#stilloves

[alliec4t]

@stilloves as hannah wells ⸺ “ WHEN WERE YOU GOING TO TELL ME? ”

allie already felt so bad. this was her han-han, her best friend, her soulmate ... & SHE KEPT SOMETHING THIS BIG FROM HER. it was done out of the kindness of her heart, though. hannah had finally got something she deserved, her grand love story. if they had found out her and dean were hooking it, it would take away from that. ALLIE DIDN'T WANT TO TAKE THE SHINE AWAY FROM HER BESTIE.

“ would you believe me if i said i was scared? ” not often was allie nervous, but she was wringing her hands together as she sits on the window bench in hannah's room. “ me and dean ... WE JUST HAPPENED, and it wasn't meant to become something. ” now she was rambling allie. “ then it did, but you and garrett were so happy and i couldn't... i wouldn't make it about me when you were getting your great love, han-han. ”

[afterdecay]

he's been trying to keep his space. actually, he's been trying and succeeding thus far. she made it clear that she blames him – that it should have been him, not jim. and for that, out of respect for her wishes and the overall shitty feeling looming over him, he gave her the space she requested. but this … this time he's not sure he can keep up with the boundary. not after a conversation with a clearly spooked victor who barely wanted to get out with what had him cowering in fear. he almost veered into another direction the moment he realized they were about to run into one another. but this time his feet did what his brain wanted to do. he wanted to speak with her. ❝ tabitha – please? can we have a moment? if you want to tell me to fuck off after, i will. just give me a moment of your time. ❞

˗ˏˋ @stilloves : requested. ˎˊ˗

[afterdecay]

he knows that if the roles had been reversed, there would be no changing his mind. he'd be doing the same exact things she is – probably even worse. which is why randall has given up in trying to talk reason into julie and instead approaches her with caution, both hands held out before him in a white flag ‘i mean no harm’ gesture. ❝ look, i'm not here to stop you. but i really need you to quit with the solo missions. if you're gonna do this … then we are gonna do this together. ❞

˗ˏˋ @stilloves : requested. ˎˊ˗

[diazlafd-archive]

let someone else do it for a change. arizona

the attending's break room is quiet except for eddie's laughter at @stilloves suggestion, " do you know me at all ? who am i going to delegate all my work to ? hunt ? kepner ? they have -- " kids. a personal life outside work. things he also has -- or trying to have. it's just not possible to take on a lighter work load right now but he also refuses to give up time with his son because of it.

he leans back in his chair. he shoves a piece of ranch covered lettuce into his mouth while people come in and out of the break room. the fork falls onto the plate as he comes up with an idea. " chris is just going to have to come here on nights i work late. i'll let him stay in there so he can play his little games. he'll probably hate it but it's good for kids to do things they hate. sets them up for real life. " he chuckles at his own joke.

[drk1ng]

"Is that blood?" emma

she never notices just how uncomfortable paper gowns are until she gets to take them off. they are a bit scratchy, a bit stiff. she also doesn't realize just how effective they are until she's balling it up to be thrown out. thin, white material displays the colors of a trauma so clearly: varying reds, the deep orange of iodine. everything beneath remains untouched. her next patient would never know of the trauma she'd assisted on. she was sure she could turn that thought into a metaphor if she mulled it over any longer, but the day was far too busy for that. leaning up against the counter just in front of the board, perusing the patients on the list, she's pulled from her reverie by emma's voice. " hmm? ── oh. " a quick inventory of her appearance does reveal a deep red stain right at the collar of her scrub top. what luck to have just barely missed the edge of the PPE. " uh - huh. yes. " she lets out a harsh laugh mixed ironically with a scoff. she mentally takes back the compliment she'd been willing to give those scratchy little gowns. " ── has anyone shown you where the scrub machine is, yet? "

[he4dhunts]

❛ you’re a fucking nightmare. kiss me. ❜ celestine

it's  a  term  he's  had  aimed  towards  him  for  centuries:  nightmare.  memories  span  as  far  back  as  boyhood,  when  his  father  would  hiss  that  if  vic  didn't  keep  a  tight  leash  coiled  around  his  neck,  he'd  grow  up  to  be  a  nightmare.  countless  victims  had  uttered  it  with  their  dying  breath:  you're  .  .  .  a  .  .  .  nightmare.  his  twin  certainly  didn't  shy  from  wielding  the  word  as  a  sharp  -  edged  weapon.  and  yet,  he's  grown  greatly  beyond  the  days  where  such  a  word  would  sting.

perhaps  that's  why  a  smile,  sinister  and  dangerous,  spreads  across  his  face  when  his  wife  hurls  it  at  him.  this  song  and  dance  of  theirs  has  grown  familiar,  but  far  from  tedious:  one  pushes,  the  other  pulls.  they  deal  in  nails  and  teeth  and  bloodshed  rather  than  kindness  and  affection  and  blissful  matrimony.  "fuckin'  nightmare,"  he  repeats  lowly,  taking  a  daring,  decisive  step  closer  to  his  bride.  fingers  curl  into  tight  fists,  muscles  fluttering  in  a  strong  jaw.  exhale  slips  through  his  nose,  hot  and  heavy  like  that  of  a  beast  stalking  towards  it's  prey.  he  knows,  though,  that  she's  no  sniveling  animal;  that  she  has  teeth  and  she's  not  afraid  to  show  them.

another  step.  another.  the  tension  in  the  air  is  thick  with  dread  and  anticipation.  he'd  have  it  no  other  way.  "you  can  be  more  creative  than  that,  can't'cha?"  taunt  is  delivered  in  an  airy  purr,  and  in  an  abrupt  move  an  arm  snakes  around  her  waist,  yanking  her  in  close  enough  that  their  chests  collide  and  their  breaths  mingle.  fingers  press  into  the  small  of  her  back  with  enough  sting  to  bruise.  "try  again."  demand  is  hushed,  and  his  nose  bumps  against  hers.  head  tilts,  lips  brushing  across  her  cheek  as  words  are  hissed  out:  "be.  creative."

[terr1fy]

GRACE LE DOMAS:  THIS SHIT DON’T LOOK GOOD.

a dry laugh escaped from daniel’s throat,  amber liquid in his glass sloshing dangerously close to the rim.    he didn’t look at her  (  couldn’t,  really  ),  instead choosing to fixate on the way the moonlight hit the suffocating wood paneling of the family estate,  now mostly burned to the ground.    ‘understatement of the century,  grace,’    he muttered.  his tie was loosened,  eyes rimmed with a bloodshot kind of cynicism that had been fermenting since he was old enough to hold a shotgun.    ‘this shit is  -  was  -  a centuries old tradition that put my entire family into the grave.  and thank god,  because we were just a family of rich pricks,  grace  ;  we were an infection.  a virus that plagued literally very inch of this estate,  and more,’    he took a long pull from the whiskey he seemed to get from no where,  glancing at grace from the corner of his eyes.    ‘it all deserved to burn.  i probably should have,  too,’ @stilloves.

[terr1fy]

MOIRA: YOU KNOW HOW TO TELL A CONVINCING LIE BETTER THAN ME.

'i will admit deceit has a rather sweet sensation falling from my tongue,' phillip only lied out of necessity ( and his needs came quite often ). the term of a silver tongue came from his existence, after all ; was he not able to persuade anyone he'd like with a mere word? but he wouldn't let his ego be stroked so easily. when he looked down at moira, a brow raised slightly upward. 'that does not mean i will help you. what dost thou promise me in return?' @stilloves.