#imagine thinking a seventeen year old girl who's been through loss already and then watches her friends die in front of her face isn't just

[petaltrail]

you remember a time when people both in and out of the show thought ruby was just super cheerful all the time and never scared and super sure of herself ? couldn’t be me !

[thefledglingdm]

Umm can I request directors commentary for literally any Leopika fic you’ve written??? Love your stuff!

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

ahhahaha thank you so much! yes, absolutely! this is going to be long, because i have decided to do that scene in light of my life, pain of my ass. beware LONG BULLSHIT and spoilers below the cut!

ok to set the scene. i was TERRIFIED to write this part. because this is the climax, you know? we've had 150k words of build-up and emotional tension to this scene. while this has been a romantic story, this is the actual climax of the story. we've spent all this time in kurapika's head as he's dealt with his anxiety, his need for control, his fear of letting go. how he's changed as he's opened up his heart and his life to people outside. and finally he's actually working through all of his emotions and the progress he's made out loud, in front of everyone. and because he forgot about giving his speech until like five minutes before (sorry, kp), he is forced to speak from the heart.

For five agonizing seconds, Kurapika stood alone in the middle of a silent room. Above him, the string lights coalesced into a single shared point of soft white light that illuminated his space.

i so wish this could be adapted to, like, netflix or made into a movie. i put so much into this imagery. the play on light? the cinnamon topography? *chef's kiss* yes please netflix CALL ME.

Everyone in his life was staring at him expectantly, Pairo and Altair and Gon and Killua and Nanika and Alluka and Kalluto and his parents. And approximately a hundred other people on top of that, extended family on both sides, industry insiders, coworkers. All staring at him and waiting for him to say something amazing and powerful and deep about love and what did Kurapika know about love, anyway? He was a thirty-two year old trans man so terrified of his own emotions, so paralyzed by his fear of loss, that he did not figure out he was in love with his best friend until three weeks ago.

this is me screwing the knife in deeper for poor kurapika, sorry. this is so incredibly horrifying for a person with anxiety, as someone with anxiety. behold, the terrifying ordeal of being known.

Five seconds. Kurapika finally found Leorio standing near the back, leaning against the bar. He wondered if Leorio picked the same spot where they sat together the very first time they came here on purpose. Leorio sent him a wink and a thumbs-up.

the terrifying ordeal of being known and being so, so loved anyway. it was great to write in a way that showed leorio realized he was in love with kurapika first (indeed, realized that kurapika was in love with him before kurapika knew himself), because these little interactions shows so much how leorio is inviting and allowing kurapika to come to him on his own time. and supporting him the whole way, because they are friends!!!!

Breathe, Kurapika thought. Just breathe. It’s going to be okay.

this statement was not supposed to be a running theme/motif, but i'm super glad it did! i wrote it as a one-off line for melody, but then i was like, hang on, that's kinda good? every other time i write i'm like, hey, you could make a theme out of this!

“Um,” Kurapika started, his voice cracking. Christ, he sounded seventeen again. He cleared his throat.

my friends told me about how their voices changed and dropped on T. any trans person is stronger and more powerful than any us marine.

“For those of you who may not know, I’m Pairo’s brother. Kurapika. His older one, just to be clear.”

this is definitely something that has happened like a hundred times.

There was a smattering of chuckles around the room. He twisted to look at Pairo. “I’ve known Pairo since he was a toddler dragging a ragged, threadbare T-Rex plushie around behind him. I was there when he read his first chapter book on his own – Dino Hunter, of course – because he came bursting into my room at two o’clock in the morning to tell me about it.” Another round of laughter. “I was there when he got his first notebook, when he won his first writing contest, when he was published in his first magazine. I was the first person he told about liking boys instead of girls. I’ve watched him grow and learn and fall in love. And now Altair is part of our family, too.”

pairo and kurapika's lives as brothers were amazing. dino hunter is a reference to the book they both read in the manga that led to kurapika wanting to leave the kurta and explore the world.

i also thought that writing fit pairo well because it's a pretty accessible career for his eyes. he could type, he could enhance the screen and font when he needed, and he could do talk-to-type. one day i want to write a side-story of when pairo and altair met, because i have it perfectly formulated in my head and it's adorable.

Kurapika took a deep breath, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. He confessed, “To be perfectly honest, I was scared when Pairo asked me to do this, because I’ve run out of things to teach him. He’s run on ahead of me in life. Settled down, moved in with his boyfriend – now husband, congratulations on that by the way – and gotten married, while I’m perpetually single and living alone in my loft apartment with an absolutely spoiled monster of a cat. Stop laughing, that wasn’t supposed to be a joke.”

emperor the cat was also not intended to be a character. i came up with him like, right before i started writing the chapter.

i think it was hard for kurapika to watch his brother fall in love and move on ahead in life. even if he was genuinely happy for them both. i had a conversation with a coworker a few months ago where we both talked about how we feel like we are "behind," even though we're both very accomplished. she felt like she was "behind" because i have a master's degree; i felt like i was "behind" because she was happily married and already had a child on the way (who is here and beautiful and perfect). and i imagine kurapika wondered if he was falling behind or missing something when he saw his brother succeed in love and business without really trying.

but there's no competition at all, of course. the world spins on, and we grow and change and find our place in our own time. there's no race.

The room quieted again. Kurapika went on, his eyes flicking over the crowd. He was starting to smile, too, now.

he's starting to realize this is okay, he's not going to mess up, he may actually have something worthwhile to say or share. he's getting more comfortable in all this.

“But I’m also a wedding planner – I know, ironic – and I’ve learned a lot about love from my clients. So if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to share some of those lessons now.”

No one from the back shouted at him to shut the fuck up, that he didn’t have a single clue what he was talking about, so he thought he was safe to carry on.

how funny would that have been??? like, it would have been fucked-up and humiliating, but in any other situation?? hilarious. just killua looking like that dude in mean girls being like HE DOESN'T EVEN GO HERE except it's like HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW WHAT LOVE IS.

He thought back to Light of My Life’s various couples, musing over their own rocky paths to the altar and the beautiful, fractured glimpses into their lives they gifted Kurapika and his team. What did they teach him? What did they teach his heart, that terrifying, terrified lump of meat frantically beating in his chest?

More than you think, his heart seemed to be telling him. Trust me; I will guide you through this. Trust me, trust me, trust me.

*"listen to your heart" plays in the background*

also like. trusting oneself and your perceptions and your feelings and your heart is so necessary. it's an important part of healing. and being honest with yourself and your feelings is part of a foundation for all healthy relationships, i think.

also i really like writing alliteratively. the play on words with "terrifying, terrified" was. inspired? terrifying, because kurapika for a long time feared his own heart and feelings, viewing them as a loss of control; and terrified, because his heart is afraid, too. and they are taking this leap together!

And Kurapika explained: “Love isn’t just found in eloquent professions or grand, romantic gestures. It’s supporting each other through your lowest, worst moments and coming out the other side stronger for it. It’s standing together, hand in hand, against the world. It’s in looking at someone simply existing in the world and seeing them as they are: good, beautiful, strong, intelligent, kind. It’s in your communication and your foundation and trusting that all good things will come together in time. It’s in the family that you build together. It’s in the work you each put in to get through the hard times. Together.”

me: yeah uh-huh jj you really did summarize the fic so far.

this is also where i started being sappy and thinking about love. friendly and romantic love. the love i've seen in my friends, the love i feel myself in my relationships.

There. That’s what his clients taught him. Menchi and Buhara; Morena and Theta; Pokkle and Ponzu; Knov and Morel; Knuckle and Shoot; Canary and Amane. But so many more people showed him what love was. He pictured Pairo and Altair on his couch, laughing at him and judging him and helping him put his own puzzle-piece heart together into something cohesive and beautiful. He smiled at his brothers and saw the way they were clutching each others hands, mouths beaming and eyes dewy.

they LOVE their brother so MUCH. their view of the outside looking in for the past year, watching kurapika fall in love, go soft, be happier than they've ever seen him.

He told them, “It’s in the way you can communicate in gestures and looks, and sometimes, without looking at all. It’s in banter and private jokes and finishing each other’s sentences. It’s in casual touches and... pouring their coffee before your own.”

my coffee is never as good as when my partner makes it. my honey-lemon tea is never as good as it is when my partner makes it. my jokes are never as funny as they are when my partner and i finish each other's sentences, build off of each other's quips. we can communicate across rooms with nothing but a look. these little signs of love are everywhere and expressed in so many tiny ways. these examples here are between people in romantic relationships, but these apply to platonic friendships as well.

His eyes swept the room and found Killua and Gon. Gon had his camera hefted onto one shoulder, and Killua stood behind him, arms around his waist and chin on his shoulder. “It’s on the first day you wake up and realize the way you look at the world has changed. The way you open your hands and your heart and give what you have, simply for the joy of being received.”

to love? transcendent. to be loved? incandescent. to love and know that it is valued and cherished and requited?

and this was a callback to killua talking about, of course, how he fell in love with gon like melting ice. like sinking into a bath. and this was also a quieter callback to how gon fell in love. because it wasn't just that he had/has so much love to give, but because for the first time in his life, he got to see it truly received. accepted.

Kurapika saw Killua’s breath catch and Gon’s hand flex over the fingers interlaced over his middle. Heedless of their surroundings and of the running camera, Gon twisted to kiss Killua on the mouth.

SMOOCHES ahahaha!

He turned his head back to Leorio. The man had not moved; indeed, he looked like he was nailed to the floor. His eyes were so intense as they watched him that Kurapika was almost surprised he had not yet burst into flame. Kurapika said, “It’s in the moment you see someone you’ve never met before, but you look at them and just know, to your core, that this is really going to be something.”

leorio realizing something is happening here. something huge is about to happen, is about to change. and he's trying so hard not to dare to hope it might be good. it might be everything.

A chorus of oohs went around the room. Even from this distance Kurapika saw the way Leorio’s face went red, and he ducked his chin, looking bashful and embarrassed.

leorio: holy shit holy shit holy SHIT IT'S HAPPENINGGGG

How was I such a fool before, Kurapika wondered, How was I so blind, so willfully ignorant and oblivious. How did it take me so long to realize you were talking about me. I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I’m sorry I made you wait for so long.

this is important because it's not just kurapika realizing and accepting his feelings for leorio. this is kurapika's version of realizing that leorio feels the same for him. leorio is in love with him, too. and he's wondering how it was possible he was so scared and blind for so long. he fears he may have hurt leorio by holding off on this for so long, so he wants to be brave, take the leap, and see what they could be.

Kurapika did not want this man to wait another second. He did not want Leorio to spend another moment trapped in this limbo. So he confessed in the middle of a silent room in front of over a hundred people, “It's the first time you hear them laugh, and your entire world’s axis shifts beneath your feet.”

i remember the first time i met my partner. i remember the first time i looked at them and felt my world shift a little to the right. i remember falling in love and thinking that this one was unlike all the others. it was warm, golden, comforting.

Kurapika watched the confused frown on Leorio’s face when he heard that, amused by the almost puppyish tilt to his head as he considered it. He knew the moment Leorio realized what he meant when his eyes blew wide, amazed and awed and achingly soft. His lips parted.

gOD he is so CUTE. he's like oh hmm huh what does that mean

and then he remembers

i promise, he's not a huge dickwad!

and leorio laughing at gon's accidental gaffe and his sweet earnestness. and kurapika walking in. leorio realizing kurapika wanted to know him before they ever even met.

Kurapika made himself turn away from the arresting sight. “One of my favorite venues lately was the Roseview Ballroom downtown. Among its many beautiful, gaudy attractions are its murals depicting scenes from Shakespeare’s plays all across the ceiling. One is a famous quote from Twelfth Night: ‘journeys end in lovers meeting, every wise man’s son doth know.’ But the more I think about it, the less I agree.”

i'm such a WHORE for shakespeare, as any readers of mine will know. check out my modern college adaptation of much ado about nothing.

He turned to meet Pairo’s eyes again, repeating, “‘Journeys end in lovers meeting.’ But nothing is ending here. It’s just changing.”

life does not end when we start relationships! or when they end! or when we move, change jobs, graduate, go to school, drop out of school. happy endings in stories still aren't endings. the greatest constant in life is change.

“Because what I’ve learned in this job, Pairo and Altair, what nugget of wisdom I have to give you, is this. Love is looking at a world that can be terrifying, cold, capricious, and indifferent, and finding the person whose hand you want to hold through it all anyway. Because you want every laugh, every tear, every wrinkle, every spark of joy. Love is life’s greatest leap of faith, because you don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow. But you know exactly who you want to spend all those tomorrows with.”

me finishing this: dammit i just wrote out my wedding vows.

Kurapika looked around the room again. At Gon and Killua; at Kalluto, Nanika, and Alluka; at his parents; at his brothers. At Leorio.

He concluded, “So you simply breathe. And you trust it will be okay.”

There wasn’t a dry eye in the room when Kurapika dropped the microphone.

DAMN ME TOO THIS SHIT WAS GOOD TF?????? sorry my writing has peaked here.

[nostalthicc]

white lies | jeff wittek

jeff wittek x reader

summary: jeff told trisha about y/n’s hidden past and trisha did was she did best

warning: angst, mentions of miscarriage, sexual assault, and abortion, mistakes(unedited)

2.1k words

when she first saw the video y/n didn’t know what to think, she was upset but also growing extremely worried about the outcome of the leaked information. She already knew who was the cause of the spill, she had only told a four, maybe 5 people in all of her life but now the entire world knew and it wasn’t from her own two lips.

many of her friends have already started trying to reach out to y/n but she shut down all of her devices immediately after she finished trisha’s video. y/n didn’t want to talk to anyone at the moment, she didn’t want to explain why she kept everything a secret for so long, why were kept it a secret from her friends for so long. she knew ignoring the situation would only make it escalade more than it already was but she didn’t even have to confidence to look at herself in the mirror without breaking down into a million pieces.

y/n tried to calm herself down as the time to go to david’s neared, she wanted nothing more than to skip but the plans had been in place for a while now and she didn’t want to mess up someone’s vlog by her absence. also, y/n didn’t want them to send a search party to her door, it would look less suspicious if she went on with her life as normal. she needed her friends to think she was okay, this entire mishap hadn’t affected her in the slightest. so despite her mood y/n got ready to meet up with her peers, she wished leaving the security and comfort of the mountain of blankets would be the hardest thing to do tonight but she knew more was to come. y/n figured she looked absolutely hideous from all the tears, snot and sweat on her face, her suspicions were, in fact, correct, she sat down in front of the vanity mirror trying to fix everything she could to look somewhat content and not a red-eyed, pink, puffy mess.

when arriving at her destination y/n was blessed to know the entire vlog squad was present at tonight’s gathering, plus a few extra people joined for the evening. many conversations ceased as their eyes fell on the y/n as she made her way in the living area, y/n felt highly compelled to run and hide away from all the stares and murmurs but those thoughts quickly dispersed when she felt natalie’s warm embrace. she had stopped whatever she was doing for david to comfort her friends, she had been trying to reach her all day. natalie was one of the only people in LA who y/n had told about the whole deal, natalie knew how bad she was hurting and wanted to help her as best as she could. everyone else soon followed in suit, leading to a series of hugs and embraces.

after a few tears and drinks, y/n was ready to tell her friends the real, unedited version of her miscarriage:

y/n grew up in and out of foster homes most of her life since she was five until she was seventeen years old. the second to last foster home she ever stayed in was a living nightmare, everything seemed perfect when she got there- the parents were fine but it was them, it was their twenty-year-old son who raised hell in y/n’s life. everything happened at a slow pace, it was many months after she had joined their household had his abuse started. he began with the teasing here and there, nothing anyone would note as odd or out of the ordinary but shortly after the teasing started his jokes became aimed at her age and body. y/n didn’t notice the danger in his switch of attitude at the time, she thought it was still harmless, brother-sister, teasing- she didn’t know any better. that was the first and only mistake she got to make before he touched her and impregnated the poor girl. her foster parents were completely horrified, they filled y/n’s young mind with lies and storied as to why she must abort the baby, telling her she would have lost the baby regardless of the situation. the last thing they ever did for y/n before kicking her out was taking her to the clinic for her abortion they forced her to get. they deceived y/n’s mind into thinking the right thing while they really took away her voice and choice in her own body.

when y/n first came out with her storytime on the events in her foster home on her youtube channel, she told the platform it was a miscarriage with a man who didn’t want to take responsibility for the baby. although it was a lie, the loss of her baby was like a miscarriage to y/n, she had no choice but to listen to these people who were in control of her life at the time. that abortion was a loss, a loss y/n continues to feel to this day. there were many times she wanted to share the truth about her story on the internet and with her friends but every time she sat down in front of the camera she chickened out before even getting halfway through the video.

to her surprise, all her friends super supportive of y/n- they offered to help her get through the mess no matter what and back her up against trisha and her fans. she finally felt the impact of having people who truly care about her and actually have her best interest at heart. they all decided to ignore the issue at hand and get y/n’s mind off her shitty weekend and have some fun. and she truly was enjoying herself until she saw him walk in, his eyes darted around everywhere clearly looking for the girl but natalie was quick to drag her outside before he did find y/n.

“y/n/n, be honest with me, okay?” natalie said, grabbing a hold of her friends shoulders. “do you want to talk to him right now? because i can get david to kick him out.” she couldn’t even begin to imagine what was going through y/n’s head, nothing could compare to this low point in her life and natalie didn’t know if seeing jeff would help of hurt her. but her worried soon faded away when y/n nodded her head, not a quiver of doubt hidden in her eyes.

y/n had gone to natalie before she told jeff about the abortion, she wanted advice, she wasn’t sure if telling him was a good or bad idea. natalie helped her weigh the pros and cons of jeff knowing the full story and the pros seemed to breakthrough. the conversation went for hours and led to a level of trust neither of them thought they would reach so soon in their relationship, it allowed jeff to open up to y/n about his rough past as well. they stayed up all night talking to each other, making a pact to keep each other’s secrets through any bump they went but y/n couldn’t quite figure out what she had done to him for jeff to exploit this type of information- to trisha of anyone else.

she watched as natalie scrambled away into the loud house. to say y/n was terrified would be an understatement, she had no idea how this conversation was going to go with all her emotions bottled up as they were. her heart rate picked up when she saw jeff making his way to where she was planted, a million more emotions flooded y/n in the moment. part of her wanted to run into his arms and never let go and the other wanted to yell and scream in his face until her voice gave out.

y/n raised her gaze to meet the eyes of jeff, his features plagued with a guilty expression as he approached the girl. he never meant for any of this to happen, he loved her and would never do anything intentionally to hurt her, he just hoped y/n remember’s that as well. deep down she did know but she was masked by the hurt and pain of his so seemed betrayal.

“why?”  she croaked, speaking before jeff couldn’t even try to apologize. “what did i do?” she was at a loss of words, nothing seemed like the right thing to say. “what did i do for you to do this to me?” she raised, raising her palm to collide with his chest, over and over again. it didn’t hurt and even if it did jeff wouldn’t have dared stop her, he understood she needed to get this out, all the anger and frustration.

jeff couldn’t bear listening to her distorted cries, the guilt flooding into his body was beginning to become over overbearing for jeff to handle. this wasn’t supposed to happen- this mess wasn’t meant to play out this way. when jeff told trisha about y/n’s past he thought it was a safe, inclosed conversation, he thought he could trust her because she was telling him her own assault story. everyone but jeff seemed to notice trisha had it out for y/n but jeff apparently, if he would have known he would have never told her personal information. he wished he hadn’t had been so blind and just kept his mouth shut, he opened the door to his own girlfriend’s misery. jeff wished he could take the entire thing back but even he knew that was impossible and he had to show y/n how sorry he was.

y/n did believe jeff, but she was too overrun with emotions to even process his explanation any farther than the surface, she was having a hard time looking past it.  he broke her trust and it really fucking hurt her.

y/n choked on another sob before sliding to the ground, jeff was quick to catch her limp body in his arms. although she wasn’t ready to let him back in, y/n needed the comfort at the moment. no longer was it about the lies or her past, it was about the pain, the hurt her past held over her and she needed the support. they stayed like that for a while, jeff holding y/n, whispering sweet nothings into her ear until she calmed down. as her breathing steadied and the tears stopped y/n pulled away from his warmth, sending a shiver through the both of them.

“i need another drink for this.” y/n sighed, throwing her hand onto her forehead. she knew she was too sober to be going through this and hopefully it would help calm her down. y/n set out towards the door but was stopped by jeff’s hand on her forearm, her gaze fell down to where he was touching her. she didn’t trust herself to look him in the eyes.

“y/n/n, a-are we okay.” jeff questioned softly, his own voice close to breaking. he couldn’t fathom a world without y/n, his entire world was y/n and he couldn’t believe he fucked up so bad- again. y/n finally met his eyes, jeff’s eyes boring into her own, the expression on her face begged him not to ask, she didn’t want to answer his question. y/n wanted to forgive him, go back to the way things were but whenever she looks at him she sees pain- a pain she doesn’t need in her life right now.

at that then moment, jeff knew, he knew the answer but he needed to hear it from y/n. “i think we should take a break, jeff.” y/n crocked out, her heartbreaking when his hand dropped from her arm. “i need time to figure out what i’m going to do with myself before i can even begin to think about us.” she was starting to learn everything went smoother when she just told the truth, no matter how hard it ached. “it’s not because i don’t love you, i probably always will but i can’t ignore all this because you hurt me. i need time to heal.”

y/n left jeff standing in the grass, daggers shooting through his heart. he was going to wait, no matter how long, he was going to wait until her wounds were healed.

[hattiechllds]

introduction; i

ALL ABOARD ! The HMS PROMETHEAN welcomes ( HARRIET 'HATTIE' CHILDS ) to the expedition in their capacity of ( THE CHRONICLER ). They are ( 35 & CISGENDER FEMALE ) and might be painted as ( KEIRA KNIGHTLEY ). When you strike up an acquaintance, address them as ( SHE/HER ). Their deeds on land prece their arrival — people say they are ( ADVENTUROUS, CURIOUS, and ADAPTABLE ) but ( INSENSITIVE, SELFISH, and ABRUPT ) when the tide turns. Their purpose aboard the Promethean falls in line with ( FURTHERING THEIR NAME AS A JOURNALIST AND SEEING THE VOYAGE TO ITS CONCLUSION ).

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I. CURIOSITY

  [THE PAST]

  Margarite Child knew from the time her daughter turned ten there was little that could be done to save her. She had made it by being silent - you never question those who give you your pay, clean up any messes they create and turn a blind eye to any unsavory aspects of their life. She'd attempted impressing this on her daughter for years, and despite her penchant for soaking up all she heard, this one lesson always fell on deaf ears. For a time, the father of the family they'd served thought her endless chatter had been cute - her naive questions a source of entertainment. The wife had never shared her husband's opinion, and when Hattie asked her who the woman he spent oh so much time within his chambers was, Margarite and Hattie found themselves on the streets without pay.

  She was torn between laughing and crying when Hattie, face twisted, asked again who the woman was.

  Through the years, the naivete of her youth left - but never the curiosity. She joined her mother's line of work, and at seventeen Hattie and her mother were working fairly comfortably for a rich family in London, but still she never quite was able to turn a blind eye. Margarite swore it would be the death of them, and maybe one day it would be, but somehow Hattie seemed to thrive. She came home with dresses they'd never dreamed of affording, bought her mother gifts on a whim, they weren't rich by any means - but Margarite had never been so comfortable. She grew curious herself.

 "It's called extortion, if she stops paying then all these go directly to the press", she waived the letters so casually - as though they weren't the key to a life's ruination.

  The letters never made their way to the papers, but once the woman passed Margarite and her child parted ways. The girl had grown close with the reporter who'd agreed to publish the letters should the money ever stop, while Margarite longed to return to her hometown. It seemed the relationship had paid off, as soon the name Harriet Child began popping up over the occasional inflammatory gossip article. She prayed her daughter learned enough from her to save herself.

  [THE PRESENT]

  Her reflection on Captain Dowling's failed expedition was never meant to be malicious. Those around her always spoke as though she meant to inflame, she never could quite understand why so many had such a poor relationship with the truth of reality. She simply meant to inform- and keep herself comfortable, of course. It had hardly been her fault Mr. Carlin kept her writing these superficial scandals. She knew there was more for her than reporting on a socialite's faux pas or yet another marriage scandal. Captain Dowling's voyage was meant to be her breakthrough, and in a way it had been, but her early return had been proof enough to the Carlin that she wasn't cut out for their line of work. She happily kept quiet about her pending termination when the Admiralty approached her with an invitation to the HMS Promethean. This would be her one chance at success, to propel her out of her comfortable little gossip section and cement her amongst the greats. But on a ship filled with those with so much to hide, she's finding it hard to keep her old habits buried.

 II. GROWTH AND CONNECTION

  [THE PAST]

  Robert Canon knew what he was from the moment he and Hattie saw each other. Every late-night talk and every kiss was just another wrung in the ladder she'd made of him, and he didn't mind. The letters she'd found kept them both above water, and he had to admit seeing his aunt finally perturbed by something gave him a bit of joy. Once the woman had died, and he'd vouched for her to Mr. Carlin, he was shocked she hadn't told him to fuck off immediately. What she had done had felt almost worse. He knew he'd taken her as far as he could realistically, but he'd hoped he might have her a bit longer. But as her pieces grew in ambition, and his seemed to shrink on the page, she grew further and further out of his grasp. In the end, his own stagnation had been their breaking point.

  "Don't you wish for more?" her frown was the most genuine thing he'd seen on her face in weeks.

  "I don't have to have more, it's not much but this is. It's comfortable, and I'm happy here - and I think that's enough for me."

  The pity he saw in her never left him.

  [THE PRESENT]

  She'd nearly forgotten about Robert over the years, there had been a handful of him over the years. Those who sought something from her, and something she took from them. It was an exchange, and while she understood their sadness when she would leave she couldn't fault herself for honesty. She'd tried to drag Robert along, she really had, but he never seemed to take what she gave him.

  No one seemed to, instead they called her words scornful - intent on tearing them apart. Their fear of accountability clouding their vision. They blamed her for holding them accountable, as though she had put stolen money into the pockets of rich men or ruined the marriages of the chronically unhappy. The world upheld honesty as a virtue, yet every truth she spoke seemed to push the world away.

III. RESPECT AND RECONCILIATION

[THE PAST]

  Hattie was a fine journalist, where matters of scandal were involved. Robert's word hadn't meant much, really, but with the loss of Ellen the column had been left blank and he'd been willing to take a chance. She'd proven herself a provocative enough author to be worth some money, but like so many before her she'd asked for more, and more. He'd seen her type fall many times before, and though she proved to be tenacious he hardly expected her to live outside the space she'd made for herself. Once he allowed her to set sail the first time, she'd all but proven that. Though her report on the voyage brought in money it all came down to yet another overblown scandal the public was happy to eat up. He ignored the words of those inflating her name, she was a shooting star like so many of those she'd written about, doomed to fade.

 In her time away, he'd found someone new to take her place - someone more critical who was happy to shut her mouth once money was involved. He'd intended to remove her from her position quietly once the buzz surrounding her faded, though he could tell she already knew his intentions. 

  [THE PRESENT]

  She'd intended to inform Mister Carlin at some point, she'd imagined his face when she showed him the invitation more times than she'd like to admit - but she quickly forgot him when she learned of those aboard the ship. She hadn't expected Captain Dowling to look at her with such - well, she might find it in herself to call it disgust but she struggled to name most of the emotions on his face. She'd told her story as it happened, and he'd been hailed a hero - she'd hoped that might overshadow the excerpts on his crewman's deaths. What she hadn't expected was one Miss Swan. She had hoped to see her again, not to apologize but to watch her rise again - if it was possible. Seeing those she'd watched fall once again gave her an idea. This was her moment to grow from her position. So many, like Mister Carlin, attributed her success to the public's desire to see those from up high brought down so low - and she'd given them what she wanted. This time, she would give them redemption, tales of the brave Captain leading his ship to discovery, of the broken bird rising to meet the sky once again.

[alabamagirlinagreatbigworld]

Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes How do you measure, measure a year?

I hate how far back I have to scroll in my phone to find pictures of us. Two years of memories without you in them. It is still incomprehensible that I am living life without you in it. I hate that as time goes on, even Facebook erases our memories. And, it’s even worse because you aren’t here to make new ones. If they all disappear from pictures, will they eventually start to disappear from my own mind? Even worse than a life without you in it, is a life where our memories are faded or even forgotten.

Two years. Twenty-four months. One hundred & four weeks. Seven Hundred & Thirty days. Seventeen thousand five hundred & twenty hours. One million fifty-one thousand & two hundred minutes. Sixty-three million seventy-two thousand seconds. Each one feeling like forever.

I can still feel the shock & denial I felt when my mom called me at work to tell me you were gone. It took at least an hour to sink in. At least an hour for me to realize you were gone. An hour for me to start this journey of grief that is never-ending. I remember not knowing what to do. Like anything I could do would change it. I drove home from work. My mind somewhere else. My phone ringing. My text message notifications beeping. Surely one of them would be you. This was definitely a mistake. And then it wasn’t.

I came home to a busted water heater. My kitchen floor flooded. Water still spewing out onto the floor. I looked up. I laughed. It was like your final joke. One more prank. Anything to make me smile. A laugh even better. I turned and walked away. Ignored the reality of everything going on at that moment.

I had so many questions. So many unfinished conversations. So many things I wanted to say. So many hugs left to be given. Memories to be made. As I rode to your mom’s house from Atlanta, I couldn’t grasp what was happening. What would happen. I don’t think I have ever been to your parent’s house when you weren’t there. Drew met me in the driveway with a big hug and an I love you. You’d be so proud of him. I hugged and cried my way through everyone and knew exactly where I needed to be. I slipped away down the hallway and into your old room. Your old bed still there. I laid down, still crying, random memories flooding my mind. Your beta fish that used to sit on that wicker shelf. The see-through phone that I thought was so cool & wanted to badly. Sitting in your closet listening to song from the Karate Kid like we had any idea what love was. Emptying our oh so important purses to trade items with each other. Waking up scared because I had slept with gum in my mouth and was afraid your mom would be mad. You telling me you weren’t going to sleep. You were just resting your eyes. Sounds of laughter. Your mom telling us to be quiet because your dad was sleeping. Our times spent bunkered down in the hallway because there was severe weather. Your dad at the other end of the hall, watching the weather on tv. Trying to keep us quiet so he could hear. Standing there as if he would stop the tornado to keep us safe. I even remembered your first cuss word after your go-cart wouldn’t start. I was shocked. I though the world would end when you said it. You just laughed. I remember riding the go-cart, being chased by the rain, and watching it spread across the field, finally catching up to us. Gilbert Court. Oh the laughs at Gilbert Court. Our tiny one-bedroom apartment covered in sunflowers. It was the best thing ever. Two a.m. trips to Wal-Mart because we could. Silly outgoing messages on our answering machine. Ridge Road. Driving on campus to the one class we had together, laughing as you tried to parallel park. Laughing harder as we had to change places so I could parallel park for you. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. The memories came from further back and extended through that final week of your life. Your last message being so trivial. A picture of paperwork, lying on the floor of your office. A little note that said, I’m still at work. And that was it. That was the last memory I would ever have of you.

I know you would hope I would have recovered by now. That the loss wouldn’t be as tough as it is for me. I know you would shrug off the fact that you were that much a part of my life. That I depended on you so much more than you depended on me. You were my best friend. My soulmate of sorts. My rock. My place of understanding. Of calm. You were my nurse. My protector. You stood up for me when I didn’t have the energy to stand up for myself. You were always there. And then you weren’t.

Every morning feels like Groundhog Day. Shortly after waking up, I realize, once again, you’re gone. Maybe it’s because I look up and see your picture on the wall. Maybe it’s because I pick up my phone to call or message you. Maybe it’s because I need to talk to you. I need your advice. Your support. Your unconditional love. And on really bad day, it’s because I’ve woken up with tears already streaming down my face from the reality hitting in a dream.

There are days I think I won’t make it. Days I think it’s time to give up. Days that feel so overwhelming, I see no way I’ll make it until the next. Most of the days are like this. But every now and then something beautiful happens. A clover appears in my car out of nowhere. A sunflower in the most random of places. An old card you sent me out of place and found at the right time. Always a funny message to make me laugh. A picture taken for scenery on your birthday with an angel-shaped cloud as clear as a crystal.

I know you watch over me. I have no doubts. But you are the lucky one, my dear. You are dancing in the streets of heaven with loved ones gone before you. Still watching your loved ones left behind. You’re still cheering for me. I feel it. Sometimes I think I hear it. Sometimes I do something outside of my character just because I know it’s what you would advise. I think about the things I was struggling with when you left. The parts of them I still struggle with now. I envision you in heaven, banging your head, because you know what God has planned for me. And you hate to see me sad. I think about the struggles you faced. Your desire to be better each day. Your attachment to the article of the girl who wrote about living, after being diagnosed with terminal cancer way too soon. She was your goal. You were going to go back to school. Be a Nurse Practitioner. A better mom. A better wife. Better to yourself. You wanted to get in the best shape of your life. Not because anyone thought you should or pressured you to. Because you wanted to be the best version of yourself for you. And my heart breaks all over again that you didn’t have time to fulfill all your heart’s desires.

Then I think about my life now. How far into abyss I’ve slipped. How disappointed you’d be in me. I’m sure you sit up there yelling at me to get up. Get out of bed. Get out of the house. Do something. Anything. Live. And I try. I want to live for me and for you. But grief is crippling. Loneliness is dark.  Such a huge part of who I am is gone. It feels like I can’t move because I’m not whole. Like I awoke and suddenly had no legs to stand on my own. Because you were gone. And you were a part of me for as much of my life as I can remember. Until you weren’t.

I remember your memorial service. Parking lot overcrowded. Lines around the building. I sat in a chair thinking I’d write what I was going to say about you the next day. But instead, I sat there staring. All the people around me who loved you. Yet I was alone. I was in awe of how many lives you touched. I remember telling someone, in my entire life, I can name people who haven’t or don’t like me. But in my entire life, I can’t name one person who didn’t like Nicole. I like to think you were my angel. My rock. My support. My soft place to land. I’m territorial when it comes to our friendship. But the truth is undeniable. You were that person to everyone you met. You made lives brighter. You made problems lighter. When I think about it, I can’t imagine how heavy it must have been for you. Not only carrying your problems but carrying the weight of others so they wouldn’t have to do it alone. But you never made me feel like an inconvenience. You never hinted that you couldn’t bear the weight of anything else. When you talked to me, I was all there was. And I am certain every other person you encountered felt the same.

Coming up with the words to say about you might have been one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Only to be overshadowed by having to stand in front of packed chapel and say them out loud, knowing you were lying there just in front of me. I wrote for hours. Write. Erase. Start over. Repeat. Each time I would read what I had written, I would realize, this is all about me. How I feel. My experience. And that did not do justice to your life. You were so much more than a part of me. You were a part of everyone who met you. And you deserved to be remembered as you were. Not as I felt. I pulled through with a combination of laughs and tears and even a cuss word, just for you. I go back and read those words now and then. I still laugh. I still cry. I still wonder if I even came close to putting you on the pedestal you earned. And I cry some more. Who will tell my story? Will anyone show up? Am I even half the person you were? Am I even that person to one person? Have I had a positive impact on anyone? How do I do better? And, how do I do it now that I am not whole?

I can’t believe it’s been two years. I can’t believe every year will add another and the clock will never stop counting the seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years. I can’t believe this is who I am in now. Who I’m forced to be. After years of swimming, bicycles, sleepovers, secrets, notes in the hallways, inside jokes, family vacations, a lifetime of firsts, our friendship has also experienced all its lasts. I don’t know how to accept it. How to move forward. How to feel whole again. Because throughout my entire life you were there. Until you weren’t.

[seriouslyhooked]

The Same Soul (Part 3)

Available on FF Here and AO3 Here. Chapter 1, Chapter 2.

Our world AU where Emma and Killian knew each other as teenagers. Killian was sent to spend a summer with family in America. He met foster kid Emma while there. They fell in love but then he was forced back home and she couldn’t take the memories so she ran away, trying her best to move on from the dreams they’d always hoped for. A chance meeting brings them back together years later, and this time nothing and no one will keep them apart. Rated M.

A/N: Hey everyone! So I am back again with another chapter of this new story, and I am happy to say that I like this rewritten version even better than the one I lost a few weeks back. Not only that, but I have also better developed the story idea and come up with a unique (but still typically me) CS tale of love and cuteness. It’s looking like it’ll be ten separate chapters and an epilogue at the moment, and they’ll all be bouncing around from Emma and Killian’s POVs in the past and the present. This particular chapter is one I am really excited for. It also takes place in the past (notice the italics), and it picks up where our last chapter left off but from Killian’s perspective. He and Emma are going to the fair for their date! Of course I had to lay down some basic facts of Killian’s life in the beginning section, and just a heads up for people, part of it is a little sad. Like Emma, Killian hasn’t had an easy life in this fic, but no worries – they’ll make each other happy and there will be lots of fluff ahead. Anyway, thanks so much for reading and I would love to hear what you all think!

(Past)

“Damn it, why did I say seven? I should have said earlier. What the bloody hell was I thinking?”

Killian muttered the words aloud as he stared at the gilded antique clock on the mantel of his Uncle Benjen’s study. If he were less fixated on his desire for time to speed up, Killian would probably marvel again at how that one item alone easily cost more than two months of his brother Liam’s salary. His Uncle Benjen spared no expense on the furnishings in this house, and Killian got the feeling it didn’t even make a dent in the massive fortune of his father’s younger brother. Besides, this house was one of the largest in the county, and this county was apparently one of the richest in America. It seemed only right that the decor should be as over the top and astronomically pricy as the real estate itself.

Unlike Killian’s father, who had been a degenerate and a drunk nearly all his adult life, Benjen Jones was a man of status and steady purpose. Killian had only recently met him in person. Prior to this summer, their relationship had strictly consisted of a card and a check at his birthday and Christmas, but Uncle Benjen seemed to be the opposite of Killian’s father, Brennan, in many ways. Luckily, Killian didn’t have many personal memories of the rat bastard who once terrorized them, but he remembered enough. Where Brennan had never been interested in holding down a job for more than a chance to buy more cheap booze and neglect the needs of his family, Benjen was a work horse. In twenty years, he went from a nobody in London to a household name in America. He’d represented clients in dozens of high-profile cases and had used that star power to leverage himself into ownership of more than a dozen high-end firms around the country.

Now Benjen was a certifiable legal powerhouse here in the States, and he could clearly afford to retire several times over. It became clear to Killian the moment he walked through the doors that Benjen must be the source of the money they’d had these last few years. With his mother out of work, Killian always wondered how they could get by on just Liam’s military salary, but that query was put to rest upon arrival. His Uncle had millions, but having that money hadn’t impacted his drive. One thing that was very apparent about his uncle to Killian was the man’s tendency towards competitiveness. Benjen hated to lose, and he hated to be idle. He talked of little except for work, and Killian assumed he thought of little else as well. There was always some other goal to chase and some other case to win. For that reason, he’d never settled down or had children of his own, and so when Killian had showed up here a few weeks before, it was immediately apparent that Benjen was at a loss of what to do or how to act.

Not that anyone was particularly good at addressing a wayward seventeen-year-old kid whose mother had recently passed away and whose brother had been shipped off to another war zone as part of his job. There were probably how-to books on this kind of stuff, like Teenage Trauma for Dummies or some shit, but Killian assumed they were all full of crap. There was no way to write out a reasoned plan for how to deal with loss of this kind, and Killian understood that because he’d come to learn over the past few months that grief was unknowable. It was different for everyone and handled in a million varying ways depending on the person. Killian’s own grief was still undefined, and each day his hurt felt just as new and fresh as the day he lost his mother. For that reason, Killian was glad that Uncle Benjen never tried to coddle him or confront the elephant in the room. It was the last thing he wanted, and clearly his Uncle, for whatever shortcomings he may have on a guardianship front, could understand that at least in part.

“You know the clock never hastens for those who watch it, my dear.”

The unexpected words made Killian jump, his sudden motion jostling the chair in which he sat. He hadn’t realized anyone else was in this wing of the house, and he imagined he was quite alone. When he looked up though, he realized it was only Mrs. Potts, the older woman who took care of things around here for his Uncle. She was a kind soul, and though she had decades of life on him, he noticed the woman never lacked for energy. She could put him to shame with the way she ran about this house organizing, cooking, and keeping things afloat. It took a small army to keep up with a place like this, but Mrs. Potts never broke a sweat, and though Killian had tried to resist her nurturing ways, it was fruitless. The woman’s calling was taking care of people, and in a moment like this, that kind of care was welcome to Killian.

“I know it doesn’t, but still I can’t help trying,” he confessed and Mrs. Potts smiled warmly before patting his arm.

“It’s a terrible trait of time. When we want it to slow it quickens, and when we want it to fly it drags. Dreadfully annoying. But you know what would kill some time? Telling me what has you so tied in knots.”

Oh damnit, there it was. Killian had foolishly hoped that maybe he could get through the day unnoticed, but how could he? Mrs. Potts was only commenting at all because he’d been so different the past twenty-four hours. He could only imagine the changes she witnessed. One day he was just going through the motions, not angry per se, but definitely withdrawn. The only being he let near him for prolonged periods of time was Missy, and though he took care to never be downright rude, he tried to make it clear that he wanted nothing extensive to do with any person he had met here. But after last night and all through today, he had been buzzing with energy and excitement. He’d been smiling, something that he hadn’t done in ages before yesterday, and that feeling of happiness was so strong it even outweighed the worry that he’d somehow fuck this up that currently turned his stomach. He couldn’t help but feel hope for the first time in a long time, and the reason for that was wrapped up in one beautiful, transcendent girl named Emma Swan.

Finding her in the forest yesterday had felt like a trick of the light. It was as if he’d been craving goodness for so long that his mind created a figment of miraculous imagination. It took more than a moment to believe his luck could change so drastically. After everything, he didn’t even feel worthy of standing in the presence of this girl. She was perfect, doting on his dog with kind, easy affection, and then standing and facing him, stealing his breath all at once. Her golden hair, her piercing jade eyes, and her curious and cautious expression had all done him in. But more than that it was the aura around her that called to him. The sun shone through the trees, flittering in with a warming light, but it was Emma that seemed to radiate brightest. It almost hurt to look at her, but he never wanted to stop. He could have stayed in that first moment forever.

“Silly me,” Mrs. Potts said with a chuckle, pulling Killian from his runaway thoughts. “Here I am asking a question I know half the answer to already. After all, the only thing that puts a look like that on a young man’s face is a beautiful girl.”

“How could you know that?” Killian asked, and the older woman smiled.

“My dear, I hate to tell you that it’s obvious, but you’re not exactly hiding anything. It’s clear as day you’ve found a little dose of happiness, and after the year you’ve had I think it’s well deserved.”

Mention of the trying nature of this past year should have hurt him, but Killian felt immune to the pain of remembrance for once. To say that Emma was unexpected didn’t do the situation justice. For almost a year Killian had felt lost and unmoored. The passing of his mother was more painful than words could ever articulate, and it didn’t matter that he’d had months to say goodbye to her. If anything it was worse to see her suffer and to incrementally lose more hope each and every day. By the end, her leaving him had been a given, and when she was finally gone Killian thought he would feel relief. Instead he felt paralyzed and completely unsure of what to do and where to go from there. Life had become about helping his Mum and getting her through the worst demon any of them had ever faced, and when it was just him and Liam left, Killian didn’t know how to act or who to be. How did you live in a world where one of the most important parts of your universe just disappeared? It left an aching sense of emptiness, something physically painful, and nothing and no one had helped to dull that pain until Emma.

“Her name is Emma,” Killian admitted, and for once Mrs. Potts clammed up, no doubt hoping he’d say more. “I met her yesterday. She goes to the camp in town and we got to talking. I asked her to the fair tonight.”

“Oh the fair! Well how marvelous, or as the kids would say, that’s like ‘totally far out!’” Mrs. Potts said, attempting a horrendous show at an American accent, and after a moment of trying to contain his reaction, Killian gave in, laughing at the words she’d chosen. She was no doubt impersonating some kind of American TV reference, but her delivery was shoddy at best . “Oh bother, you know I try to assimilate to these American ways, but it just won’t do. It’s the tea and biscuits I think. My devotion to them simply makes it impossible for me to embrace that American twang.”

With the mention of tea, Mrs. Potts then got it into her mind that tea was the exact remedy they needed in this moment, and the entertainment of watching his Uncle’s housekeeper keep up with the most British of traditions kept Killian smiling. It was nice to feel the sense of home before heading out on something new and foreign tonight. His Mum had always enjoyed any excuse for tea, and as he sipped on the piping hot English grey that Mrs. Potts provided, Killian swore he could feel his mother’s own steadying presence. It was almost like she was with him, even though Mrs. Potts was asking the questions, and though he couldn’t rationally explain it, Killian felt like, wherever she was, his mother was just as excited for Killian as Mrs. Potts.

Though time still dragged more than a bit, the moment did finally come for Killian to get ready and depart. He did so with shaky hands but nothing like real apprehension. He was nervous, of course, because he wanted things to be just so to ensure that Emma had a good time, but the chance to see Emma again and to take her out so that they might see where things could go was a blessing in all ways. In fact, he was so desirous of the chance to do just that, that Killian actually walked the distance from his home to hers in a fraction of the time that he thought he would. He was early, but that earliness allowed for him to pause, and to look down a wooded country lane not far from Emma’s home. It was an ordinary looking place, nothing out of the common way, except for one thing. There, in the abandoned hedgerow were flowers. Wild roses, to be precise, and with a careful and mindful hand, Killian plucked one from the winding leaves. It was glorious, fully open for the season, fragrant, and lush, and Killian was thrilled at his luck.

With his small but precious gift in hand for Emma, Killian closed the distance between him and Emma’s home, eager to be reunited with her again. But where he expected to come knocking on her door, he was shocked and elated to find instead that Emma was already waiting for him at the gate. She didn’t see him at first, and that was probably for the best, for he was too stunned to speak, or move, or think of anything beyond her. Taking her in was a rush, and seeing her tonight, with her hair hanging in loose golden curls and her jean shorts and t-shirt traded in for a pretty pink sundress, made Killian feel like his heart might actually give out. What he felt for her was so gigantic and boundless. He was in awe of her, and halfway in love with her all ready. And then she turned to look at him, smiling shyly as she did, and he was gone for her.

This was the moment, right here, where he gave someone his heart for the first time. It was emblazoned with her name, beating just for Emma, and though many may call him crazy, Killian didn’t give a damn. It didn’t matter that they were young, or that this was only supposed to be his home for the summer. There could be a million things set against them, and for Killian none of them would matter. He’d conquer whatever he could to feel this way forever, and he knew having Emma in his world would be critical to that. In just one day Emma Swan had walked into his life and rewritten his story, and Killian for one had never been so happy about anything in his whole entire life.

“You’re early,” Emma teased, a smirk playing at her lips as he started walking towards her again.  

“I could say the same about you, Swan.” Suddenly Emma looked uncomfortable, as if she wanted to explain why she was waiting for him outside but didn’t know how. This wasn’t the first time Emma had grown agitated about where she lived, and he wondered if she was embarrassed because this was the staff quarters of a larger estate, but while he wanted to ask what was the matter, Killian knew it would be best to wait for now. In the hopes of diffusing her apprehension, Killian produced the blossom he’d found for her, and drew her attention to the flower instead of whatever worried her. “For you, love.”

“Thank you. No one’s ever given me flowers before,” Emma whispered before bringing the rose up to smell its sweet scent. She appeared thrilled at his tiny gesture, and immediately Killian knew he’d bring her flowers every day. She deserved so much more than that, but this was a small thing he could accomplish that would hopefully bring her even a little bit of joy on a regular basis.

“I’m honored to be the first,” Killian replied, and though he’d meant the comment innocently, he watched as a blush crossed Emma’s cheeks. That show of shyness prompted Killian to wonder if there other first they could share together, and then his mind started to run away with him, moving in a far racier direction than either he or Emma was ready for. He had to curtail those thoughts, at least for now, and he did so by pivoting to the night ahead. “So, are you ready to head out? The fair waits for no man, at least that’s what they tell me.”

Emma laughed at the corny joke, and Killian was glad that they’d come so far from their first meeting even though they’d still spent precious little time together. He offered her his hand, and at first he was unsure if she’d accept it, but without any form of hesitation she slipped her hand in his. Having that connection seemed to flip the switch for time. Where before it had been moving ever so slowly, now it was flying by. It felt like one moment they were at Emma’s place and the next they were in the center of town and in the thick of the festivities. In that time they talked and laughed, and most people might think their discussion was on things of little importance, but Killian knew he’d remember every moment, especially the one where Emma first saw the fair in all its glory.

“Wow,” she uttered, her eyes flitting from sight to sight, tracking the lights and the people and the numerous games and rides.

“So? What do you think?”

“It’s even better than I always imagined,” Emma admitted with a grin and Killian felt his heart leap at the praise. “Where do we go first?”

“Ah, now that is a conundrum each fair-goer must face. On the one hand there’s food and all of it is fried. It’s delicious, obviously -,”

“But probably not great to eat before getting on some of those,” Emma said, motioning towards the rides that spun and shot into the air or twisted round and round.

“Precisely, but we can pace ourselves however you like. All I want to do is whatever makes you happy.”

Emma squeezed his hand a little tighter at his honest confession, and she continued to look around before deciding that a ride may be in order. He went and bought the tickets, and they tackled three of the most daring amusements at the fair. Initially, Killian worried that Emma might be scared, but she proved him so wrong. It turned out she loved the thrill and adrenaline, and her enjoyment made him desirous of the adventure as well. After that, they ate their fill of fair food, and then settled on a few games, nearly all of which Emma won. She was a natural at every single feat, and after seeing the light in her eyes that appeared when she found she was truly good at something, Killian wanted nothing more than for her to take the whole place. Some guys might have been turned off by a girl kicking their ass so decidedly, but not Killian. He was just as happy as Emma, for her excitement was infectious, as was her childlike joy every time she got her prize.

“I feel like I should have brought a bag or something,” Emma joked as they walked around with her many winnings, and then Killian produced a tote bag that he’d bought while she was busy at the water gun station. She appeared shocked, but it softened quickly into appreciation. “You’re really on top of this, aren’t you?”

“Have to be to keep up with you, love,” Killian replied and Emma laughed before heading to another tent to dominate yet again. This time though she was strategic, going for a bigger win so she could have a specific prize. The only problem was, she wouldn’t tell Killian what her objective was until it had already been won.

“For you,” Emma said, holding out her biggest catch of the day. It was a stuffed bear, but for some unbeknownst reason it was dressed in pirate garb. It had a hat and a sword, and even a little hook for a hand, and it was impossible not to look at the thing and smile, especially when Emma had thought to give it to him.  

“Thank you, Emma, I’ll cherish it.”

A beat of silence passed between them, but there was no awkwardness. Instead, he and Emma looked at each other, sharing an understanding that this night was one that mattered. They both had enjoyed themselves tremendously, and though neither of them said the words aloud, Killian knew that this was just the start. Things between him and Emma were just right, and there was no denying that. It was like they’d been meant to find each other, and to come together in this summer where he’d needed someone more than ever. Emma seemed to understand that, and though he didn’t know the details, Killian gathered that she was searching for some kind of goodness just as much as he had been.

“I think there’s one more thing that needs doing,” Emma finally said, pulling her gaze from him and looking up to the tallest ride at the fair – the Ferris Wheel. They’d thought of going before, but the line was so long, but as the night went on more people went home. Little kids were all fast asleep by now, and there was only a little while left for the festivities this evening. As such, it was now or never to take one last ride together.

“As you wish,” Killian said, before taking her hand again leading them to the giant wheel. They got on it quickly, and soon enough they had a revolving view of everything.

“This is amazing,” Emma remarked as the ride slowly took its course, moving in a great big circle from high to low and back again.

“Is it the best part of the night?” he asked and Emma shook her head.

“I wouldn’t say that. It’s all been so wonderful. I couldn’t begin to choose a favorite part.”

Her words filled Killian with pride, and he couldn’t contain his smile when she spoke so highly of this date. Knowing that he’d created a happy memory for him and for Emma was an awesome feeling, but it didn’t compare to the ones that came next. In a moment, Emma’s eyes darkened even as they twinkled with the light of the wheel around them. She moved in closer, her hands coming up to his chest, and running down slightly, leaving sparks of spectacular sensation in their wake. Killian wondered if she could feel his heart pounding out an accelerated beat, but her face gave nothing away except that she wanted him. For his part, Killian had never wanted anything as much as Emma, but he waited, impossible as it was. He’d promised her tonight would be on her terms, and though it was torture for the few seconds that she paused in this moment, the sweet relief of her lips on his when she pulled him down for their first kiss was euphoric.

The kiss started soft and slow and more than a little unsure. Emma’s move had been bold, but her embrace was less so, at least for the first few moments. He wondered if this was her first kiss, but then the thought flew away as she arched into him more. They were testing the waters, seeing if a kiss could live up to the promise between them, and it did. Honestly, it delivered so much more, and the feeling in Killian’s heart that was sparked by the kiss only solidified to him that Emma and he belonged together.

“I lied,” Emma whispered when they broke apart for a moment. Killian tried to recall what they’d even been talking about, since he was so moved from that life-altering kiss, but then she clarified. “This was my favorite part. Hands down.”

“Agreed, love, but I think we can do better. Don’t you?”

He didn’t wait for her answer, stealing another kiss from her and chasing that same feeling of bliss all over again. Soon the two of them got lost in each other. There was a need that had long ago sparked between them, one they’d been dancing around all night. The chemistry they shared raged to an all-consuming degree, and Killian never wanted to stop. Her taste incited something primal in him. He never wanted to be without it, or without the feel of her pressed up against him. His fingers ran through her silky hair, then his hands came to hold her close, loving the way she felt beneath him and how open to this that she was. Emma was just as needy as he was, and ultimately the only thing that could break them apart was a loud yelling from the riding car below them.

“Hey buddy, are we gonna move at some point? This thing has been stuck for like ten minutes. I got places to be!” The man who asked was clearly annoyed, and it was immediately apparent his ride around the wheel wasn’t going anywhere near as perfectly as Killian and Emma’s.

“Oh my God,” Emma said, her eyes filled with laughter and residual lust from their shared kisses. “We’ve been stopped? I didn’t even notice.”

“It’s news to me too,” Killian admitted, but just as he was about to kiss her again, the ride came to life, and it appeared this was last call at the fair. They took one last loop around before they needed to get off, and by that time everything else was closing up. The festival of fun was winding down, and now there was nowhere to go but home.

It was tough to bid farewell to this night, the first of what Killian hoped would be many to come, but he refused to let himself dwell on bad emotions. He knew without a doubt that this was just the beginning, and so he chose to be grateful and fulfilled at all that he and Emma had shared. Tonight had been magical, and it was only made more so by the fireflies lighting up their whole journey home. These lightening bugs seemed to follow them, illuminating the way where the moon and stars could not, and each time one flashed its yellow light, Emma looked more and more entranced. This, it seemed, was another first for Emma, and even Killian had to admit that the way they lit up the shadowed streets was picturesque. Still, when the moment came to say goodbye to Emma, Killian couldn’t bring himself to say the words. It felt wrong to leave her, and Killian didn’t know how he’d ever manage it. As for saying goodbye, it felt too final, and the weight of that word weighed heavily on his shoulders.

“I had a great time tonight,” Emma said, the tone in her delicate voice telling him that she was being nothing but totally honest. “I don’t want to sound lame, but…”

Killian moved to cup her cheek when she cast her eyes away, seemingly embarrassed. He ran his thumb across her skin, feeling its gentle softness again, and noticing how it felt just as wonderful as the first time earlier tonight. God, the craziest part about all of this was that she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but she didn’t seem to notice it. Emma was blind to all the things that made her remarkable. She didn’t seem to understand that she was gorgeous or brilliant or extraordinary. She thought herself plain, when there was no one more wonderful the world over.

“Emma, whatever you meant to say, I want to hear it. I want to know everything you’re thinking, and I promise that ‘lame’ is the very last thing I’d ever call a thought of yours.”

Emma melted into his embrace a little more, releasing a pent-up breath and relaxing into him. “It’s just… well if I’m really honest, tonight was one of the best nights of my life.”

It soothed him to hear her be so candid, and it invigorated him in a way he’d never been before. He felt like he could fly – hell, forget flying this was so much better! Having Emma care so much for him and open herself to what was growing between them was miraculous. He knew this was hard for her, and though again she’d shied away from speaking of anything too deep tonight, the little things she gave away had told Killian that normally Emma was cautious. Like him, she’d built up walls around herself, but her trust in the feelings between them had inspired her to try. She was taking a risk with him, and no matter what it took, Killian silently swore that he’d make that risk worth it for her, no matter what it took.

Instinctively, he pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her, and feeling the slender lines of her body mold against his. Having her close was of great comfort, but then she nestled in even closer and his heart lifted. She fit so perfectly with him, and when she was here, in his arms, it felt like a missing piece of who he was had returned. It might not be the part he lost when his mother passed, but it was another similarly important piece, one he’d never really had before. People might call him crazy, but he couldn’t help thinking, as he looked into Emma’s emerald eyes, that he was staring into the face of his future. He could see a whole life with Emma. Every milestone they were yet to face, he found he wanted to embark on with Emma at his side, and though he didn’t know how that could be yet, given that they lived a world apart most of the time, he knew he’d find a way.

“Mine too. I don’t want to rush you, love, but I feel it’s only right to tell you that I’m in this. I’m all in, Emma. It’s you and me, as long as you’ll have me.”

“So it’s not just a one-time thing?” Emma asked, her voice trembling ever so slightly with the last of her fear.

“No, love. It’s as far from a one-time thing as it can get. I want tomorrow and the next day. I want next week and next month. I want the whole summer and then thereafter. I want it all, and I know it’s ridiculously fast, but sometimes when you know, you know, and -,”

Whatever other words he had flew away the moment Emma pulled him down to kiss. They came together, just as hungry for each other as they were before, if not more, but now there was so much promise fused in with the embrace. In this kiss, Emma was telling him that she was on board with all his thinking. Even if he was crazy, it seemed she was just the same, and whatever this was, they were in it together.

They stayed that way, tied together with heat and lust and the beginnings of what he had to see as love. This was too strong an emotion to be anything else, and when they broke apart, both trying to catch their breath, he could tell from Emma’s expression that she felt it too. He wouldn’t speak the words tonight, not when they’d already been moving so quickly, but Killian knew it was just a matter of time before he said them. And as Emma took her leave, heading back through the wrought iron gate, after promising to see him tomorrow, he felt a growing sense of certainty that she was the one. Now all he had to do was show her that, and make a plan to keep them together, no matter what may come.

Post-Note: So there we have it! I can’t wait to see what you guys thought of the chapter and Killian and Emma’s first date. Hopefully you enjoyed it, and if you did then I have good news for you: the next chapter is another date also from Killian’s view, but this time it’s in the present where we started the story. I think a lot more will be answered then, but there’s still a long way to go in unraveling the past and building their future. Anyway, thanks so much to all of you for reading and for your continued support. Hope you have a great rest of your weekend!

[fiinalgiirls-aa]

GENERAL INFORMATION.

full name - jospehine harper ryan nicknames - joey, ryan gender / pronouns - she/her date of birth - july 12, 1996 place of birth - prescott, arizona / boot hill, arizona depending on verse citizenship / ethnicity - american / irish, english, scottish, icelandic. religion - atheist socioeconomic status / political affiliation - lower middle class; liberal. marital status - single, though may depend on verse. sexual & romantic orientation - bisexual. education / occupation - waitress. languages - english, some high school french and spanish

FAMILY INFORMATION.

parents - darby ( deceased ) & felicity ryan. siblings - heather, eldest sister ( deceased ); katherine, younger sister; edmund, younger brother. offspring - none pets / other - none. notable extended family - isabelle, niece and gabriel, nephew.

PHYSICAL INFORMATION.

faceclaim - maika monroe hair color / eye color - blonde / brown height / build - 5′6″ / slender tattoos / piercings - earlobes x 2. a few cartliage piercings. tattoo of ‘the moon’ tarot card on her left forearm. ‘x’ on her right middle finger. distinguishable features - big brown eyes, wild blonde hair

MEDICAL INFORMATION.

medical history - anxiety. known allergies - none. visual impairment / hearing impairment - none. nicotine use / drug use / alcohol use - very rarely will she smoke a cigarette or use drugs. drinks socially.

PERSONALITY.

traits - ( + ) amiable, stalwart, imaginative ; ( - ) melancholy, reserved, petulant tropes - small town boredom, desperately looking for a place in life, mommy issues, relative button, perky goth, cool aunt temperament - phlegmatic alignment - lawful good celtic tree zodiac - holly, the ruler mbti - infp hogwarts house - hufflepuff vice / virtue - envy / diligence likes / dislikes - fairy lights over a dark tapestry, old victorian houses, cats, a new pair of tights with no snags in them, a soft knit sweater, lavender lemonade, almond cookies, the sound of fallen leaves crunching underfoot /  people who dislike children, drunk drivers, the after-church sunday rush at her restaurant, ants, boys who are music elitists. quote - “she tastes like nectar and salt. nectar and salt and apples. pollen and stars and hinges. she tastes like fairy tales. swan maiden at midnight. cream on the tip of a fox’s tongue. she tastes like hope.”

FAVORITES.

food - bacon cheeseburger, and sweet potato fries. no mayo. drink - strawberry milkshake pizza topping - jalapenos, chicken, and pineapple color - black and pink music - dark synth, black or thrash metal books - we have always lived in the castle, by shirley jackson movies - suspiria, night of the living dead, uncle buck curse word - bullshit scents - peony, pumpkin, rain

BIOGRAPHY.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: disappearance of a family member, depression, death, car accident. DISCLAIMER: this biography was written for the group rp southouboundhq, but is mostly applicable to all verses.

josphine ryan is born the second of four to darby and felicity ryan on the hottest day in july. like her elder sister, she doesn’t have hardly more than a pale, peach fuzz or a gentle platinum swoop atop her head until the age of three. unlike her sister, joey hardly cries–even as a newborn–and never without reason. when heather learned to speak, she tried out every word, every syllable on her tongue–an intrepid speaker. joey takes her time and uses words deliberately, going from nothing to full sentences. the two girls are five years apart, but heather has been practicing this with her baby dolls for years. far apart in age, there are no closer sisters in villas adobes. as she grows older, joey thinks that, surely, there are no closer sisters in the world. it doesn’t change when the twins, katherine and edmund are born another four years later.

three girls and a boy, the ryan household is a bustling one. the kids all look after one another, getting along as well as parents can hope. heather and joey; katie and edmund. it’s just like that. it’s always like that. darby is a prestigious lawyer and they kids grow up hearing the tales of his life as a district attorney in seattle. one night, when the twins are asleep, heather asks him why he left seattle–why he left the job he loved so much. darby ryan racks his brain. he can’t remember. no matter how many times he’s asked the question, he can never remember.

one day, near the end of september, darby ryan walked out into the desert. he walked out into the desert and it was the most normal thing of all. he walked straight down silver mine road and felicity says that even one of the dominellis, or someone else over there near the funeral home, saw him walking down there and tried to wave and say hello, but he wouldn’t give them the time of day–didn’t even look them in their eyes. the cicadas sang their symphony to the desert night while darby ryan walked straight down that road , normal as can be, and he never came back.

the impact of grief affects her mother profoundly–how can you put a wandering spirit to rest?–but between the five of them, they make do. heather and joey, as the eldest girls, make sure the younger ones are looked after while felicity works two jobs. even after heather is on her own and starting her own family, she makes sure her siblings are taken care of. she fixes the lunches for the younger ones and trades out babysitting shifts with joey when she needs some solitude for homework or a trip to drive-in with margie and the girls.

joey is nearly seventeen when heather and her boyfriend die in the wreck that leaves joey with a broken arm and a small laceration to her forehead. hit by a drunk driver, joey’s niece and nephew are orphaned in one tragic accident. if her mother had been distant following her father’s disappearance, she is beside herself over the loss of her eldest daughter. within a year, felicity has lost both her job as a dental hygienist at old main street and as a waitress at the turquoise star diner. she rarely leaves her bed, let alone the house except to scrounge up enough cash for a trip to the liquor store. everything falls on the narrow shoulders of the eldest remaining daughter. still a girl herself, joey is hardly eligible for custody of her siblings and heather’s kids. on top of raising four kids, she makes efforts to maintain her mother’s image–only absent in public out of dedication to being a stay-at-home mother. the social security payments aren’t enough and joey starts working through high school. still a girl herself, she watches her sister and her dreams die in that same year.

she would’ve been a writer. some clever girl who’d spin words onto paper like she wraps blonde curls around her finger. outside this wretched place–a true boot hill, her family plot–she would have found adventures and peculiarities worth writing about. in boot hill, joey ryan finds only tedium and loss; boredom and death. history loves repeating itself like a chorus, or the nightly siren song of the cicadas, and the high school grad takes a waiting job at the same diner her mother was let go from. it paralyzes joey from making new connections; she tears up every phone number written on the back of some credit card receipt left on the table of the diner’s booths. she’s already raising four kids and her mom, most days, as well. she can’t afford a dream or a family of her own.

with the twins now in their senior year of high school, joey knows that they will move on–searching for their own lives, moving out to rent an apartment with a best friend, a lover. there are heather’s kids, seven and nine, and her mother that need looking after, and yet she feels more freedom now than she has had in the last six years. maybe someday she can get out of this place–even if it means leaving her loved ones behind. maybe someday she’ll walk out onto silver mine road, normal as can be, while the cicadas sing. she’ll walk right down that road like it’s the most normal thing in the world. she’ll pass right by a dominelli or maybe a close friend without a word or even a polite nod. maybe she’ll finally hear the cries of the amen shrieker. maybe she’ll hear nothing at all.

[doorsclosingslowly]

Atrocity Exhibition

Snapshots of the life and death of Savage Opress, from seventeen different angles. Drabble collection.

1.7k | also on AO3

I.

The body lies empty in the plaza, half-naked and with twin charred holes in his chest that must’ve done him in and already spotted with purplish death-bruising, and yet, he looks oddly peaceful. She kneels in respect: there is no doubt in her mind that Savage died to protect her Mand’Alor. He tried to, just like the soldiers that Death Watch has already found in the throne room, and just like them, he fell victim to the silent menace none could defend against.

“I’m still alive, but you are dead,” Rook Kast whispers. “I remember you. We will find Maul.”

II.

Her baby is a boy. Kycina had prayed for a girl, not for the sake of his sire, waiting captive in her rooms and soon to be killed for the deficiency in his seed, in the way of her mother and all women before her; but for herself. The boy, Savage, she will give into the care of his tribe, and when he has grown and been taken she will close her ears and weep his death. A girl, she’d have seen grow up, would have delighted in her every move.

A girl, she would have cradled to her chest.

III.

An obstacle, that’s all he is, or—an opportunity. Maul loves him. That long-discarded wretched failure of a traitorous apprentice has thrown in his lot with another of his species, a dumb brute with even less promise than Maul ever had, and he loves him. This is delightful. Sidious makes sure that Maul is fully conscious again by the time he slaughters the animal. He allows them their little goodbyes. It would take long to find physical pain that Maul hasn’t yet suffered, and he is well-acquainted with emotional abuse, but this: this loss, it was worth flying out for.

IV.

Always a step behind Maul, never in front. A trusted lieutenant, because he’s not the leader, not by a long shot, not with the shorter man’s arrogance in play. A shield, instead. And: a loved one. Pre Viszla sees it, in the way Savage stops the knife aimed at Maul, and in the total lack of flinch. Never a doubt he’ll intervene, and it’s mutual, certainly, what with Maul’s easily exploitable concern after the rescue.

That’s why, despite certain security concerns, he gives the order to lock both brothers inside the same cell. This is Mandalore, and family is honored.

V.

The young nightbrother has grown strong, Brother Viscus notes with silent helpless pride. On the field, Savage is straining muscles and cocky grins and there’s nary a yelp when the lance of his training partner strikes true, and then he wrestles the other teenager down and helps him up again. The boy is the very picture of a son of their tribe, powerful and kind with children and someday, Viscus thinks with a rend in his hearts he cannot seem to rid himself of, someday he will make a fine mate for the Sister who wins him as Her prize.

VI.

This new acolyte was a mistake, Darth Tyranus decides. He’d visited the Nightsister tribe in the belief that one of their males had been powerful and cunning enough to murder his own former Padawan, and he’d gone there despite the pain and disgust he feels whenever he thinks of the now-dead Darth Maul’s deed. He found: utter disappointment. Ignorance. Imbecility. Abjection. This is the kind of creature that dared best Qui-Gon?

On the floor, Opress whines and curls and begs for his brother—for the murderous beast that once enticed Tyranus—and so he gifts him another lesson of pain.

VII.

The enemy rushes onto the battlefield, cutting off that brother’s arm in a bright spray of arterial blood and choking this brother with massive claws, and right then Spotlight knows he was wrong. He’s been wondering, see: maybe they’re not so different, him and the Separatist flesh grunts. They look scared, before he shoots them, and Spotlight himself certainly wouldn’t be fighting this war if he wasn’t made to do it. No-one gets anything out of war but the civvies. But the beast has this wild look, like he’s karking enjoying it, and Spotlight was wrong. This is the end.

VIII.

Traitor, the droids name the Sith beast, and they shoot it instead of taking aim at him or Obi-Wan. Frankly, that’s fine by Anakin. He’d like to get a good chop in himself—somewhere, he is still that nine-year-old kid huddled on Naboo who was told that Qui-Gon Jinn was never coming back, that he’d been slain by the Sith, a kid who wanted to beg Who’ll be my Master now and couldn’t—Anakin wouldn’t mind taking on Dooku’s animal, but there’s no reason to risk entering the droid’s blaster-hail. Opress roars out a shockwave and flees. Next time, then.

IX.

It’s terrifying, even with his big brother beside him, and Feral can’t imagine how much worse his first trial would be, alone. Although. He shivers: being killed by the pale Woman, or accidentally by one of the other unlucky sods beside them, that’s bad (and it would already have happened, if Savage hadn’t interceded), but compared to… to being taken (Savage puts himself between another blow and Feral’s body) compared to being taken by the Sister, death is fine, and so’s being struck lame; but Savage will never let Feral get hurt. How are they gonna get out of this?

X.

The Sith looms. Angry growls and quick strikes and then—he shouldn’t be this strong, Adi Gallia thinks frantically, shouldn’t be able to overpower her this easily when she is a General and a Jedi Master and a Member of the High Council to boot, and it gives her terror for the future. He shouldn’t, because the Jedi triumphed and routed the Sith once before and hunted them to extinction; but they have returned, and the force favors them. Opress smacks her against the ship and spears her when she falls, and there is no death. There is the force.

XI.

What a moron. Looks strong—looks like mounds of juicy juicy meat, more like—but with all those nice muscles there’s not much space left over for brain, it appears, because, after that shitty strangling, the offworlder’s actually following Morley meekly to his doom. If he didn’t look as delicious or was a little less of a humorless prick, and what kind of catchphrase is Where is my brother? anyway… if Morley wasn’t so hungry, then he might even find it in him to feel bad for the ugly meathead. As it is: maybe Master will leave Morley some entrails.

XII.

He’s gonna kill her. This dude is actually going to kriffing kill her, not in a pervert way but in broad daylight, in the middle of the restaurant, grabbing her and holding her up and strangling her and everyone’s screaming, and Mikjoo was just going to look at his weird glowing amulet, that’s all. She was gonna make conversation, with a man who looked slightly sad and very lost and like he’d potentially give decent tips.

It’s not murder, in the end; he throws her to the floor and runs off, but that doesn’t mean he’s not a total psycho.

XIII.

Her creature drags himself to the table, drags himself home, bruised, a failure and: still alive. It’s a testament to Talzin’s craft that the bespelled nightbrother was able to return, and the result of her own shortcomings that Dooku yet lives. No matter. When young Asajj returns, another path to her vengeance shall be found. As for Savage Opress… in the crystal, Talzin sees her Maul, once stolen by Sidious and finally located, and there’s none more suited to fetching the boy than this durable, obedient tool. She speaks comfort and helps him up. There is further use for him.

XIV.

Her mate—or he would have been, if this was a normal coupling—he washes himself in the sink of the sister’s house where Asajj is staying, for this step in the grand plan of her revenge against her former Master. Trembles wrack his glistening bruised body, and she ignores them, according to her wishes and—she is sure—also his own.

Shock laces through him when instead of a kiss, she presents him to Mother Talzin, that and naked relief; but when he stands after the ritual, what’s left is not a mate. Not a nightbrother. Only—an instrument.

XV.

The foolish apprentice looks up from underneath Maul’s clawed foot, all thoughts of brazen challenge forgotten. There is no pain, not yet. This should be cause for further correction, Maul remembers, should result in screams, writhing and terror, but—a face, a familiar sort of face if Maul remembered his own and more still now he doesn’t, leads him from out his trash cave and into the light. A low voice rings through the nightmare. A hand offers meat. Safety. The apprentice looks up. The brother loves, despite everything.

Maul extends his hand. He doesn’t care to interrogate the instinct.

XVI.

Two brothers and a smoldering pile of corpses, that’s what Obi-Wan finds on Raydonia. Violence, senseless and vile, evident in this carnage and in the shaping of its perpetrators, for he’s visited their village, knows of enslavement and degradation and forced breeding, and knows that none should ever arise from such filth as exists on Dathomir and feel any compassion. Both were doomed from the moment of their birth.

He ignites his lightsaber and faces them. Unlikely though it is, he prays: for victory, but more still, for the chance to extinguish this cycle of violence with both their lives.

XVII.

He wrings his hands around Feral’s neck, or he doesn’t: he is watching his fingers kill, is looking down at them, and they’re not even the right size. A plea, silent, disembodied: they don’t look like his fingers. It’s only the perspective that does it, making them out to be his own body; that, and the self-aimed revulsion. Stop. They don’t, of course. His hands don’t belong to him anymore.

Afterwards, he won’t remember the Mother’s intrusion. He will see nothing but his own flesh, by his own will, killing his own brother.

Afterwards, Savage will only see: a monster.

[fiinalgiirls]

GENERAL INFORMATION.

full name - jospehine harper ryan nicknames - joey, ryan gender / pronouns - she/her date of birth - july 12, 1996 place of birth - prescott, arizona / boot hill, arizona depending on verse citizenship / ethnicity - american / irish, english, scottish, icelandic. religion - atheist socioeconomic status / political affiliation - lower middle class; liberal. marital status - single, though may depend on verse. sexual & romantic orientation - bisexual. education / occupation - waitress. languages - english, some high school french and spanish

FAMILY INFORMATION.

parents - darby ( deceased ) & felicity ryan. siblings - heather, eldest sister ( deceased ); katherine, younger sister; edmund, younger brother. offspring - none pets / other - none. notable extended family - isabelle, niece and gabriel, nephew.

PHYSICAL INFORMATION.

faceclaim - maika monroe hair color / eye color - blonde / brown height / build - 5′6″ / slender tattoos / piercings - earlobes x 2. a few cartliage piercings. tattoo of ‘the moon’ tarot card on her left forearm. ‘x’ on her right middle finger. distinguishable features - big brown eyes, wild blonde hair

MEDICAL INFORMATION.

medical history - anxiety. known allergies - none. visual impairment / hearing impairment - none. nicotine use / drug use / alcohol use - very rarely will she smoke a cigarette or use drugs. drinks socially.

PERSONALITY.

traits - amiable, stalwart, imaginative ; melancholy, reserved, petulant tropes - small town boredom, desperately looking for a place in life, mommy issues, relative button, perky goth, cool aunt temperament - phlegmatic alignment - lawful good celtic tree zodiac - holly, the ruler mbti - infp hogwarts house - hufflepuff vice / virtue - envy / diligence likes / dislikes - fairy lights over a dark tapestry, old victorian houses, cats, a new pair of tights with no snags in them, a soft knit sweater, lavender lemonade, almond cookies, the sound of fallen leaves crunching underfoot /  people who dislike children, drunk drivers, the after-church sunday rush at her restaurant, ants, boys who are music elitists. quote - “she tastes like nectar and salt. nectar and salt and apples. pollen and stars and hinges. she tastes like fairy tales. swan maiden at midnight. cream on the tip of a fox’s tongue. she tastes like hope.”

FAVORITES.

food - bacon cheeseburger, and sweet potato fries. no mayo. drink - strawberry milkshake pizza topping - jalapenos, chicken, and pineapple color - black and pink music - dark synth, black or thrash metal books - we have always lived in the castle, by shirley jackson movies - suspiria, night of the living dead, uncle buck curse word - bullshit scents - peony, pumpkin, rain

BIOGRAPHY,

trigger warnings: disappearance of a family member, depression, death, car accident

josphine ryan is born the second of four to darby and felicity ryan on the hottest day in july. like her elder sister, she doesn’t have hardly more than a pale, peach fuzz or a gentle platinum swoop atop her head until the age of three. unlike her sister, joey hardly cries–even as a newborn–and never without reason. when heather learned to speak, she tried out every word, every syllable on her tongue–an intrepid speaker. joey takes her time and uses words deliberately, going from nothing to full sentences. the two girls are five years apart, but heather has been practicing this with her baby dolls for years. far apart in age, there are no closer sisters in villas adobes. as she grows older, joey thinks that, surely, there are no closer sisters in the world. it doesn’t change when the twins, katherine and edmund are born another four years later.

three girls and a boy, the ryan household is a bustling one. the kids all look after one another, getting along as well as parents can hope. heather and joey; katie and edmund. it’s just like that. it’s always like that. darby is a prestigious lawyer and they kids grow up hearing the tales of his life as a district attorney in seattle. one night, when the twins are asleep, heather asks him why he left seattle–why he left the job he loved so much. darby ryan racks his brain. he can’t remember. no matter how many times he’s asked the question, he can never remember.

one day, near the end of september, darby ryan walked out into the desert. he walked out into the desert and it was the most normal thing of all. he walked straight down silver mine road and felicity says that even one of the dominellis, or someone else over there near the funeral home, saw him walking down there and tried to wave and say hello, but he wouldn’t give them the time of day–didn’t even look them in their eyes. the cicadas sang their symphony to the desert night while darby ryan walked straight down that road , normal as can be, and he never came back.

the impact of grief affects her mother profoundly–how can you put a wandering spirit to rest?–but between the five of them, they make do. heather and joey, as the eldest girls, make sure the younger ones are looked after while felicity works two jobs. even after heather is on her own and starting her own family, she makes sure her siblings are taken care of. she fixes the lunches for the younger ones and trades out babysitting shifts with joey when she needs some solitude for homework or a trip to drive-in with margie and the girls.

joey is nearly seventeen when heather and her boyfriend die in the wreck that leaves joey with a broken arm and a small laceration to her forehead. hit by a drunk driver, joey’s niece and nephew are orphaned in one tragic accident. if her mother had been distant following her father’s disappearance, she is beside herself over the loss of her eldest daughter. within a year, felicity has lost both her job as a dental hygienist at old main street and as a waitress at the turquoise star diner. she rarely leaves her bed, let alone the house except to scrounge up enough cash for a trip to the liquor store. everything falls on the narrow shoulders of the eldest remaining daughter. still a girl herself, joey is hardly eligible for custody of her siblings and heather’s kids. on top of raising four kids, she makes efforts to maintain her mother’s image–only absent in public out of dedication to being a stay-at-home mother. the social security payments aren’t enough and joey starts working through high school. still a girl herself, she watches her sister and her dreams die in that same year.

she would’ve been a writer. some clever girl who’d spin words onto paper like she wraps blonde curls around her finger. outside this wretched place–a true boot hill, her family plot–she would have found adventures and peculiarities worth writing about. in boot hill, joey ryan finds only tedium and loss; boredom and death. history loves repeating itself like a chorus, or the nightly siren song of the cicadas, and the high school grad takes a waiting job at the same diner her mother was let go from. it paralyzes joey from making new connections; she tears up every phone number written on the back of some credit card receipt left on the table of the diner’s booths. she’s already raising four kids and her mom, most days, as well. she can’t afford a dream or a family of her own.

with the twins now in their senior year of high school, joey knows that they will move on–searching for their own lives, moving out to rent an apartment with a best friend, a lover. there are heather’s kids, seven and nine, and her mother that need looking after, and yet she feels more freedom now than she has had in the last six years. maybe someday she can get out of this place–even if it means leaving her loved ones behind. maybe someday she’ll walk out onto silver mine road, normal as can be, while the cicadas sing. she’ll walk right down that road like it’s the most normal thing in the world. she’ll pass right by a dominelli or maybe a close friend without a word or even a polite nod. maybe she’ll finally hear the cries of the amen shrieker. maybe she’ll hear nothing at all.

[beautifulramblingbrains]

Crush - Chapter 1. Daydreaming.

Pairing: Eric/OC *Abbey* Fandom: Divergent Rating: M

A memory from Eric's past plays tricks on him. And it's all about the girl, Abbey Ainsworth.

A/N: So, as I’m in a state of limbo, I’ve taken it upon myself to slowly edit my way through my old work. This is my first fanfiction I ever did and I think it’s about time I began uploading it on here.

Abbey Ainsworth.

Fuck. He hadn't thought of that name in over three years. If it wasn't for the number boy he probably wouldn't have thought of it for another ten.

But today is different. Today he has the time to sit in remembrance. He has time to reminisce about what was - even if the memories give him a heated inner core and a bad case of the Monday's.

Stretching his legs leisurely under the table and sitting further back in his recliner chair, he has no further duties that require his personal attention for a good hour. He was enclosed and cocooned by the safety of his dimly-lit office with the blinds half-mast. He was safe here to empty the trashy thoughts that seemed to have crept up on him out of the hazy mist of his youthful brain.

Abbey Ainsworth.

Eric lazily flops his arm down to the drawer on the side of the desk, pulling the secret cigarettes that he always kept there. In fact, they weren't really a secret, he would smoke if he wanted and wouldn't care for who's say so. But he liked to think for his health that it was his dirty little secret, and right now, there didn't seem any better time than to pull one, bite the filter and light the damn thing. It was a need, a must, and he's already blazing it habitually as the name seems to simper back into his brain again.

Abbey Ainsworth.

He couldn't really remember when they became friends back at Erudite. It just, sort of, happened…

She used to be in his class. Brown bob, skinny, and her teeth too big for her head. They hadn't even spoken in between the years, he didn't even really know she existed and treated her to that same effect.

Eric regarded her as any other little annoying girl and that boys didn't hang around with girls, they were disgusting, vile, whiners.

That's until they got put together randomly in biology.

He'd just turned thirteen and honestly, couldn't think of anything worse than having to discuss with her the ecology and evolution of life through frog dissection. Having a girl as his lab partner… he all but groaned as he imagined her freaking out or possibly hurling like Sandy Morrison. But she didn't.

In fact, she'd taken the knife out of his gloved hands, smiled up at him through her vented safety goggles and sliced the stomach open before the teacher even gave them the go-ahead.

It was in that moment, the little annoying girl with the brown bob and teeth too big for her head, professionally and enthrallingly slicing and pulling apart the frog's skin like she was a complete psychopath - It was in that moment he knew they would be the best of friends.

It only seemed to get better as the year passed.

She helped him cheat in his Math's test at fourteen. They had devised a unique tap of the foot in the silenced room, to which she swirled numbers on her back with a finger once he'd alerted her to his entrapment, sometimes throwing a coy smile over her shoulder when authority wasn't looking. Afterward, they ditched all further lessons and took to the biggest oak tree they could find.

It was her idea.

She climbed first, swinging her bright blue bag over her shoulder and tying her woolen knitted jumper to her waist, calling him "Chicken shit," when he didn't attempt to climb in the first instance. But to be fair, he was just trying not to look up her dress as she uncaringly climbed from branch to branch.

There, they sat for hours until their asses felt raw, talking nothing but utter nonsense and mocking over the nerdy freaks in their class. Soon, it seemed to become a regular thing, so much so, that one day they both carved their names at the top - No hearts or any other drivel, just their names. But she drew a smiley face…

At one point when they were fifteen Abbey never turned up for school one day. It wasn't like her, she always turned up and he couldn't understand why.

It wasn't like he could message her - he got his phone confiscated by his parents when it got reported they had prank-called Desmond Drip too many times in one night.

But in the one day, he'd never felt so lost. Not even his other friends shared the same sense of indulgent humor as they did, and it was a plain fact he'd clock watched the entire day until he could go looking for her.

He'd found her, eventually. She was at home, and she'd answered the door barely able to look at him.

"What happened to your face?" he asked, and she diverted her eyes to the floor. There was one specific eye blackened and shining as a massive indicator of injustice, and the mere thought and sight made his blood boil to an inhuman temperature.

He knew by the way she was looking indirectly to the floor, that nothing was alright in the life of Abbey Ainsworth. He knew this look, it was a look he did himself, one of loss of pride, but also something she'd been trying to hide.

"Sarah Mackey." The words fall from her quivered but rosy lips.

"Why?" He watches as her eyes well up, but she won't cry, won't allow herself to, not in front of him.

"Because she says I'm a whore for hanging around with boys."

He'd left her that evening having found the new knowledge of deep personal interest. He'd found Sarah Mackey's older brother by the bench of the south entrance the next morning and, quite frankly, beat the living shit out of him.

"That's for Abbey!" he let bellow from the pit of his stomach once he'd dropped him. But it also earned him a matching black eye amid the chaos - that he wasn't too pleased with. It didn't matter though, as when he went to see Abbey later on that day, they matched…

Her smile beamed from ear to ear and strangely she threw her arms around his neck for thanks. It was their first ever hug… but it wasn't their last.

At sixteen, Abbey's hair was long. She'd filled out perfectly and she sported breasts, whereas he sported half-decent facial hair for once. But they still acted as if they were thirteen, name-calling, jinxing, free-hits.

They had their aptitude tests at the beginning of the year, and Eric was unsurprised to find that he wasn't Erudite after swiping the knife in the fear simulation and easily obliterating the dog. They weren't allowed to say what they got, but it didn't mean he hadn't the insatiable urge to ask Abbey. They settled for: "Not Erudite" instead, and that's the way it stayed.

Eric's father passed halfway through that year from a sudden heart attack.

The news was delivered to him after being escorted from their English class by their main professor and he was sent home accordingly. She turned up later that night, she didn't say anything, didn't have to. He saw she was already aware of the news. Instead of offering her condolences, Abbey pulled him into her arms, his face in her peppermint hair, her nose against his neck. He couldn't figure out how long they stood like that, but it was a long time. But it was enough, being with her at that moment was enough…

Then one day everything changed.

Abbey found him after class and jingled a cigarette in his face, well, what he thought was a cigarette. It was not until they were back at their tree within the ruined cities wilderness that he actually found out it was a joint.

They smoked that shit till their lungs burned and eyes bled.

They practiced blowbacks and he'd burnt his lip. She tried to teach him to blow rings but he Just. Simply. Couldn't. However, that didn't matter, they laughed highly for what seemed like hours at practically nothing. And it was the best time of his life.

Laying softly on the small pit of earth beneath the tree, watching the branches sway in the light breeze as the moon decided to make an appearance. He remembers it being a full moon, the dewy blue haze settling upon them softly and deliciously cool - that eventually he felt cold fingers slide over the back of his hand, placing themselves entwined with his.

The breath practically hitched in his throat and he'd froze, but it didn't stop him from turning his head and noticing the way she was looking at him. When their eyes met she'd smiled softly and chastely said:

"You're my moon."

Before slowly turning her gaze back up towards the tree and the sky and whatever else she was looking at. However, he didn't, he allowed him a few extra minutes to take in her never-noticed-before features. The gradual slope of her nose, the puckered lips, her long lazily blinking eyelashes as she was pooled by a pillow of her own chestnut hair framed around her head. It was in that moment, he realized how beautiful she was and wondered why he'd never seen it before.

They held hands in silence until midnight.

Eric's life came to a blazing, sharp, gut-wrenching, panicky ball of nerves when Abbey's parents invited him to dinner. He'd spent the whole day of the Friday panicking. He'd gone home and changed between four shades of blue before finalizing on something parent-worthy but utterly, boringly, blue... But what got to him the most was how he couldn't really figure out why this bothered him so much…

Of course, he'd met her parents, but briefly. And usually, it was because they were in trouble or he was coming to see if she was home. It was never formal, however.

All night he put on his best behavior and told them stories about himself, how he was doing in his classes, things he liked and didn't like. But in his side-view, Abbey just smiled at him from across the table as he spoke. He would almost say it was as if they were the only people in the room and his gray eyes would hold hers for moments far too long.

Till she slid her foot up his leg…

And continued to do so through dessert, earning him a temporary cough and marks in between his fingers from his own nails.

At seventeen, they had one year left to the choosing ceremony. And this seemed to pain Eric more than he would like.

He hadn't told her about which faction he was planning on joining after Erudite. He was far too broad and significantly provoked in the Erudite navy uniform with his great height and strong jawline. He wasn't in the slightest muscular, just athletic, but better built than the average men he'd seen milling around. But it wasn't just that…

Eric wanted more. He wanted freedom. He wanted power. He wanted to be Dauntless… But all those things he wanted with Abbey. However, the unknown faction of her choice was simpering on the fine edge of earth shattering heartache.

However, he could never find the right words to tell Abbey appropriately, even when every inch of him screamed him to out it. And when he felt that perhaps he had stumbled upon them and was about to let them slip, she turns and smiles at him, holds his hand, plays with his hair. It's like she knew what he was thinking.

At break, with his head in her lap and under the familiar oak tree. She lazily picks the petals from a flower. Nipping the petals softly, letting them flutter past his head, while he stares between her face and the puny white monstrosities of flower spawn. Then unexpectedly, she meets his eye.

"I want to show you something…" Abbey's cheeks ignite, and a million things run through his head. Had he missed something? Nothing usually gets by him.

She pushes him to sit and he drawls "Okkkay," unsurely.

Abbey blushes as she looks to the floor again and Eric hides his embarrassment for her.

She shrugs off her cardigan and slowly, her dainty fingers work at the buttons of her white shirt, painstakingly leisurely. All he can seem to do is stare with his Adam's apple bobbing repeatedly as he tries to swallow the saliva that's decided to form quicker.

She throws off her shirt and sits in a white lacy bra in front of him with her milky skin exposed. He tries his hardest to keep her gaze but he can't help the momentary acts of defiance his eyes seem to make.

"Wh-" Eric tries to talk with his jaw slack, but she hushes him quickly.

"Shh." She shuffles closer on her knees. "Don't ruin it." Slowly, she moves forwards, her eyes searching each of his and he stares back with the same passionate glint that he sees beginning to form in hers.

She kisses him.

His first kiss.

Her lips were hot and lusciously soft against his own, and he let his eyes close along with hers.

She bites at his bottom lip while pulling away slowly. He was surprised at first, but smiles when she tilts her head back to roam over his face briefly, maybe checking if he was possibly still breathing.

"Chicken shit," she says. "You're supposed to kiss me first."

"You're not exactly conventional." And she kisses his smile. This time he opens his mouth a little and she responds instantly, sliding her sweet tongue to search out his, hands sliding round to the back of his head and through his hair. He grips at her waist and pulls her forward, sliding a hand up her back and finding the lacy material of her bra, mentally trying to figure out just exactly how he's found himself in this scenario and whether he's the most luckiest son of a bitch on this planet.

"Take it off," she practically purrs, moving back a little to catch his reaction.

"What if someone sees us?"

"What if…" She shrugs. And like a classical school-boy, he fumbles for about five minutes trying to figure out the stupid clasp and can't fathom why it won't naturally move the way he wants it to. She merely giggles, and with a special superhuman ability – unclasps it with one hand.

Eric doesn't want to look out of courtesy but just can't help it. Perfectly pert, untouched skin sits before him, the nipple hardened and tempestuously pink.

"I want you to touch me, Eric." And he didn't need telling twice. The soft skin sits pleasantly against his palm as he lightly squeezes. Abbey leans in and kisses him again, pushing him further and further backward until he's almost lying flat and she hovers over him.

That day she tells him.

"I think – I think I love you…"

But he doesn't say it back, and she doesn't appear to be disheartened. She knows him too well to be put off by his uniquely restrictive mind. To be honest, he didn't even really know what love was, so how could he say it? Was this love?

Abbey had always been more openly emotional in front of him to some extent, she was a blunt girl when it came to him. Apart from physically showing emotional attachment, they'd never really talked about it…

But not only that, she didn't know that he was planning on choosing Dauntless next year. That's where his mind took him and it would be unfair to whisper the sweet nothings to her if he had no plan on staying.

Being with Abbey here was ultimately pleasing too, but he was so sure she would pick Dauntless. She had all the strengths and cunning, and if he was going, she would be going too. He could feel it, he knew it, no doubts.

Things became serious the day before the choosing ceremony.

Abbey shows up at his parent's place and is shown to his room by his mom throwing the door open unexpectedly. "Thank you, Mrs Coulter," Abbey says sweetly and smiles while stepping into his room.

Eric throws the book he was reading to one side and takes a minute to take in her appearance. She's sodden, walked there in the rain.

"I wanted to see you… before tomorrow, in case…" She shivers.

He signals for her to sit on the bed and throws her his towel. Her damp, flattened locks lay limp by her face. She looks pale, almost frightened.

"Don't, we shouldn't say…"

"That's not the only reason why I'm here. Lock the door," she talks very seriously and he complies - with a little sense of hesitation. She holds her hand out as the lock clicks and sighing lightly under the unknown, he walks over and holds it. "Lie down with me." Her eyes appear watery, hazy and he wonders what exactly is going through her mind right now. He moves, but she stops him. "Without your clothes."

"Are you sure?" He wasn't going to detest.

"I've never been so sure."

He would like to say that it was the most perfect sex anyone could have for their first time, but he would be lying. They were a giggling set of fools, clumsily roaming parts of their bodies that he'd never thought he would have the delight of seeing… or feeling. He'd made her squirm uncomfortably on their first try and he pulled out apologizing only to be dragged back with Abbey's natural stubbornness.

What was more thrilling was the fact that they could've been caught. However, they were lucky on this night, his mother had left them to their own devices. He did think that perhaps she maybe knew why Abbey was here and that was the reason she had let them be. Eric guessed he would never know and for in that moment – didn't care either…

Abbey gets called to choose before him, throwing him a long look before fixing a sturdy gaze towards the bowls of factions.

Eric can't help the nervous shifts and racing heart as he waits somewhat patiently, his mother's hand lightly laying on his knee for small comfort.

"She's a smart girl," his mother tells him. "And I know how close you two are but you have to do what's right for you, not for others…" At the time he didn't think too much of it, but his mother had openly predicted their fate.

…Abbey chooses Amity.

Every inch of skin on him is ablaze as he watches her make her way to sickening pink and yellow. looney nut-jobs. She looks utterly lost and tries to look back for him but is pulled into one of the open seats with the Amity faction. Abbey smiles to other members, but it's not her usual, he should know, he knew her better than anyone else. However, he didn't expect this, never knew which way her heart was taking her.

If he'd thought about it hard enough, the signs were there: Their oak tree, the outdoors and love of flowers, hate of violence with Sarah Mackey, the relaxing smoke they took together under the moonlight and hugging him obsessively for the last three years.

He'd always classed it is a warped sense of Dauntless, never Amity.

His blood burned with a sense of betrayal. It felt like she had lied all this time, but he knew she hadn't and that he couldn't truly be mad of her choice in all respect. The anger was more at himself for feeling how he did towards her, and for the main element – he'd have to let her go.

The last time they saw each other, he shared an expressionless look towards her watery eyes as they parted ways on their journey to their new factions.

Dauntless was his new home.

Sighing as he pulls himself from his lost thoughts, he once again curses Four for his untimely reminder of Abbey Ainsworth and wiggles the mouse of the computer to check the time.

11.50AM

Eric clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth in annoyed anticipation that he would have to deal with this onslaught of deliverance. Amity would be arriving soon. Their trucks dirtied and thick tiered tires crunching the broken concrete of Dauntless instead of their plush fields, laden with the hippies of Amity and batches of produce for the glutinous warrior faction.

Just fucking dandy.

Every vertebra clicks as he stands, his room washed with the smell of a chain-smoker and an awful temper for inconveniences. He doesn't bother to pick up his phone, but he attaches his gun to his right thigh and an A4 page of the checklist he will no doubt develop a headache over.

The walk from his office to the warehouses isn't long, and he's never bothered by anyone. No one now would dare talk to him when he was in this mood, nor even make eye contact, and that was the way he liked it these days, a far cry to how he was in Erudite.

He supposed the behavior was always there in a way. He spat at the youngsters and she would laugh. He would fetch the ball from the moat and she would stay by the shore and dry. He would physically beat anyone that touched his Abbey and was always rewarded by her smile.

Eric shakes his head vigorously; he's not going back down that road again. That was a hell of enough for one day.

"So glad you could join us, Eric." Max stares out to the trucks rolling up in front of them. "I had a feeling you might not even turn up."

"Is that a sense of sarcasm I'm hearing?" Eric places his hands behind his back and imitates the strong look towards the truck, unbothered by the small questioning glance to his rather unusual passive state. "Let's just get this done."

The few subordinate Dauntless soldiers run a-mock as they divert the trucks to their certain bays. The heavy beeping and shouting drowning out even the deepest of thoughts as the gassy smoke from the exhausts back-fire and smolder the burning oil towards his nostrils.

Eric has stood here and overlooked this arrangement fifty times over, and as far as he was aware everything was working out the way it should before him and he didn't feel the need to intervene.

…Until one of the trucks stall and the backdoor unhinges, sending bags of produce tumbling out the back and smashing onto the floor, spilling ungracefully across the lot.

"Fuck," Eric mutters and Max sends him an incredulous look, unmoving from his position. "Fine. I'll go then."

Eric closes the gap brutally with his swift stride and arms himself for the onslaught of abuse that he's going to send the clumsy Amity packing-with. The Amity and Dauntless alike in the nearest vicinity move hastily in retreat and he doesn't bless them with even a small act of acknowledgment.

Instead, he grips the door handle of the red rust-bucket truck and yanks on it with limited grace. "You want to tell me what the fuck-"

He stops mid-sentence.

Eric must've have smoked too much tobacco and daydreamed far too much to be imagining her blushing down at him from the wrecked material seats of the truck.

Abbey.

It was her, he was sure of it, albeit a little more mature and magnificently filled out to the svelte of her curves. It was her.

Abbey's hair was still chestnut, her eyes still green and flecked with hazel, her adorable pout, and perfect nose. But she had bangs, side-swept bangs that were the only difference.

"I'm really sorry…" She begins and he wished he could have said anything other than:

"Abbey?" The word was so out of character and soft that he didn't believe he'd even said it. He naturally pulls his features into his usual frown, but the eyes are less intense, it was all about the eyes.

He physically hadn't said her name in years, it was all mainly in his thoughts from earlier. Fuck, he hadn't even thought of her since - until today…

Abbey's face is a maze of assumptions as she mulls over exactly who's standing in front of her. Slowly, but surely, disbelief arises. "…No way…" She whispers under her breath and his skin prickles at the sound. "Eric?"

He takes a small look around him to make sure no one's really paying attention before shifting closer. "What are you- why are you here?"

And as casually as ever, she laughs, smiling that familiar smile he remembered so well. "What does it look like?" He could bite his own tongue off for his stupid questions and stupid face so pitifully brimming on a long-lost hope.

Abbey slides down the seats and roams over his attire, curling her nose up a little and probably taking in the thick tattoos swamping his neck along with the piercings above his brow and multiple ear pieces. "Wow, Eric, you look…huge…like…really big…" Her eyes light up as she talks and expresses each word specifically. "Buff."

She looks pretty, too fucking pretty at this moment in time and every inch of him is trying to suppress the urge to grab her by the arm and take her all the way back to his apartment and bite at her skin and relish all the ways that he missed that knotted feeling at the pit of his stomach.

"You know me, full of surprises…"

"I heard you got ranked really highly… a Leader… Wow, look at you…" She rubs his arm and he thinks perhaps she doesn't know how offensive that would be if it were anyone else, but he lets her anyway.

Eric breaks the intense study he's performing over her appearance and directs a sharp look to the Amity standing around. "Well, don't just stand there, clean it up!" he snaps and Abbey shifts beside him, turning fractionally to do as he says. "Not you." He should say something else, something casual. However, he's somewhat out of practice. "You haven't changed a bit…" Good one.

"You certainly have. I mean, I barely recognized you. It's been-" She peers off in thought, her lips pouting slightly.

"Three years."

"Somebody has been counting…" She devours him with her eyes and he's actually nervous… nervous… he is never nervous. But he supposes every monster has their weaknesses.

"I, er, have been thinking about you…" Eric practically whispers, breaking any personal contact with her. "-because of the deliveries and Amity, and I knew you were-"

"I've been thinking about you, too." She stops his murmuring and lightly touches his arm again. "I hoped I'd get the chance to see you again."

His expression must ask the question 'why' as she answers anyway.

"I want you…" She hesitates for a split second. "I want you to come to my wedding…"

What. The. Fuck.

"No!" Eric spits the word venomously, a heat running from the base of his spine and blanching onto his neck. "Don't be stupid, you're not getting married."

"Erm, yes I am… In two weeks."

Eric knew she couldn't possibly love her fiancé; he wouldn't be enough for her, no one ever would be. Only Eric was meant for the girl. - This girl of all his firsts. This girl that spent far too much time clogging his mind today and sculpting his childhood.

The possessiveness was beginning to peak under the new assault of jealousy and lust. He would rip any person that would touch his Abbey, from limb to limb and enjoy himself while doing it.

"No," he says gruffly. "No I will not come to your wedding and you're an idiot for thinking so…" He leaves the words to linger in the air and it physically hurts when her face unravels in absolute surprise at his outburst and brutal honesty.

"Have I… done something to offend you?" She shrugs with her palms towards him in great apology, but it's not enough.

Eric beats down the eloping misery and turns away from her, feeling her eyes burn into the back of his head and the ripping sensation in his chest.

Loudly he snarls, "I hope you have a very happy life together."

This was not what he planned, not what he wanted to say, but the monster that was him couldn't bare her anywhere near him anymore. Not with those hideously exposed revelations.

Abbey will not marry another man… not while he still breathed.

He just needed time to figure out how. Marking his own words, he'll fucking stop her from devoting herself to someone else. He had the power swaying heavily in his favor and contacts heavily primed in Amity to help him do so.

Mark my words, Abbey Ainsworth will be mine.

[yeolsmuffin]

Married to a Monster - Six

Paring: kaiXreader, minseokXreader

Word Count: 2.2k

Genre: Angst&Fluff || husband!Jongin, best friend!Jongdae, best friend!Minseok

Summary: Being forced into a marriage with your first love/childhood best friend is messy - especially when he was the sole reason you attempted to kill yourself and the reason your body is riddled with scars. Old wounds were opened but you pushed yourself to figure things out, if not for yourself, then for your deceased sister whose death seemed to keep haunting you and Jongin.

Notes: This series will contain talk of suicide, self-harm, abuse, death and possibly more.  Smut will be rated [M].

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Eleven | Twelve | Thirteen | Fourteen | Fifteen [M] | Sixteen | Seventeen | Eighteen | Nineteen | Twenty [M] | Twenty-One | Twenty-Two |

Minseok licked his lips and looked off into the distance awkwardly, “I have to protect her, Kai.”

“Not from me,” Kai said but as quickly as the words left his mouth he knew he was wrong. He knew he was wrong because Minseok indeed had to protect you from him, he spent four years of his life protecting you from Kai. Now, things were different though. He couldn’t tell Minseok not to worry that there was nothing to be afraid of now because he knew Minseok would still worry. While Kai conditioned you to hate him, he also inadvertently conditioned two of his best friends to protect you from himself.

Even if things were different now, he knew the two boys would always look out for you. Minseok watched Kai carefully but said nothing in response as Minseok’s expression spoke enough for the both of them. While Minseok knew Kai was more reformed now, it didn’t take away the past.

“I’ll protect her from me too,” Kai said sadly as he looked over at your curled up body on the bed watching as you said Minseok’s name in a small and sad voice while you slept.

Sunlight was pouring into your vision as you stiffly woke up. You had slept for what seemed like more than eight hours and your eyes hurt once you finally opened them. You rolled over on your side groaning when your eyes were met with the bright open windows.

Wait. You sat up quickly and saw that you were in the king-sized bed that adorned the room. How did you get here? You had remembered Minseok being over and you falling asleep on the couch, but how did you get to the bed? And who put you there? You looked down at the bare skin of your arms, wondering if you would have to burn it off if you found out that Kai had touched you.

“I’m sorry, it was the only way I knew to wake you,” Kai said from behind you.

You looked over at the side of the bed that faced the window and to your relief, it seemed that he hadn’t slept in the still made side of the bed. The sun was still streaming through the windows as your eyes met Kai’s tall form that was standing nearby the window. You had to shade your eyes to properly see him. Of course the asshole looked handsome. His good looks used to faze you in the past, but thankfully, that was no more.

“Or you could have let me sleep,” you mumbled, pulling yourself out of bed.

He ignored what you said, “Minseok was the one that put you in bed last night if you were wondering.”

You felt butterflies at the mention of Minseok. You had enjoyed seeing him last night and while before you were going to try to move on from the boys, your marriage to Kai put a damper in the whole plan. Now, you would let Minseok back in – and of course Jongdae. After all, Minseok and Jongdae had a way of making you feel good and you could never forget your past now.

There were so many times they had held you and comforted you when you hadn’t asked. There were times they had saved you when you hadn’t asked. The two boys were like angels. And somehow they always seemed to know when you had hurt yourself.

The scars that littered your body were just that now. You wouldn’t need the two boys to bandage you up and stay with you to keep you from inflicting harm. But emotionally, you still could use the love that they had always shown you. You hadn’t had any friends since them as you had lost most of your friends after Hani’s death. Not that you had many before then - it was always you, Hani, and Jongin against the world.

“That was nice of him,” you said as you pulled a dress out of your suitcase that was now placed neatly by the bedside. You turned to go to the bathroom so you could shower, but Kai walking towards you stopped you.

It was almost impossible not to hiss at him as he approached you but thankfully he kept his distance. “I was thinking we could do something today?” He bit his lip nervously and stared at you with his dark eyes.

You automatically cringed away, “Why?”

That got him. He looked away from you and licked his lips before flicking his gaze back to you, “Just to have some fun, I mean this is supposed to be like a mini-vacation,” he put his hands up and shrugged.

It felt weird to you. It felt weird to go from Kai being the mean and cold-hearted person he had become, to finally leaving you alone, and now being nice. Why was he being nice? You didn’t want nice from him anymore. You didn’t need it.

Sure, Kai had fucked you up and you were weak in the past, but you had spent two years building up your strength. Just because you cried from anger and frustration didn’t mean you were any longer the weak girl you once were. You were broken in ways that wouldn’t ever be repaired, but you had also healed up.

Hani’s death still haunted you, but you tried to carry her with you in ways you knew she wanted. She never wanted your sadness and she sure as hell never wanted you to be weak. Hani protected you when you were younger and now that she wasn’t here to do that, you had to do it yourself.

Although, once again you had Minseok to help you.

Minseok had a way of making you feel like the small vulnerable girl again at times, but not necessarily in a bad way. In a he-can-protect-me-from-evil, type of way.

“I don’t think we should spend much time alone,” you said.

“Is it because you don’t trust me?” he asked, a tone of hurt glazing his voice.

You walked closer to Kai even though it made your skin crawl, “No. I don’t trust you. That’s not the point. You didn’t want me around before so why now? Because we’re married? Listen, I don’t care about that. It’s not like we can make this work and have a happily ever after. We can live in the same house but that doesn’t mean we have to be anything to each other.”

He didn’t say anything for several moments as he looked down at his feet. You walked away and towards the bathroom when Kai finally spoke up, “Minseok and Jongdae will be there,” his voice cracked.

You nodded but didn’t turn back towards him, “I’ll go for them then.”

“I never got to properly tell you since I’ve been a bit of a grump every time I’ve seen you, but I missed you, Jongdae.”

Jongdae pulled you into a tight hug, “I figured you did,” he laughed when you smacked at his back, “I missed you more than you can imagine.”

When you pulled away, you noticed Kai was looking at the two of you so you just rolled your eyes and caught up with Minseok who was leading you guys on the hike you guys were taking.

You couldn’t help but groan when you learned that it was Minseok’s idea for the hike, but he insisted that a little fresh air would be good for you.

What would be good for you would be to take a flight home, annul this marriage and pretend it never happened.

You guys had barely started the hike and you were already ready to be done with it. The weather seemed like it would be a beautiful day, but the air was thick and humid as you guys started the hiking trail.

“I hate you,” you whispered once you reached Minseok’s side.

He looked over at you with a smile, “No you don’t.”

“Okay, I don’t. But I hate you for the idea of hiking.”

He shook his head, “It’s a typical honeymoon activity, Y/N.”

That made you feel cold inside, “This isn’t a typical marriage, Minseok,” you said through gritted teeth.

With a sigh, he grabbed your hand, making everything warm up again. “I’m sorry, it’s an adjustment for us all you know.”

“You don’t have to live with him,” you said knowing that Kai could very well hear you since he and Jongdae were following you and Minseok.

He squeezed your hand, “Yes, but I have to live with the fact that you’re married,” he said his words so quietly so the two boys behind the two of you couldn’t hear.

You raised your eyebrows and felt your pulse quickening. “W-what?”

Minseok shook his head again and instead of speaking, just offered you a sad smile urging you not to ask further.

You weren’t sure what he meant by it, but butterflies erupted inside your stomach making you nervous to even be holding Minseok’s hand but you couldn’t let go. Especially when you had a habit of tripping over every damn rock on the hiking trail.

As you guys walked further, it was evident that this hiking trail was made to be romantic. There was bright foliage and colorful flowers decorating the pathway. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of the various types of plants that you had never seen before, being immersed in the details of each. You knew you would want to draw once you got back home so you took pictures of everything you could.

There were also sparkling waterfalls that cascaded from large rocks and mountains making the air crisper than it had been around the hotel. The humidity increased the further the four of you scaled, but you didn’t mind. You ignored the sweat that was dampening your skin as the sight was so beautiful.

You were at loss for words at your surroundings as you still tightly clutched onto Minseok’s hand and you further guys ascended the trail.

Holding onto Minseok, you could almost zone out Jongdae and Kai behind you. You could pretend that you were on your honeymoon with him and enjoying sightseeing alone. Stopping to take pictures of your surroundings together and sharing soft hugs and little kisses as you enjoyed the foreign land.

It was a beautiful dream but no matter how hard you imagined it and pressed your fingers into Minseok’s, you could still feel Kai’s presence behind you. You remembered that even if you didn’t want to be, you were Kai’s in a way and you wouldn’t get the chance to ever be fully with someone else.

Minseok made you feel special and you couldn’t help but be infatuated with him. But even if Minseok felt the same, which you were sure he didn’t, there was nothing the two of you could do about it.

You were bound to the asshole and you all knew it.

If you had another life, you wished you could meet with Minseok again. You wished that the two of your lives would intersect and that maybe you could be happy with him. You wished that in that life that he liked you back and maybe you could have a family together. Minseok was nothing short of your dream guy. You could only hope for another lifetime but with him.

This life, you were stuck with Kai, the man who had once been your dream guy. You shivered at the thought and held back a laugh. If only you had been smart then. If only you had known then.

You and Hani were fooled by him.

Once Hani was gone, the monster was released.

The one the two of you knew had evolved. No longer the sweet Jongin.

Sometimes you lumped Jongin and Kai as the same person because, in a literal sense, they were the same person. Although, there were many times when you saw the true difference between the two and you saw them as separate. There were times when you would grieve for Jongin almost as much as you grieved for Hani - while other times, you were angry at Jongin for not being who you thought he was.

It was as if your mind was in a constant battle.

It took a long time, but after what seemed like a two-hour hike, you guys had reached the top of the trail. It opened up onto a mountain top that was surrounded by a stunning view.

You were high up, surrounded by other mountains, a wide expansive view of the land around you. The bright green of the treetops and the earth tones of the other mountains was something that sparked your artistic mind. The horizon was breathtaking. This was something that you had always dreamed of painting.

“It’s beautiful,” you whispered to Minseok as you let go of his hand to take pictures of the view. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He laughed lightly as he snapped a few pictures of you without your permission, but you were too caught up in taking your own pictures.

When you had finished, Jongdae held out a selfie stick with a grin, “Group picture?”

You pointed at him and laughed bitterly, “Not a chance, Jongdae.” You didn’t mind taking pictures, but what you minded was Kai being involved. You didn’t need in evidence of him ruining your life as you felt the effects every day.

“Please, Y/N,” Minseok whined in your ear, “for me.”

You put a hand on your head and groaned. You couldn’t say no to Minseok very easily. “Fine.”

Although, the second that Minseok suggested you stand by Kai, you instantly said no to him and instead, you stood by Minseok as Jongdae stood in between you and Kai and snapped a few pictures.

“Smile, Y/N or we will be here all night,” Jongdae said in a sing-song voice.

You rolled your eyes but a smile broke across your face when Minseok started to run his hands over your waist and tickle mercilessly.

“That’s my girl!” Jongdae said as he took some more pictures.

You had to admit that you enjoyed yourself on the hike, even if it took a couple hours. But you didn’t enjoy it because of Kai… or even because of Jongdae. You enjoyed it solely for Minseok and you knew that was wrong.

--->seven<---

masterlist 

[megxrx-blog]

Event Questionnaire

"Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would they want as a dinner guest?"

Meg: "Well, I would have to say that I'd really like to have dinner with Donald Trump, if only to stab a fork into his tiny hands every time he opens his mouth. And then watch him choke on his hot wings." Madeline:  "I have to say Mrs. Ruth Bader Ginsburg. She's influential to the nation, and stands up for what she believes in. Even managed to be close friends with the man who's on the extreme end of her political spectrum. It's respectable."

"Would they like to be famous? In what way?"

Madeline: "Not really, not unless there's a way for me to be famous for fixing the legal system. Yourself?"  Meg: "Not really. Seems like an awful lot of work, plus I'd have people trying to dictate what I wore and what I said. It's a damn shame no one famous is real anymore."

“What would constitute a “perfect” day for them?”

Madeline: “Working hard on a case, seeing some of the kids I've helped through the year, then heading home with a glass of wine and someone special waiting for me at the door. You?” Meg: "Riding past the town borders off into the sunset on a full tank of gas."

“Secret hunch on how you'll die?”

Meg:"In my bed, safe and sound at the ripe old age of eighty, surrounded by my grandchildren." Meg let out a sarcastic laugh, rolling her eyes. "Probably soon,  doing something stupid and awesome." Madeline: "I'll die by some opposing side's client- undoubtedly. Just my luck." Madeline said, a bitter smile twisting up her lips.

“What do we have in common?”

Madeline: “Names begin with M. Both got fucked over by love.” Meg: “We both like wine and drinking when we've had a rough day. Both brunettes too."

“For what in their life do they feel most grateful?”

Meg: “My motorcycle. One day I'll have the chance to leave and I'll ride that thing as far as a tank will get me away from everyone and everything here." Madeline: “That the children I've helped through my job have come and appreciated my attempts. People like Flynn, Lucius, and others like them."

“Change one thing on how they were raised- what would it be”

Madeline:"The fact that my parents were killed and I was sent to my uncle- I wish none of that happened.” Meg: "I wish my mom wasn't a goddamn idiot - getting herself arrested and me taken away from her until she cleaned up her act. I was doing just fine until I got put in foster care."

“If you could wake up tomorrow with one new quality/ ability, what would it be?”

Madeline: "I suppose a lie detector? It would be more helpful with my profession, for sure." Meg: "I think it'd be rather convenient to kill with a look, don't you? Or even to be like the sirens - able to make anyone do things for you with just your voice."

"Crystal ball could tell them the truth on one thing: what do you wanna know?”

Madeline: “Are my parents truly still with me- even if they're no longer beside me?" Meg: "Did he ever really love me or was it just an act the entire time?”

“What’s their life’s ambition?”

Madeline:"Save as many children as possible." Meg: "I mean...." Meg paused. "Can I pass? I'm still not sure what it is. I just... I know it's not this." She waved a hand, gesturing to everything around her

“What is the greatest accomplishment of their life?"

Madeline: Groaning, Madeline took a quick drink and shook her head. "Can I be cliche and say saving others? Or... making lasting connections with others." Shrugging, she slid a hand down her face in indecision. Meg: Meg let out a low wolf whistle. "Sounds like we've got an accomplished woman up in here. I'm gonna be basic, and go with making it this far. Who'dve ever thought little Floros would've gotten to 25 with a job and a place of her own?" Madeline: "Never had a doubt." Madeline said with a wink."

“What do you value most in a friendship?"

Meg: “One of the few," Meg pointed out, raising her brows and taking a sip of her drink. "Someone I don't have to be so guarded around - who doesn't want to fix me, who gets that I am who I am and that's it. Someone I can trust." Madeline: "I'd agree, someone I can trust. Loyalty is also huge for me." Madeline agreed, running the fingertip along the rim of her glass.”

"Most treasured memory?" 

Madeline: "Mine is winning my first abuse case and having the judge tell me I was born to be in this field." Meg: Meg hummed, nodding. "There was this one moment - just one of those when you have perfect clarity. Sure, I was high, and yeah, I might've jumped a fence to sit on a field and watch the military planes fly overhead, and true, what I was realizing wasn't exactly pleasant, but it was just this rush of clarity. It just hit me. And I've never felt half as in control of all my senses as I was in that one moment." Madeline: "Damn. I'll toast to that." Madeline said, raising her glass. "Now the worst memory..." Meg: Meg laughed. "The same moment. Ironic, right?" Madeline: "I'm sorry to hear that, Meg. Mine is probably the moment I heard my parents died, and I had to figure out life without them." Meg: Meg grew quiet. "I'm sorry Madeline. How old were you, if you don't mind me asking?" Madeline: I was seventeen," she said, taking a long drink and swallowing it carefully. "They were driving home, a storm rolled in and the rain and lightening... they slid off the side of the road. Rolled down a hill. They died while the paramedics were trying to get them out." Meg:"Damn," Meg took a sip of her beer. What did you say to someone after a confession like that? "I'm sorry for your loss." Madeline: "It's alright, Love. We all have loss." Madeline reasoned, finishing off her drink before pouring another one. 

"What does friendship mean to you?"

Meg: Was it cheesy to say this? Meg gave a half hearted laugh. "Trust. Being able to talk about all this and knowing it doesn't leave you and I." Madeline: ”Knowing no matter what you're going through or what you say, someone will listen and support you. Just as you've done for me." Madeline agreed, leaning her head against the brunette's shoulder for a split second before straightening up. "Positive characters about Megara... -Loyalty, -Honesty, -Understanding, -Realness... is that a word? I used it in a sentence so I'm saying yes. -Fighting spirit. I could go on, but I'd sooner write it all down so you can read it again later." Meg: Meg didn't know how to react to the girl's touch, just sitting still so she wouldn't disturb the woman laying on her shoulder. "Um...." She began, clearing her throat. "Well, there's compassionate. And focused. Driven that's for sure - dedicated. And intelligent." Madeline: Chuckling at her list, Madeline nodded her thanks. "How close and warm is your family..." the attorney trailed off, not realizing the next question until it was already too late. Meg: "Nonexistent," Meg shifted in her seat, moving her glass to her lips. "Next question." Madeline: "I could say the same. The orphans I've helped over the years are a different story. They're my adopted family." Madeline said, a sad smile in place.

"Most embarrassing story?"

Meg: "I think this is the time I tell you about how I found out my ex was cheating on me after I already gave up everything for him and for months, kicked myself about how I missed the signs, but really, there was this one time I hopped a fence when I was fourteen. Got my pants pocket stuck on the fence and ripped my pants and got stuck on the top." Madeline: “No." Madeline covered her mouth to try and stop any laughter that threatened to bubble out. Megara trusted her with important information- she was no so foolish as to start outright laughing. Meg:“Yeah." Meg nodded, a grin playing about her lips. "And of course that's the day that I wore my wonder woman underwear. You?" Madeline: “Oh Hun, at least you chose appropriate underwear!" Madeline tried to reason, wincing in sympathy for the other's plight. “Alright, let me set the scene." Madeline held her hands aloft in front of them both, trying to paint the scene for Megara's pleasure. "Young woman, fresh out of college, a degree under my belt and feeling pretty smart. I was applying for an internship in New York- flew all the way out there to go to an interview. I'm dressed in white and pale pink- important details, I assure you. On my way there, I'm nervous. I grab a coffee from a street vendor. I make it all the way to the interview, take one last gulp of coffee as I'm about to pull on the glass doors, and not only do I smack my head right into the door because I don't see the glass, but I feel something with LEGS crawl in my mouth. Vomit, everywhere. The nerves kicked in, the sensation freaked me out, and the embarrassment was unimaginable. Turned out to be a cockroach, and it turned out vomit doesn't come out of a silk shirt. As for the interview, let's just say I came right back to Charming and grabbed the job here instead." Meg: Meg stifled her laughter unsuccessfully, the brunette breaking out into laughter, her shoulders shaking and her nose crinkling. "I'm sorry I just... Oh god. I can only imagine the interviewer's face." Madeline: Nodding, Madeline took a sip of her drink, letting the woman enjoy her laughter and offering a few giggles of her own. "It was so bad, Meg. So, so bad. Now, when did you last cry, my Dear?""I the other night- I heard someone's hypothetical abuse case and I went home and just cried on my sofa for a little bit. Yourself?" Meg: “I can imagine. Oh god. Well," she shrugged. "At least you came back - otherwise we never would've met." She paused, thinking about it. "Been a few years." Madeline: "I'm very grateful to be back. After all, I wouldn't survive without you and our little therapy sessions." Madeline offered, winking to Megara. "You know, I'm really grateful we get to do this little questionnaire, Megara. I've learned you're a very honest and real person- not someone who puts up charades like others I know. I appreciate your honesty, and I'm lucky to know you, my Dear." Meg: Meg grinned, though she hated the way that Madeline called these therapy sessions. She'd been in some fucked up situations before but successfully avoided therapy each time. "Yeah. I really appreciate your honesty. I know I can trust you with anything and it won't leave our conversation.Clearing her throat, she shot the other woman a grin. 

"What, if anything, do they think is too serious to be joked about?"

Meg: "In my professional opinion I'd say childhood trauma or parent shit. But everything else is fair game.” Madeline"Confidentiality is my specialty." Madeline joked, shooting her a quick grin before sobering at the topic. "Abuse, domestic violence, and anything pertaining to the Holocaust. The two for my profession, the third simply because I can't imagine it being a joke. Not in today's world."

"Let's say your house is on fire. What would you save from the flames?"

Meg: Meg nodded, silently agreeing. "My jacket. Wallet. Phone and charger." She laughed. "I've got very little in that place I'd want to remember. You?” Madeline:"Fair enough. Cash in on the insurance and make new memories somewhere else." Madeline agreed, nodding. "The photo albums. It's all I have left from everything. Everything else is replaceable."

"And now, for the grand finale, who's death in your family would you be most disturbed by?"

Meg: Meg let out a laugh. Another family question. Easier to answer since she was alone. "Mine. And you?"

Madeline: ”I'll toast to the same answer." Madeline agreed, raising her glass and offering it for a toast.