liv macmillan, 36. nurse. either way, we're not alone, i'll find a new place to be from. a haunted house with a picket fence to float around and ghost my friends.
Don't wanna be here? Send us removal request.
Text
CONT ... @dcgtooth
He’s married. So don’t get any ideas. I’m not that kind of guy.
But Liv was that kind of woman. A cheater, a woman with her legs wide open. There was no truth to what Hallen says and Liv could tell. It might as well have popped out to her in bold lettering. The notion makes her uneasy, the idea that her and Hallen alike suffer from the same impulse. To want what they can’t have, to indulge in cynical masochist behavior that neither of them knew how to stifle.
“Just some guy..” The blonde repeats, echoing Hallen’s own words. Her eyes dart inside her mug of wine, watching as the crimson liquid stills before her. Liv’s brows furrow in thought, wondering if she should approach this lightly or go all in. Did either mechanism even matter? They weren’t good at these things, this situation unfolding before them was proof of that. But Liv loved her brother. She loved him more than she loved most things despite not being able to say it without scrunching her face like she’s just sucked on a lemon.
Her lips purse then, nodding a tad, “We’re both that kind of person, Hallen,” She admits, an unspoken confession. Perhaps he could put it together himself. “Me especially.” The admission feels like razors to her throat. Liv never enjoyed being vulnerable like this, but now it had to be done. She couldn’t watch her brother grovel and revert into himself anymore.
For a moment, she thinks she should tell him about Martin. About how he might have killed her husband to be or made him vanish. This was hypocrisy at it’s finest. Liv wanted the truth but she was hiding within the trenches of her own lies. “I slept with all of Luke’s friends. All of them. Some of his coworkers too. I lost count after a while. Most of them...were married. I sometimes went for the wives too..I didn’t care. I hurt him and I just — didn’t care.” Now she does, which was obvious, and that scared her. “I don’t want you to end up like me.”
0 notes
Text
STARTER FOR: @tjmnz LOCATION: New Orleans General Hospital. SETTING: Afternoon.
To be frank, Liv was neither a great mother or a great nurse. She was somewhere in the middle, coasting by on faux bursts of kindness. Or the last bit of kindness she had left in her for a world that let her down. For what it’s worth, she was nice enough. Being somewhere in the middle was perhaps better than being outside of the spectrum, floating aimlessly.
“How’s your head been?” Liv asks, flicking away a strand of golden hair that gets in her face. “Any pain? I know you complained about that last visit..”
1 note
·
View note
Photo
January Jones photographed by Francesco Carrozzini.
211 notes
·
View notes
Text
STARTER FOR: @ncvermores LOCATION: Lou’s Diner. SETTING: Morning.
Julia, her youngest, has just broken both a mug and a plate. The action splatters syrup and mush on the ground, accompanied with Liv’s cup of hot coffee. “Julia! For fuck’s sake, be careful. Stop messing around. Now.” The blonde mumbles sternly under her breath, collecting handfuls of napkins. Her eyes avert then, looking to a man who approaches their booth. Liv assumes he’s a manager or the owner, which makes her flush with embarrassment. “Is there any way I could pay for the damaged cup and plate? I’m really sorry.”
1 note
·
View note