark of love grew between them and became more. To this day, it still amazed Dara how everyone was so blind to not see how Darziel was head over heels with her since they were little.

Maybe she could tell Billie that story at the promised dinner at Gemma's parents' restaurant.

Looking towards her blonde, Dara caught Billie asking for silent help because Abraham was drifting away in the conversation - as always - and she was getting even more lost if it was possible. Yeah, she totally needed to save her girl, be the knight in shining armour first and all those nice things.

But right in the moment she was about to take the first step, she heard it clear even over the voices of everyone.

The whir of a motorbike making a left in the corner of the street, the engine stopping in front of the house...it was loud enough to fill the silence of the street even when the house was alive with voices. It made Dara's stomach churn anxiously just with that, because she knew that exact sound by heart and soul. She really wanted it to be a hallucination because of the mix of allergy and pain meds, but the doorbell going off told her it wasn't.

Frozen like she was, Dara managed to turn around when she heard the rest welcoming the new guest that came through the backyard door. She wasn't ready for this, not at all, but she composed her best smile by the moment her eyes locked with those she knew from a long time ago, filled with surprise and something deeper, something she wasn't sure what it was because she was too worried to not runaway in that moment.

"Dara...Ana," her second name was always the way to soften her and only three people in this world could make it work. "You look beautiful, how are you?"

Her grandfather, Billie and Benjamin, her ex.

"Getting ready for the feast," Dara smiled in automatic and she immediately knew Benjamin knew it as well, that she was slipping into her full damage control mode as the clock was ticking even when she felt herself less tense. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

And it wasn’t a lie, he had changed...both had changed greatly, in fact, but Dara thought the change looked better on him. Benjamin sported his hair short, one of those modern haircuts kids these days wore, and it was obvious he had trouble with styling it since he had wore it long since Dara had memory. He was dressed in jeans, clean sneakers, and shirt buttoned all the way up...and he looked so uncomfortable on it, that it drove Dara crazy for some reason.

Making her forget that she had literally no clue why he was even there.

And she moved towards him, like a magnet, instead of going to save Billie from Abraham’s never-ending talk.

Billie saw how Dara made her way towards the new man in the house and she felt something waking up in the pit of her stomach.

It wasn’t like she didn’t see Dara interacting with people, she was always polite and kind even with strangers, but it was the way the man threw his hands a bit to help her girl, the way Dara only moved her hand to dismiss it and got what she wanted - because who could get Dara to indulge without a fight? -; the way she fixed his shirt and his hair with quick fingers, the man thanking in a whisper while he also fixed his belt; and obviously the way he took her cane’s hand and kissed her fingers, over her rings, respectfully.

All of that it what truly woke Billie’s raw jealousy...but in a way she had never felt before.

A sad one that started eating her alive right in that moment.

It went worse the second they were all sat at the table finally. Dara seemed nervous, her fingers flickering with the need of having a cigarette over her knee, when this man sat in front of them led by Dara’s mother. Billie wanted to reach for her hand, intertwine her fingers with hers and kiss her head to whisper the softest ‘I love you’ ever whispered and see if it would help her girl to calm down.

Her eyes went to the rest of the table, trying to see if anyone was acting different, but she was met with the pure happiness of a family gathering. It gave her the empty sensation she sometimes had with Dara, like an impenetrable wall that hold back everything, but when she looked at their side of the table…

...she was met with something completely different.

Gemma was her bubbly self, but she kept being the most attentive towards Dara, talking her ear off but also giving her reassuring touches here and there. Darziel was as nervous as his sister, but he was trying to keep himself busy with eating because unlike Dara, his appetite never died apparently. Don Bruno kept eating, his eyes on the man as if he was able to dig holes in his skull just like that, but also kept passing Billie some of the dishes so she could eat a little of this and a little of that, making mumbled pointers about the food. Berto and Abraham talked to each other, to their kids, but sometimes gave nervous glances to their wives and to this man.

When her eyes finally landed in Carla, in the right end of the table, Billie knew there was something bigger than a family gathering going on and somehow, her sad jealousy went to a second plane because her attention was drawn by this same man that seemed to destabilize the whole picture.

“Sorry, I think we weren’t introduced,” he had a sweet smile, gentleman like, and it was pretty visible for her that he was trying to make things less awkward. He stretched his hand over the big lasagna platter and Billie went in automatic, taking it in hers. She expected a strong handshake but he held her hand as delicately as he did with Dara’s minutes ago. “I’m Benjamin Hernández, my parents are old friends of the family.”

“Billie Dean Howard,” she said her name trying to add the punch she always added when meeting someone, but she failed miserably. “I’m Annie’s partner.”

She did not fail, however, in finally reaching for Dara’s hand under the table with her free one, intertwining their fingers as she wanted. She didn't need to put up the charade of the medium of the stars, the fake smile, a more composed voice. She was just Billie.

And having Dara looking at her with the whole universe shining in her eyes was all that she needed to get her going through the whole dinner.

...

Saying that she ate too much was an understatement, she was pretty sure that she never ate that much to begin with. But it didn’t feel wrong, Billie was actually satisfied, warm and feeling just a bit tipsy thanks to the wine, making her enjoy better the rest of the night. She was still pretty much jealous, who was she kidding, but having Dara so close to her while they were playing domino with Diana, Deirdre and Gemma did wonders on her mood.

Dara seemed less nervous and leaving tiny pecks in her cheeks every time they did a good move in the game seemed to be helping her keep whatever storm that’s brewing in her head at bay.

“No, honey, you need to pay attention to this and this,” Billie nodded, following Dara’s hands. “And then...you put this one and boom! We won!”

“No fucking way!” Diana laughed at Deirdre’s reaction, Gemma still trying to figure out how Dara had won once again at domino. “To Hell with you, how do you do that? You always sucked ass to this game.”

“I found some online domino and the store is empty too many hours a day, I got better just by boredom,” Dara chuckled while Diana pulled all the tiles together, so they could play another round. “And Dahlia and I always play when we get together, she’s teaching Shelby as well.”

“And how that’s going? She’s a pretty good teach, I’ll always remember how she helped me with maths over Skype.” asked Gemma, happy to hear about Dahlia.

“Horrible, for a yoga instructor, Shelby sure does have like zero patience,” Billie laughed at that, the memory of how frustrated the other blonde woman was fresh in her head, while Dara put her arm over her shoulders. “Dahlia loves her too much to tell her, but hey, until then we got some funny show going."

Billie looked at Dara for a second, taking in the way the orangish light lightened her features ever so softly. Beautiful, so beautiful, so, so beautiful that Billie leant to kiss her just because she couldn't help it at this point of the night. Dara smiled against her lips and also indulged on it, her hand to Billie's cheek to loosely caress her cheekbone with her thumb.

It didn't last long but they kept kissing each other, peck after peck and making them forget they were about to play another round of domino, making both forget they felt still uneasy from dinner.

"Go get a room you two," Diana threw them a domino tile and Dara chuckled against the last kiss, receiving another one in the cheek.

"Same room you all keep using as hiding spot? No, thanks, I pretty much prefer to wait a few more days till we get home," Billie hid her face in Dara's neck so they couldn't see her smiling smugly at the lie, but also fondly at how the word 'home' sounded in Dara's lips. "Unless you want to learn some stuff from yo-"

"Oh my dear lord, don't finish that sentence Dara Ann Lynch!"

Everything sent them all into a big fit of laughter, one shushed quickly by Carla coming out from the kitchen back door with her arms akimbo. They five were the only ones still in the yard, the rest inside taking care of dirty dishes, sleepy kids and furniture moved.

“You better move inside, your father is already getting the ron out and all,” it was their cue to move, Billie knew that pretty well, and she soon had her arm ready for Dara to take. “Billie, can you be a dear and help me with coffee?”

“I can help you m-” Dara started to say before Billie could say or do something.

“Oh no, cariño," the way Carla smiled made Billie's stomach churn and she gave a side glance to Dara. "You rest a bit, okay? Dei, Dia, help your father, I think he's also fighting with the music thing you bought him for Christmas."

Deirdre and Diana said 'si mamá' at the same time and Gemma scratched the back of her neck, not knowing what to do since her mother-in-law didn't give her a task. Carla was still there, waiting for Billie, and she smiled at her before squeezing Dara's forearm a bit.

"Of course Carla, I'm coming."

Dara smiled faintly when Billie kissed her cheek and Gemma was quick to replace her, helping with the moving part towards the living room. As the day has gone by, Dara was feeling drained because all of the come and go had strained a bit her bad leg, and not even her cane was enough to make her feel steady.

Billie didn't want to leave her side, but playing nice with Dara's mother was important at this moment. She always felt there was some kind of separation with Dara's family and her, and she wanted to close that stranger gap. Sometimes she felt like they all were waiting for Billie to dump Dara and it was unnerving, to be fair, making her guts twist uncomfortably.

When she passed by the living room, Deirdre and Diana were talking with their father in spanish, the tone of their voices one of mockery yet exasperation because probably it wasn't the first time they helped him with the whole device. Cedric, Dahlia's father, was talking with Benjamin and Berto on the couch, while Abraham was getting glasses from a cabinet. The whole living room was getting cozy in someway, a kind of warmth Billie wasn't used to but she found herself not minding at this point...even enjoying it.

Everything was really different from her own childhood home.

Bruno gave Billie a warm smile when Carla and her got in the kitchen, tapping slightly with his hand the side table there to the rhythm of the song that was now playing in the background softly. There was still food in the counters, waiting to be fully cold and be stored in the fridge, but also there was a plate and a glass aside that made Billie recall that Dara's little sister, Dayanara, wasn't around yet.

"Is Dayanara coming home soon?" asked Billie after being told where were the stuff for coffee.

"Yeah, she called a few minutes ago, said in forty-five she'll be here," Carla chirped, turning on the stove so she could put the coffee pot and a kettle to heat up. "Daya's been working too many extra shifts this week, my poor baby."

"For a week that her sister is here, she should have stick with her usual schedule," rumbled Bruno, playing with a piece of paper that was over the side table.

"Ay papá, you know how she is, she just want to be better and be a good nurse, and that takes a lot of hard work," Carla gave Billie some cups and gestured her where the little spoons were. Dara had the same hand gestures as her mother, she noted.

"All I'm saying is that we barely have Anita here, demonios."

"Dara understands that Dayanara is working hard, she's the happiest as long as they can have some time together," interceded Billie after retrieving the spoons, leaving them in the tray they were getting ready. "But…" she looked over her shoulder before lowering her voice, a bit worried. "I feel like Dara thinks Dayanara is avoiding her or something."

And it wasn't a lie, to be honest. Dara did commented on it one of the days late at night, when they were lying awake because of the heat, and Billie easily picked up to what her girl was saying the next morning. She was always good at picking up the behaviour of the rest, even when sometimes was harder, thanks to her own gift and just by how Dayanara turned down every plan Dara had proposed to her, well, what else could be said.

However, Billie didn't drop the comment that innocently. If something was up, maybe a push in the right direction would give her some pointers about why everyone seemed so uneasy since they arrived. It wasn't only a thing of that day, Billie had been picking up the weirdness in the family little by little and decided to keep it to herself so Dara could enjoy their time there.

Maybe today was just too much, overall after seeing how Dara had reacted upon having that Benjamin guy over dinner with them all.

"No, no, no, she's just busy," even when Carla's voice was a bit happy-go-lucky, Bruno's scowl said that there was something else behind. "And tired, that's all."

Carla still didn't know how stubborn could Bullie get, unfortunately, let alone when Dara was involved. She needed to cut everything by the root the moment it started to bother her girl, she didn't make the rules.

"Well, you can lie to her all you want," Billie said, a match lightening inside her chest, while pushing the kitchen's door to shut it close. "And she's going to let you if she noticed, but not me. What's going on?" she asked it with the voice she usually used on set. "Since the second that guy was in her view, Annie's been all shook up, and I don't like that because we're supposed to be on vacation, away from any headache."

Billie didn't miss how Bruno looked at her, a proud glint in his eyes, when she crossed her arms under her chest and looked at Carla with all the courage she had gathered up in a matter of seconds.

God bless coffee for being so slow to be brewed.

"You can't tell my daughter about it, okay?" Fucking bingo, thought Billie when Carla finally gave in, looking at her to get a nod in response. "Did she talk to you about Benjamin before?" Negative, Billie shook her head. "He's her ex-boyfriend...and he's now dating Dayanara."

…

Dara had her eyes closed, trying to focus in how her father's heart beat, all while listening to him hum along the song that was currently playing.

They managed to get the music going and she was just too tired, hoping that Billie could free herself from her mother's hands soon, but her father had pulled her to dance with him.

She couldn't say no and she preferred to be occupied with something instead of leaving room to Benjamin to talk to her again. Dara was still trying to wrap her head around why he was there and, as much as she wanted, there was something buried deep inside her chest that stopped her from start a third degree interrogatory right away.

“...Y si en sueños pudiera volar, yo llegaría hasta ti,” her dad started to actually sing and Dara smiled, still her eyes closed. “Para entonces hacerte escuchar, lo que nunca te pude decir…” Dara giggled when he switched to humming again and it drew a low laugh from Jeziel.

“¿Ya te olvidas de tus canciones favoritas, viejito?” she asked in a mumble, letting herself be held better by her father. At times, more often than not these days, she missed the feeling of protectiveness being in his arms gave her.

“Ya sabes que nunca las aprendí del todo mami,” Jeziel smiled and kissed the back of her head, still swaying to the rhythm of the ballad.

“So lucky mommy loves you, you’re such a romantic,” she shook her head and tightened her hug.

“Sometimes I think she still loves me because I’m strong enough to move stuff around, like, I still got the guns and all,” Dara felt her father flex his arms a bit, making her roll her eyes because he still called his muscles like that. She felt how her father left his hand in her hair, carefully brushing her soft locks. “I like when you let your hair grow, makes me remember when you were home.”

Maybe that was why she didn’t like it, because it made her remember of all the things she didn’t want to relive, but sometimes she kept postponing going to the hairdresser when she was too busy and her head too full of thoughts. Which was kinda why it was getting longer these days without her caring much about it.

Spying through her eyelashes, she looked right at Benjamin, who was one of the reasons of why she did things differently these days.

“It makes me remember home as well,” Dara mumbled, hiding from her father that they remembered different things. “But I probably cut it once I’m back.”

“Ay no, mi niña, espérese a después de mi cumpleaños,” Jeziel pressed his hand a bit on Dara’s head, chuckling in that warm way he had. “Deme ese pequeño regalo, siempre te viste linda con tu pelito largo.”

“Okay, okay,” Dara sighed a laugh and looked at her father in the eyes finally, kissing his cheek fondly. Two months more of having long hair, she could do it...she thought. “But that’s your gift and that’s it, no more,” it wasn’t like a Dara had her father’s gift bought five months prior or else. “And you have to promise to make your chocolate cake for only us two and have a Rush Hour marathon...mojitos included.”

“None haggle like you, Anita,” Jeziel kissed her daughter’s forehead with love and tenderness. “You got a deal, but do you think Billie likes Rush Hour? Maybe we can let her have some cake and mojitos too.”

If Dara felt still uneasy, having her father to express curiosity and even show initiative towards Billie was a direct shot to her heart. Since the moment she told them she was dating Billie, her family except for her grandfather, Darziel and Gemma had been a bit...hesitant towards her. That in...seven years she didn’t show up much didn’t help her case, but she was taking steps forward and that seemed to have helped Dara’s family to also get interested, to want to get involved.

And that was the only thing Dara ever wanted since she knew she wanted to be with Billie as long as possible.

“Who do you think watch shitty movies with me back in Los Angeles? Dahlia?” that made father and daughter laugh, because Dahlia hated movies like those. “Billie sticks with me every time I get int-”

“Perdón,” Benjamin’s voice cut the father-daughter moment like a hot knife over butter. “¿Puedo...bailar con Ana, señor Jeziel?”

Dara felt her father’s hesitation in the way he didn’t stop from holding her, like he used to do when they were dating, and then the soft look in his face. Dara was the one between her siblings that resembled his father the most, her mother always joking that even as a days-old-baby she could pick point her from a bunch of other babies easily. So Jeziel got back the soft look he was giving, the permission Benjamin was asking for being given by his own daughter in the form of a tiny kiss on the cheek before his daughter turned around in his arms to put both her hands in the man’s shoulders.

His attention was drawn, however, by Eva wanting to dance with her grandfather and Dara was left with the source of her stress, who was trying to just mimic the way Jeziel was holding her daughter seconds ago.

Dara felt her body react like a ghost of what she was once. Forearms over Benjamin’s shoulders with her hands intertwined, Benjamin’s hands folded in her lower back and both looking into each other eyes with dozens of nights, days, noons spent together being there like a faint memory.

It felt like they were seventeen again.

Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two and their love stronger than ever...yet they both were there, thirty-two and sharing space after ten years since the last time they touched each other, seven years since the last time they heard each other’s voices.

“I was being sincere back there, you still look beautiful,” it was a shy approach from him but Dara thanked it the same, because she was a bit speechless. “Thought a bit skinnier than I remember.”

“All my baby fat finally went from everywhere to my thighs and tits, what can I say? Still got some in my hands, though,” Dara couldn’t help but feel a tiny fire in her chest, full knowing Benjamin was picking at her and falling, making him laugh. “But I was sincere too, Min, you look nice even when I feel you’re wearing someone else’s skin.”

“Well...I thought it was time to make a big change once and for all, look nice and sharp, y’know?” that face that she once found so kissable didn’t change, the soft smirk on his lips, the rise and fall of his eyebrows. “Lena dragged my ass so hard after getting out that I kinda indulged in some brother-sister bonding time that ended up with me looking like one of these modern kids.”

“Your little sister won’t ever change...nor you do; she says ‘go’ and you say ‘where’,” Dara rolled her eyes at hearing, once again, her ex-sister-in-law’s antics. “How are you handling everything?”

Dara didn’t want to address the elephant in the room so soon, but it was better this way now that he kind of mentioned it. She felt her voice soften because six and a half years in jail wasn’t something easy to talk about, Benjamin’s features softening as well.

“It’s weird, not gonna lie in here, but these months are teaching me new things...and also making me think about some others,” he made that tiny gesture with his nose that indicated his cheek was itching and Dara’s hand went there to ease him, leaving it now in his shoulder while her other arm circled his neck. “Can you believe Godo approached me?”

That was something that ignited her from the pit of her stomach, raw anger destroying whatever coherent thing she was about to say and going full protection mode.

“Min, don’t te-”

“I spit on his feet the second he was a meter from me, your father and your uncle saw me,” Dara felt Benjamin reassuringly caressing her lower back with his thumbs. “I’m not going back Ana, I’m trying to do something meaningful with my life...not going back with those that left me behind,” his smile was sad and full of hurt and all the anger that Dara was feeling settled in uneasiness. “You were always right, I still don’t know how you put up with all of it...and I’m sorry what it did to you, to us.”

Those words were ten years late, still made her heart ache with all the resentment she never managed to wash away.

“Someone had to protect you,” Dara shrugged, Benjamin taking her hand in his and pressing it in his chest, against where his heartbeat was going steady and where he had tattooed the same moon as Dara had under her right collarbone. Dara knew her ex was feeling her rings, her crooked fingers from a handful of times she broke them in a street fight when they were younger. “And I’m not drunk enough to have this full conversation, Min...not that I can get wasted now, anyway, mix of pills I became.”

“Viejita te me volviste,” Benjamin didn’t seem to mind that Dara didn’t want to follow that conversation, but both knew someday they’d have it and they were okay with that for the time being.

“It’s not my fault this house became like an animal shelter, okay? My allergy skyrocketed in between Diana and her cats, Deirdre and her dog, my parents with Zeus...santo niño Jesús, give me a rest,” it wasn’t that Dara hated animals, she loved them in fact, but her allergy to animal fur...not goodie at all. “If my leg wasn’t acting up like a bitch, I would give the vodka a try,” she chuckled at that and a voice in her head nagged her because she also took one more of those. “But we have what we have.”

“It’s okay with me as long it’s okay with you,” Benjamin looked troubled for a second. “When my mother told me about the accident, it scared the shit out of me...watching you with that cane didn’t help to put me at ease at all.”

Two years had passed since the car accident but some days Dara still recalled it as if it was yesterday.

“Rehabilitation wasn’t enough, the limp will always be there as an effect, but I do prefer the limp over not having leg at all,” it was a too hardcore way to put it, but Dara always was direct like that. “Shit happens, Min.”

“I know but…” the hurt in his eyes was much deeper than Dara could think. “The thought of you alone in a hospital bed...it hunts me at times.”

Dara felt that last sentence like a glitch in the somewhat calm moment, deafening her for a second and her eyes straying from Benjamin’s face to where the kitchen door was opening, her mother, her grandfather and Billie coming back with the coffee, tea and whatever her mother was also getting ready. She kept swaying with Min but her whole skeleton wanted to escape, to take Billie by her hand and go upstairs, hide in the room and forget this night by drowning herself in between her lover’s thighs...as vulgar as that sounded.

“I wasn’t alone,” her voice was so faint that it hurted somehow. “Billie watched over me, she never left my side.”

While saying that Dara saw Billie freeze halfway to the living room’s table, locking eyes with her. Billie’s expression resembled a deer caught in the headlights and somehow the sensation of getting away from Benjamin got worse, as if his mere contact was like embers. Dara silently looked at her in search of an answer of sorts, Billie opening and closing her mouth ever so slightly and looking away from her.

Was that tea in her hands?

“Your partner, yeah,” Dara couldn’t tell what kind of feeling Benjamin wanted to convey, her own emotions building up, overwhelmed. Mockery, sadness, resentment, knowledge, she didn’t know, she didn’t want to know. “The ultra nice blondie, with the medium thing going. Your mother told me about her. If I didn’t know you better, I would have thought she was having a fling with you or something.”

Billie wanted to break the cup of tea in her hands against Benjamin’s head, that was for sure, but right in that moment she was a bundle of mixed feelings after what Carla had told her in the privacy of the kitchen.

She had seen Dara dancing with Nora multiple times, even hummed along the song they were dancing to, but it didn’t wake up the same feeling that the image in front of her was at the moment. She truly wanted to have the strength to pick up Dara in her arms, going full bridal style and take her upstairs, or somewhere entirely else to drown in being the two of them alone. There was no cigarette able to calm her right now, not even one of Audrey’s joints would help at all.

But there was something in Dara, the way her face was one of pure pain and surprise at the same time, that didn’t sit right. She seemed to be withdrawing from Benjamin as the seconds passed by and Billie’s eyes went to how the rest didn’t seem to notice the change in Dara at all.

It was then when the front door opened, keys clinking muffled thanks to the music, and the last Lynch arrived at the house.

No, this can’t be.

She thought that with her heart twisting in her chest painfully, seeing how Dayanara looked as mortified as Benjamin apparently but being more subtle about it. Billie didn’t need to read minds to know that Dayanara perfectly knew her boyfriend didn’t say shit to her sister or the rest did. They were all acting normal and her face showed clearly how tired, angered and confused she was. Billie felt Bruno by her side, taking from her hands the cup of tea she had ready for Dara, and leaving it over the table while letting his free hand to rest in the middle of her back. A silent support, she supposed.

“Daya!” Carla was trying too hard to cover her own surprise by being happy about her arrival. “I’ll heat you up some food, go get change and-”

“Mamá, por favor, cállate,” Billie didn’t need to understand spanish to fully know what was said by how Dayanara pinched the bridge of her nose after pulling up in her head her glasses, leaving her bag over a chair. She was still wearing her nurse uniform. “I’m too tired to handle this right now but I’m going to rip off the band-aid once and for all, and fuck everything.”

“What’s going on?” it wasn’t ‘what are you talking about?’ what came from Dara’s lips and Billie already expected her to say that because as much as she liked to be direct, Dara only asked for the same at the end of the day.

“Benji and I have been dating for four months, that’s what’s going on,” Billie felt herself shiver at how similar Dara and Dayanara’s features were when angry. “I wanted to tell you right away, talk to you face to face, but between both being busy and all...well, I expected to tell you after dinner today. Thought he was going to start the conversation since I got stuck at work, but it seems he didn’t.”

The tension in the living room was heavier than how it was at the Montgomery’s mansion, Billie starting to feel a soft static tickling her skin as if it was some kind of warning that everything could go to shit from one second to another.

Dara wasn’t going to explode as her family thought, right?

That was what Carla told her in the kitchen, the motive behind why they all had been hiding all of that from her. Carla told her that Dara would get angry and messy upon knowing that her ex was dating her little sister, but Billie had stepped forward to counter that, tell her...mother-in-law that Dara was pretty down on Earth and calm upon facing any kind of issue, always working her way through it with a control that even her wished to have.

Darziel looked between his older sisters, worried sick, while Deirdre and Diana looked to each other first and then to both Dayanara and Dara, as if they were going to get into a fight or something. Dayanara stood where she was, like an immovable force, but Dara…

...Billie never saw Dara so defenceless.

However, that defencelessness went away the moment Dara smiled brightly at her little sister, throwing off everyone in the room with the force of an earthquake.

“That’s...God, Daya!” Dara laughed and walked towards her little sister, who noticed right away how she was limping heavier and met her halfway, getting hugged in the process. “I’m so happy for you two! Now it makes sense that he’s here,” Dara flickered her fingers towards Benjamin. “It was my fault for not coming home earlier so we could talk, don’t worry,” then she looked at her mother before taking her cane, which was resting against the table, before lacing her fingers with Dayanara’s. “Let’s get you some food and you can tell me some details, if it’s okay with you.”

Annie, what are you doing? Billie wanted to scream that on top of her lungs, confused as she was, while the rest of the house seemed to start breathing at ease upon seeing such reaction from her. Bruno did seem to think the same as her, but there was something in his eyes that told Billie this kind of reaction wasn’t a one time thing.

“It...is,” Dayanara was getting back from the shock, nodding and starting to walk along Dara towards the kitchen. “We can always talk more over breakfast.”

“Of course, of course,” Dara chuckled and leant to kiss her sister’s temple with love. “Gossip over pancakes, best gossip, right?”

Billie didn’t care how Jeziel seemed to stop Benjamin from following them, didn’t care that the rest went back to their things, didn’t care when Bruno led her towards the couch so they could sit together and monopolize it.

But she did care about how Dara had gone, somehow, where Billie was still both too afraid and too confused to follow her.

...

When a nausea wave hit her once again, making her empty whatever was left at that point in her stomach, Dara thanked to her five-minutes-past self to have opened the shower to make the most background noise possible.

It wasn’t weird at all that someone got showered at the wee hours of the night in the house at summer, so she saved her own ass with that.

For sure heat didn’t help at all, she thought as she put a hand over her sweaty forehead, waiting in case she threw up again. Not that there was something else left but bile, but who knew what her body was going to decide. She laughed to herself, thinking in how in other scenery that could make her go bananas and think she was pregnant or something, instead of just having such anxiety attack like the one she was having in that very same moment.

God, sometimes her mind went to some weird places in those situations.

Drenched in sweat as she was, she made a quick work by flossing the toilet and get in the shower after peeling off her pajamas, taking advantage that it was already turned on. Cold water made her feel better, settling little by little the hole her anxiety was craving in her stomach. With tears pushing for freedom in her eyes, Dara tried to think about anything else to calm her racing mind. Like how everyone had decided stay at the house, how funny it looked the way Deirdre and Diana managed to both get the sofa-bed and their husbands took the cold hard floor by their side. Darziel, Gemma and Eva slept in Darziel’s room, the girls taking the bed while he threw some pillows to the floor and built a nest-like bed for him. Dayanara and Benjamin went to Daya’s room and Dara’s mind made a double spin to avoid thinking more about that.

She was glad Billie and her got the tiny guest room-made-office for themselves.

Wrapping her hair in a towel and drying herself enough to get back in her clothes, Dara made her new task be brush her teeth the best she could. She had rinsed her mouth several times before going down to the kitchen to get some water, her throat still burning, but the stupid bad taste didn’t seem to go away. Dara went through the fridge to get some juice instead, and when she found one she actually didn’t like much - she wasn’t risking her favourites to get ruined because of this - she sat there with the window open, drinking right from the bottle while getting some fresh air to clear her head.

In her head everything seem to go really fast, almost disorganized, but whoever watched her from the outside could clearly see how slow and careful she was moving.

She was the best at pretending everything was fine, to hold it in until she was alone to let it all flow, but having a full house didn’t help her at all. And of course this wasn’t some stupid argument between her siblings or with her mother, so it only got worse from then on. Dara wasn’t having an anxiety attack because it overwhelmed her the news per se, but because she was reliving all the memories from her time by Benjamin so hard that made her want to slap some sense into Dayanara, tell her to break up with him and find her someone in Los Angeles, someone probably better under her own point of view…

...but what was the point, after all.

Nothing Dara could say would make her sister change her opinion and she didn’t want to influence her in anyway possible, because her own experience didn’t have to be her sister’s right?

Ten years had passed, ten fucking years! Whatever she knew about Benjamin was literally thrown away into the garbage can because she didn’t know that man anymore, how he was now, how he acted now, his aspirations, whatever.

She only knew the ghost of what he was once...and it was the other way around as well.

The way he talked about Billie didn’t help him at all, the rejection was immediate as if he had slapped instead of throwing around some stupid words. If I didn’t know you better, I would have thought she was having a fling with you or something. Dara had to close her eyes because the nausea was about to hit her again, that or an unstoppable flood of tears. It felt wrong hearing that, as if Dara herself was nothing but a game for someone like Billie. How could he even dare to tell her that when he didn’t have the balls to tell her that he was dating Dayanara? He didn’t know her at all, for God’s sake!

So fucking horrible, wasn’t it?

Dara’s eyes wandered around the kitchen, trying to tone down the awful feeling in her chest by focusing in the kitchen of her childhood. All she could see was a time that she wasn’t happy...and she wasn’t thinking about being five to ten and running around with the laugh of her grandparents as music, she was thinking of her teens, her early twenties and how one day she packed all she had in the middle of the night, took her shitty ass car - that would get wrecked eight years later in the accident - and drove all the way to Los Angeles to take a wild chance on life.

A leap of faith that made her feel she still had something to do in life.

Her eyes finally landed in the only light bright enough to make a difference in the somewhat dark kitchen aside the fridge one and Dara’s stomach churned. They will always have landline, till the end of times, she thought while hobbling to take the wireless phone. Navigating through the agenda, Dara felt immediately guilty about what she was about to do but she needed to talk with someone that wasn’t in the mess at all.

Or that she hoped.

She knew well, deep inside, that she had had to wake up Billie for that but she didn’t have the heart to do so when her partner managed to get a hold of a night of sleep. Even more when it took several glasses of rum to take her down completely. Dara didn’t want to think about the hangover her father, Billie and Berto would have upon waking up, her own stomach hurting even more for them. So her thumb pressed lightly the button to select the number in the agenda, letting herself to think once again if it was the right choice overall.

Dara, while pressing the phone against her ear and sitting back in the chair, made a mental note to live a fifty dollars bill in her mother’s purse later in the morning.

“¿Abuelo?” the sleepy and heavy accented voice of a woman sounded in the other side of the line. “Ah...no.” was the only thing Dara managed to croak in response and the woman sighed heavily, whoever was by her side grumbling something in their sleep. “¿Tata Carla? ¿Qué lo que pasó? Incluso para usted es temprano.” the woman seemed to start functioning and Dara choked on an incoming sob because she didn’t want to overworry her. “It’s me, Dara, sorry for waking you up so early,” that seemed to restart the woman, whose voice was pure confusion now. “Dara? What are you doing calling me from your parents’? What are you doing even there?” sometimes Dara forgot that her cousin was a bit out of touch of everything, so it wasn’t something new to see that she didn’t read the family group chat. “I’m on vacation here...but I was calling you because…” Dara felt the uncomfortable warmth of tears in her cheeks and she couldn’t help but sniff a bit to hold another sob, even when her voice broke. “I don’t know Dani, I needed someone to talk with I guess,” Dara pressed her free hand, which was shaking, against her own chest. “But if I’m bothering you I can call later, I know it’s stupid, you should probably go back to sleep...You must be tired from work and all, I’m so-” Being shushed by Danielle wasn’t harsh, but it was what Dara needed to start crying a bit harder. “You won’t ever be a bother, not even if you tried, so don’t apologize. Just let me get down to the kitchen to not wake Bastien, okay? Take some deep breaths, mon mimi.”

Dara only managed to whisper an ‘okay’ while pressing her wrist to her eyes, trying to stop her about to be runny nose to do as she was told. She tried to focus on her breathing, but her throat still itched and hurt, so imagine the mess. Muffling her coughs against her forearm, Dara instead tried to focus in whatever sound Danielle was making in the other side of the line while her tears ran freely down her cheeks.

She was also repeating herself there, because ten years had passed too since before leaving her parents’ house forever she called her oldest cousin to get some sort of support. Twenty-two to twenty-nine, thirty-two to thirty-nine, the only thing that had changed was that her cousin didn’t have a two years old baby anymore but a twelve years old girl that probably didn’t remember Dara that well and that Danielle’s beautiful black mane was getting too many white hairs too soon.

“Okay, I’m here,” Danielle’s voice was gentle and warm. “You want to tell me before, after or in between the crying?”

Dara decided the last option because, as always, it was the best to get as much as she could out of her chest.

…

Billie didn’t know how she got downstairs alive, but she did it somehow without breaking her neck.

Maybe it wasn’t that good of idea getting hammered with her father-in-law and brother-in-law last night, probably not her best performance, but what was done, done was. Rubbing her eyes a bit and not getting her hand smudged with make-up - Dara probably removed it when she was asleep or she convinced her drunk ass to do it somehow - was a good start, but overhearing the cheery voices coming from the television gave her headache an uncomfortable push.

How late did she wake up? Not that they had much to do, anyway, but oversleeping was hard in her in-law’s house. Her eyes went to the clock over the kitchen door, the bright red numbers telling her right away that it was midday. That sobered her up a bit, but what actually made her react was realizing the living room wasn’t that illuminated.

The curtains were almost closed except for a crack, enough to cast light over where Bruno was reading the newspaper. Her eyes then went to the television, some cartoon movie playing for Ezra, Eduardo and Evan, who were behaving themselves pretty well for being what probably was the hour when their energy should be at its peak, and then Billie discovered why they were so quiet aside of trying not to bother their great-grandfather morning reading.

Dara was there in the couch with them, long as she was, and the boys were sitting there too in a way that Billie didn’t know how could any of the four of them could be comfortable, except for maybe Eduardo that was lying over Dara, with his head in her chest. Evan and Ezra were sitting in between her legs, their tiny ones draped over Dara’s right leg as if it was some kind of a leg-rest or something. The funniest part was that Dara was heavy asleep, making Billie to think if maybe the heat didn’t let her sleep last night and was making up for it now.

That or maybe the stress from yesterday hit her like a truck.

“Morning,” Billie mumbled, raising her hand. The boys waved at her and Bruno looked up from his newspaper, all in silence. “Where’s everyone?”

“Jeziel and Berto in the kitchen, trying to get breakfast before my daughter comes from getting groceries with Deirdre, Diana and Eva,” explained Bruno without raising his voice much. “Abe, Daya and motor-kid to work, papito God knows where with Gemita.”

“Oh, okay,” Billie got closer to Dara and she leant with care to kiss her forehead and cheek with love, only getting a soft comfortable hum in response and making Billie lick her lips a bit, refraining herself to kiss her in the lips but noticing something along the way, like some kind of saltiness in Dara’s skin that Billie only blamed to sweating too much. “She must be really tired, I didn’t see her sleep so soundly in a while.”

“Must be, dear,” and with that, Bruno got back to his reading, the kids never getting their attention drawn from the film. “Go get some pancakes before they butchered them all, Anita made them.”

She obeyed without much thought, her brain still fuzzy with the hangover, but when she sat with coffee and the last two pancakes in the tray by the men in the kitchen table everything felt a bit more homier. It was the first day Dara wasn’t getting breakfast with her, who always was the one saving her from the morning chatter, but she was lucky enough to share breakfast with the other two hangover people in the house...so she got some quiet time sprinkled with some ‘pass me this’ or ‘pass me that’.

Nonetheless, the quietness of the morning helped her greatly to finally think about what could she get Dara for their seventh anniversary.

And she really hoped that her gift, along a pretty deserved night only the two of them, could make Dara feel a bit better and take her mind off the whole mess that ensued last night in the very same living room she was sleeping so peacefully in.

#billie dean howard x original character #dara ann lynch #billie dean howard #original character #ahs hotel #ahs murder house #american horror story

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scourgewins · 5 years ago

Text

(Sorry I haven’t posted anything in awhile! I keep getting ideas for new stories, halfway finishing them, then starting another, then halfway finishing it, and I think you get the picture. Anyway, I wanted to write something for the holiday season that introduced some headcanons of ours. Be warned, there’s a lot of talk of religion in here and some mentions of antisemitism, along with some satanic stuff. Nothing too specific is mentioned, but if your sensitive to these sort of things you’d best not read this. This is meant to be a sort of fluffy piece, but it gets a bit serious at points. I’m really nervous about this story! I hope you like it if you feel comfortable reading it!)

(Warnings: Mentions of religion, mentions of satanism, mentions of antisemitism (none of it is too explicit))

Thunk… Thunk… Thunk...

Bendy frowned, pulling his blanket closer around himself.

Thunk… Thunk… Thunk...

He cracked one pie eye open and stared blearily about his surroundings.

Thunk… Thunk… Thunk...

Sighing, Bendy sat up and banged the wall, “Quit it, willya? I’m tryna sleep!”

The noise abruptly stopped, then the door handle twisted and Wally poked his head inside Joey’s office, a hammer in hand. He caught sight of Bendy in his makeshift bed in the corner, “Whoops! Sorry, Bendy! I’m just putting up Christmas decorations!”

Bendy’s glare turned confused, “Chris-what?”

“Christmas! You know, jingle bells and all that.”

When Bendy looked still more confused, it was Wally’s turn to frown.

“Didn’t Joey ever explain Christmas to you?”

“No,” Bendy considered, “But he did say we put up decorations for birthdays. Is it a birthday?”

“No- Well actually, yeah, it is.” Wally looked to be thinking intensely, “It’s gotta do with religion, I think.”

The little devil tilted his head, “What’s that?”

“It’s… Well, it’s… what you believe in.” Wally nodded succinctly, seeming to enjoy that for once he knew more than someone else.

“What does Christmas believe in?” Bendy leaned forward, his irritation at being woken up dissipating.

“Well, people who celebrate Christmas believe in-”

Suddenly someone was screaming in the hallway outside the door. Wally glanced back outside in alarm.

“Joey? What’s-”

“Don’t say anything!” Joey streaked into the room, his wild green eyes fixating on Bendy. He fell to his knees and held the living cartoon by the shoulders, looking him over.

“Are you okay, Bendy?” Bendy was surprised by his creator’s panic.

“I’m fine, Joey! What’s wrong?”

Joey let out a relieved sigh and slumped against the wall, “I should have warned everyone earlier…”

“Warned us about what?”

Joey’s gaze flicked to Wally and he glared, “You can’t talk about that stuff around Bendy!”

Wally looked both chastened and puzzled, “Sorry! I didn’t know… whatever I said was bad.”

Bendy heard more footsteps running down the hallway and looked up to see Henry burst in.

“Is everything alright? Why were you screaming?”

“He,” Joey pointed accusingly at the janitor, “Was about to tell Bendy about religious stuff.”

Henry’s eyes widened, “Oh.”

Bendy was becoming increasingly annoyed, “What is religion?!”

Sighing, Henry came to sit beside Joey and Bendy, “It’s not something we can talk about with you. You’re… uh…”

Joey helped out, “You were created with powers very opposite of certain religions, so we can’t talk about them with you or you might, well, burst into flames or something.”

“What?!” Bendy and Wally cried at the same time.

“But you can still celebrate the commercial side!” Joey added in an effort to calm them, “You can still put up tinsel and eat snowman cookies-”

“Wally almost killed me!” Bendy screamed, ignoring Joey.

“I didn’t know!” Wally suddenly looked like he was going to cry.

Henry hastened to intervene, “We should have warned both of you earlier! We didn’t know Wally was going to start putting up decorations today.”

“But I told Joey yesterday!” Wally said.

Joey frowned, “No, you didn’t!”

“I asked you and you said ‘Go ahead’!”

“Well I wasn’t paying attention, so you can’t blame me for that!”

“Everyone calm down!” Henry held up placating hands, “The important thing is Bendy is safe. We should inform everyone not to talk about the religious aspect of Christmas or any religious stuff in general in the studio.”

“I can do it!” Wally held up an eager hand, clearly wanting to get back on their good side. He raced out of the room, nearly careening into the doorway.

Henry sighed and leaned his head back against the wall. Bendy looked up at him, clutching his blankets for comfort.

“Sorry, Bendy.” the animator said, moving closer to wrap an arm around him, “We should have been more careful.”

“Yeah…” Joey agreed.

Bendy looked at both of his dads and tried for a nonchalant shrug, “It’s okay, I guess. I didn’t burn up or anything.”

Henry shivered, “Thank goodness.”

Bendy was silent for awhile, enjoying the attention, letting it sooth him. Henry and Joey seemed reluctant to leave his side, seeing as how last time they weren’t there Bendy had nearly went up in smoke.

The cartoon demon decided the silence had gone on long enough, “Can I help with the decorations?”

“Of course!” Joey exclaimed, “We aren’t putting any religious ones up. You can help with the wreaths and mistletoe and such.”

Bendy nodded, pretending to know what those were. A thought struck him as he sat there.

“Do you guys have religion?”

Joey shrugged, “I have satanism.”

Henry looked balefully at Joey, “I don’t think it’s quite that extreme.”

“Call it what you will, I like summoning things.” Joey gestured to Bendy as proof.

The animator shook his head and turned back to Bendy, “I have a religion, I guess, though I don’t practice it as avidly as I used to.”

“What is it?”

Henry hesitated, not sure how much he could say, “It doesn’t involve Christmas. I actually celebrate another holiday around this time of year.”

“Are we putting decorations for that up?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not quite as popular as Christmas,” Henry said, “And there aren’t as many decorations.”

“Why’s it not as popular as Christmas?”

“Um, well...” He shared a glance with Joey, “People don’t like it as much.”

“But it’s all religion, right, even if it’s not Christmas.”

“Yes, but some religions don’t mix well with others.”

Bendy stared in awe, “Will you burst into flames, too?”

Henry gave a tight smile, “Not quite.”

Now Bendy was confused, “But religion is what you believe in, right? And since you’re a good person, what you believe in has to be good, too. So why would anyone not like what you believe in?”

“That’s a very loaded question, Bendy,” Henry replied, “But your line of thinking is very refreshing.”

Bendy didn’t understand what that meant and didn’t comment.

“I’m gonna go help Wally decorate.” he decided. Joey brightened.

“Great! Maybe I’ll join you two after I take care of some things.” Joey stood up and lifted Bendy from his bed. Bendy protested the action though secretly enjoyed being held. It made him feel tall, despite the fact that Joey was very short.

Joey set him down and walked over to his desk as Henry began to get to his feet. Bendy held his hand out.

“Need a hand, old man?” he grinned.

Henry chuckled, “Sure.”

He grasped Bendy’s gloved hand and was immediately yanked to his feet by the cartoon’s surprising strength.

“I always forget about that.” Henry said, adjusting his tie.

“Come on!” Bendy led him out, “We can both help Wally! And afterwards maybe I can come to your house so we can decorate for your holiday, too!”

“I don’t really have any decorations.”

“Oh, well, whatever you do have we can do that.”

Henry smiled, suddenly much brighter than he’d been a few seconds ago.

They found Wally setting up mistletoe in the front hallway. Henry helped hold his ladder steady, though the janitor still managed to fall and landed right into Bendy’s outstretched arms. The three continued to help decorate until Henry had to get back to work. Later, Henry and Bendy - joined by Boris and Alice, who also wanted to come - would drive to Henry’s house under the cover of night. Henry would rummage in his closet until he found a small, cylindrical item with a pointed end that allowed it to spin, then take some pennies and nickels from a drawer. The four of them would gather around his small kitchen table and begin a game.

Only Henry could touch the spinning item, though, so the cartoons wouldn’t get burned.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #BATIM #Bendy the Dancing Demon #Henry Stein #Joey Drew #Wally Franks #Writing Entity #TW Religion #TW Antisemitism Mention #TW Satanism

17 notes · View notes

juminsmysticmc · 6 years ago

Note

Could I request reactions of when (mc and rfa+v dating) mc find out she has an terminal illness and ask them to break up without tell them,she wants them to hate her so they do not grieve too much,so when they know mc already died, angst if you cant its ok ilike your imagination♡0♡

RFA + V with a Mc who finds out that she will die soon and makes them hate her to not make them suffer for her

Huhhhh why do you need to make me cry this much! I hope you like my angst, really…please tell me because I personally think that this is one of my best Hc and for the first time I’m really really really proud of myself! Have fun and don’t cry!

Ps. I watched the Kdrama ,,Uncontrollably Fond’’ where the main lead (Kim Woo Bin) is ill, like Mc in this request and tries to find his old love just to see how much she changed but still loves her. And so the female lead (Suzy) and him go through a lot of hardships since she doesn’t know about his illness at first. I really liked the Drama, it was filled with emotions and secrets! And then after the Drama I found out that Kim Woo Bin was really sick after the Drama, luckily he overcame the illness, I’m soo happy! I first knew him from ,,the Heirs’’ and I didn’t really like him ( Lee MinHo forever haha) but now, ahh I like him! Are there any Kim Woo Bin fans? Now, enough talking, go and read the Headcanon for real!

ATTENTION! This headcanon can trigger! Don’t read if you can’t handle the mention of: Self harm, death, illness, suicide

Jumin

,,You must have seen wrong, Doctor.“ you snapped as the doctor told you about the illness you had.

You were so young, barely 30 and now he told you that you were going to die?

,,How long?“ you asked him.

It wasn’t a long time anymore, you knew.

The doctor told you to please go to the hospital to get treatment.

Without any help, you would live about three months.

You however took your purse and glared at him.

,,If you dare to tell my husband, I will sue you and destroy you.“ you snapped with a trembling voice.

It wasn’t like you to be like that. Perhaps the fear deep in your heart made you tell him these things.

You walked out of the room and walked to the parking lot.

With a click you turned on the radio and began to sob loudly.

What should you tell him now?

Should you even tell him?

And then, you made up your mind.

Once at home you had time for one hour.

You decided to make a video for Jumin.

In there you told him the reason for your lie.

,,I‘m home!“ Jumin called as he opened the door.

You smiled at him and hugged him.

Our last hug….you thought.

As you kissed him, you thought about your last kiss and when you smiled at him, you thought about the last time you could see his beautiful eyes shining at the view of you.

You knew you were selfish but you thought it was for his best.

For the next months the two of you went on trips and every time you went away, you met a former friend.

You tried to make him jealous and angry.

You didn’t only make up relationships, but you also tried to discuss with him about everything.

Deep in your heart it was painful for you too.

But for him you wanted to be in pain even in your afterlife.

The third month finally arrived. Jumin still tried to hold into you but he wasn’t as happy as before anymore.

,,You’re a big cold hearted ass, Jumin Han! Everything I cared about was your money! You know what? I want to have a divorce. Finally get rid of you!“ you yelled and rushed out.

Jumin Han stayed behind and finally cried after a long long time.

He didn’t know that you were in pain, ill and worried about him.

He didn’t know that you hated yourself, that you didn’t mean it, that you didn’t want it.

He didn’t know that you tried to protect him.

Three months later Jumin tried to call you for the last sentence for the divorce.

His anger against you was making him grow colder than he was in the past.

,,Yes?“ a man responded your phone with a trembling voice.

Jumin‘s jealously grew once again.

,,Who are you, Sir? I wanted to talk to Mc.“ he said.

,,I‘m-no, we need to meet up. I guess you’re her ex-husband, right? I have something for you.“ the man mumbled and told Jumin a place and time.

Not long after the two of them met, Jumin Han was a totally different man.

To get to know your cousin and to get to know the news that you died crushed his heart.

The video he gave him, scared him.

Even more did the sight of your crying face.

,,Hello Jumin. If you’re now watching this video it must mean that I‘m dead….haha. How weird to say this. Today I got told that I‘m ill. Deadly ill. I decided to protect your heart and make you hate me. I hope I didn’t fail and that today, you won’t love me as you loved me in the past….I hope that today you’re not in pain without me by your side…Just know that I love you, loved you and will love you forever. Please forgive me. I did everything for you…believe me….“

Jumin Han couldn’t bear it anymore.

He watched the video about three times until he finally decided to sue the doctor.

Afterwards he spend all his money and strength in donations for ill people who were diagnosed with a deadly illness.

And of course he spend his money on wine, a lot of wine.

Three bottles a day in front of the television with your last video, a picture of you and your good smelling pajamas.

Without you this man was broken.

,,Mc….rather than spending these days in hate I would have loved it to spend good days with you….why did you make this decision…?“ he often asked you while he was crying his eyes out.

Zen

,,Ahhhhh so exciting!“ you giggled to yourself as you patted your flat belly.

Since days you were feeling dizzy and had to vomit.

You were sure of it, you were pregnant.

You still didn’t know that you were wrong.

You didn’t know that soon you would be confronted with awful news.

The shock almost made you throw up.

This time however you weren’t happy at your body’s reaction.

You were scared, angry and helpless.

,,But…are you sure that I will die?“ you asked your doctor as tears slowly slipped down your cheeks.

,,Yes, I‘m sorry to tell you about your illness. We can however decelerate this. We need to send you to the-“

,,Sorry. But, will it help me? I will still die. I would rather die now than make my loved ones live with me in pain. Please don’t tell it anybody. My family can’t know about it.“ you begged.

Without an explanation you left the room and walked back home.

The happiness you had earlier disappeared.

Everything but this, you begged and quickly your legs gave up as you began to cry.

,,No no no no no no no no no please please please please please no!“ you begged.

And now? You knew you couldn’t destroy the love of your life, if Zen would know about this he would be as dead as you….

That’s when you got the idea to just break up with him.

You entered your shared home and waited for Zen.

You deeply hoped that your plan would work out and that today would be the last day of your life together with Zen.

Because you just couldn’t bear to lie at him.

,,Hi princess, how was your day?“

,,Hi Zenny~ I saw such a beautiful young man~ why don’t you cut your hair? They are ruined. I think we should change job. We would be such good teachers for example ~!“

,,Mc, are you kidding me?“ he asked you and you noticed that his mood was getting bad.

,,I just wanted to change you~ but I guess I failed. Just let’s break up…I didn’t imagine my life like this.“ you told him with an evil smile.

Zen stayed open mouthed and looked at you.

What did you mean?

But he couldn’t react quickly enough, you already stamped out and left the apartment.

Since then the two of you didn’t speak anymore.

Instead you posted disgusting emojis below his posts to make him hate you even more.

,,Mc…why didn’t you tell him…?“ your sister asked you with tears in her eyes.

,,Do you really want to die without the man you love?“ she asked you as she held your hand.

Finally your time came.

You were thin, you couldn’t even move a muscle anymore.

,,Take…..the letter….in my purse….if Zen would get to know the truth….give him the letter…..“ you tried to tell her.

She nodded and asked you to please stay awake as she took the letter.

But you couldn’t stand it anymore.

Your thoughts were filled with Zen and your eyes searched for him.

In the last seconds of your life you stayed alone.

All your wrongdoings came back to your mind and as you breathed your last breath, you said his name ,,Zen“.

Three years passed, Zen tried to check several times your social media accounts but it was no use, as is if you had disappeared.

Your family also behaved odd that’s how he came to know that you died.

He was shocked as he read your sisters post and so the next day he met her.

,,To be honest I did this on purpose, Hyun. She didn’t want you to know but…..well. Here, a letter from her. I should give it you if you would come to know about her death.“ you sister mumbled while crying. She got up, hugged him, apologized a last time and went away, leaving the young white haired man on his own.

As Zen read the letter, a lot of things came to make sense.

Zen read the letter a lot of times until he decided to follow you.

His dream was to let you know how stupid your decision was and how much he still loved you.

And so Zen died only four years later after your death day, thinking about you

,,I want you to live, who are you kidding, Mc….I want to live with you…“

Yoosung

,,RIKA RIKA RIKA RIKA! I‘m fucking annoyed! You only talk about Rika and LOLOL, Yoosung! Grow up, IDIOT! I will just go to the man who approached me yesterday. I‘m fucking finished!“ you yelled at the blond man who was tearing up.

He didn’t even have the strength to ran after you, to stop you or beg you for forgiveness.

As soon as you packed your things and left the house, you began to cry.

The cold rain pounded on you as the tears rolled down your cheeks.

The coldness outside was almost warm, compared to the loneliness in your heart which made you shiver.

You were indeed a bad woman, you lied and crushed him without blinking, you thought.

,,Illness…to hell!“ you snapped and got up and like a strong woman you entered the hospital to get hospitalized.

,,Oh, Mrs Kim! Who are you writing again?“ the Nurse asked you as she handled you over the pictures you asked her to print.

,,My husband!“ you said with a big smile as you looked at the pictures.

Hair and chest were missing but you were sure, that everything would get better soon.

,,Oh, he‘s in the abroad?“ she asked you.

When you however told her that he didn’t know, her face froze.

It didn’t take long and your situation got even worser.

At some point the nurse begged you to call Yoosung but you never lost hope.

Until one morning you died, alone in the white hospital room.

,,Who’s that?!“ Yoosung snapped as he threw his head phones on the floor.

How long has it been after you left him?

After he lost your whereabouts?

When he opened the door his hopes of seeing you got crushed.

The nurse who was caring for you, was at his door and handled him the letters ,,She fought until her last breath. She was a wonderful woman who mistook one decision. I‘m sorry for your loss.“ she told him and left.

Yoosung read the letters and looked at all the pictures you sent him.

His tears didn’t stop and soaked your last letters.

,,Dear Yoosung, you’re reading this letters while I‘m probably in front of you! We did it, Yoosung! We finally fought, I‘m healthy and alive, Rika‘s faith spared us.

I deeply hope that you will forgive me, Yoosung because I really did my best in order to spare you from these hard moments. I love you.“

Yoosung didn‘t know what to do, the young man cursed you and everyone.

He began to toss all kind of objects around him.

Because this lost was a hard one, a loss which would leave his heart empty forever.

Jaehee

You watched your beautiful girlfriend as she served a guest with a big smile.

You loved her just so much, you wanted to protect her with all your strength.

That’s why you had to do what you planned in your little head.

,,Jaehee.“ you called her after everyone left.

,,Yes?“ she responded and turned her head to you, her beautiful long hair danced as she looked at you.

Her beauty made it even harder for you to break up.

,,I….I decided to move out. This shop…it’s a big burden for me. I hate it here.“ you told her.

,,I would like to break up with you.“ you said.

She didn’t even have time to respond as you began to throw away the cake you prepared for the next day.

,,I HATE IT HERE!“ you screamed and began to sob.

You didn’t want to do it like that, but the fear of your soon death scared you.

Even more the thought about the fact that you will die while she would hate you.

You left the shop sobbing and left Jaehee behind.

You didn’t hear from her for a long long time.

She never called you and so did you.

The only one who knew the real issue was Jumin who was also by your side while you faced the hardship.

Well, to be honest deep in your heart you wanted him to carry your secret as a payback for Jaehee‘s hardships but in the end it turned out that you just wanted someone by your side.

,,How is she…?“ you mumbled after he let you slip a bit of water.

,,Together with Yoosung she‘s working again for me. She cut her hair and closed the shop.“ Jumin said without showing any feelings.

,,So my act will be in vain?“ you asked him.

,,Sometimes it’s just better to say something personally. People think they can protect each other like that, but that’s not true. In the end they just get hurt deeply.“

,,You speak as if you’re not human, Mr Han.“ you teased him and had to cough.

,,Mc, I said several times that I would pay for the hospital fees why didn’t you get hospitalized?“ he asked you.

,,You did more than I actually wanted you to do….“ you told him.

The next day Jumin came, he found two letters on your table. Unfortunately you fell asleep forever after writing them.

A lonely sleep.

,,Dear Jumin.

Thank you for everything you did. Please give this letter to Jaehee. I want to see her a last time. And in order to make her come I wrote the letter. I decided to write you a letter too because it seemed more prettier. And besides I was so sleepy and wanted you to let her know right away. Would you do me this last please? If I‘m asleep, please wake me up~“ the letter said.

Jumin Han shed a tear. You couldn’t see it or hear his sobbing sounds, but he cried for you.

,,Mc had a reason.“ he told Jaehee when he came back.

,,Mr Han I appreciate it that you want us to make up but-“

,,This wasn‘t my intention, Assistant Kang. I wanted her to rest in peace and you…to live without any regrets. Please read the letter and go to give her your goodbyes.“ Jumin told her.

Jaehee softly opened the letter and read every word.

Tears slipped down her face as she read your begs.

To please come to visit her, let you see her beautiful eyes, smell her long hair and listen to her beautiful voice as she talked about the shop.

For several days Jaehee couldn’t get a hold of her life.

As she looked at the shop from the outside, she noticed that everything seemed lonely, cold and dark but when Jaehee remembered your letter, her life began to bloom once again.

,,Please go on with your dream. Our dream, I will always support you.“ your last sentence said.

Saeyoung

,,I’m off!’’ you said and left through the door to go to the hospital.

Since a few days you were feeling odd, you had headaches and felt sick, you also lost a lot of hair and your vision kept getting bad.

You decided to go to the medical.

Saeyoung knew but had no time to go with you.

But your soon to be husband promised you that he would check your condition through the doctors files.

Although you often begged him to stop hacking.

Well, you could never be sure and that’s why today you had two assignments.

Saeyoung although knew only about one, the fake one.

You first went to the fake appointment, you needed new birth control pills, that’s why everything went by pretty quickly, the next one was the real appointment.

Saeyoung didn’t know about this one, and it was good so.

Because the awful truth you came to know would stay your secret forever.

You looked at your tests as you realized that you were really dying.

,,What did you say, doctor? I….I won’t live more than four months…?’’ you asked him again as tears filled your brown eyes.

The doctor nodded.

,,No, Sir, you must have done a mistake, there’s….it’s impossible!’’ you began to sob and cried.

,,No, I’m sorry to tell you that the test is right. But if you like, I could make another appointment for you with another doctor.’’ he told you.

,,No, no…thank you…’’ you mumbled.

Deep in your mind you already knew that you were dying, deep in your heart you could already feel the sadness and loneliness.

Your pale body would soon lay into the tight coffin, darkness would surround you below the ground, coldness will accompany you forever.

You were at the end of your nerves, you were scared.

What would you tell him, the man of your life?

After all he went through, you couldn’t tell him that you would join V.

Your hands began to tremble as you thought about Saeran who still was in a critical situation, Saeyoung wouldn’t be able to survive this on his own, he wouldn’t!

,,But fuck…he’s such a genius!’’ you sobbed harder as you began to chew on your nails.

,,This is all because I kept eating unhealthy things, because I judged Rika, V is giving me his payback for everything what happened in the RFA!’’ you cried.

That day you came home late, Saeyoung was pretty happy to see you but you felt sick at his smile.

He was so happy and your happiness would vanish soon.

,,Crap!’’ you snapped to yourself and slapped your cheek at your ill minded thoughts.

Saeyoung deserved happiness…why were you like that?!

After that moment you noticed that you needed to break up immediately.

,,Mc….why are you packing your stuff?’’ Saeyoung asked you.

,,Saeyoung, you were right, you will hurt me…you are dangerous….you…you are so…difficult to live with! I…I feel like dying with you! I…can’t I’m sorry…this is all to much…please become happy without me and look after Saeran but please let me go, let me live happily!’’ you begged and slapped yourself in your thoughts.

Why did you say that? Why would you hurt him like that? You knew that Saeyoung would get hurt by that, you knew perfectly that he would be unhappy but still, your thoughts kept hunting you.

He could be happy, you not, so why not hurting him?

,,SHUT THE FUCK UP I HATE IT!’’ you screamed and threw everything on the ground.

,,I HATE YOU!’’ you yelled even loader.

,,YOU….YOU! IT’S BECAUSE OF YOU!’’ you panicked and began to cry harder, cold tears dripped on the floor while a few came to touch your lips.

The salt taste of your tears made you notice your words.

You wanted to apologize, beg him for forgiveness and help but all you said was a simply ,,I hate you.’’

With that you left him behind, Saeyoung saw his nightmare in front of him.

He tried to chase you but you glared at him.

,,I won’t give up….’’ he mumbled as he saw you leave.

He didn’t give up on his brother either and now he was together with him again so why should he let you suffer alone?

He knew that something was wrong and that’s why he decided to leave you for a bit.

But perhaps he left you alone for too long.

Because five months later everything about you disappeared.

Nothing was left and the fear that someone could have harmed you let him tremble even in his dreams.

But he never expected to find out about your death.

It was as if he was trapped in a never ending nightmare when he read your doctors files.

Every file said ,,deceased’’.

Was this true?

Saeyoung visited every grave yard and asked everyone about you but he didn’t find you either.

,,Maybe she…she found someone who could hack too?’’ Yoosung mumbled as the RFA were on their way to visit Jihyun’s grave.

Saeran went with them but abruptly stopped his steps as he saw a face he didn’t see for a long time - yours.

,,S….Saeyoung….’’ he mumbled.

,,Huh…?’’ Saeyoung whispered as he followed his brothers eyes to your grave, next to the blue haired man’s one.

,,Huh…?’’ he croaked.

,,No….’’ he mumbled and fell on his knees.

,,NO MC! MC! MC! I’M SORRY FOR MY JOKES, DON’T….DON’T BE LIKE THAT!’’ the red haired man screamed, making everyone notice your grave.

,,NO NO NO NO NO NO!’’ he sobbed harder as his hands touched the cold ground, digging into the dirt to save you from down there.

,,No no no no she’s afraid SHE’S AFRAID OF DARK PLACES!’’ he screamed louder and tried to burrow up your grave.

Only Zen, Jumin and his brother were strong enough to hold him back.

Saeyoung could only read the sentence on your grave before his mind went blank, before he lost his head.

,,The space dust of me will whisper ,,I love you’’ into the infinity of the universe’’

None dared to say it but everyone knew that he would follow you, but none knew that he would follow you so soon….

Jihyun

,,I love you….’’ he whispered as he stroked your hair.

You kissed his cheek and closed your eyes.

Until now you never knew that you were such a good actor, you never knew that you could deceive people so good.

But right now you were doing it.

The truth was that you were ill, you wouldn’t be able to live as long as you thought and wished for.

You would have to leave your boyfriend soon.

You could hear your boyfriend mumble in his dreams while you observed him.

You wanted to break up with him, to let him hate you.

But you already knew that he couldn’t hate you, he even loved Rika so deeply….

While you were watching your handsome boyfriend you were thinking about a way to make him hate you and with thoughts about this problem you fell asleep.

The next morning Jihyun got woken up by a loud thud and screams.

When he went to check on you were throwing around his paintings and pictures.

The man you loved didn’t dare to move an inch as he saw you destroying everything.

,,YOU!’’ you screamed when you saw him, faking anger was pretty hard for you, you loved him after all.

But right now your thoughts were filled with your deadly illness.

,,YOU DREAMED ABOUT HER, RIKA! YOU DREAMED ABOUT HER AND CALLED HER IN YOUR DREAMS! I HATE IT!’’ you screamed.

Jihyun was perplexed, he was sure that he didn’t dream about Rika.

,,Mc, please, don’t destroy them…you will hurt yourself…let us talk…’’ he begged you.

He didn’t knew how to react to you, you never behaved like this.

,,Don’t dare, I WON’T!’’ you screamed.

,,If I become like her, will you love me then?’’ you asked him with a scary voice as you approached him and scratched his arm with a fragment of the broken frame.

Jihyun immediately flinched and went a few steps back, his eyes were filled with surprise, he didn’t knew what to do.

,,Ah….what a pity….your mother died for you, huh? Such a vain…now I get why your father is like that.’’ you snapped at him, hitting his feelings really deep.

You hated yourself for your words as you saw his wet eyes.

When would he finally find happiness?

When would he meet a healthy woman filled with love and happiness? Was this man cursed?

But before you could care more you left the room, trying to get away from him.

To leave him alone with his thoughts about your ugly actions.

You seemed to have done a good job because a few days later everyone from the RFA tried to contact you except for Jihyun.

But unfortunately they were way too late.

You crushed your phone and kissed with red lipstick the letter for Jihyun before you took a few sleeping pills too much.

Your eyes slowly closed as you thought about the man you were leaving.

You wouldn’t allow the illness to destroy you, in his mind you wanted to stay the beautiful girlfriend although you already lost this status for a long time.

,,What?’’ Jihyun sobbed as he heard the news of your death.

,,Yes, I’m sorry.’’ Jumin mumbled and looked at his best friend’s hand who had a big scar left.

He hated you for your act but also was grateful that you left him without any more scars.

Although the tall, black haired man didn’t know that you already left a scar on his friend’s heart.

And so the young man was surprised to see Jihyun dead in the bathtub.

,,Live for me, huh?’’ Jumin mumbled as he read your letter of good bye for Jihyun.

The young man slipped at his glass and gulped the red fluid as he observed the place on his right.

So, the two women he liked the most hurt him once again and even took his best friend from him, huh?

MASTERLIST 1MASTERLIST 2

29.04.’19// 22:37 MEST

Tagged:

@foreversunshine-love @giulia2372 @milkyxstrawberry

@widya345 @remiliadacalde @sailormoonrocks666 @r-f-a-journalists

291 notes · View notes

lady-of-the-spirit · 5 years ago

Note

Answer all the things! I want to hear your opinions 😂 and distract you a bit lol

Thank you!!! That’s so nice of you!! ❤🌻 I was going to a party I was super anxious about but it ended up being really fun. I’ll answer the ones I can.

ask Me About My Day

So yesterday I didn’t really do anything? I finished my second ever knitting (I posted a pic) and got some chocolate on sale, then went to a pyjama party a friend of a friend was hosting and because I’m a disaster I was anxious and awkward. Luckily there were people there I enjoyed talking to. Also, everyone else started getting drunk and I was sober, and that made it easier to relax, weirdly enough. So it was a lot of fun! I spent the night there and helped clean up a little this morning, and I’m going to have to do homework later today.

tell me about your day

I would like to hear about it

tell me about your crush

I have no crush!

fuck, marry kill

@disgruntledmenshevikjohnmulaney sent me a fmk ask I just answered.

ask me about headcanons and Meta

Honestly I will talk about anything I have opinions on for however long it takes for someone to stop me so feel free to ask me about anything (that I know about)

(got long so i put everything else under the cut)

send me Fic Prompts

Yes, please! I need motivation so much

ask me about my ships and favourite characters

Favourite characters off the top of my head: Donna Noble from Doctor Who, Tara from The Wicked + The Divine (my icon pic), Nick Miller from New Girl, I really like Feyre from A Court of Thorns and Roses, which I’m reading right now, Amy Santiago from Brooklyn 99, Ben Wyatt from Parks and Rec, Yataka from Arata the Legend (I miss this series so much), and Tony Stark from the MCU,

Favourite ships is so much harder because it changes moment to moment but right now: TenDonna (or really just any of the Doctors with Donna?), Peraltiago, NineRose, Ben and Leslie, Sweetarch (Riverdale), Ineffable Husbands, Sastiel, almost any ship from Six The Musical, honestly any wlw ship from Good Omens because they’re all valid and good.

OTP, BROTP and NOTP

OTP: honestly anything? I have limits but again, anything.

NOTP: ships that are so goddamn popular you can’t go through a tag without seeing it pop up at least once and have an army of shippers ready to hate anyone who doesn’t ship it and harass the creators for doing anything with the ship. (ie Destial, Bughead, Klance? I remember being into Voltron).

BroTP: Zuko and Sokka, the four Horsepeople from Good Omens, Donna and the Doctor, the squad of B99, the Avengers from Marvel in any AU where nothing after the first Avengers movie is canon and they all get along and live in the tower

ask for advice (I’ll try)

Don’t be afraid to try things. don’t be afraid not to try things.

enjoy the things you like and don’t worry about what other people think (especially on tumblr, since this website is trash).

That’s all I’ve got for right now.

ask my opinion on things

Pineapple on pizza is better than people say it is (controversial!). I can’t explain why I like it but I do.

Role swap AUs deserve more content because they’re my favourite AUs. Honestly what gets me is how the characters are swapped and what the authors do with them. Like how much do they change the characters’ canon personalities? Their situations have changed but how similar are they? How different are they? How does swapping the character roles change the story? Stuff like that, it makes me go absolutely feral. (confession time: I wrote a role swap au for Princess Mononoke some years ago. It’s still incomplete and on fanfiction.net. I keep meaning to go back to it and never do. it haunts me to this day.)

Liking villains isn’t romanticizing their actions? Like I never understood where this “hot take” came from. I enjoy a good villain because they’re fun, or they’re entertaining, or they’re better characters than the heroes, or literally any reason, and I’m still going to be like “yeah murdering hundreds of people isn’t great behaviour”. But I’m still going to have a fun time watching them.

But at the same time seeing people who worship villains pisses me off because so much of the time they’re saying things like “oh he’s just misunderstood! he didn’t mean to! he just needs a hug!” (and it’s basically almost a male character) when like… dude, he just committed genocide (or attempted to), that’s not being misunderstood, that’s straight-up villainy. No amount of hugs or tragic backstories can make up for that.

In Black Panther, Killmonger was wrong, and Nakia was right. Everyone is stanning the wrong person’s message.

Voltron: Legendary Defender was bad before the last few seasons.

Hummingbird cake? Amazing. I love it.

I think that’s everything! Thanks for sending me the ask, I appreciate it! Feel free to ask me anything, any time.

#ask #masonjar828

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erlenmeyertrash · 7 years ago

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An Oddish Occurrence

…so i had this one sudden headcanon thanks to @prinxietys‘ post yesterday and. well. here are a bunch of words on it now whoops

Logan loved vocabulary.

He adored the intricacies of the English language- how there are so many ways to describe what happens in the world, how many different paths can be taken to convey a message. Linguistics, to him, was a wildly important science in its own right, with its own theories, history, rules, rule exceptions, and near-constant evolution. The logical side always enjoyed learning slang. Word-association games were his favorite (and Patton’s puns, although often rudimentary, did slightly impress him with Patton’s innate understanding of subtle wordplay). He would fight to the death for the Oxford comma. He knew the subconscious order of adjectives (opinion size age shape color origin material purpose) by heart.

…and poetry? Oh, don’t get him started.

The technique, the brainpower, the skill behind finding words that matched in syllable and sound, putting them together to form coherent sentences and tell stories… Logan marveled at all of it. From Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales and Shakespearean sonnets to modern-day rap music, he definitely had a soft spot for brilliant balladry.

…That did not mean, however, he appreciated singing- specifically, Roman’s singing at 7:30 in the morning.

“Little town, it’s a quiet village

Every day like the one before

Little town, full of little people

Waking up to say…”

“FOR THE LOVE OF- DUDE. SHUT UP. IT’S SATURDAY.”

“…No, Sleeping Broody, the villagers all say Bonjour. That doesn’t even rhyme. Why would you think they s- HEY!”

Logan yawned and rolled out of bed, clumsily grabbing his glasses off the nightstand and adjusting them on his face as he did so. He heard Patton’s voice from the kitchen over Roman and Virgil’s bickering and sighed in relief- if anybody was well-versed in damage control, it was the fatherly side.

“All right, all right, you two. I know Thomas had an early start, what with the road trip and all, but it’s still a little early for fighting, don’cha think? Here- who wants to help with breakfast?”

The logical side perked up at the mention of food, getting dressed a bit faster before heading down the hall to the kitchen. Roman was pressing buttons on the coffeemaker with a dumbfounded expression; on the opposite side of the kitchen, Virgil was carefully pouring milk into a measuring cup as Patton rummaged through the fridge. At the sound of Logan’s footsteps, Patton glanced up and narrowly missed banging his head on the top of the fridge.

“Morning, Logan!”

Logan merely nodded in response, shuffling over and gently swatting Roman’s hands off the Keurig before pressing several buttons with well-practiced hands. Roman let out an indignant huff before reaching over to grab the cream and slide it closer.

“I could’ve figured it out, you know,” he grumbled, taking mugs out of the cabinet and passing them over. Logan just raised a sarcastic eyebrow in response.

Minutes later, the four of them were all gathered around the table, a steaming coffee cup and pancake plate sitting in front of each one.

“So!” Patton started brightly around a mouthful of pancake. He swallowed before continuing. “Since Thomas can kind of run on autopilot for this road trip, what does everybody have planned? I was just gonna watch him play on his old Gameboy- you guys have no idea how glad I am he found that thing!” The moral side wiggled in his seat, unable to contain his happiness.

“I was gonna rewatch Stranger Things,” Virgil replied, adding a fifth Splenda to his coffee. Roman wrinkled his nose in disgust before turning back to Patton.

“I will most likely spend a short while spinning up some trains of thought to use if Thomas gets bored, but… other than that, maybe polish my sword. Take a rest day. Ooh, maybe watch some old cartoons!”

Patton visibly brightened at Roman’s sudden idea. “Oh, my goodness, that sounds so fun! Can I join?”

“Why, of course! There is no one better to nostalgize with.”

Patton beamed before turning to Logan. “What about you, Logan? What did you wanna do today?”

Logan mulled for a moment. “Well, there’s no real schedule to adhere to, considering Thomas is traveling with friends at the moment. I may simply go through the memory record books and make sure everything is in order.”

…or at least, that’s what he wanted to say. When he opened his mouth to reply, foreign words suddenly spilled out before he could help himself.

“I wanna be the very best

Like no one ever was-”

Logan threw his hand over his mouth.

Patton blinked, grin wavering slightly. Virgil choked on his coffee. Roman snorted, glancing up in surprise.

“…Care to repeat that?”

I- I’m sorry, I don’t know what just-

“To catch them is my real test-”

Logan paled. …Oh, no.

It had happened before, on rare occasion; he had been lucky enough to be alone then.

Since Logan was the Side that most closely represented the brain- combined, he supposed, with his fascination with language- if a song ever got stuck in Thomas’ head, it seemed to… manifest… in Logan’s vocal chords. He was powerless to stop it from interfering with his own attempts at conversation.

It appeared that Thomas playing on his old gaming device, combined with Roman and Patton’s surge of nostalgic ideas, had caused Thomas to think of, of all things… the Pokemon theme song.

“To train them is-”

He bit down on his tongue. Hard. Glancing up, he realized Virgil looked slightly horrified, Patton looked a mix of confused and concerned, and realization was slowly dawning on Roman’s face as a devilish grin curled his lips.

“…What’s the matter, Logan? Meowth got your tongue?”

“I will battle every-”

Logan abruptly stood up from the table as Roman threw back his head in laughter. He opened and closed his mouth, realizing each time that his attempts at communication would fail, before turning and storming off to his room. His cheeks burned as Roman’s cackling followed him until he shut his door.

—

It wasn’t that he blamed Thomas. It was just that he was completely powerless until Thomas’ subconscious brain decided that was enough and moved on from its whimsical ploy.

It meant that Logan could be forced into embarrassed silence for a few seconds or a few hours. He suddenly remembered all the times those cringe-worthy radio pop songs had been stuck in Thomas’ head and shuddered involuntarily. Before, the logical side had holed up in his room and forced himself to fixate on anything else until he could open his mouth without Britney Spears or the likes of pouring out. Roman’s sudden light bulb moment involving old cartoons combined with Patton’s surge of happy nostalgia and Thomas’ lack of preoccupation had caught him completely off guard.

What would they think of him? He was Logic. He was supposed to be put-together, poised, and practical- not prone to sudden flights of fancy. Randomly bursting into song was much more Roman’s or Patton’s department; other than the fact that he was the likely the side most connected to the brain, it made very little sense for him to be the one to deal with these inopportune outbursts. Especially when Thomas had been in school, and studying- ugh. Those times had been the worst.

A sudden knock on the door pulled Logan out of his reverie; he glanced at it warily. If it was Roman, realizing what was happening and coming to poke fun at him…

“Hey, Logan. It’s me, Patton. Can I come in?”

Logan opened the door and Patton beamed before slipping into his bedroom. He glanced around, getting his bearings, before turning and fixing Logan with a concerned stare.

“…What was that? Are you okay?”

Logan opened his mouth to respond before stopping himself just in time. He looked down at his hands, then back at Patton, and nodded once before shrugging helplessly. He tried to convey that nothing was wrong, he was just… not perfectly all right.

Patton tilted his head. “…Did you lose your voice?”

Logan shook his head. Patton frowned.

“I want to help you, but if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, it might make it kinda difficult.”

“I know-”

Shush!

“…So you know? Why won’t you tell me?”

Logan clenched his fists in frustration. “Gotta-” NO-

“Gotta what?”

I’VE “GOTTA” WAIT THIS OUT BECAUSE I AM POWERLESS TO STOP IT-

But what came out was, “Each Pokemon to understand the power that’s inside!”

Patton’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “What is going on here?!”

Logan looked at him desperately, throwing his hands at the ceiling. “I know it’s my destiny-”

Patton looked panicked. “Did you- did something happen to Thomas? Did he hit his head?” The moral side stepped back for a moment, a pensive expression shadowing his features as he connected with Thomas’ feelings. After a moment, a wave of realization washed over his face- and then stark confusion.

“…Wait. So because he’s- that makes you-”

“Gotta catch ‘em all,” Logan sighed in affirmation.

“How long has this been going on?”

Logan glared at Patton, who grinned sheepishly. “Oh. Right. You kinda can’t- your vocabulary’s a little limited right now. Sorry.”

…Wait. An idea popped into Logan’s head at Patton’s words. His vocabulary may have been limited, but that didn’t necessarily mean he couldn’t communicate to some degree. After some quick recall of the lyrics, he carefully opened his mouth.

“It’s always been-”

“Huh?”

“It’s always been,” Logan repeated emphatically, gesturing towards Patton. I’m trying to answer your first question, please understand.

“It’s always- oh! You’ve always had this happen?”

Logan nodded.

“Any time Thomas gets a song stuck in his head?”

“‘Em all,” Logan confirmed.

Patton frowned. “…Why wouldn’t it happen to me or Roman, though?”

Logan thought for a moment. “I’ll teach,” he said slowly, gesturing to his glasses and necktie, before starting again. “-my rightful place.”

“Ohhh! Because your ‘place’ is like Thomas’ brain- that makes sense!”

Logan grinned and nodded. Patton was being remarkably perceptive.

“Why haven’t the rest of us noticed?”

Logan gestured to his room. “In a world we must defend.”

“You just hide in here?”

Logan shrugged before nodding in confirmation. It’s either that or sitting silently in the living room.

“How does it go away?”

“Our courage will pull us through.” The logical side shrugged.

“…What?” Patton scrunched up his face in confusion. Logan paused, thinking.

“The time is right,” he added.

“…It goes away when- ‘the time is right-’ so you just have to wait until Thomas stops thinking about it?”

Logan brightened at Patton’s successful deduction, giving him a thumbs-up.

“Well, until then, I’ll just be your translator! I might be a bit of a Slowpoke, but if you Digg-let me, I’ll catch on to what you mean pretty quick.” Patton looked absolutely elated at the new world of nostalgic puns he and Logan had just entered. Logan, hiding an internal groan, smiled at Patton’s helpful offer.

“Arm in arm, we’ll win the fight.”

“Sounds like a plan. Now- I know you didn’t finish your coffee or pancakes, and both of those are just too good to let go to waste… Weedle you say? Wanna head back? I won’t let Roman tease you too much- and I’ll explain to Virgil. You speaking so strangely kind of rattled him.”

“With courage I will face,” he said solemnly. Patton laughed before walking back over to the door.

“Well, come on then!”

“You’re my best friend.” Wait. Logan paused- he hadn’t meant to say that.

Patton just smiled softly at him; the laughter in his eyes was replaced by warmth. “Ditto.”

“Thomas, I get that playing on your old Gameboy is super fun, but can you please stop singing the Pokemon theme song under your breath? It’s getting stuck in my head now, too.”

“Huh? Oh! Sorry, Talyn.”

#sanders sides #mine #headcanon #logan #roman #virgil #patton #:)#this is VERY BAD and rushed and probably has several plotholes or something #i just kind of keyboard smashed my idea onto the page #an oddish occurrence

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lcsbicarchive · 7 years ago

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☽ *ﾟ ━ second ( & final ) self para of the week for miss hazel, taking place on monday ( the 25th ) ☽ *ﾟ ━ this was supposed to be posted on monday, but life happened, so excuse me. ☽ *ﾟ ━ detailing & touching on what happened on monday, the status of permanent record for the week, & hazel’s plan, primarily while she tidies up her apartment & cleans her bathroom. ☽ *ﾟ ━ i like to think it goes without saying, but any dusty ( @dvstpan ) & roxie ( @roxxies ) details were pre-plotted & very much approved by harley; i’m not just pulling things for her characters out my arse. ☽ *ﾟ ━ it’s long, & definitely not my finest piece of writing ( she’s lowkey garbage but i digress ) but still stuff i wanted to establish somewhere on the dash and not just in headcanon form. ☽ *ﾟ ━ trigger warnings: suicide, death, vomit, alcoholism & addiction, sharp objects, blood, mental illness, depression, the biggest & most explicit of which being suicide.

returning to her apartment, to the scene of the crime, isn't as difficult as hazel thought it might be. though eerily quiet, other than the hum of the fish tank, it isn't that bad. it just looks like her home. the laundry's still folded and perched on the back of the armchair, there's still a coffee mug in the sink waiting to be washed, and it still smells like her home, that familiar, comforting scent of home that goes unnoticed until she's been away for a night or two, yet even now can't pick apart. yet as she closes the door behind her, force of habit allowing her to gently toss her keys onto the table by the door, it can't help but become a little clearer. it's like the quietness intensifies, wandering over to the sofa with a sigh. bedding that was never actually slept in still sits on the couch, a few of dusty's possessions dotted around the room. the space between the couch and hazel's bedroom is far too small for her not to have known. he was so close, yet he couldn't have been farther away, and it causes a sigh to leave her now, forcing herself to stop uselessly staring at the bedding as if it'll do anything, and actually do something productive. if she'd returned to her flat without sleeping some of the impact of the day off a little, exhaustion not helping her emotions, it's a scene that might've caused her to burst into tears, yet roxie had been right last night. she didn't have to go home. hazel stands by her decision to ask roxie for her company; although her reaching out had been a protective measure to allow herself to stay sober, not ruining nearly nine years of work in one godawful day, it would've been the best move for her even if she hadn't thought it best to not be alone to keep herself clean. she needed it anyway. she never would've asked for it, too used to getting on with the harder days and powering through alone, as it's what she's had to do since she was a child, but perhaps that's something she needs to work on, as roxie's company had been the best thing for her. she hadn't panicked, hadn't made a big deal out of something that didn't need to be, when hazel admitted that although she doesn't want to drink, and likes her life far too much to let herself ruin it again, she was still worried about what she might do if left to her own devices, stewing at the scene of the crime and able to dwell on the events of the day, and what dusty did, and how dusty felt. there's no way in hell she'll ever let herself ruin the life she made for herself after getting sober, yet sobriety isn't just a walk in the park once achieved, and although she's fine on a day-to-day basis, there will always be struggles, even if they're just once in a blue moon; hazel accepted a long time ago that she'll always be an addict, and whatever she has to do to stop herself from slipping up again, will be done. even though she doesn't think she'd ever let herself do anything, putting the protective measure in place would never be a bad thing. roxie had been her security blanket.

roxie had been practically perfect to her, making her dinner, sitting with her while she bathed, sharing her own experience in a similar situation though roxie nor her friend had been as lucky, giving her something of hers to sleep in, and something to wear today, letting her sleep in her bed, not going to sleep herself until hazel had nodded off to ensure she was alright, soothingly toying with her hair on the couch as they watched a movie after the numbness settled in, and being the one to remind her that she doesn't have to go to work today, and that maybe she shouldn't go to work today. initially, hazel had protested, brushing it off with saying that she has to, as that's her approach to everything; she does what has to be done and simply gets on with life. roxie was right. initially, she'd wondered if perhaps she should go to work, channel it into something productive, use her job as a way to cope as she always does, even if she doesn't need to go. but roxie was right. what she needs is a break, some time to breathe, to visit dusty, make his hospital stay as bearable as possible, and put her flat and her life back together. as she begins to strip the bedding from the duvet and pillow cases, she dwells on this now, incredibly grateful for roxie. she walked with her to permanent record, stayed nearby while hazel took care of the business side of things, and hasn't gone far now. after visiting dusty later, they'll return back to roxie's, hazel getting another night's sleep in which she feels the warmth of the other woman beside her, comforted by her presence alone let alone the affection given to her in the most innocent and soothing of ways. she's a saint. she may just be the most sinful saint hazel's ever met, but a saint nonetheless. though a feeling of emptiness settled in finally midway through her bath, the events of the day finally catching up to her full force, not coming and going in waves like it did throughout the rest of the day, she woke up not feeling quite so empty. she isn't overwhelmed with the confusing cocktail of emotions she faced yesterday, not helped by the exhaustion and the shock, but she's not entirely stoic, either. she can get on with the day, and do what she has to do.

duvet folded, pillows sat atop it on the sofa, hazel scoops up the sheets to toss into the washing machine. it'll clean while she busies herself, and she can toss it in the tumble dryer before she leaves. god, there's so much to do. but no, she reminds herself, everything else can wait, all she needs to do is pack a few things into a bag for tonight ( toothbrush, clothes for tomorrow, something to sleep in, as although she was comforted by and very much appreciated roxie shirt's last night, she doesn't want to push her luck ) feed her fish, and see to the bathroom. that's all she needs to do. the bathroom... she doesn't know if she should save that for last, or get it out of the way now, but she brushes it aside in favour of tucking the spare pillow and the duvet dusty never slept under back in the cupboard, and gathering his belongings to tidy up a little, hoping to find his phone. she hadn't thought to grab it yesterday, among the paramedics’ questions and equipment she didn't know the use for, amidst the crying and the panic and the the blood still being on her hand. she only had hers on her because she was carrying it when she got up to use the bathroom, a habit she'd planned to try and break, yet doesn't think she should after yesterday. upon finding dusty's phone and charger, she moves into the bedroom, planting them on her bed so she'll remember to throw them in her bag when she packs that. for now, she decides, the bathroom needs attending to.

as she ducks under the kitchen sink to grab a variety of cleaning products and a roll of trash bags, unsure of the current state of her bathroom, her memory of yesterday becoming a blur when it comes to the finer details ( all she cared about was dusty; the aspects of the picture that are hidden in the background simply became irrelevant ) her mind shifts to her coworker's earlier words. 'you need any help or cleaning or anything ?' it'd been a question regarding permanent record, and not the apartment above it, as dusty's colleagues didn't need to know that he'd been staying with their boss ( not that she sees it that way, of course, simply seeing it as the four of them being equal ) and certainly didn't need to know that he overdosed a mere floor away from where they spend the majority of their days. still, it had been appreciated, and hazel was fairly certain that said coworker just didn't want to leave, but with permanent record cleaned saturday night, they don't need to do it again until they open once more. though the remaining three members of the PR5 team threw in their two cents regarding what they wanted to do today in terms of working, hazel had already decided to take the day off after talking with roxie, and no matter what the other two said, the decision would've fallen onto hazel. it was her call to make, whether or not they'd open the shop today, and though it's not the jolt into fully accepting and realising her manager status, it's something. she knew she had to take charge, make a final decision, and do what was best for the staff. permanent record will be closed until thursday, and hazel and the team took care of their bookings, sending out an email to every customer and client booked in for the day with apologies, slight discount offers, and a new suggested time slot, and if they can't make their new time, to call the parlour on thursday, and announcing on social media that due to an emergency, the shop would be closed. though she should be, perhaps, and she might be in any other context, any 'sorry for the inconvenience' typed up by hazel this morning, was a lie. she isn't sorry at all. though opinions differed when it came to the other artists, with one of them willing to work despite the events of yesterday, and the other wanting some time off, hazel made the final decision. telling them in the first place hadn't been easy ( they knew something was wrong the moment they walked in. perhaps hazel should've text beforehand, given them a slight heads up that today may not go as they'd assumed it might, but by the time she would've been able to, they would've already been heading out for the day. but hazel's appearance and demeanour alone would've been enough of a clue, not at all ready for work in terms of wearing roxie's clothes and not an ounce of makeup on her, and the chaotic energy swiped from her, confidence gone as she seemed to almost curl in on herself, eyes tired, yet it was rather obvious that something was awry as hazel clearly hadn't prepared the shop for opening before their arrival, as she does almost every other day of the year. their faces fell, eyes shifting, as they entered, and once they were both present, hazel watched concern wash over their faces as she told them dusty is in hospital ) but she did what had to be done. just as she'll do now, with this damn bathroom.

the door is ajar, and hazel has to take a moment to remind herself that she doesn't have to push so hard on the door to open it. there won't be a weight behind it. prodding the door open, hazel stays where she is, not wandering forward as the door swings open. fuck. cabinet doors still flung open, half the contents is scattered across the sink below it, spilling out onto the floor, a mess of spare razor heads, cotton pads and cotton buds, moisturiser, that damn body scrub her mom sent her she meant to throw out. in an odd way, it almost looks like there was a struggle. the movement so desperate to get away from someone, or to defend against someone, that it causes a mess and it doesn't even matter at the time, reaching for anything of use or scrambling to get away. nostrils flaring, the blood and the day old vomit hits her nose before her eyes can fall to it. christ. supposing she'll start there, hazel drops to sit on her knees, cleaning products on the floor. instantly, hazel realises that this is what she expected upon walking back into her home, the aching feeling in her chest, the way her breath catches in her throat, and the weight on her shoulders and the overwhelming reminder that something happened in here. dusty could've died in here. her ceiling could've been the last thing he saw, and hazel's head tilts back to look at it now, staring at the lumps and bumps in a boring sea of white. though, he'd been slumped against the door. her eyes fall to the shower, directly opposite the bathroom door. the last thing he could've seen might've been her shower, her shampoo and conditioner on the shelf, and that mango body wash she's only using because the store had run out her go-to. it’s nothing. it’s absolutely nothing. christ.

snapping out of it, hazel lets out a sigh, slipping on the gloves that are technically spares from downstairs as she didn't have any others, because sitting here thinking about what happened yesterday isn't getting her bathroom any cleaner. thinking about how she rammed her fingers down dusty's throat in a desperate attempt to get him to vomit up what he'd taken won't get her bathroom any cleaner. thinking of the further panic that flooded her body when his vomit was riddled with blood, pausing as she was unsure where the fuck it came from and if she should keep trying or not, her hand now covered in it too, won't get her bathroom any cleaner. thinking about dusty all alone in this damn room as the life slowly drained out of him, finally unable to keep his eyes open any longer, won't get her fucking bathroom any cleaner. the mess itself doesn't bother her, it's the reason it's here that does, and it's the reason it causes her lip to tremble and her chest to tighten, and the reason she sighs as she cleans it up. she has to get on with it. she just has to get on with it. it's only as she turns, ensuring she's gotten all of it before she commits to covering the floor in disinfectant, that she realises she'll have to throw out the bathmat. blood sits in one of the corners of it, projected forward from his mouth, and hazel sighs, arm lifting to wipe her brow as her hands are rather occupied. there is nothing to occupy her mind but the constant string of just get on with it, just get on with it and get it done, just get on with it and don't cry, don't cry, don't fucking cry running through her mind, with reminders of what happened in this very room peppered in for good measure that she tries to banish. don't think about dusty downing all his medication, don't take about him stumbling to a sit as he pushes himself against the door and slowly allows his body to go limp, don't think about what could've happened if you didn't wake up so early, don't think about how he was only a few feet away, just don't think about it. despite the state of dusty when he arrived on her doorstep on wednesday night, and the fact he, despite his usual eloquence, couldn't even text her coherently, or the way he rushed through the door on thursday, she never thought she'd be scrubbing at her bathroom floor to clean up the mess caused after he tried to take his own life, while he sits in a hospital bed the other side of town. maybe she should've known. true, she'd been worried, yet she hadn't worried about this. she didn't think it would go this far, and yet now she can't help but wonder why. he didn't seem like himself. he hardly was himself. that's a bright red fluorescent sign if ever there was one, yet hazel didn't take it for what it was.

what if she had ? what if she'd seen what was in front of her ? what would she have done ? could she have done anything ? she wouldn't be tossing paper towels and empty cleaning product containers and her bathmat into a trash bag, peeling the gloves from her sweat-clad hands to toss in, too, once she's on her feet again. unsure if the room is genuinely stuffy, or if she's just warm and the weight on her chest is instead due to the task at hand, hazel lifts onto her tiptoes to reach up to push open the small window above the towel rack; it's the only window in the room, and hazel usually avoids opening it as getting it closed again is quite the task, but even if the room doesn't need some air, it'll help with the smell before she sprays the room with air freshener before she leaves. she supposes, though, that the hard part is over, and she moves to the sink to both wash her hands, and clean up the cabinet above it. the cotton buds that fell into the basin are thrown into the trash bag, the spare razor heads put back on the disturbed shelves, and as her eyes lift to find their home, another sigh falls from her mouth. that desperation is there, the need to find what he was looking for as his hands roamed the shelves haphazardly, as if he could hardly pay attention to what he was doing, fingers brushing over items he didn't need and lodging them out of place. the hell was he even looking for ? 'just thinking about sleep' doesn't fit as she looks at the contents of the cabinet, putting the spare razor heads away, and tidying up what got nudged out of place. he would've done anything, it seems, taken anything, done whatever he could to himself. just thinking about sleep...

once her hands are clean and dry, hazel lifts the bin bag out the way, dropping it in the hallway to be thrown out as she leaves, before her eyes scan the floor, searching for anything that needs to be put back in the cupboard, and picking things up as she goes along, crouching. however, she pauses, a spare razor head tucked under the sink catching her attention. eyebrows gently tugged together, she lifts it into her hand. it's bent out of shape, the blades slightly askew, as if someone had been twisting and pulling and jabbing at it, almost as if... as if someone was trying to get the blades out. blinking at the razor in her hand, hazel feels that familiar lump climbing up her throat, letting a shaky sigh fall out of her mouth. dusty. the realisation churns in her stomach, and she lifts her gaze in an attempt keep the tears filling her eyes where they are, not allowing them to fall down her face, sniffing. he was so desperate. the hell would've happened if he'd set the blades free ? she'd have awoken to a pool of blood, no ? the limp hand against the tiles that told her dusty was in the bathroom being red and sticky, with a gash right underneath ? dusty's a smart man, even in a moment like this; would he have been in a logical enough head space to do what would be more effective - would he have gone horizontal or vertical ? what the hell could they do if he'd cut down and not across ? would she still have gotten there in time ? surely bleeding out would be quicker than his organs slowly shutting down and giving up on him as he slips in the abyss ? or would he still have taken his sleeping pills, too ? closing her fingers around her palm, and the razor in it, hazel pulls herself upright, though as she does so, she catches sight of round bottle by her laundry basket. she'll get to that in a second. perhaps she shouldn't feel a twinge of both confusion and hurt that dusty seemingly lied to her. he said he just wanted to sleep. all he was thinking about was sleep. bullshit. he was thinking of an escape, a way out, whatever way he could, desperate enough to rummage through her cabinet for something, anything, that could help him slip away. he'd told her he was only thinking about sleep, and it hurts that he thought he had to lie to her. that’s not the kind of friend she wants to be to him, the kind of friend he feels he has to lie to about something like this, and it hits her like a train as she remembers how important this is; dusty values honesty. yet, to her, the one person he’s told things he’s told the select few, and vice versa, he lied. allowing the razor head to drop into the trash bag, she moves back into the room, towards the laundry basket, and drops so she's crouching again. eyes blurring, she forces them shut. she just has to get on with it, and crying will only slow her down. expelling a shaky breath, hazel's eyes open, reaching for the bottle that she then flips over in her hand. her own name printed on the front of the bottle, her prescribed antidepressants sit in her hand. one a day, every day, and gratefully; it took a while, but she finally found a medication that worked for her, and she's been taking it for years. though, last night, she went without, on account of being at roxie's, and she tells herself not to assume the worst as to why they’re not in the cabinet. she found it on the floor, but dusty's hands were searching through the shelves desperately, stumbling across whatever he could find. if he knocked them to floor, it wouldn't be that wild a concept. though, if he'd reached for the razor, if he saw her medication, why wouldn't he take it, logically ? either way, hazel needs to take one to catch up for the one she missed last night, knowing that if she takes another tonight, when she's supposed to, it'll be alright. pressing the cap down as she turns it, hazel can only let out a sigh when she lifts the lid off. a considerable amount, enough for her to notice, a third or a quarter of what remained in the bottle, is gone. she doesn't keep track of how much she has left in that way, counting every pill, but she keeps an eye on it, just so she knows when she needs more. he took her fucking medication, and her eyes close for a moment, expelling another sigh as an oddly helpless feeling washes over her. there's a decent handful missing, and it could've been the tipping point. she couldn't tell the paramedics he'd taken them, too, as she had no idea, not seeing the bottle discarded under the laundry basket in that blur of a morning, and it could've killed him. christ. sighing, once more, through her nose, hazel opens her eyes and tips the bottle a tad in an attempt to get a pill out into her palm, scooping the other two that slip out back into the bottle with the rim of it, screwing the cap back on as she pulls herself upright. with the tablet tucked away in palm, she twists the lid back on the bottle, before taking the pill with a cupped handful of water from the tap, and gathering the rest of the fallen belongings to put back where they were knocked from. just get on with it. talk to dusty about it later, but for now, it doesn't matter. they flushed it out of him either way.

now, hazel pushes the cabinet doors closed, eyes shifting away from the reflection that stares back at her once the doors are shut. even in a brief second, knows she looks tired. she looks far better than yesterday ( not that she's to know; her appearance was the last of her concerns ) but her eyes are giving her away, as they always do, with circles resting under them, and the both of them still a little red from yesterday. it doesn't matter. her fall to the sink, wondering if she should rearrange the cabinet. put the razors somewhere more out of reach, put the ibuprofen somewhere else, hide her antidepressants from the rest of the world -- when she brings them back from roxie's later, as she'll be taking the bottle with her -- before she realises that no, she shouldn't. she doesn't need to child-proof her own home, her own cupboards, as this won't happen again. it also wasn't her fault, yet this reminder doesn't come to her; it wasn't her fault that dusty knew she takes medication and knew where to find it, nor was it her fault she keeps razor blades in the house that he tried to get his hands on. it's her fault he's currently alive, her quick-thinking and sudden consciousness in the early hours of the morning saving his life, but of course, she doesn't register that either, simply dwelling on the negatives: what would've happened if she hadn't woken up so early ? why the hell did she leave him when he clearly wasn't okay ? why didn't she do something ? and why the hell is his mom so thankful for her ?

yesterday, it had already been getting late by the time carly could arrive. she got the first flight out, desperate to be with her son, yet the travelling still took time, as did finding a flight with a seat available, and she practically flew through the corridor, eyes scanning her surroundings until they landed on hazel, who she immediately rushed up to and pulled into a hug. lifting onto her tiptoes, hazel's chin rested on the other woman's shoulder, she didn't mean to start sobbing the moment she wrapped her arms around her, the unadulterated kind of bawling that had her snivelling and caused her shoulders to jerk as guilt twisted her stomach into knots. her son could've been dead because of her. yet carly smoothed out the waves of brunette hair against the back of hazel's head, shushing her string of apologies, and holding on tight. she could've been so angry, demanding answers as to why hazel didn't do something sooner, why she left him, how she let this happen, and hazel would've understood. often, hazel will defend herself for the choices she made despite how she may actually feel inside, such as defending the choice she made eight years ago that should've could've been a two-person decision, but in this instance, hazel would've simply let the older woman yell. she would've taken any anger that carly had to throw at her, screamed questions that hazel wouldn't be able to answer. no, she hadn't known what he was going to do when she went to sleep, and no, she wouldn't have left him if she'd known how vulnerable he was, and she could defend herself in that way if anger was aimed in her direction, yet she wouldn't; this is his mother. it's her job to protect dusty. and it's her job to loathe anybody that doesn't protect him, too. if she hated hazel from this moment on, she'd understand, yet she met her with kindness. and perhaps it's the kind of kindness dusty needed yesterday, the one presence that might've been able to actually help him. hazel couldn't be more relieved to know that his mom is with him now; even hazel sees it that, sometimes, people just need their mother.

hard part definitely out the way, hazel sprays the room with air freshener before plucking her toothbrush from the holder and moving into her bedroom, packing things into her bag to take to roxie's, as well as dusty's phone and charger. the task seems as easy as breathing after tackling the bathoom, going without a hitch, and is done in a matter of minutes. bag slung over her shoulder and breaking benjamin's album saturate in her hand, hazel moves out of the bedroom and back into her living room, popping dusty's album atop the pile of his things she'd gathered; she'll ask him what he wants her to do with them later, unsure if he wants them brought to him now, given to his roommate to take home, or left with her for the time being, but she'll pack them into his bag when she returns home tomorrow either way. her eyes shift as to tries to remember if she's done everything, ticking things off in her head, before the humming of the fish tank reminds her. she should probably feed ernie and bert.

"hey, little guys," she murmurs, to the gain of absolutely nobody, as she flips the lid open, the practically identical fish swimming to the top to greet her -- or, more likely, in anticipation for the flakes of food they know she's about to drop in, but she likes to think it's for her. thankfully, all seems to be well in the tank, and they don't need any further attending to until tomorrow. so naturally, she gives them a little wave before popping the lid back down. pottering around her apartment like a chicken with its ass ablaze isn't a rarity for hazel, and she doesn't realise that her laboured wandering shifts back into her usually chaotic self as she remembers to put the laundry on to dry, and to go and shut the window in the bathroom, even if she has to reach, stretch, and wish she never opened the damn thing in the first place to get there. tying a knot in the trash bag, hazel then lifts it her hand, ready to throw it out as she leaves, and her free hand instinctively reaches for the door handle to shut the bathroom door. she never wants to open her door to see that ever again, and she pauses, hand hovering over the handle for a moment before she pulls her hand back, and moves to grab her keys and leave. that door will be left open.

#dvstpan #roxxies #☽ ﹡ﾟ ━ ɪғ ɪ·ᴍ ғʟʏɪɴɢ ꜱᴏʟᴏ﹐ ᴀᴛ ʟᴇᴀꜱᴛ ɪ·ᴍ ғʟʏɪɴɢ ғʀᴇᴇ ﹙self paras.﹚#suicide tw

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