akiva sun;

AKIVA SUN; Ice burns, and it is hard for the warm-skinned to distinguish one sensation, fire, from the other, frost.

[akivcs]

⊳ Lauren.

“ yeah, no, i got ya 100%. my lips are SEALED –– ‘sides, who would i tell? thank you so much for the job, akiva, promise i won’t let you down! ” there was a small pause as lauren debated whether or not to leave unasked, though because of her lack of better judgement, she asked anyway. “ i’m assuming we’ll talk about PAY tomorrow, then? ”

❛ FORWARD and THOROUGH. Good to know. Twelve dollars an hour, you keep seventy five percent of tips. Are we understood, or ... do you need any more information? ❜

[akivcs]

LAUREN !

“ as someone who owned a number of fake i.d.’s in my day, i have no room for stopping the homecoming brigade from getting their drink on. cleaning? yeah – no problem. it’s not something i’ve necessarily had a lot of experience in, but i’m a fast learner and mama didn’t raise no bitch –– – pardon my french … ma’am? ”

❛ French allowed. One will need it with some of the patrons and staff  ---- Akiva. Show up tomorrow an hour before we open, cleaning supplies are under the bathroom sink. Come in the back and you won’t need a key. But if that information gets out --- you’re fired, paying for all damages, and banned from the pub in the future. UNDERSTOOD?  ❜

[akivcs]

ᴹᴬᴿᴵᴼᴺ

SHE HAD LEFT. an act of self-serving from a bereaved mind. she’d been bereft, suffocated, attacked; languishing somewhere at the back of her mind in suppressed claustrophobia that she’d denied in want of a home she’d tried to cultivate. tried and failed. she’d WRENCHED herself from sheffield’s grasp, away from everything that had served as  a reminder of that failure. that home that seemed somehow less real. that heart that could bleed her DRY. she could wax poetic about the desolation and the grief of losing a child — of the unraveling of the sanctity and security of something as foolish as it had been she’d thought she’d NEVER go without — never lose.  didn’t change the fact that she’d also taken from them ;  from akiva  —  from matthew, from anyone who’d cared.

                                why are you so good to me?

she’d always been a STRANGE child ;  unreasonably lovely. her parents had been PROUD. honoured to be blessed, coy to admiring gazes. a pretty package, alabaster skin, hair spun out of the perfect darkness, and green eyes — a bottomless well of secrets. these attributes were supposed to be the roadmap to how her life was supposed to turn out — who she was meant to become ;  popular, perhaps… influential. famous. but moving around with the military, she’d learned how behaviour was mutable ;  that sometimes we are only what we see, and the sheer VOLUME of what we don’t is unaccounted for and therefore unacceptable. she’d been seduced by the wider beauty of the world, its eccentricities and intricacies with questions she could barely put into words and answers she found alternative ways to express  — she’d been a type of MYTH in a small town like sheffield ;;  an emblem of the atypical. is this why they’d become who they’d been? marion and akiva.  akiva had fit into her strangely eclectic life like a glove. a child full of questions that were out of the norm. questions that could give even scholars pause. and now decades later — marion still can’t fathom why she’s somehow struck the LOTTERY as far as partiality from akiva runs.

❛  i did.  i didn’t know it at the time. or maybe i did. maybe it was the kids.  ❜  it’s a rueful smile that follows.  we live with the cards we’re dealt.  ❛  and i did find it. we’re good..  ❜  akiva’s arm is squeezed with what she hopes is reassurance.  ❛  we’re doing good. please don’t. don’t say that. i know we did what we could, we all did.  ❜  how long has it taken her to say this? the right thing. the PROPER thing. no back then it had been desperation —wrapped in dignified melancholy, tears behind closed doors, ACCUSATIONS, entrapment into her own obsessions.  she’d lost herself. she hadn’t wanted to be found until she’d found kennedy. the simplicity of that hadn’t been something anyone could have understood.

❛  i like it all the time.  ❜  mischief creeps into the twitching at the corner of her lips.  ❛  you know, we have a couple spare rooms. the girls still love sleepovers. and torturing you. match-made in heaven. maybe one of these weekends. unless you’re WORKING. of course.  ❜

Uncomfortable wasn’t the right word. She was never uncomfortable around Marion, the cadence of their conversations and the movement of their bodies as they spoke always seemed to be in tune with how Akiva felt --- it was never CONSTRICTING, the 𝙩𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 of annoyance gripping her heart with every word someone else spoke: Marion was a breath of fresh air, the release. Awkward was too infantile, gauche too pretentious. Nothing seemed to be the correct fit for the trickiness, the precariousness of which Akiva was selecting her words.

Nervous.

She was nervous. The right words once indented in her mind had faded, swept away with waves of missing Marion --- now newly returned. She was careful, far too careful, like a precocious child taking care with a present rather than tearing into it. None of it, all of a sudden, felt as real. Claustrophobia breathed on the back of her neck as the ｄｒｅａｍｉｎｅｓｓ worked its way to her hands, numbing her fingers. The uncertainty she senses, whether found in Marion’s words or merely a figment of a clouded mind leads guilt to stir within her. They did all they could. And yet, she was left with the feeling that she could have done more. After all, for Marion, she had always known (though not always admitted) that she would have stopped the Earth from spinning. And yet, she couldn’t return the missing piece to her best friend --- her only friend, the woman she LOVED --- no matter how much she searched. She’d begged gods she knew weren’t there, done the DAMN work herself until hands and knees ached for rest and eyes begged for sleep. And it wasn’t enough. Rectifying the 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓 of the singular presence she wished wasn’t hurting was something that at the time was inconceivable.

Now, it was impossible. 

However, thoughts and worries crashing into one another like symbols or waves are quieted and dried by the curvature of the younger’s lips: commanding enough attention to silence the OBNOXIOUS clash of the orchestra and bright enough to evaporate the sea until the ocean was just sand.  ❛ Whenever. Work is never done, but it can be sojourned. ❜ She means it. Akiva had never been one to lie for the sake of politeness, the truth always seemed to claw its way past fibs and stain their pretty white perfection, whether through her own statement or something smaller. 

[akivcs]

ᴸᴬᵁᴿᴱᴺ

starter for @akivcs !

“ previous job experience? well, i don’t … really … have any, but i’m very familiar with most mixed drinks and know how to pour beer from a tap like it’s second nature. plus, i’m easy to talk to! i mean, more so when it comes to female clientele, but this place could do better than the gray borderline-pedo raisin you have serving drinks now. no offense. ”

❛ He generates money from the younger crowd. Some of the less common teenage patrons think the other bartenders won’t serve them --- better to keep the exclusivity than fire a man with the emotional range of a toenail clipping. It would do us some good to have a less ... 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄 presence around. ------- You’d start off cleaning too. BEGINNER’S LUCK. Kid I have now doesn’t know how to scrub a toilet.  ❜

[akivcs]

livingston-atkins, scott.

“like…brushing HAIR?? i’ve never done that before. what’s the purpose of it?? toilets don’t have hair, last time i checked they were made of porcelain” 

❛ Figure it out, Atkins. Unless you’re interested in not getting paid, I would learn to work. ❜

[claudia-kishi]

[akivcs]

scott.

“yeah, adulthood” he gritted his teeth, a long sigh followed as he tried to keep himself as respectful as he could “i dont KNOW how to clean that stuff”

❝ ------ It’s a toilet brush. You brush a toilet. ❞

[akivcs]

scott.

“no ma’am” his gaze lowers, biting down on his bottom lip to keep himself from letting out a long line of insults that would make things WORSE. “i’m just saying, i don’t really WANT to do that. i don’t even know HOW to do it, i’ve never really worked before”

❝ Unfortunate that you don’t find your job PLEASURABLE. I believe that’s called adulthood, Mr. Livingston. ❞ A pause accompanied by pursed lips and eyes barely able to keep from rolling. ❝ Make it so that we don’t get any complaints. Brushes are in the cabinets under the sinks. ❞

[akivcs]

‹  F I L E D  U N D E R  › livingston-atkins, scott.

@akivcs

“do i really have to clean that??” a look of DISGUST shows on his face, lips pressed as he wondered if the job he had was really worth his time. not once in his life had he was in a position where he had to CLEAN, let alone LISTEN to someone else’s orders “it’s a bathroom. are you even paying me?? because no amount of money is worth walking IN THERE”

❝ Would you like to LEAVE instead? ❞ Her eyebrows raise, though it’s not in actual inquisitiveness --- the question is rhetorical, and she expects him to continue to whine but clean nonetheless. HOWEVER, there was an air about him that didn’t lend itself to someone who usually followed rules. 

[akivcs]

marion blake.

        it takes her a beat, head tilting to the side slowly. marion’s always been the type to emanate grace in the spaces between each moment — in happiness — in poignance — in sorrow. maybe it’s part of her beauty, part of that elusive quality that made the people around her wish to trail a space or two behind, content just to WATCH. but inside, marion blake has always only felt the gears turning in opposing directions and it’s confused her — a confusion succumbed to only to bloom lotus-like into fresh and unadulterated fascination with all things strange, and a quiet affair with what truth really means. she has always been that wild-eyed child full of unspoken thoughts and unique curiosities. 

           and akiva is one of the fair FEW who’s done more than watch. she has touched beneath the armour of silence and settled there with her, so resolutely, silence became a shared construct. 

          a breath is released slowly, and her hand seeks home at akiva’s elbow, allowing the smooth warmth of her palm engulf flesh. ❛  i could’ve asked. but — it wasn’t your job to help fix me. and when you didn’t offer —  ❜  she shakes her head with a half shrug, perhaps a measure embarrassed  ❛  i figured you — had obligations. ❜  the moment passes, and it’s visible, how she brushes it away with a reinforced SMILE and genuine light dancing in murky green irises. ❛  and look at us now. doing pretty well huh? yeah, you have to see the house. cute little project, the designer is someone i met in brooklyn, we bounced ideas off each other, and well… it’s ours. ❜

Obligations. The word, albeit unintentionally painful, stings like a slap against the skin that Marion’s gentle touch seems to envelope, with just the younger’s hand meeting the joint of her elbow. No matter the obligations, the NECESSITIES, that Akiva might have found herself facing, she would have  b u r n e d  every single bridge they were holding up to cross the one leading her to Marion. The woman standing in front of her, the woman she had known for so many years was the most important aspect of her life. She cared about others in passing, the way you care about acquaintances. People around her could die and fall ill and have awful things eclipse their happiness, but they were pebbles thrown at Akiva’s heart, the gravel to Marion’s boulder. People she had known for her lifetime were the equivalent of coworkers she’d spoken to once, and those coworkers strangers she passed on the streets of a busy city. She was a ghost in her own hometown, letting those who cared about her ---- friends, family ---- pass through her, taking little bits of the woman with them, because it seemed to her that the more people she SHOULD care about, the less she could care at all.

But not Marion. God, never Marion. Their connection had always been odd. Less babysitter, less companion; a hire-a-friend that turned into quips and smiles that had never been seen coming from Akiva. Even in her childhood, she had been stoic. The Sun family had always matched their name, if not suited it to a fault. Brothers and sisters and parents and cousins were polite and giving and grateful for what they had. Akiva was a nasty raincloud rolling over them, shielding the brightness with shades of dull gray. She didn’t know why it was so hard for her to be affectionate, so hard for her to express the emotions banging against her lungs, begging to be spoken into existence. A grumpy infanthood had become a self fulfilling prophecy, the formative years full of colic and crying turned into Akiva always being shoved to the back. She was born a star, shining bright next to her siblings, another symbol of light in a family surrounded by it. But she had burned out before she could toddle. And if every star you saw in the sky was already dead, then who’s to say she wasn’t dark before she was born?

There was a lump in her throat, though its rising was not due to emotion. Or, more truthfully, not any sort of emotion one would expect from seeing a friend come home after a long time away. She wasn’t joyful, or nostalgic, or breathing a sigh of a final relief. She was sad. For the first time in a long time, she was sad. It was not a great depression lined with grief, it was not a blip in the system; a bad day  s u r r o u n d e d   by good ones. She was purely sad, the simplicity of the word engulfing her emotions perfectly. How could Marion stand there, eyes bright with the light she brought with her, when Akiva was already poised to shut herself down, the itch of regret winding its way up the curvature of her spine at the prior release of emotion? 

❝     I assumed you would ... have wanted to find your own strength.    ❞ Her explanation is metallic in tone, matching the taste of copper she feels in her own mouth. I would have been there, she wants to say. I would have moved mountains. I would have been the strength. ❝     And ... I apologise that I did not do more.     ❞ I would have done anything. She spent many a night out in the woods, flashlight illuminating the walk in front of her less successfully than the moon could, mouth forming her best friend’s daughter’s name like it was the last words she would ever speak. But the last words were unknowing, a casual goodbye that she didn’t know would be the last one. There was a tentativeness to them that made Akiva feel like it was all a dream. Maybe if she maintained the mindset, she could make Marion feel like that too. 

She clears her throat, and the taste of pennies slips down her throat and lands in the former feeling of cotton resting in her stomach. Finally, she can breathe. ❝     I can look whenever you’d like.     ❞

[akivcs]

✧∗° MARTY GILFORD.

      His lips quirk, a tender moment of satisfaction striking him as he downs the contents of the glass. The silence is comforting, if only for a matter of m o m e n t s before he becomes FIDGETY again. His demise would be his inability to ever let anything be, the result of an ever-present subconscious HOURGLASS that ached for doing at all times. “ Got anything planned for after work ? ”

❝ Home. ❞ It’s said so bluntly, and so soon after he speaks that one might think it was sharp-tongued sarcasm. But she’s serious, and honest instead of evading the question. It’s not too invasive of a inquiry, and not too telling of an answer. 

[vivienvalentino]

Scrubs Ladies having none of Todd’s shit.

[tarjeimoe]

The Queen may voice her opinion but ultimate judgment belongs to the King.

[karadanvers]

You know, it’s true what they say. Behind every great man is a strong woman.

[akivcs]

✧˖° [ nesh vc ] wifey.

          Her gaze had been searching, worried at Akiva’s initial reaction, and as her most TRUSTED general, who she’d looked upto to take her through life spoke, the teasing grin dissipated to be replaced by an expression far more poignant than the surface could convey. If she could have stayed — if Akiva could have ASKED her to stay — but even then, she believes the other had known, known what was best and instead opted for that. As much as it’s hard to tote around, given all the pain and broken pieces Marion had left in her wake of leaving: a COWARD’s route as it’d been called, it’d been the best thing she could have done for herself — she would never have become who she is now, and who she is now, is somebody she respects and won’t compromise. Not for anything. Cowardly and stubborn, they’d called her. So radical and ‘high maintenance’ in her ways, leaving to do what Matt wouldn’t. Akiva had let her go, maybe she’d known even then, inexplicably. The sun could suffocate the atmosphere, the moon could drown the earth, but Akiva would always that beacon of strength and safety Marion could hold onto.  ❛  I would have rather had you come with us.  ❜  The response is quick — quiet, but with a note of melancholy, for not having been around — for not being stronger than she had been. 

         A pause for a sigh to drag slow past soft peach-tinted lips as she glances at her feet as they shift the burden of weight between them. She looks up, a small, tired, but content smile gleaning itself from her features as she reaches to gentle press her fingertips against Akiva’s elbow. ❛  I know.  ❜  She’ll stare for a few seconds before affirming herself with a slow nod. ❛  I’m here.  ❜

Her confirmation of missing the other was, in a way, her own way of an admission of friendship -- a label the older hated to pin to any relationship. But this time, instead of an overgeneralization of muted feelings and grey toned words not kind enough to be considered affirmations, it was perhaps something not strong enough. Not a declaration of love -- -- but certainly a hint towards it. A nudge in the right direction of an admission of affection & care for the other. This was something Akiva half hoped Marion knew, because the younger woman DESERVED the appreciation, and something she half hoped was shrouded in secrecy for her hope to remain stoic & still. Love might not be something to be hidden, but for Akiva, it was something that HAD to remain covered. Maybe someday, she could express that Marion was her person; but for now she wished that the once whispered statement and the following loyalty was enough. It had been a moment of weakness in Akiva’s own eyes, admitting a softness for someone. But who else to admit weakness to than the one person who made you so weak?

❝ I would’ve. ❞ It’s stated softly, quietly, and less matter of factly than the dark-haired woman usually was. A question, almost, posed not at her OWN loyalty, but at the other’s acceptance of this revelation. Would she have really wanted her there? Or was it a statement aimed at politeness; revelling in their past together in an attempt to make a  g r a s p  at the future? 

And as if time had begun again after it had frozen, the softness in Akiva’s eyes flashed back to their normal dulled expression, and the hazy quarter smile that pink lips formed slipped back into a grimace. ❝ Settling in -- -- ❞ it’s a statement before the question, the last semblance of flustered speech in the midst of the refreezing. ❝ It’s going well? ❞

[akivcs]

✧˖° boutta be fired.

     He takes his boss mixing a drink as permission to have one for himself. Though, he’ll take a bottle off the cheaper shelf as a sign of respect. He’s pretty sure it all comes off his paycheque anyways, not that he minds – – the money would have went to BOOZE either way. He pours the drink and raises the glass, adorning a smile so contrastingly chipper to the woman’s CUTTING look. “ To you being back on the front line yeah ? ”

Her eyes roll and her face remained stony, but she tipped her glass ever so slightly towards him --- --- only noticeable if he was looking for it. It’s a rare sign of appreciation, one that she’d only had (and only HAS) for the younger’s ability to do what he’d been hired for. She certainly didn’t like him, and wouldn’t want to be friends with him (or ANYONE, for that matter), but he was still her employee. And if that didn’t elicit the occasional nod of affirmation, then she’d be a pretty shitty boss. ❝ The front line. ❞

[akivcs]

✧˖° bitch just wanted a bottle.

She watches the other woman, noting how she pours the drink into a glass. “━ I thought I said bottle?” Her voice comes out quieter than she’d anticipated, and she sighs as Akiva places the glass in front of her. “Never mind. I’m set for now, thanks.” She takes a sip, setting the glass down stiffly.

Taking no particular notice of the other’s objection, eye contact was maintained with the younger. ❝ Would you like to pay up front or start a tab ?  ❞