burning milk @kaya-yildiz - Tumblr Blog

( alp navruz, cis man, he/him ) — Look who it is! If you take a look at our database, you’ll find that KAYA NIJAZ YILDIZ is a thirty five year old ARCHITECT that’s been in Chicago for TWO YEARS. According to the file, they’re a mutant on LEVEL 1 with the power of DREAM WALKING. That must be why they’re HARD WORKING and DETACHED. If you ask me, they remind me of perfectly starched shirts with baby spit-up on the shoulder, wine soaked midnights, and the smell of expensive cologne. They are affiliated with NOBODY.

marcyhub

KAYA:

“If Eckart said that while he was still alive, I don’t imagine he really knew what was in Hell; or if it even exists.” Kaya speaks carefully, because it seems pretty clear something is on Hale’s mind. Usually he’d take the kids back right away, but since they’d both fallen asleep, they’d decided to have a cup of tea to see if the kids would wake up on their own so they wouldn’t have to disturb them.

And he finds that he does value this time to get to know Hale as a person, not just the nanny. As well as being nice getting the opportunity to speak Turkish, he finds her to be a warm, caring person. So yes: when it seems like something is on her mind, he’s happy to hear her out, though he won’t ask directly in case that crosses some sort of boundary. “I’ve always thought it’s… I don’t know. Pointless worrying about what comes next, because we can’t know until we’re there.” He wonders if this is worrying Hale because of her mutation. As far as he knows it’s more cosmetic than anything, but he imagines she must get a lot of nasty assumptions and comments about her ‘demonic’ wings and tail.

“It’s cute that anyone would think it doesn’t exist, but it definitely does.” Hale sips her coffee, her eyes meeting Kaya’s. Since hiring her, he’s been nothing but kind, and she wonders if revealing another truth about herself to him will change that. He trusts her with his children – the most precious thing he has – so she feels like she can trust him with what she’s about to tell him. “I was born in Hell, but I didn’t know until I met my mother a few weeks ago. Those two weeks I missed work, I was with her.” She’s not going to add that she was in Hell the whole time, it sounds too morbid and creepy.

Kaya’s right, worrying is pointless because dying is inevitable. For most people, at least. It doesn’t matter if you’re good or bad; everyone ends up scattered to the wind or beneath the earth. “I know what’s in store for me, and even though I’m kind of immortal, I still worry. Never dying feels like a punishment, you know? I don’t get to go to upstairs. I can only ever experience outliving everyone and going below. Both are Hell. Figuratively and literally.” To ease the air of heaviness around them, she smiles at Kaya. “There’s one good thing about it that I forgot. I get to watch over Vee and Jane for all their lives, and that feels like a blessing.”

kaya-yildiz

Well. Nobody ever accused Kaya of being a good judge of character, but he can’t believe he’s hired a literal demon from hell as a nanny. Being honest with himself, he would not have hired Hale if he’d known. However, he finds he is glad that he did; she’s proven herself an excellent nanny, so perhaps there’s a lesson for Kaya to be learned in prejudice. Hale says it all so naturally, like Hell and demons are as regular a part of everyday conversation as the weather.

He has no idea what the appropriate response to this is. It’s not a conversation he’s ever remotely prepared for, because why would he be? So he allows himself to go quiet for a moment, thinking. Then, for a little more time: “I don’t think it’s fair to say it’s ‘cute’ that many people don’t think Hell exists, given how few people have first hand experience with it. Why should people believe in something they have no empirical knowledge of?”

Still thinking. Processing. “So heaven is barred to you just because you were born in Hell?” He asks at length. It feels like an absurdly enormous thing to ask such a small question about, but Kaya has never been a man of faith. He had some small interactions with Islam growing up, but his parents weren’t particularly religious either so his experience is minimal. It feels ridiculously monumental to have concepts like Hell confirmed as fact, so casually, over coffee. It feels like there should be ramifications for the funeral industry, somehow. Fuck, should Kaya be thinking about converting? Who the fuck are you meant to worship? If heaven and hell exist, does that mean the Abrahamic faiths are ‘right’ and others got it wrong? Can they all coexist? It’s too much to think about, so much that he doesn’t even think to comfort Hale for what she has just told him because the world suddenly seems dizzyingly enormous.

#hale

samson.

Feels good. Samson won’t get cocky, yet. The deep hum and Samson continues. There’s no moment where his hands are off Kaya: they’re sliding over the fabric of his shirt to undo more buttons, then sliding across his chest, up and over letting the shirt drop off his shoulders before continuing the massage. Samson ducks lower, lips barely brushing his ear, “Want to get on the bed?” Hands dip lower, past his shoulder blades before back up to continue kneading out the tension in his shoulders, “Easier to reach all of you up here.” @sexysamson69

Samson takes charge easily, with the confidence of a man who has done this a thousand times before, and Kaya is so grateful just to melt like butter in his hands. This is what he wanted, or needed, and he is quite content simply turning his head this way to allow Sam easier access to his shoulder, or shifting his posture that way to allow another button to come undone. There’s a shiver down his spine as Sam’s lips barely brush past his ear, whispering.

And Kaya nods. He very much does want to get on the bed, for Sam to reach more of him. Standing, he allows his shirt to drop from his shoulders into a pool on the floor, and turns to face Sam. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, eyes dark and soft with vulnerability. It takes a lot to ask for what you want, sometimes, particularly in a more intimate context. Kaya can’t remember where he heard this, but he’s fairly sure that some sex workers don’t do kissing. He just wants to be sure of where the boundaries are, hoping for an affirmative. Kaya loves kissing. The intimacy of it, and foreplay. That’s at least as important as the sex itself.

#samson

xiomara.

“I don’t know!” Xio stands abruptly, slipping past Kaya to stand behind the couch. Give herself some space so he isn’t looming over her, making her feel bad. Kaya’s no longer angry in a loud, blustery way, but in the far scarier neutral calm way. Trying to solve her problems. Trying to fix her. ( She totally isn’t feeling a sting in her eyes, because that would be SUPER embarrassing to do in a sort of argument. Are they arguing? Is she being told off? Is he trying to be kind or is he secretly ready to flip the fuck out on her? ) “Do you even know other mutants? You’re so—” she gestures at him. Almost disdainfully, but mostly because she has such a lack of vocabulary in this state. He’s just so put together and normal and owns a house and is a dad. Xio takes a reflexive step back as she corrects herself. “I don’t mean it like it’s bad just… Look at you!” @xiomara-de-paz

Oh, Christ, he’s really making a pig’s ear of this. Xiomara scuttles behind the couch as if hiding from him, and he doesn’t know how to reassure her that for all his short temper, he’d never actually hurt anyone. Unfortunately ‘I’d never hit you’ is probably something she heard from Tex more than once. Doing what he can to make himself less imposing, by sitting on the couch and focusing on unclenching his jaw, Kaya tries not to be offended by Xiomara’s scathing comment on his normalcy.

“I know plenty of mutants. I have a friend, Royal, who has a farm on the edge of the city, it’s a sort of commune for mutants. He’s very… accommodating.” In a way that Kaya is not, obviously.

#xiomara

sexysamson69:

He smiles, chuckles warmly but offers no more comment on the apology. Nervousness and anxiety sometimes gave way to a decent man, other times to some one who was a little more fucked up than even they realized. The worst apologies were when they’d talk about their wives or husbands; lament hurting their partner all whilst begging Samson to keep fucking them. Kaya, at least, doesn’t seem to be a guy in that category. “Let’s get you relaxed,” Samson begins the massage slow, through the fabric. Samson’s good at it, finding the knots in his shoulders, working through them. Moving closer to his neck.

Pausing for a moment, Sam slips a hand over the collar, warm hands on the back of Kaya’s neck, shoulder, “This okay?” Samson waits for a response before continue, ready to slowly massage Kaya’s bare shoulders before getting more buttons undone.

It’s embarrassing how nice this feels; Kaya almost immediately lets out a weighty sigh, melting into Samson’s touch. It’s just the right thing, over the fabric of Kaya’s shirt so it eases him into the intimacy of this, but when Sam’s hands, warm and large, find the skin of Kaya’s neck he leans into it. Eyes already closed, he murmurs a faint ‘mm’ in response to the question. “Feels good,” There’s a lot of tension in his neck and shoulders, so of course it is nice to have those knots kneaded at, but it is also so, so nice to be touched like this by confident, generous hands. Samson is evidently a consummate professional, and Kaya is pleased to think that he picked the right person to spend his money on.

#samson #this gif is not quite right #but #theres a billion alp gifs and i lack the strength to investigate them all #eepy <3

kamelyayildiz:

“Whatever you say, chérie. You always did enjoy a luxurious bath. What’s more luxurious than a dozen rubber ducks floating round?” Kamelya knows that Kaya isn’t ready to forgive her for the past, and she doesn’t blame him, but she’s glad that they can at least talk civilly. It was hard at first, but it gets a little bit easier every time she’s around him. And, if she’s being completely honest with herself, she’s having a hard time forgiving him for moving on so quickly. It’s petty and bitter of her, but she’s got a heart and feelings just like everyone else.

Her thumb gently rubs against the back of Jane’s hand. The feeling of a small fist wrapped around her finger makes her heart clench. “I’m not sure. As far as I know, the spirit is only as powerful as the others that surround me from day to day. I might’ve let my guard down; this one has been around me for a while. It knows me better than I know myself by now, probably. I don’t know if it manipulated my energy or if my mutation is broken. Can mutations even break?”

Kamelya notices Kaya’s hand, her heart racing as she tries to think of a reason why she’d be bleeding something other than red blood. “It’s the first time that’s happened,” she sighs, gesturing to the smudge on his hand with a nod of her head. “I don’t think it’s dangerous, but I’m still sorry for getting it on you. This is a really weird question, so my apologies in advance: does it have a strange smell to you?” She wants to know if only she can smell the sulphur, or if it’s her blood.

“You don’t think it’s dangerous?” Kaya repeats dubiously. She’s obviously got no basis to believe that beyond wanting to believe it, and he’s almost annoyed at her for that. It’s the same sort of confidence with which Vee would march his little toddler legs right into traffic if Kaya didn’t hold his hand. And for that reason, he simply doesn’t have the capacity to hold Kamelya’s hand about this. She’s an adult, quite capable of making her own choices, so if she wants to be irresponsible about this, that’s her call.

Hesitating, he lifts his hand to his nose and sniffs the bloodlike stain. “It smells... sulfurous.” he says at length. It’s not the word he wants to use, because it immediately puts him in mind of horror films where the smell of sulfur is indicative of demonic presence. Seems concerning, to say the least, if a spirit induced nosebleed hearkens to that. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think mutations can break. They can evolve, though; maybe that’s what happened. You learned to put your protective barrier up once; I’m sure you can learn to strengthen it now. Who is the spirit, Lya? I need to know if you’ve brought something dangerous into my home.” The arm holding Janey on his lap curls protectively a little tighter.

#kamelya

marcyhub

closed starter // @maddie-forward

"You know what Eckart said? The only thing that burns in Hell is the part of you that won't let go of your life; your memories, your attachments. They burn them all away. But they're not punishing you, they're freeing your soul. If you're frightened of dying and you're holding on, you'll see devils tearing your life away." Hale shrugs a shoulder, like she's stating the simplest thing in the world. Tortured souls aren't exactly a myth, but there's a lot more to it than the person ending up in Hell for doing bad things. People with the best intentions can end up down there if they hold a darkness within them. There's no telling which side you'll end up on when it's your time to go. People have seen Lucifer standing at the end of their bed as they lay dying, and nobody believes them when they say it. It's the delusional ranting of a dying person to anyone around them. "It's better to let go of things that hurt you, just in case. Nobody knows what's coming for them when they die."

kaya-yildiz

"If Eckart said that while he was still alive, I don't imagine he really knew what was in Hell; or if it even exists." Kaya speaks carefully, because it seems pretty clear something is on Hale's mind. Usually he'd take the kids back right away, but since they'd both fallen asleep, they'd decided to have a cup of tea to see if the kids would wake up on their own so they wouldn't have to disturb them.

And he finds that he does value this time to get to know Hale as a person, not just the nanny. As well as being nice getting the opportunity to speak Turkish, he finds her to be a warm, caring person. So yes: when it seems like something is on her mind, he's happy to hear her out, though he won't ask directly in case that crosses some sort of boundary. "I've always thought it's... I don't know. Pointless worrying about what comes next, because we can't know until we're there." He wonders if this is worrying Hale because of her mutation. As far as he knows it's more cosmetic than anything, but he imagines she must get a lot of nasty assumptions and comments about her 'demonic' wings and tail.

#hale #i did this in the new post editor #bc i think that we both have to use new post editor for trimming reblogs to work?#I GUESS WE WILL SOON SEE #ps i hope is ok to reply w kaya :elmo_smile:#i thot it'd be fun to build up their relationship a bit outside of nannying!

“Ah-- I should have texted ahead.” Kaya smiles apologetically as Will opens his front door, clearly in the middle of getting ready to go out. The price of spontaneity! Holding the pack of fancy beer half up, he adds: “These will keep in your fridge till we’re both free.” Which might be a while, because it’s not easy being a working dad, as they are both all too aware of! But it’s just beer, it’s not like it’ll be going off. And yes, Kaya knows alcohol doesn’t have much of an effect on will thanks to his mutation: getting boozy isn’t the point. It’s about the bonding :pinched_fingers: it’s about the rituals of friendship. @ofconnell

#will

sexysamson69:

Following silently, he can see how tense Kaya holds himself. Back as rigid as a bit of wood, nerves showing as it feels like an ominous march into the room with no attempt at conversation. It’ll be easier to speak more freely in the room.

The moment they’re in the room, Samson takes the lead. “First thing we gotta do, is get you to unwind a little,” Samson smiles, good-natured, as he walks in and gives the room a cursory glance over. It’s higher-end than the rooms his clients usually pay for. Samson sits down on the bed, angled slightly so one leg is propped up, leaving a space for Kaya to take a seat in front of him. “I give great massages.”

Sam’s comment earns a softly exhaled laugh from Kaya, who consciously pulls his shoulders down a little. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so tense.” Well; he does, really. But he’s trying to rationalise it away because objectively there’s nothing to be nervous about. “A massage sounds great,” he says, managing a smile, and this one a little more relaxed. He’s always been a tense person. Sonya used to stand behind him while he sketched out designs for work, rubbing his shoulders with some teasing comment. Sam takes a seat, comfortable as anything; and it does help, that he’s acting like this is all so natural. Kaya makes himself comfortable on the carpet in front of Sam, loosening the top couple of buttons of his shirt. And he finds he’s really anticipating this, more than he’d realised. It’s not really sex that he misses or wants, but intimacy; he can’t think of the last time someone touched him gently, lingeringly…

Christ, just the thought makes him feel pathetic.

#samson

sexysamson69:

Samson’s had far worse greetings; and he’s dealt with them as politely as he could. He smiles, taking the handshake and patting Kaya on the shoulder with a low chuckle. “No harm done, my friend. Nothing wrong with a lil continental greeting,” Samson glances over at the sparkling drink: given that Kaya already went in for a kiss he knows its not alcoholic. It’s a surefire sign they’ll get on well, with him already questioning boundaries. Even if he could do with a little loosening up, it’s easier to encourage someone that it is to rein them in. A lot of new clients seem to forget that simply because of his job, he’s still human— well, mutant. “Do you want to finish your drink or head up to chat in private? There’s no rush either way.”

Samson is, thank heavens, more relaxed than Kaya is. Which makes sense; he is the professional, after all. Kaya isn’t used to feeling so much like he’s on the back foot, but this is very new territory for him. Like, he knows how this would go if it was a hook-up: he’d say they should stay for a drink, get to know each other. But it’s not, it’s a transaction, and yet it’s a great deal more intimate than a simple business transaction. So... “Let’s just head up.” he says, trying not to second guess himself and wonder if that’s the normal answer or if he sounds hopeless and desperate. Kaya leads the way, and realising he has no idea what an appropriate conversation is for a meeting like this, he does so quietly. Better keep his mouth shut than make a fool of himself, he thinks.

#samson

Meeting people the old fashioned way comes with a lot of challenges. Arranging to meet this Samson guy isn’t necessarily something Kaya is proud of, but it is convenient, no strings attached, and easily arranged. As ever, he is willing to pay for service. For some reason he finds himself oddly nervous, though, as he sits at the hotel bar with a sparkling mineral water, foot tapping rhythmically against the leg of his barstool. Sam is a distinctive looking guy, to say the least, and easily recognised when he enters.

“Samson, right?“ He stands, reaching for a handshake and simultaneously going to kiss Sam’s cheek, immediately flinching at his own greeting. “--Sorry if that was inappropriate. I promise that was a French thing, not a... I don’t know.“ He doesn’t want to come off as entitled, or behave inappropriately before everything is... sorted. God. He hopes Sam is as good at putting him at ease in person as he had been via messages. @sexysamson69

#samson

erinsoconnell:

“Thank you for coming! I’ll call you Kaya if you call me Erin. Doctor O’Connell makes me sound much sterner than I am,” Erin laughs. She is, admittedly, a workaholic, and extremely uptight when it comes to getting things done correctly and efficiently. However, she’s trying to take a more relaxed approach now that she’s a CEO. It’s still a demanding position, but she isn’t constantly being paged while trying to save someone’s life, or make a kid with a broken leg feel less anxious. There seemed to be no time to actually care about her patients towards the end of her previous job. It was constant rushing around and countless sleepless nights.

Erin takes a seat, glancing at the portfolio. “Oh, that’s very kind of you. I appreciate it. Yeah, I worked in the emergency room for years, back in Toronto. I hadn’t really thought about this kind of job until a few months ago, but it seemed like the right move. I’m enjoying it so far.” More time with her wife and their dog, more time to talk about finally starting a family, closer to Will, Gabby, and Tom. Everything is perfect…ish. “Plus, I’m closer to family, which is always a bonus,” she says, her smile bright. “Now, how about you show me some of these sketches and I’ll ask someone to grab us a coffee or tea?”

“Erin.” he nods. Kaya prefers to keep things on the professional side, but he understands that it’s easier to build strong relationships with clients if you allow a little personal exchange as well. First names, he can do. “Sounds like a big step up in every way, then,” Kaya says, but they won’t get bogged down in the formalities.

“A tea would be great, thank you,” Nothing personal against Erin or her hospital, but Kaya is a coffee snob and he doesn’t trust hospital coffee at all. Tea, he is less particular about. Unzipping his portfolio, he begins pulling out a few sheafs of paper. “Can you tell me a little more about your aims for the new wing? I designed the new psychiatric wing for the Bichat-Claude Bernard Hospital in Paris a few years ago,“ he pulls a few sketches to the fore. “They wanted to create a calm, elegant atmosphere. But some of my non-hospital work might be relevant too, I know some hospitals prefer to steer away from the typical hospital appearance.”

#erin #SHE'S SO PRETTYYYYYYY :pleading_face:#icb tumblr wouldnt let me see this reply #a crime

xiomara-de-paz:

Before she can make a peep protesting the idea of therapy Kaya’s stopping her. A tantrum, like she’s a goddamn toddler! He’s fucking right she was going to throw a tantrum but he doesn’t have to point it out. Xio begins to twist her hands together, joints clicking, thoughts racing. Kaya even offers to pay, gets rid of the only real obstacle in her way. Attempting to look anywhere but him, Xio stands up throwing off the blanket because it feels like too much, the fabric heavy and warm and distracting. “I don’t want to go.”

“What the—” she actually catches herself before she swears, but only lowers her voice for it, “—what the fuck can they even do for me? I didn’t even know I was a mutant until you found me and I was fucking stupid enough to think Tex was—that Tex even cared about me!”

The attempt to control her volume quickly loses traction. Her voice raises, her pace picks up as she begins to walk around the couch. Mindless pacing as she struggles to get the words out. “What if I waste your money, and I’m just a fucking lost cause? I can’t even do the fucking dishes!” She shouts, waving at the kitchen out of view.

Of course she doesn’t want to go. If Kaya didn’t have the newfound patience of fatherhood he’d roll his eyes. The mention of Tex does soften him somewhat, though. He will never be able to fully communicate the profundity of his loathing and disrespect for Tex, but the fact that he had a partner and chose to murder her… while Kaya had had his own wife taken from him against anyone’s will… Tex’s selfishness and cruelty boggles the mind. And though he’d had no way of knowing Xiomara was a mutant, he’s now left her with unimaginable trauma. All around a total loser whom Kaya can only hope drinks himself into an early grave soon.

“I mean, I don’t think dishes are really a therapy issue,” Kaya points out levelly; but they’re getting side tracked. “Would it help to meet other mutants? Help to make you feel less… I don’t know. Isolated.” Because she has to feel isolated, living here. She’s an undead woman living in a funeral home with a man who isn’t particularly subtle about the fact he’d rather she wasn’t there.

It might be a win for them both, actually, if she wants to meet other mutants. She could feel a little more normal, and he could fob her off to the Mercer’s for a bit. He knows Royal would be far more accommodating than Kaya. And while Kaya is a mutant himself, he might as well be human for all the lack-of-trouble it’s caused him. People could know him his whole life and never realise his ability.

#xiomara

kamelyayildiz:

Oh, they’re going to bathroom, that’s fine… Kamelya takes a seat, looking around to avoid eye contact with the baby. “Nice ducks. Do you have a ship, too? Your baths must be a lot of fun.” There’s a hint of a smirk on her face as she says it. Teasing Kaya has always been enjoyable. Jane is looking at her, she can feel her eyes on her. Taking the tissues, her hand accidentally brushes against Kaya’s, leaving a smear of blood that looks more like oil on his skin. So much for hiding this from him.

“No, I haven’t had a chance to,” she sighs, wiping at her nose with the tissues. The bleeding seems to have slowed down, thankfully. There’s an acrid smell of sulphur and smoke stinging her nostrils, making her wince slightly. “This is the first time I’ve experienced it. It was like…” Kamelya tries to think of a way to explain what happened without mentioning Sonya. Her eyes catch Jane’s, and she feels her stomach tense. With a lot of hesitation, she reaches out, letting the little girl grab at her unbloodied hand, and the bracelet around her wrist. It’s comforting, in an unexplainable way. “A spirit broke through my protective barrier. I know you can’t see it, but it’s something that I put around myself when I was learning about my mutation, with my mother’s guidance. She was a spirit, so I practised and practised until she couldn’t break through it. It stops possession and being manhandled by the spirits around me. Out there, one of them connected with me. I saw their memories and felt their hand in my back.”

Kaya rolls his eyes at the teasing comment about ducks and ships, but he’s not really annoyed. He’s glad, he supposes, in a way, that whatever ails her doesn’t have her so down she can’t even joke. “They’re for the kids.” he says flatly, because he doesn’t want Kamelya to be miserable, obviously, but he still harbours a lot of resentment. It is hard to be too annoyed when he can see the way her eyes linger on Jane: a certain reminder of their own shared loss.

He hopes she doesn’t think Vee and Jane are replacements, in any way. But he can’t bring himself to say that.

Kami takes a tissue from him, and leaves a smear of blood on his hand. No; not blood. Something darker, ichorous. She either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t want him to comment, so she just goes on with her explanation. She sounds remarkably calm for someone who just got briefly… possessed? Kaya studies her with dark intensity as Jane holds onto her finger. “Why would that happen? Was it a particularly powerful spirit, or did you let your guard down?” he asks, suppressing the concern in his voice. A funeral home is probably a shitty, shitty place for someone with Kamelya’s abilities to come. Without looking down at his hand, his thumb rubs at the smudge of bloodlike fluid. It disturbs him.

#kamelya

cursedflesh:

just how it is. the two of them are similar in that respect… not particularly cheerful, definitely pessimistic, but not crying about it, either. there are plenty of complaints that they could have thrown out, and plenty more annoyances to be moaned about—but more than that, there’s always this expectation that if they’re not joyful, life isn’t worth living. and maybe it isn’t. terry isn’t convinced, now more than ever, that there is a point where someone can sit and think that it’s all worth it… but that isn’t terribly important to them, either. time goes on regardless of how someone chooses to spend it, cheerful or not. realism feels easier.

“i shouldn’t,” they admit, letting a heavy sigh escape their lungs. force of habit, rather than actual need. “but fuck if i’ve got anything better to do,” with more creaking than they would like, terry lifts themselves from their chair, prepared to chase down another round. if nothing else, it’s something to do. “you?”

Kaya wishes he didn’t have anything better to do. He sorely, sorely wants to stay. But what sort of father would that make him? The kind that hides out in a bar after work while the nanny raises them? He doesn’t want to be that person, and he knows Sonya wouldn’t want him to be either.

It is tempting to tell Terry he has nothing better to do, too. Buy another round. Sit. Mope. But even the idea of that lie sits like ash on his tongue, so after a long moment of hesitation that probably betrays how much he wants to give a different answer, he shakes his head. “Better not.” He lifts himself from his own chair, perhaps a little easier than Terry does, and offers a hand to him. Yes, Kaya will end even a casual social encounter with a handshake. He’s formal like that. “It was good to see you, though. Take care of yourself.” Even if Kaya can’t spare much time for socialisation these days, he appreciates these moments: quiet, unpressured, mature. There’s only so much Paw Patrol he can take.

#Terrence #WOE me ending two chats w terry in short order :///#need 2 collect more threads on this beloved zombie soon

cursedflesh:

“i’d tell you differently if they did,” they admit, shaking their head. they have the urge to order another drink, but… what’s the point? it doesn’t do anything. doesn’t taste like anything. it’s just a habit, now. “but i agree with you. nobody’s satisfied with life.” old or young, rich or poor… obviously, some people have better circumstances than others. they can’t argue with that, particularly considering their upbringing! but it doesn’t mean the result isn’t the same. “suppose that’s just how it is, isn’t it?”

Cheerful topic for the night. Kaya is a bit too chronically maudlin to even bring himself to make a joke about it. He likes that about Terry; there’s no pressure to be cheerful. Often Kaya feels he must be bracing, put on a brave face for the world. But really he’s so, so tired. He appreciates Terry’s company for how easy it is. “Just how it is,” Kaya agrees with a heavy nod.

Allows a silence to fall, as he drains the last of his wine and contemplates the bottom of his glass, a bitter tannin stain of red just smudging the bottom. His gaze wanders to Terry’s glass, equally in need of refreshment. Or departure. Kaya knows he should leave, soon, go relieve Hale of the kids. “You having another?” He asks instead, putting fate in Terry’s hands.

#Terrence

xiomara-de-paz:

She sits without question. Wriggles side to side to slide her hand underneath herself to clear any crumbs irritating her thighs.

“A lot? Nothing,” she shrugs, genuinely unsure of herself, “I don’t know.”

It’s a lot of the same, stuck in a strange cycle of finding it difficult to decide what to do with her day. Then finding herself at the end of it, having done nothing but eat and watch TV and left a small trail of disaster in her wake. Or she loses her day to think about Tex, to fitful sleeps in and out consciousness. That’s usually when sends up at a bar, or her grave that one late afternoon.

Kaya probably wouldn’t want to hear about the days she’s spent sitting outside Tex’s. Simply watching people go in and out, or Tex stumble out high in search of instant noodles and fresh supplies (cigarettes and beer, she assumes). Xio doesn’t know what she’s waiting for when she watches him. She doesn’t know what she’d do if he looked her way. “Dying wasn’t in my, like, future plans. Usually that means you can stop thinking about what’s next.”

Dying and coming back might not have been in her plans, but it is what has happened; and Kaya feels he has been very generous in letting her stay for the last six months. He’d thought it was time she could use to work something out for herself, but perhaps he’s really just been enabling her. She does… nothing. All day.

He’d love to say that was none of his concern, but as long as she’s in his house, then it is his concern. Kaya sits with a great sigh in the armchair opposite Xio. “...I’m going to float the therapy idea again, if you can withhold having a tantrum about it for two minutes.” He knows she doesn’t want to see any professionals! Doesn’t want police involved in her murder for some stupid, bloody-minded reason. But the situation hasn’t changed in months, and she’s evidently not dealing with the trauma from her murder and consequent burial. Kaya doesn’t know if she’s depressed, or has a helluva case of ADHD, or what, but that’s the problem: of course he doesn’t know. He’s a bloody architect. “I know you’ve got no money. I will pay for it, if you go.” That’s his way: throwing money at problems until they resolve.

#xiomara

Trending Blogs

Recently Viewed Blogs

burning milk