everything to feel something --

*

it was true, he was disorganised. he was chaotic. sometimes he was absolutely out of his mind and right in the path of trouble headed his way. not much was expected of them but this was just too far for even him. he looked directly at her when he addressed her now, his green eyes staring into eyes that resembled his own but didn’t feel familiar anymore. he didn’t even answer her question directly. the disappointment welled in his eyes and overcame his body in a way that he had never felt before in his life.

 god, they had always been fuck ups – there had been parts of them that slotted together like a really cheap jigsaw someone got in secret santa as a duff gift, there were parts of them that made sense but now he saw none of them. 

“i just don’t know you right now ‘cause when i saw them pictures i didn’t see my sister, i saw some freaky stranger who didn’t care who she was hurting-” he spluttered, his voice hoarse and breaking. he wanted to understand how she could have sex with that creature, that monter who had made his children’s life misery. every time he walked through that door he felt like he was on broken glass but it was just broken spirits. “and harley, fucking hell, i never thought you were like that. you and me, we make mistakes, we fuck up so much but to do that… to know how twisted he must be, to know he drove my best friend into wanting to kill so many parts of himself over and over. to know how he locked them up in this haunted house, even without ghosts, ghouls and dead kids. wasn’t that enough? is there something so wrong with you and me that you had to take it that step further? what could he have possibly done to warp your mind into sleeping with him? i’ve been racking my brain the entire time i was locked up trying to come up with some excuse because i fucking love you but the truth is, there isn’t one, is there? is this just who you are?”

. . . .

harley wanted to be angry. angry at whoever took the pictures, whoever sent them. and she would be, yes – but only at some point. any inkling of frustration that she bore towards the stranger ( whom she still had the sense to assume was angel ) dissipated when chandler cracked. all frustration, all anger, turned itself inward. it often did, sure, but this was something different. this wasn’t just shame and regret. this was a pit. no candlestick could save her now.

her entire life, she’d seldom seen him so devastated, much less in regards to her. in some ways, some very nuanced ways, they’d always carried more similarities than differences – always just executed differently. but now, even in the most nuanced sense, there was no reflection, was there ?

harley wished she could provide a single answer to any one of his questions. but the truth of the matter was that she didn’t know. she was impulsive, that much she knew. she was hungry, that much she knew. she was selfish, that much she knew. she didn’t understand much about herself, but she knew that. is this just who you are? more than a fuck-up, more than any kind of disappointment. if she could fall in bed with the monster, blocking out everything he did until she left the grounds, then was she just another version of him ? of the man no one seemed to fully understand, but seemed to know had next to no morals ? “ i wish... ” she trailed off, double-checking what she was about to say. because perhaps losing chandler’s trust and belva’s friendship would finally teach her a goddamn lesson about the pros of thinking before doing. “ i wish i had something, some actual... reason and excuse, but i don’t. ” who would she ever think she was for ever once thinking she did ? “ and i just – i don’t want you to get dragged into this anymore than you already have. ” but, other than talk to angel, who she wasn’t even sure sent the photographs, she could never ensure that. “ chandler... i’m so sorry. ”

harley: Belva,

I'm so sorry. What I did crossed more than one line. I never should have even begun to put your father before you, but I recognise that I did and that there's no way to undo that. I do want you to know that I have always genuinely loved you. What I did to you was heinous and was not the act of a good friend, or even a decent friend, or even a friendly acquaintance. I hurt you in a way no one should ever be hurt. I wish life had a rewind button, but I know I have to reap what I've sown. I just want you to know that, from the bottom of my heart, I'm sorry. If you would rather not talk, I understand. I know words aren't enough and I hope I can find a way to make it up to you someday.

“freedom?” he splutters rum, wiping the trail from his mouth as he stumbles to his feet. a drunken, high mess is all he’s been for years but this is different. the two of them were chaos, they never really understood each other and even as brother and sister they accepted that they would always just be a hot mess. they had bickered, thrown each other under the bus and disappointed their parents time after time but this was different. how could she have done this? why would she have done this? “my freedom is over and it’s because of you. because for some reason you had to sleep with some deranged dirty old man,” he spat out.

he stopped, the bottle rested on the couch. somehow the fun was dragged right out of him, his green eyes danced with flecks of horror and rage about the situation. she didn’t even understand what she had done. “you let me talk to azra about that old mans dick knowing that it was inside of you. how could you sleep with that old bastard after seeing everything he did to my best friend? everything he did to his own kids, harley?”

he couldn’t believe it. maybe he shouldn’t of! maybe like so many other things this was some mess! yet those images were burned into his mind - he would never forget in a million years, they’d be in his nightmares. “and now i have to serve time for a murder i didn’t even commit because of your mistake. to protect you from being the next one up as vidal’s murderer. because you couldn’t even stop yourself from getting fucking caught. thanks a bunch.”

. . . .

his questions all came so very fast, she had little time to process and, much less, answer before the next one arose. but even if she had, could she have ? it was not that the answers didn’t exist, rather that yet another person – another person she cared for, no matter how strange their dynamic was in comparison to so many others – had learned of her affair. hardly able to catch a thought, the idea of catching an answer to one of his many questions was more than far-fetched. why had angel let it all free when she’d been making good on her end ? he had nothing to gain anymore. had it been angel ? who else could it have been ? 

as far as she could remember, she had kept it well under wraps. it was easy enough to do when there were no direct questions regarding it. there was no truth to tell if no one asked. there were no lies to tell if no one asked. and yet, it had slipped. and yet, questions she could not answer – not for her own protection, rather for either a lack of processing or a lack of introspection – had now been thrown her way twice. who else knew ? a selfish thought, yes, but nothing else was quite sticking. 

it was not until his final sentiment that she was actually able to conjure up and articulate a thought – a question, and a rather good one ! a rather automatic one ! “ what the hell are you talking about ? ” that could certainly be misconstrued. lying further about her affair with vidal would get her nowhere, oh how she knew that ! no, no, after a second’s thought – or, rather, an instinct, because thinking was off the table at the moment, she added, with genuine curiosity and perhaps a side of worry! , “ what does any of this have to do with your conviction ? ”

although her responses were, more often than know, knee-jerk, a week of utter obsession yelled at her – before she could do anything, she, at the very least, had to see chandler. had to visit him. was his freedom not all she had been thinking about before the other night ? what her life began to temporarily revolve around ? yes, there were reasons it would be a poor choice – ones that could still be deemed as knee-jerk, but the house was large enough ! – hell, she hadn’t a clue how people could even say it was just a ‘house.’ and... it wasn’t as though chandler could exactly leave. problematic. 

oh, how glad she was to find him with ease ! to not have to begin an inspection of the house ( possibly an entire investigation with his history of opening trapdoors ). upon catching full sight of him, she asked him the only question she really had !: “ how does freedom feel ? ”

dollhouse + various tweets ( 06 / ?? )

.

The excitement that trickled into Harley’s responses just causes Belva to become even more confused, even more upset, and she stares at Harley with something akin to disgust. “Why do you sound like that?” Her voice is strained as the rhetorical question slips from her lips, her hands flying up around her face, similar to the jerky movements that Chandler had shown when telling her of all of this. “I just don’t understand. He never would have loved you back,” and surprisingly enough, there’s no menace in her words; the statement is meant as just that, and nothing more. A fact, not a weapon. Even if there’s still a part of her that wants to make Harley hurt the way that she does. 

“Why let some horrible person use you for that long?” And perhaps it’s a bit hypocritical coming from a girl who had allowed her father to dictate each and every move she made for so long. Maybe that’s why her voice is filled with less anger and more sadness when she adds, “At least I knew better than to love him while I let him do that.” Because even if her father had made her decisions for her, she’d given up on loving him a decade ago. She had given so much to him, but not that.

The anger is still there, still visible in the way that the blonde holds her shoulders as she takes a step back, face pinched. Blue eyes scan the face of her best friend (Belva had always had difficulty with separating the past from present tense), before she simply shakes her head. “Well, whatever the reason is, I don’t care. I don’t want any part in it.” Her gaze shifts from the doorway back to Harley, and her eyes are narrowed, although her voice is unsteady. “You already picked him. Just took me a while to figure it out.” 

. . . .

answers should be even and straight-forward. and she wanted to provide belva with those answers. with those even and straight-forward answers. but she didn’t know the answers herself. all she knew was that she sounded like that because of an unexpected and automatic response to belva’s ability to articulate what she didn’t want to say. “ i know. ” even when she questioned whether or not he loved her, even when she saw it as a possibility, she could still see that she gave a 90 to his 10. but that was how it worked at the best of times. and it was strange and it was foolish and it was nothing inherently good, but it was.

everything just was. every question belva asked, everything that had the option to be open and not just rhetorical, still didn’t have an answer that she knew of. she couldn’t afford to be that introspective. she knew herself on the surface. the only answers she could offer were surface-level or were external. and she wanted to give her answers – god, she wanted to give her answers. if she couldn’t be the one to tell her, she could at least do her the service of answering her damn questions. but she had no answers. would she ever ? or would it be a new question for her to ignore ?

“ i didn’t – ” she began, automatic response taking over again, but stopping short before she knew how to finish the thought. finish it without a shred of a lie. “ i didn’t pick anyone, i just... was there, ” she completed, tone lacking any defensive strategy. there was nothing left to defend. defending anything else would require an actual lie. no, at this point, there was nothing but defeat. whoever or whatever had informed belva had been that first and final straw. and there was such a long list of things harley wanted to tell belva. all truths. but another thing she’d learned was that kind sentiments, loving sentiments, often did nothing but ignite further fire in the angered. she would have to hold those cards and hold them dearly.

.

Harley’s steady tone just causes the girl to stiffen even more, frustrated that she can feel as if she’s about to fall apart while the woman in front of her stands composed. A scoff falls from her lips at Harley’s reply, and she shakes her head, chin tilted to the sky as she tries to understand. Her jaw is clenched, teeth grinding together, and her throat feels tight. There’s words that want to crawl from her throat, words that she won’t be able to take back. Before her father’s death, she would have let them die on her tongue. With his death, with his repeated betrayals and attacks, she allows them to slip out.

“He saw something,” she echoes, tone disbelieving as she settles her gaze on Harley. The other woman has her eyes on the floor, her features soft. If she wasn’t so angry, perhaps she would feel pity, and yet there’s a tightness in her chest and a need to lash out that leaves Belva blind to the sad way in which Harley says those words. “Of course he saw something. He saw something that he could take and use, that he could twist into something that would only ever help him!” It was the story of those closest to Vidal, a story as familiar as any other. Belva had just thought that Harley had been smart enough not to fall into its web with the rest of them. 

“If it had been about money, I mean  God, it wouldn’t make it okay, but at least…At least it wouldn’t mean that you loved him. Because you did, didn’t you?” She lets it hang in the air for a minute, as so much of the past few years begins to shift around this new information. The way that Harley had so quickly fallen into her life, the way that a girl who was always ready to find her next adventure had seemingly chosen to stay with her, with Bluebell, with her best friends. The way that her father had been all too willing to jump into bed with one of the few people she’d gotten close to, one of the few relationships she’d thought had been entirely hers. “Why else would you stay if you didn’t, because it seems pretty clear now that you didn’t stay for me.”

. . . .

“ yeah – yeah, exactly ! ” she replied, tone taking a brief switch from rather monotonous to... was it excited ? eyebrows raised with a nod of confirmation, belva articulating something she knew but never said. “ exactly, ” she echoed, flattening her tone and expression. that had been the great thing about it, right ? there was the sneaking around – that was amazing. there was the attention – that was amazing. there was the question of whether or not he loved her – that was amazing. there was the blatant use – that was amazing. having come to the ultimate conclusion that he had never loved her some time prior, some time around azra’s reveal ( although the question and great debate had always been there ), there was still something she missed. and belva had articulated what it was. she had no one to move onto. she would leave. go somewhere new. but something held her back.

was it the memory ? before azra revealed she, too, had been having an affair with vidal, it was in partial preservation of his reputation ( that part, at least ). after that, there had been a limbo. some liminal space. was it for belva ? she didn’t seem to need it any longer. her grief no longer seemed severe. but had it ever been ? for a week, it was for chandler and his freedom. but now, why was she staying ? she could move on. she could close the door on this chapter. she could leave. but she was still there.

“ i don’t know, ” she finally answered. she could’ve lied and said those sickly sweet words – that she’d stayed for her ! but belva didn’t need her. yes, the truth was that she simply did not know. not anymore. “ it’s not for him – not anymore, at least. ” everything had to be laced with truth. technically, everything she’d said before had been, had it not ? when emilio had implied she knew of the affair, harley went along with it. she didn’t try to justify anything with angel. half-truths, however inconvenient and manipulative, still possessed the word ‘truth’ for a reason. and she was just as inconvenient and manipulative as a half-truth. 

.

Even with the photos and the other warning signs lined up so neatly in her mind, Belva still reels back at Harley’s response. At the fact that the other woman doesn’t even try to deny it, to explain herself. Hadn’t Belva told Emilio once that she wanted the truth, even if it was horrible? Even if it hurt? And yet still, Harley’s words land like a physical blow. “Three years,” she voices, quiet enough that it doesn’t reach too far from the doorway to Harley’s apartment. The blonde doesn’t move to go inside, to the small but familiar enough apartment, one Harley had offered as a safe haven when things at the house upon the hill seemed to be getting too much.

“Were we even friends before it started? Or did you…did you just use me as a way to get close to him?” This time, when the words come, she’s unable to keep the anger out of her voice. (Because anger was easier to process in that moment than the hurt, than the heaviness that settles in her chest). How could Harley have tied herself to a man like Vidal Athanas? Even before his recent failings had been revealed, he had still been a cold man, one who kept even those with his name at a distance. And yet he’d let her into his office all the same. “Was it the money? Was that why you were with him?” She’s trying desperately to make sense of it, and this is the first thing that comes to mind.

. . . .

three. a nice number. so much significance outside of just being the number after two and before four. the father, the son, the holy spirit. comedic rule of three. third time’s the charm. third light. all good things come in threes. all bad things come in threes. a nice number. an interesting number. the only number that wasn’t strictly aggravating with its mathematic connotations. three years. the amount of time she had been with vidal. the amount of time she had gone behind belva’s back. the amount of time that she had spent getting a thrill out of getting away. but it was all over. and with it, belva.

“ i didn’t know him before we were friends, ” she replied, attempting to keep her tone even and straight-forward. answers were supposed to be even and straight-forward. the thought of it ever being over the money – it was a good red herring, but not one she would take. “ i didn’t care about the money. ” ( until angel came into the picture, but that was about the extent of it ). how was she to explain that what she cared about was a love that she knew was feigned ? more so, that what she cared about was the liveliness of holding those cards to her chest, keeping it ? “ he saw something and... ” and that was all she needed.

@shushharley​

In the twenty minutes that it takes her to jog to Harley’s apartment, an ugly story begins to weave its way through Belva’s mind. She thinks of the way Chandler, who was never serious, not even when arrested for a gruesome crime, had looked so resolved. Thinks of the little doll that had so carefully been placed in the tiny replica of her father’s bed, in that tiny bathrobe. Thinks of Graciela’s warning, of the way she’d accepted Harley’s explanation without a single thought, of how she would have defended her friend until the end. All of the signs, some so carefully laid out that a child could have connected the dots, and yet she had remained oblivious. Stupid. Just the way that her father liked her.

Stupid enough to leave the house on the hill in her pajamas as the weather began to turn colder, to run at night in a town that was growing more violent by the minute. Stupid enough to knock on one of her best friends’ doors at ten at night and hope she’s wrong when she demands, once the other woman opens the door, “How long was it going on?” 

. . . .

in spite of the night still being young, the pounding on the door was unexpected. who was behind it... only semi-unexpected – they tended to meet at ‘her house’ ( what given that harley’s apartment had a single murphy bed that would likely turn her into flat stanley sooner rather than later ) or somewhere within the town. the words ? and the force behind them ? those were the most unexpected of them all.

she didn’t know how it had happened. but she knew what belva was referring to. she could play dumb. she could lie. but lies, as harley had learned, were intricate. delicate. fragile. whoever first coined the term ‘a web of lies’ was onto something... and so harley had given that up. long ago. over a decade. she’d been taught that the best option when it came to getting away with misdeeds were lies by omission. she just had to stay after school to go over something. her travels always had one magnificent aspect – objectively so. she’d nearly made the house on the hill her home in order to comfort a dear friend. all of it was true ! there were just important factors that were left out – why she stayed, what other things happened, the other reason she was there. yes, half-truths were easy to keep up with ( they were most certainly necessary when it came to chandler ). 

she had always wanted to be the one to tell belva. but she never wanted belva to learn. her wish had always been that, if belva were ever to find out, it would be from angel. she would know, then. she would have missed a payment, not given him enough money – something along those lines. she could have said something first. but this didn’t feel like angel. but that was not the biggest concern. not at the moment. “ 2017. ”

sullivanmock​:

clearliquors:

BOLD what applies to your muse.

PLACE IN SOCIETY

financial: wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty.

medical: fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged.

education: qualified / unqualified / studying *(was studying, dropped out).

criminal record: yes, for major crimes / yes, for minor crimes / no.

FAMILY

married - happily / married - unhappily / engaged or betrothed / partnered / single / divorced / separated.

has a child or children / has no children / wants children.  

close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) is deceased.

TRAITS + TENDENCIES

extroverted / introverted / in between.

disorganized / organized / in between.

close minded / open-minded  / in between.

calm / anxious / in between.

disagreeable / agreeable / in between.

cautious / reckless / in between.

patient / impatient / in between.

outspoken / reserved / in between.

leader / follower / in between.

empathetic / unemphatic / in between.

SEXUALITY + ROMANTIC INCLINATION

heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual.

sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favourable.

romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favourable.

sexually: adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious.

potential sexual partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all.

potential romantic partners: male / female / agender / other / none / all.

ABILITIES

combat skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none.

literacy skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

artistic skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

technical skills: excellent / good / moderate / poor / none.

HABITS

drinking alcohol: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

smoking: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess. 

other narcotics: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

medicinal drugs: never / sometimes  / frequently / to excess. 

indulgent food: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess. 

splurge spending: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

dollhouse + various tweets ( 05 / ?? )

“I just found out.” Apparently he’d been living under a rock. If Belva hadn’t informed him, thinking he already knew, December would still be sitting in ignorant bliss, assuming Chandler was out frolicking in a field somewhere — or whatever it was he did when he wasn’t smoking with him. His carefree expression gone, he straightened up in his chair. He hoped she wasn’t coming to him for help. Not only was he completely out of ideas (and he’d been thinking on it for a few hours now) he was also completely out of the loop. He still didn’t quite understand why his best friend was even behind bars in the first place. It was wrong to feel bitter, but he was a little upset no one had tried their best to relay the message. Not that it was anyone’s fault but his own for avoiding all human contact besides the occasional hangout with River or meaningless conversation with those he shared a roof with.

“Has bail been posted?” He asked after what felt like a long pause. He didn’t have enough money for that. He hardly had enough money to feed himself anymore, not working and buying alcohol every other night. It wouldn’t be long before he was racking up credit card bills he’d never be able to pay off. But he would find a way to get bail money. Even if that way led him to sitting behind bars with his friend rather than both of them on free land. He had to try something. Chandler would for him, December knew that much. “Is he allowed visitors? How high security is this place they’ve got him in?”

. . . .

always at zero or 100, seldom finding herself somewhere in the middle of the two, harley had found herself exceeding 100 within the past week or so. not only had the circumstances emphasized her absolute uselessness ( yes, proving she was practically helpless in all walks of life ), they had taken away one of the very few people whose connection to her was not entirely feeble. and it seemed all those who care didn’t care enough. the idea that he would get out just fine was far too idealistic, even for her – had no one met him ? did no one remember the man-child who threw a party at the worst time and agreed that killing a security guard for seeing them was the best solution ? he’d entered miss vertmoor and britain’s got talent, for god’s sake – impulsivity was strong.

“ he’s being charged for the second-degree murder of graciela’s bio dad with the evidence of a goddamn receipt, ” she replied as if it were answer enough to both of december’s questions. bail was high. security was high. “ he used his one phone call to ask me for mcdonald’s. ” further proof that the chances of him being let out soon were slim ( and, by that point, false ). she wasn’t quite sure what she was attempting to accomplish by speaking to december – god knows neither of them had enough to get chandler out. “ i talked to ashante, though – also did some research of my own, and there’s this thing called ‘police bail’ where, like, basically, if they don’t have enough strong evidence by the third day – like, in chandler’s case – they let the person go and just bring them in for questioning sometime, y’know ? ” god, she felt so academic. “ but that’s been exceeded by, like, over four days. so that’s probably illegal, but who the hell are the police gonna arrest when they’re the ones breaking the law ? ” perhaps she was just in december’s room to rant ! and have him rant with her ! finally have someone to reciprocate it !