doorbellvibes

[doorbellvibes]

twin flames and twin bruises

TW: mentions of abuse

Sasha’s wearing the hoodie with the higher neckline as he joins them on the couch. Which could mean two things:

a) he needs emotional support 

b) he got…busy last night

He spent the night at Trent’s house out of consideration for Raffa’s early morning. She had a meeting before school, which is never fun. The thoughtfulness is nice. She doesn’t know Trent incredibly well, but this is one of Sasha’s longer entanglements. They’re coming up on five months. 

Sasha’s expression as he settles between her and Dust just about confirms Point A. This is an emotional support night. 

“Hey,” she prods. “What’s wrong?” 

“Perceptive,” he teases. His words fall flat. “Um,” he clears his throat, “Trent and I broke up this morning.” His voice catches. 

“Sorry.” He laughs, and it’s the worst sound she’s ever heard. Nothing Sasha has ever said or done has been twinged with so much sadness. Dust shoots her a concerned look, hand coming to rest on Sasha’s. “Not a big deal. I just…I just really liked him, I guess.” 

A few tears make their way down his face without warning. Something painful in Raffa’s chest twists. It’s slightly out of her wheelhouse, but she knows what he needs right now is to be held. 

“Get over here.” She loops her arms around him protectively. “Stop with the brave shit.” Pressing a kiss to his hair is instinctual - she never would have thought to make that move. Sasha huffs another one of those pathetic laughs into the crook of her elbow as he settles in her embrace. 

“You don’t get a kiss that easy. Take me to dinner first.” 

“With what money. I’m a teacher.”

“Barter economy.” 

“You speak my language well.” 

“Yeah, well, years of experience.” 

“We’re getting off track.” 

“Yeah, Night at the Museum, right?” 

“Don’t.” Her arms tighten around him. “You know that’s not what I meant.” 

“It’s more than just ‘really liked him,’ isn’t it?” Dust murmurs. “What aren’t you telling us?” 

“It’s not that big a deal.” 

“Yes it is.” Dust’s frown deepens. “Stop downplaying it.” 

Sasha shits nervously in her arms. It takes him a considerable amount of time to do so.

Shit. Raffa’s blood turns to ice. 

“Sasha. Are you hurt?” 

“I-“ 

“Sash.” 

He nods, almost imperceptibly. Raffa pulls back to look at him. 

“What did he do to you.” It’s more of a demand than a question. She feels sick. 

“What didn’t he do to me?” He tries for a grin, against all odds, but it’s more of a grimace. 

“Raff told you to stop with the brave shit.” Dust rubs gentle circles with his thumb against the back of Sasha’s hand. “Talk to us.” 

The silence pushes them all closer together, the anticipation a crushing weight. 

“He beat the crap out of me last night. Out of nowhere,” Sasha whispers. “Thought I could hold my own better.” He pulls down the collar of his hoodie with his free hand. “Apparently not.” 

Thumb-shaped bruises litter his throat, the grooves of nail markings more subtle but still present. 

“‘M not gonna show you all of it. But. That’s the gist.” 

“Sasha.” Raffa pulls him close again, pressing him gently against her chest. Dust wraps his arms around the both of them. 

“Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault.” 

“Shut the hell up.” Raffa and Dust say it in unison, making it all the more powerful. 

“Mind meld.” 

“What happened to shutting the hell up?” Dust prods the top of Sasha’s head with his nose. “We’ve got you. That’s it.” 

“Okay,” he whispers. They can both feel him shaking. Dust moves an arm to thread his fingers through Sasha’s hair, lightly tracing patterns against his scalp. 

“I’m not going to threaten violence against him right now, considering the circumstances, but believe me when I say I have a lot of ideas.” Raffa presses closer to him, as if she can shield him from someone who isn’t even in the room. But that asshole has already left his mark and there’s nothing she can do about it. 

Sasha nods into her neck. She can feel his eyes squeeze shut. 

“If you’re doing that thing where you just close your eyes really hard to keep from crying, stop,” she warns. “Let it out.”

“We love you.” Dust is bright red as he says it, a telltale sign of honesty. Sasha reaches blindly behind him to grab at Dust’s arm, squeezing it tight. He relaxes between them, crying silently. Raffa hates that, too - that something so awful could completely rob him of his sound. Sasha is a lot of things. He is very rarely silent. 

Each one of them is overcome with emotion as the seconds build into minutes, as Raffa’s cardigan and Dust’s firm hold dampen Sasha’s tears to the rest of the world. Raffa and Dust seem to have the same idea at the same moment, as they both lean down to kiss his head. Sasha sob-laughs at that. 

“You’re on a roll today,” he sniffs. 

“We love you,” Raffa echoes. “This is how people should love you.” 

He sits up, still crying, to plant a kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.” He turns to do the same to Dust. “And thank you.” 

“Nothing to thank us for.” 

“Agreed.” Dust pulls back to sit beside him again, now taking hold of Sasha’s arm, hugging it gently and resting his chin on Sasha’s shoulder. Raffa moves to lean against the other shoulder, careful not to put too much pressure against his neck as she drops her head. 

“Now rest.” Raffa snatches the remote from the arm of the couch, pressing play. “We can pause if you need to talk. But we’re here regardless.” 

Sasha breathes deeply, squeezing her knee. “Thanks.” 

“Again, you have nothing to thank us for.” 

“I really do.” 

“Bullshit. Dust?”

“Bullshit,” he agrees. “Not cool to be thanking us so much.”

“I could live with being uncool,” Sasha teases. 

“We’d kick you out,” Raffa jokes back. 

“Then who would do drag when the heat’s out?” 

“Pinocchio,” Dust says instantly.

Sasha snickers. “He’d be great at it. That’s really unfortunate for me.” 

“I think we like you too much to let that happen.” 

Sasha nudges at Raffa’s head. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

“Shut up. I don’t even know what part of the movie we’re on.” 

“And we’re back.” 

They lapse into comfortable silence, Sasha still breaking the hold occasionally to wipe at his eyes. He always settles back down, though. 

And his roommates are ready for him when he does. 

——

Famous last words, Kaz <33

anyway I haven’t made a guy sad in a minute. So I made him sad 🥰

[doorbellvibes]

hell YEAH that’s so sick!!

i’ve been teaching myself intuitive f2l and am at the point where i only have to memorize the algorithm to swap yellow layer centers and the algorithm to cycle top layer edges and then i’ll be able to solve independently. i’m SUPER far from properly having to memorize any of the actual lists of algorithms though

@shrimptacodaniels tagged me but the post is a million rbs long so i'm making my own. the premise: reblog with a random bit of your lore

i've never had a brain freeze, and based on the fact that my mom and one of my sisters never have either, i suspect that i'm genetically immune

my phone lock screen and background are both a picture of moon jellies i took at an aquarium

i started teaching myself how to solve a rubiks cube last week, and the two algorithms i'm still memorizing are currently written on my arm in pen, but they're fading

tagging (apologies if redundant): @spacetime-storytime @mossterious @sourscratched @whoopswopswiddlywops

[doorbellvibes]

@shrimptacodaniels tagged me but the post is a million rbs long so i'm making my own. the premise: reblog with a random bit of your lore

i've never had a brain freeze, and based on the fact that my mom and one of my sisters never have either, i suspect that i'm genetically immune

my phone lock screen and background are both a picture of moon jellies i took at an aquarium

i started teaching myself how to solve a rubiks cube last week, and the two algorithms i'm still memorizing are currently written on my arm in pen, but they're fading

tagging (apologies if redundant): @spacetime-storytime @mossterious @sourscratched @whoopswopswiddlywops

[doorbellvibes]

Hopping on the Emma train lmao: 10, 17, 19 but for the roommates

🧌🧅💃

10: most likely to cheat while playing a game

sasha. sasha will cheat at the DROP of a hat no matter what. dust will try and get caught, or think about it and be too afraid of getting caught, and raffa will only cheat if she's tilted, but sasha's out there EATING CHESS PIECES on the regular.

17: most likely to talk during a movie

pre-campaign i would have said dust, but now we've played a couple sessions i've gotta go with raffa. raff has sort of inherited my adhd conversational turn-taking difficulties (plus the difficulties of playing over vc and not having visual cues lol) and it's sort of become a trait of, unless she's taking a lot of care not to, saying whatever pops into their head.

19: most likely to be a cuddler

raff strikes me as slow-to-warm re: touch, so she's out; between dust and sasha, i'm leaning towards the latter but i'm not sure. i suspect that sasha's sort of inherited physical-touch-as-affection from emma but i can't confirm for obvious internet friend reasons but that's besides the point. i think dust and sasha have an equally strong desire to cuddle, but sasha is more likely to initiate cuddling.

[doorbellvibes]

11, 18, 25 - “most likely” for The Roomates

💃🏼🦝🐸

11. most likely to survive in the wild

sasha. i think between knowing so many really dedicated ren faire folks (e.g. nine knife dan) and the fact that she has the built-up determination of surviving hardship and coming out the other side, i think he'd make it.

18. most likely to say i love you first

dust, accidentally, and then he lies and says that they misheard

25. most likely to fall asleep first at a sleepover

if they were all the same age: toss-up. i think sasha because of his overachiever ass

as they are currently: raffa. neither she nor sasha are doing GREAT compared to dust because they're old enough that their circadian rhythms have probably leveled out, but raffa habitually wakes up early and if the campaign is anything to go by, is out of their MIND loopy from being tired

[doorbellvibes]

2, 7, 20 for music ask game!! 🤍🎶

2. a song that features an element (earth/water/fire/air)

earthbound by the accidentals. Slaps.

7. a song you know every word to

i'm pretty good at memorizing song lyrics and am once in a while reminded that i Do still know a good chunk of the twenty one pilots songs i memorized in middle school/early high school, thank you SO much for asking but i'm going to spare you and pick emily i'm sorry by boygenius, which i looped while writing something.

20: a song you'd put on a playlist for the person who sent this ask

HMMM. i'm gonna go with change in the weather by the beths. you're an overwhelmingly just SUNNY person, to the point where that's one of the first adjectives i think of about you, and this is a song that's very much about that vibe

[doorbellvibes]

1+11 for the music ask game??

1. a song you liked as a child

i have a strong memory of being into, get this, the revolutionary war parody of apologize by onerepublic for a good couple MONTHS at age nine or ten

11. a song that makes you dance

most recent one on my liked songs that fits the bill is the feeling by sammy rae & the friends!

[doorbellvibes]

For the what's your brand ask!

I feel like I'm cheating if I say Snow Party and aka Door Bell Vibes...but like personally, some really well thought out chaos or absolutely commitment to a bit

this is extremely flattering considering how little i actually think out chaos. proud to hear that it at least seems like there's thought behind it

[doorbellvibes]

Send this to someone who has OCs

Most likely...

to get lost

to kiss and tell

to 'forget' to text back

to know the lyrics to every song you play

to not realize that they are being flirted with

to lose their keys repeatedly

to apologize first

to leave a party early

to get lost in a place they already know

to cheat while playing a game

to survive in the wild

to sing when they think they are alone

to be someone's wingman/woman

to plan a romantic date

to start blushing

to get arrested

to talk during a movie

to say I love you first

to be a cuddler

to forget about someone's birthday

to always wear the same outfit

to not be able to keep a secret

to defend their friends in a fight

to drag the other's to the dance floor

to fall asleep first at a sleepover

[doorbellvibes]

reblog to give your mutuals a hug, they might need it! Even if they don't need it, a hug is still nice to have

[doorbellvibes]

Music ask game

A song you liked as a child

A song that features an element (earth/fire/water/air)

A song you’d choose to introduce someone to your favorite genre

A song you’d put on a playlist for a character you love

A song you think most of your followers won’t have heard before

A song that makes you think of a family member

A song you know every word to

A song from a soundtrack

A song in a language you don’t speak

A song that makes you feel relaxed

A song that makes you dance

A song from the 90s

A song by a performer you’ve seen live

A song you love to sing along to

A song you’d play for a toddler

A song that makes you think of an old (or current) crush

A cover song

A song you’d play to set the mood on a date

A song that makes you emotional

A song you’d put on a playlist for the person who sent you this ask

[doorbellvibes]

New ask game:

Reblog if you want your followers to tell you what your trademark ™️ is. Like, what’s that thing that really identifies you.

[doorbellvibes]

happy zach on the floor friday

[doorbellvibes]

only real thursdayheads know what day it is today

[doorbellvibes]

the breaking point (pt. 1)

He can’t remember the last time he ran so fast. 

But he has to. He can’t bear living another second in this space. In a space where Rach-

Oh, God. 

He hadn’t seen it coming. Should he have? Was it obvious? How long had she been thinking about this? Why did-

Why? Just why?

They hadn’t even talked about it, really. She looked him dead in the eyes, nerves of steel. 

“We need time apart, Josh.” 

“Rach, we can talk about this-“

“What will that change? What are you waiting for? What switch do you think will be flipped? Will you actually tell me things or will I have to fight for them?” There were bitter tears in her eyes. “You don’t have all the answers this time.” 

“I’m not supposed to! That’s what we’re supposed to figure out! We, you and me, together! I need you to love me. To work with me. Not this version of me that’s more palatable for you.” 

“I do love you. But I can’t like this.” He’s never seen her so upset. “You can’t give me what I need right now. And I have nothing to offer you either.” 

“This can’t be forever.” He feels like a desperate man, hungry and searching. “I’ll find you again.” 

Rachel doesn’t meet his eyes. “Find yourself first.” 

That was it. So he runs, because he can only think of one place to look.

His knees buckle as he reaches the door. He feels sick and dizzy and hollow and- 

Breathe. 

Steeling himself, he knocks three times. The door swings open instantly. 

“Hey, traveler! What’s-“ he’s gathered her in his arms before she can say another word. Katrina shifts to reciprocate, hands immediately rubbing his back. “What happened?” There’s a note of panic in her voice that curls around his heart, squeezing it mercilessly. 

“She broke up with me,” he whispers. A hurt little whine arises as he exhales. He feels her tense, tightening her grip with one hand as the other moves to cradle his head. 

“Baby,” she breathes, and he can’t stop the tears. 

He’s always been grateful to be a quiet crier, but he knows that doesn’t hide much. He trembles like the last note of a song, reverberating in empty space. In the pit of his stomach. 

In the hole in his heart. 

“Let’s go inside,” she prompts, pulling away to grab his hand. “Don’t want us freezing to death.” 

Watching her register the look on his face is gut-wrenching on a whole other level. He watches her heart break like his has in real time. Bravely, she pulls him up the stairs into her living room. 

The loveseat in the corner is abnormally large - fitting two people is easy. Not that it would matter in this circumstance, though, because the two in question are so closely pressed together they may as well be one. Josh’s legs are draped over Katrina’s before he can register them sitting down. Once they’ve settled, Katrina meets his eyes again. He can tell she finds it difficult. She’s always been good at reading him. 

She’s just as privy to his pain. It overwhelms her. 

“Warm?” she asks. He nods. 

“Okay.”

Her hands clasp his tightly. It’s all she knows how to offer right now. There’s nothing to say. Nothing shecan say. The burden falls to him. 

She squeezes twice, over and over again. You and me. 

It hurts. It hurts. 

He lets himself cry, because he knows she won’t ask any more of him. Not in this moment. But he needs to talk. Not talking…

Well. Not talking led to this. 

“Can I tell you about it?” 

“Always, love. Whenever you’re ready.” 

Not a single detail is spared. It’s a start-and-stop process - he talks until his voice escapes him, she holds him close and shields him with sweet nothings. Like clockwork. The story is told to her face, sobbed against her shoulder, whispered in her ear, and echoed in the silence between sentences. Every inch of her keeps it safe. 

There are parts when she cries with him, other times for him. She doesn’t say a word until she knows he can’t carry on. Restraint of this kind is, honestly, uncharted territory in their relationship. But she would move mountains for him. Being quiet is a small price to pay when she knows he loves her loudness, too. 

“I didn’t know what to do, but I knew where to go.” He’s facing her again, trying to meet her eyes and failing miserably. “You know me.”

“I do.” 

“How do I find myself for her?” he whispers. 

“Josh. If ever you have to find yourself, you’d have to do it for you. There is nothing you can offer her if it isn’t from the real you.” 

“Am I not the real me now?” 

“Can you look at me?” 

It takes everything in him to do, but he’d do anything for her. 

“Thank you. Josh, I know you better than anyone else could even dream to. Are you being real with me?”

“Of course.” 

“And being someone who knows you, I believe that. I don’t think she was ready to know you.” 

“I was ready.” 

“I know, my love.” 

She cups his face with her hands, brushing her lips against his forehead. Gentle. Powerful. Like a sigil. She’s swearing something in this moment. This love is a promise. “I know.” 

“You’re staying here tonight,” she tells him. There’s no room for argument. That’s fine with him - he’s too tired to argue. All the fight has left him. His hands come to settle over hers. He squeezes them twice. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. It strangles him to do. This love is overwhelming and the loss that led him here is overwhelming and he just might start crying again. She tips their foreheads together, pressing firmly. “I love you,” she whispers back. “I love you so much.” 

“I love you too.” Tears spill over, running along their joined fingers. No surprises there. She tugs him into an embrace, cradling his head against her shoulder. 

“You’re safe here,” she promises. “You’re safe with me.” 

“I know,” he sobs. That feels like all he knows right now. 

“I’m so sorry.” She tightens her hold, breathing in deeply. “I’m so, so sorry.” 

All of her comforts come in pairs, as if he needs to hear everything twice. He taps against her back. 

One. Two. 

The response comes instantly. 

One. Two. 

The love of his life has been torn away from him, but he still has his other half. The opposite of emptiness, he knows in this moment, is not  wholeness.

“Go get changed,” she murmurs. “‘M not letting you sleep in jeans.” 

He nods into her shoulder, pulling back shakily. Having some of his things at her apartment seemed like a silly precaution to take, all those months ago, but he’s grateful for it now. 

Was it because a part of you knew that this was the inevitable outcome? That the fallout was just waiting to happen? When were you ever good enough for her? This is what you deserve. 

Stop it, he snaps at that voice in his head. 

Looking at himself in the bathroom mirror is too much right now. So he doesn’t, making quick work of changing while trying to regulate his breathing. Both are equally hard - he’s shaking like he never learned how to stand. 

Katrina’s waiting for him on the couch when he summons up the courage to walk back down the hallway. They slip into a familiar routine, laying down on opposite ends, their legs a haphazard tangle in the middle. Tethering themselves to each other. 

“I love you,” she whispers. 

“I love you,” he responds. She flicks off the lamp. 

That’s it. She’ll have lots more to say when he’s ready to listen, but they both know he’s not. 

He drifts to sleep miserably. It’s achingly slow, dull and painful. Every time he dreams he dreams of Rachel. 

He doesn’t have that luxury anymore. 

As his breathing slows, half an hour later, Katrina slowly reaches for her phone.

Janice 🤍

Tell Rachel I’m going to make her life hell.

Actually. No. 

I want it to be a surprise. 

Dovie, is this a joke or are you serious?

You sound serious. 

I’m serious. Don’t tell her. 

Not what I meant. 

What happened?

She broke up with Josh. 

Is she okay??????

No clue. 

He’s not. 

I’ll check on her. PLEASE be rational. Don’t text her.

I don’t plan on talking to her for a while. 

Katrina, we don’t even know what happened. 

Josh told me what happened. She hurt him. That’s not okay. 

We need both sides of the story, babe. I’m serious. Don’t text her. 

I don’t want to. 

I’ll be home asap. 💛

Is he staying over?

🩷

Yes, we’re on the couch. 

Get some sleep. He needs you

We’ll talk in the morning

🩷🩷

💛💛

[doorbellvibes]

“Intervention time! You need a job.” 

Sasha hops onto the couch as he makes this surprise attack. He crosses his legs under him. 

Raffa raises an eyebrow at the sudden addition of weight, not pausing to look up from their lesson plans. 

“Good morning to you, too. I have a job, what-“

“No, not a work job. A job.” He raises an eyebrow back. “Babe, you haven’t stolen something in like five-ever.”

“What if I have?” they mutter defensively. “You wouldn’t know.” 

“Then something else is wrong. And we’d talk it out.” He waits a beat. “And I totally would know. I’m very observant.” 

Of all the things that could, that is the phrase that gets their attention. They look up to meet his eyes. “Remember that time-“

“Hey. Nope. So observant. I’m practically the Mayor of Observation City.” 

“And this is a commentary about unqualified political leaders.” 

“And you are deflecting.” Sasha kicks their shin. “Talk to me or agree to crime or something! You’re freaking me out.” 

They slump forward at that, mumbling incoherently into their palm. Papers flutter to the floor, inevitably to be forgotten for a while. He hopes. He really wants to fix whatever’s wrong.

“Dust! Get in here!” Sasha calls. He’s done enough living with Raffa to know how to read them (and therefore how to get them to open up), but they’re in a combative mood right now and Sasha’s a little too hungover for this. He needs backup. 

“Sorry, I was definitely training for Olympic Qualifiers,” Dust says as he strolls in from the hallway. 

Raffa says nothing. That’s only a little bone-chilling. 

“Yeah, you got a sec?” 

“Sure.” He leans against the arm of the couch. “What’s up?” 

“Raff’s gonna tell us what’s up with them.” 

“Oh, finally.”

“What do you mean, finally?” 

“It’s been a week,” Dust and Sasha chorus. Dust whistles appreciatively. 

“Mind meld.” 

“Hell yeah, my guy.” 

They fist bump over Raffa’s head. 

“I’m glad you’re both having an excellent time,” Raffa sighs. 

“Babe.” Sasha slings his outstretched arm around their shoulders. “We are here for you. Right now. Look. Me? Here. Dust? Here. Deep truth time.” 

“This is great for Dust, who just loves to tell the truth.”

“I tell the truth all the time,” Dust agrees. 

“Definitely.” 

“Definitely.” 

“Yes. We’re all on the same page.” 

Raffa eyes Sasha warily. This is normal practice for when Dust is being Dust, but the tiredness behind their eyes is far more intense than usual. Sasha reaches out from behind Raffa to pull at Dust’s wrist. 

“Come sit,” he invites. Slowly, Dust shifts so that Raffa is sandwiched tightly between the two. 

“Up close and personal, hm?” Sasha teases, knocking his head against theirs. Dust lays his head against their shoulder. Something twists in Sasha’s chest as they all slot together seamlessly. That ever-present (slightly embarrassing) thrum of “family” settles deep in his bones as he looks at two people he’s annoyingly fond of. For a life of wrong decisions, conning his way into this apartment was a right one. 

“How is this helping?” Raffa murmurs back. 

“We’re here. And you’re letting us hold you.” To emphasize his point, Sasha tugs the two closer, ruffling Dust’s hair in the process. “Figure out the rest later.” He uses his free hand to grab theirs, squeezing it tightly. 

“You’d think you were still drunk,” Raffa snarks. But there’s not a single trace of heat to their voice. Rather, it’s soft and unsure. “Idiot.” 

“Hey. I don’t have to be drunk to care about you.” 

“Yeah, same,” Dust pipes up. He’s being genuine now, mindlessly tracing patterns into Raffa’s other hand. “It’s not far-fetched that people like you, Raff.” 

Shit. When Dust tells the truth, he does it well. 

“Who said it was?” 

“You did. Maybe not outright, but there’s something in you that assumes you don’t deserve to be cared for. That no one in their right mind would want to.” 

Sasha nudges at their cheek with his nose. “And that’s bullshit.” 

“You two are, arguably, not in your right mind.” 

“Stop making excuses. We are two people who love you, Raff. You’re it. I don’t know how else to get through to you.” Dust is on a roll now, his words quick and his voice shaky. “We wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re good. Inherently. And you’re here. And that’s why we’re here.” 

Sasha nods. “Damn, Dust.” 

“It was deep truth time.” 

“I mean, yeah man. Got it in one.” 

“Hey, no,” he prompts. “Your turn.” 

“Oh, gladly.” 

Sasha squeezes Raffa’s hand again before they have a chance to protest, taking a moment to formulate his thoughts. 

“You don’t have any obligation to tell us anything. Or any need to put your guard up. There are more options. Like Dust said, we’re here because we want to be. But you call the shot. If that means you keep this to yourself, that’s fine. If you share, that’s fine. We just want to have you right now. If you can make that choice, the choice to let us stay with you while you take a minute, that’s more than enough.” 

“Sometimes the deepest truth of all is the truth left unsaid,” Dust supplies. 

“What does that mean?” Raffa asks. 

Dust smiles sideways at them. “I’m letting it go unsaid.” 

Sasha nods slowly. He gets a look from Raffa, who presses into him a little more firmly. There’s something to read behind their gaze. Sasha doesn’t quite catch it in time. 

“You two don’t have to worry. I’m an adult, I can handle myself.” 

“We’re not worried about that,” Sasha protests gently. “All we care about is that you know Deep Truth Time is being extended to you however you see fit. Take the reins, mama.” 

“Are you capable of saying a normal sentence?” 

“Jury’s still out.” 

Raffa huffs a laugh at that, tipping their head back. “You’re insane.” 

“You’re insane. Need I remind you about the peanut butter-“

“Do not start-“

Dust chuckles. “Or the lizard incident-“

“Not you too-“ 

“How could we forget the lizard incident? The house smelled like hotdog water for a week because-” 

Raffa slaps a hand over his mouth. “We get it. We were all there.” 

“That was gross.” Dust wrinkles his nose. 

“Exactly. Let’s not think about it.” 

“Fair. What’s the call?” he asks softly. Raffa slowly lowers their hand from Sasha’s mouth. 

“I really don’t want to talk about it. But. Stay for a bit.” 

Sasha wipes away a fake tear. “Mama took the reins.” 

“Begging you to shut up.” But, despite their exasperation, they rest their head on Sasha’s shoulder and close their eyes. Dust scoots impossibly closer, starting to trace patterns into Raffa’s hand again. Sasha angles his head so that his mouth hovers closer to Raffa’s ear. 

“Hey. Love you, riffraff.” 

“Yeah. You too,” they whisper back. They catch Dust in the ribs with their elbow. “Both of you.” 

Dust nods frantically. Somehow, his lack of words means significantly more than if he echoed the sentiment aloud. “Dust is nodding,” Sasha narrates. Raffa cracks a smile, keeping their eyes closed. The crease between their eyebrows lessens.

 It’s something short of a miracle to watch the tension melt away in real time, to feel them relax. A week of stress left unresolved is being worked through right now. Dust seems to sense the same thing Sasha does, because he stills, properly lacing his fingers with Raffa’s and squeezing tight. They squeeze back. 

The silence speaks volumes. Really, it doesn’t say anything. But that ever-present (slightly embarrassing) thrum of “family” starts back up. It fills the empty space. Sasha honors it like an old friend, and lets the sunlight melt the rest away. 

—

helloooooo the roomies are bad at vulnerabilityyyyy but they love each otherrrrr

some of you may be in the “they would not fucking say that” camp for this one. to that i say: yes they would. i have Explanations

(Hope you enjoyed 🥳)

[doorbellvibes]

and if it’s forever,

it’s even better

dedicated to @doorbellvibes and @mossterious <3 you guys shocked I’m writing about them again?

enjoy ;)

—

It’s been a rough week for all of them. Well, at least, that’s what Sasha’s been led to believe. Raffa texted the group chat Friday afternoon asking to watch Paddington 2 this weekend. Dust responded immediately (a rare occurrence) and with no argument. 

It’s an unspoken rule - Paddington 2 means shit’s gone down. 

But even still, Sasha feels the crippling need to alleviate the tension as Raffa sinks into the couch like a stone, a wall of thought flickering behind her eyes. 

“Raffa, my beloved idiot,” Sasha starts, draping himself across her lap. “You need to lighten up.” 

“I’m incredibly lightened. Lit, even.” 

“Like ‘cool’ lit or ‘high’ lit?”

She looks down at him, nonplussed. “The former.” 

“Damn.” He stretches out further, reaching over his head to poke at Dust’s ribs. “Do you know where to get good drugs?” 

“I used to run a meth lab,” Dust responds. 

“Really?” Raffa raises an eyebrow, eyes flicking down to Sasha before she continues. “That sounds really dangerous.” 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Almost got busted by the FBI on multiple occasions.” 

“Yeesh, police involvement. Not cool.” 

“Ha! Got you. The police were not involved and that was actually my distant cousin’s stash. That I was in charge of for, um. A day.”

Sasha lightly pinches her knee. He knows Raffa does this to see when Dust will stop with the lying. She seems to believe that if he backtracks enough, he’ll simply get tired of the doing it and drop the act altogether. But that’s not the case. Cut it out, he says with his eyes. She huffs quietly in response. They all stay like that for a moment. Dust obviously wants to move on (so does Sasha), but Raffa sees something that makes her start. 

“That’s new,” she muses. 

“Hm?” 

“What’s new?” 

“You got another tattoo done.” 

Ah. Yeah. 

It’s arguably the most sentimental thing he’s done. Sasha’s gotten tattoos before, a healthy seven, but the two on his shin are���different. 

He can’t quite say what provoked him on that Saturday night a week ago. But honestly, he’s lived his whole life that way at this point - pulled along by the whims of his emotions. It keeps things spicy. 

It’s because there’s something different about them. He’s had friends, lots of them, but “friend” has never been a permanent title. And he doesn’t know why, but something shifted when he and Raffa stole fifteen forks from an Italian restaurant one night. And again when he and Dust ran into each other at 2am, neither being able to sleep because of similar dreams neither wanted to talk about. 

It feels permanent this time. So he does what he does best: takes the feeling and chases it. 

“Mhm,” Sasha says easily (which is to say, very nervously). “Couple days ago. You get super-vision when I wasn’t looking?” 

“Obviously not. Wearing glasses would be unbearable.” 

“But you’d have to. To preserve your civilian identity.” 

“Regardless. I would get a better power than super-vision.” 

“Touché.” 

“Having super-vision is definitely more of a curse than a blessing,” Dust chimes in. And they’re back. This is familiar territory. 

“Then you’ve also seen the tattoo?” Raffa challenges. 

“Let me inspect further.” He shifts closer to Raffa’s side, perching himself up on his knees to squint at Sasha.

“Here, hang on,” Sasha sighs. Because, really, they’ll be here all night if he lets Dust use his “superpowers” to locate where the tattoo is. And then he’d have to decipher what it is and what it means for Raffa to be satisfied. He loves them both, flaws and all, but he loves Paddington 2 just a little bit more right now. They’ve got all the time in the world to talk at any other moment. 

He sits up, swinging his legs off the arm of the couch. Once he’s upright, he swivels to rest his leg over Raffa’s lap, leaving his marked shin exposed. 

“Better?” he asks. Dust nods timidly. The three of them stare at the tattoo for an uncomfortable amount of time. Which is fine. And normal. 

“That’s us, right?” Raffa murmurs thoughtfully. 

“It is.” He fights the urge to tell them to not think about it too hard. How could you not? There’s a literal symbol of the both of them on his body forever. That says a lot. 

“Raff’s the frog, and-“ Dust has caught up, having taken a bit longer to get to that conclusion. “Oh.” 

“Yeah. You got it,” he encourages. 

“Yeah. That’s cool. The raccoon specifically looks very nice. Um. Yeah.” 

Sasha reaches to kick lightly at Dust’s knee. “Thanks, man.” 

“Yeah, dude.” 

Raffa watches this exchange with a level of fondness Sasha doesn’t think he’s ever seen from her. It’s almost off-putting, but then he realizes he’s the biggest hypocrite in the world if he thinks her affection is A Lot More Than What’s Normal. Again, tattoo. 

“What’s your face doing?” Dust asks, looking at Raffa with concern. 

“You’re delusional,” she replies. “My face is being normal.” 

“I think your face likes our faces,” Sasha sings at her. 

“I think your face is stupid.” 

“My face is so cool.” 

“My face is so cool.” 

“Dust, both of us can have cool faces. Not to worry,” Sasha moves his leg off of Raffa so that he can lean against her shoulder. “The important thing to remember is-“

“Don’t start-“ 

“Aw, Raff.” Dust leans on her other side. “Your efforts are futile.” 

“Look at that face, Dust.” 

“Pretty cool face.” 

“Yeah. I think that face likes our faces, too.” 

“Well I’ll be damned.” 

“Shut up,” Raffa grumbles at the pair. 

“Riff Raff, Lover of Faces!” Sasha declares. 

“I hate you.” 

“More like Raff, Destroyer of The Mood,” Dust teases. 

“I hate you, too.” 

“Must almost be bedtime, hm?” Sasha chuckles. “I suggest we turn on Paddington before she becomes the Destroyer of Faces.” 

“What is wrong with you.” It’s not a question. 

“Stop! Paddington time.” He hums the melody to “Can’t Touch This.” Dust groans, reaching for the remote to open Netflix.

“How do you even put in the password so fast?” Raffa asks him. “I know the first letter and everything else is a total blur.” 

“Super-vision,” Dust replies smugly. Raffa, mercifully, doesn’t rise to the bait, but sinks back into the couch. 

Sasha’s about to lay down, as is their custom, when a weight atop his head holds him in place. Raffa curls into him a little, her cheek resting on his hair. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hey.” 

“Softie.” 

“Dumbass. And a hypocrite. You can’t call me a softie when we’re literally inked on your skin.” 

“You’re just sad you’ll have to rescind your murder plot.” 

“I’ll put it on the back burner,” she nudges at him with her chin. “For now.” 

“So generous.” 

“Yeah. I’m known for it.” 

“Ready?” Dust asks. He presses play without waiting for an answer, which sparks a quiet but impassioned argument between him and Raffa about why he’d ask without waiting for an answer. 

In this moment, Sasha Biligrim is 26 and his hair is getting long again. He’s safe and at home in a place that felt like a prison all those years ago. He’s with two people who know him and he’s made the commitment to know them the rest of their lives. He knows they’re okay with that. 

And he’s finally watching Paddington 2.