zzz ARCHIVE

As she always did, Maureen brightened at the sight of Aparna. “Of course,” she responded without a second thought. Their arms naturally linked together, she followed her friend all the way to the bathroom, which was a welcome break. Being around so many incredibly fancy people made her feel more than a little out of place, even with the (likely) overly expensive dress that Jakob had gotten her. “I’m sure you didn’t break anyone’s anything,” she unlinked her arm from her friend’s for a moment. “I mean, I’d call your face pretty perfect too, just so we’re clear, but yes. It’s a lot.” Maureen bit her lip. “And I’ve been taking notes, but I still don’t really know exactly what for.” She leaned against the wall. “So, thank you, for this reprieve.” She glanced around, “okay, I think this is immediately in the running for fanciest restroom I’ve ever set foot in.”

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“I know, but I don’t care. Think of it like- I dunno. We’re still journalists, aren’t we? So we’re undercover ones here, and anytime you feel like ya don’t belong here, you snap out of it because you gotta show to put on. The more you fake it, easier it is.” He spoke from personal experience here. Despite his capability as a writer, he very much did not act like somebody who worked for the New York Times. Ben maintained that this was the reason people liked him. No one liked journalists.

Humming, he scanned the attendees, and then nodded at a woman in the far left corner. “That’s gotta be diamonds? If not, it’s a good enough fake that we’ll still get somethin’ for it.” At her suggestion, his eyebrows narrowed, though his tone was clearly joking, “Oh, ‘cause I’m the foster kid, I’m good at stealing? Real good of you there, Parna. Wow. Wow.” Once more, he nudged her in the side. “I’m perfectly charmin’ enough to be the decoy.” A lie.

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     Even though his adivce was admittedly all over the place, it still served its purpose. Aparna did manage to take a single full breath of air and let it out as a heavy sigh. As if the entirety of the world’s weight was on her shoulders -- when, in reality, three people in the entire event knew who she was.

event: gotham hall fundraiser gala

with: aparna

Meadow would never turn down an event. She loved the scene and the lively buzz it all brought. Normally she would be drunk out of her mind by now, but since this gathering was more professional, she decided against it. There she sat, a drink in hand as she glanced around the area. All night long she had been taking notes on her small notepad and it was getting to be quite boring. She finished the rest of her drink before throwing the cup in the trash and venturing out to find someone, anyone to talk to. Meadow noticed someone by their lonesome and decided to strike up a conversation. “Pretty boring night, huh? I’ll be surprised if it stays that way.”

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     Aparna had only been at the event for a mere hour and a half, but her body weighed her down and made it impossible to disguish if it felt like two minutes or twenty years had gone by since she’d arrived. It was a disappointing moment to be told the bar wasn’t serving coffee yet, but she settled for a serving of rum and coke, which she impatiently sipped through a plastic straw. Startled by the unfamiliar voice, Aparna’s head jerked up from staring into the bottom of her glass to the other’s face. “I’m not bored,” she sounded a lot more defensive than she’d intended -- not because she felt particularly attacked by the statement, but because her mind was working ten times faster than she was accustomed. “I mean that speech was-- definitely entertaining.” No, that wasn’t the right word. 

     She wasn’t the first and wouldn’t be the last to pitch this angle of the story to the New York Times editor, but that wouldn’t stop Aparna now. In the past, she’d let opportunities fly right over her head, all because of her fear of failure, but this piece of news was the right moment to start shedding her outer layers and get in the game. She knew Ben and Maureen were fighting over the interview with the Mayor, a discussion she kept herself away from by furiously scribbling into her notebook. 

It wasn’t often that Ben was the sensible one, but when it came to looking after Aparna ( not that he’d ever call it that, at least not to her face ), he was a dab hand. And he had, as he would remind her, told her so. “I told you so.” He could have lived off that smugness for a little white longer, but her next comment made him pause, and then nudge her hard in the shoulder. “Well, we just have to keep faking it til’ we make it, right? You fit right in, Par, you look great.” It wasn’t about the way she looked, not really, but that conversation of worth was for another time, when she wasn’t about to shake out of her skin. At the mention of the heist movie, his eyes widened. “Fuckin’ yes. Let’s Oceans 8 this thing. What do you think would be the easiest, and best thing to steal? One answer - can’t split it.” It was a pure hypothetical, Aparna would know, but his voice sounded deadly serious. 

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     She offered him an annoyed look, but didn’t fight him further -- she would lose, because he was right. He had warned her and she’d assured him that caffeine didn’t even make her jittery anymore. Cut to right now: she couldn’t remember where she usually put her hands and her heart might as well beat right out of her chest. “Right, but that’s not  what I mean.” It wasn’t about looking the part ( she’d made sure to rent a dress that would at least make her invisible ) but about feeling like they belonged among these people. 

🔥 Would my muse ever be up for a threesome?

💝 Does my muse like Valentine’s Day?

💍 Has my muse ever had a one-night stand?

It’s a faulted tendency of humankind to relate things to themselves, and true to her own sense of ( dubious ) humanity, she can’t help but wonder how alike she and the girl are — if their similarity extends past long, dark tresses and into the territory of personality and habit. Truthfully, it’s less about Aparna and more about her roommate; selfishly so, her own curiosity refuses to rest until she knows whether or not Ben had simply found a replacement Zuleika Sandoval, or if he truly had moved on to better things. 

Any shred of hope that she’d find a resemblance is quickly replaced by distinct disappointment — so, she’d managed to connect with yet another soul who said ‘sorry’ more often than any other word in the English language. The disappointment is two-fold, fuel for the fear that she has no place in her friend’s life now, and born from a separate desire, one that sinks lower than just falling victim to misery loving company: nothing made a person feel more acceptable than realizing their own ugly horror in another they found beautiful. ( And, in the aftermath of Andrea’s retribution, it had been quite some time since she’d felt acceptable, let alone desired. ) 

It’s then that the better, or arguably worse, part of her nature assaults her thoughts, seizing hold of her tendency to light a fire only meant to keep herself warm and burn all others. When the other reappears and heads straight to the kitchenette, Zu follows, but positions herself where Aparna can’t simply run off and escape without first encountering her. “You apologize too much,” the brunette starts on an even tone, secretive smile fixed firmly in place as she ignores the girl’s question. “Frankly, the only thing worth an apology is the fact that you’ve changed into sweatpants.” The two are not terribly far apart now, and Zu’s languid gaze travels the length of Aparna’s form, wordlessly. There’s no shame in the silence, nor in the way her eyes drink in the sight of the other, and when she speaks again, the words are accompanied by a step closer, as if daring Aparna not to look anywhere but her. “Seriously, I liked what you had on before. Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got legs for days?”

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     There was a sort of implicit agreement between roommates that Aparna and Ben had made when he moved in. The spare room where he settled had formerly been a studio-and-deposit combo from where both her and her ex had worked when they needed some silence or time to be alone. When she started looking for a new roommate, one of the first things she mentioned was that she wanted each bedroom to be absolutely sacred. Common spaces in the apartment were free reign but she needed to have somewhere to relax and gather her thoughts, and she was grateful she’d made that a condition as soon as Ben and her started to spend more and more time together. She also found out that the small kitchen was almost exclusively hers, too – Ben would, every once in a while, become obsessed with a certain meal or snack, but most of the time, Aparna would take over cooking and deciding what groceries to get. 

     Zu hadn’t been part of the plan at all, so her mere presence ( and the fact that it had interfered with what Aparna had decided would be a day of rest ) was disrupting. And then she stepped into their kitchen. Her kitchen. Aparna let out a nervous laugh and cleared her throat. She had been told she apologized too much in the past, but she couldn’t really help it. Even in that moment, all she managed to say was, “Yeah, sorry about that.” Besides Zu’s words, she could clearly hear her own heart beating so loudly that she feared it might crack her chest open and explode over the counter. 

     Aparna would swear she could feel Zu’s gaze burn a trail through her clothes on her skin. She would have argued that her previous outfit was anything but – and that it was stained and that her parents had raised her to welcome guests in her best attire and offer a drink and a snack and make pleasant conversation. She would have, if she’d been able to get another word out. It’s the word legs that finally forced her to look down at Zu’s body – and the second she did, a shaky breath escaped her lips and she knew she was done for. “Not really, I’m– pretty short,” was the lame excuse of an answer she mustered up. But the truth was she was no longer thinking about what others had said of her body – she could only focus on the fact that Zuleika had watched her enough to comment on it. “So, uh… You sure you don’t want a cup of coffee?” Even though she asked a question, she couldn’t tear her eyes off the woman’s body anymore.

A distinct thud precedes the door opening, and though she might normally comment on it in curiosity, Zu is instead struck by an unexpected visage. “Guapa,” she corrects herself immediately, the compliment a casual one ( as most of her praise was around veritable strangers is ) though the testament to beauty rings true once she grants herself a quick study of the woman’s face. She’s struck, frankly, at the similarities shared between them: the large, dark eyes, the delicately pointed chin, the long, deep-hued tresses. But, where Zuleika utilizes her beauty as a weapon, daring the world not to notice her only to laugh as it failed in its own vain attempt, Aparna seemed inclined to use hers as a shield, half of her hidden away. That much was evident in the avoidant gaze and nervous scattering as the younger woman led her into the apartment with an apologetic cadence to her every word. 

“A pretty girl doing chores? Rare sight,” the brunette muses with a smile as she steps further into the space, though she keeps a distance as Aparna tidies up. Truthfully, Zu’s not used to witnessing this kind of domesticity — and even less familiar with participating in it — so she takes the opportunity to survey the apartment instead, brain automatically compartmentalizing between the elements that felt more like her friend and more like his roommate. There’s a few things she recognizes from years earlier, but by and large, the space is decorated in such a way that it’s all too apparent how much of his life she’s missed out on.

Aparna’s apology draws her out of her reverie, eyes immediately lifted from a book series he’d recommended to her months ago ( since purchased, but still unread ) and back to the brunette. “Admittedly, I’m a bit early, but I figured… Pastries make up for a multitude of sins. Plus, these are from Levain.” The brown bag is placed at the center of the coffee table, though Zuleika’s attention quickly diverts to a forgotten article of clothing trapped under the table’s leg. Before Aparna can make a move for it, Zu hooks the lace trim of the undergarment on the tip of her fingernail, and holds it out to the other girl. “Yours?” She asks innocently, though any trace of it is erased by the smirk that follows, her curiosity as to the finer details of Ben’s life too great to deny. “Or a girlfriend’s?”

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     Maybe the best thing to come out of the mediocrity that was her high school education – Aparna’s Spanish lessons had been long forgotten and Zuleika’s self-correction was lost on her. It’s English she had no excuse for, she’d blame it on how abrupt the other’s arrival had been and how she’d been caught off guard for her stumbling over her own words. It took her a moment to register what Zu had said; on her quest to make their living room a habitable space, worthy of a guest, Aparna put the basket behind the couch as if that would erase what the other had already seen. Mentally, she was already dreading what would inevitably be a night of cramming chores into a few hours before going to bed.

     Her gaze fell upon the brown paper bag, but immediately the forgotten undergarment caught her attention. Zu was faster and less ashamed of the implications, that much was obvious; on the other hand, Aparna froze for a moment before she was able to properly react to the question. With a nervous laugh, she snatched the lace underwear from the other’s grip and clumsily stuck it into the back pocket of her shorts. “Sorry,” she was unable to meet Zu’s intense stare, and her feet wouldn’t budge for what seemed like an eternity. 

     Half a minute was what she needed to catch her braeth and sort her thoughts. First things first. She stuck her head out the door to look at Zu and then her body followed suit, feet dragging her straight towards her own bedroom. “I’m going to get changed,” she explained quickly, before she disappeared behind the door. She soon came back out, sweater and shorts disacarded in favor of a clean pair of sweatpants and one of the few non-embarrassing tees she’d found at the back of her closet. “Uh, do you want anything to drink?” she desperately changed the subject, strutting over to the apartment’s kitchenette. “We have coffee and tea or–” That was pretty much it, actually.

Her head tilted as her face of innocence slowly appeared over her doe eyes. “Can you see… what..?” She asked, looking around at the dimly lit establishment. A lot of people asked that question, truthfully. The hope of wanting Penelope to perform some sort of magical act. Sometimes, she wished she could make things levitate for the sole purpose of proving something to those desperate to see anything. She ushered her towards the candle-lit disguised room. The decor that went on in here was purely for public perception. She tapped the seat that faced a wooden table and an even larger seat, perfect for 1-on-1 sessions. She slid into the upholstered red velvet loveseat, pushing the deck of cards between them. “A lot of people tend to explain what’s on their mind,” she began, “showing” her something. “Most people have a wish, an issue, a problem; that they want to be solved,” her voice sweet and dainty. “But, many forget that when you come to The Beyond, we’re here to spread the truth, not problem-solve,” she had enough of her own problems to solve, anyway. 

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     She really needed to be more specific with her wording. “I mean– the process. Can we do a… I don’t know, what is it called? A test run?” That seemed slightly offensive, but she couldn’t think of a better term for it. Aparna had been raised with spirituality around her, but not this kind – and even her original faith had been questioned by herself and others in the past few years. She could think of issues she wanted resolved, but it seemed unprofessional to unload them onto Penelope when she was technically there for work. Still, as she followed the woman deeper into the shop, she could sense why people felt at ease there. She hesitated briefly before taking a seat across the table. “Okay… So what do I do? Do I… Ask you a question? And your cards will either answer or tell you something else? Maybe something unrelated to what I’m wondering?”

status: closed |  @andreagalan​ @avamhollis​ @parbhandari​ @alandietrich​

“What is.. what does instathot mean?” Sheer confusion and reluctant curiosity colored his tone. As if the deep set furrow between his brows wasn’t enough. Face scrunched and phone pulled away ( as if the distance would help clear the confusion ), Chan-yoo couldn’t make heads or tails of it. “Am I just reading it wrong? Did they mean to spell the words instant and hot, but missed the second ‘n’ in instant?”

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 Aparna’s eyes moved promptly towards his phone – granted, she was sittin gacross from him and couldn’t see the screen, but it caught her attention regardless. “I don’t think I’m the right person to ask.” She wasn’t entirely sure she knew the correct definition, but if it was what she thought, then she didn’t want to be the one to say it out loud either. “What’s the context?”