“I’ve experienced failure, but I’ve also experienced beautiful moments and people that I could have never imagined or planned. I am so thankful for it all: successes and failures and everything in between, and I can’t wait to see what happens next.” Emily Kinney - Darling Magazine
“The time is twelve thirty five AM, March twelfth, twenty sixty nine.”
Lena’s face went white. “…that…seven months? I’ve been gone seven months?”
Emily nodded, her face falling. “You…we were holding your funeral when you appeared right in front of me.”
Lena took a sharp intake of breath. “Jesus Christ. ”
Emily laughed darkly. “Well, yes. That was rather the point, darling.”
“Fuck, Emily, I…I’m so sorry.” Lena shivered for reasons that had nothing to do with the cold, plain room. “It felt like years to me, but I was praying it was nothing like…god.”
“Don’t you dare!” Emily’s eyes flashed. “You came home, Lena Oxton. Do you know how amazing that is? You came home, that’s all that matters to me.”
Lena couldn’t help but smile at that. “Right-o, Chief Arrington.” Then, frowning she looked around at the bare room.
“Can I get clothes? A bed? …food?”
“Tomorrow,” Emily assured, “Winston wanted to wait 24 hours to make sure everything was stable and that it was safe to start introducing outside objects. Starting with clothes and a bed, I promise, then food, and then me at first opportunity.”
Athena simulated a polite cough. “Technically the protocols Winston established state that Dr. Ziegler should be the first person allowed in so that she can perform a full medical evaluation.”
“Be the worst you can be: life’s too long for patience and virtue.” (x)
BROTP: Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson (photos not mine)
The summer after the war, they disappear to Paris. They do too many stupid things and even more stupid people, but it’s a strange sort of therapy as long as they do it all together. They help each other pull strangers at clubs and step in when they disapprove of each other’s choice, instead offering the familiarity of each other, a sort of ease that they know they’ll always take. They’re whisper-in-the-dark-afraid-to-be-afraid confidants; they’re don’t-snark-at-me-so-early-I’m-hungover-and-fuck-you-too insulters. They’re best friends and occasional lovers, but it works and they ensure each other’s wounds have at least started to scab over before they decide to return to England.