#generotten

[dreamspilt-blog1]

her  eyes  fell  on  her  twin,    her  best  friend;    the  half  of  herself  she  couldn’t  imagine  losing.    circles  underneath  his  eyes,    the  unclean  appearance  of  his  clothes.    “  luke. . .  ”    there  was  always  love  in  nellie’s  tone,    always  care  when  it  came  to  luke.    though  nell  had  never  stuck  a  needle  in  her  arm  to  keep  the  images  that  haunted  her  mind  at  bay  or  put  herself  in  such  a  deep  sleep  that  a  spill  wouldn’t  wake  her;    she  understood  why  luke  wanted  to,    why  he  felt  he  needed  to.

the  scrutiny  she  received  from  her  siblings  about  supporting  luke,    giving  him  too  many  chances  to  screw  her  over  and  put  her  in  compromising  positions,    it  was  hard  to  swallow.    it  was  even  harder  to  explain  the  tether  that  nell  had  to  luke,    the  importance  of  being  there  for  him.    the  symptoms  that  luke  went  through,    nellie  felt.    she  was  in  this  with  him,    she  felt  every  detox  ( the  intensity  not  as  high )  and  supported  his  every  sobriety  chip.    “  i  need  you  to  bring  my  brother  back.    i–––   i. . .   i  want  you  to  be  well  for  real  this  time.  ”    god,    nellie  wanted  it  more  than  anything.    “  i  can’t  help  you.    i––  i  can’t. . .    do  it  for  you,    luke.    i  believe  in  you.  ”

@generotten:    it’s a twin thing.

[twice-lit]

LUKE CRAIN    ––––    @generotten​ !

                                             it’s been so long. she’s been alone. all alone. she’s had no one but the voices in her head, whispering in her ear. the house. once bright and full of life, now dark and empty. too big. it’s too big for her. and yet the walls close in, and she suffocates. where is hugh ? where are her children ? she misses them, longs for them, she wants them home. come home                         she wanders never-ending halls and corridors, each turn like the next, each room like another. but where shadows and dust lie in wait, she sees a promise. she is safe here, in this house. it’s her children she frets for, out there in the world. her youngest especially. her twins. 

         a hand rises, fingertips brushing the wall she passes, bare feet on hard wood as she descends an extravagant staircase. it’s covered in vines. in shrubs and weeds and dirt, but olivia doesn’t see that. no, she sees her forever home. and her son. 

                    her heart lurches, her breath shudders as she stands on the landing above, staring down at him. her little boy.    luke.    her hand falls to her chest, poised above a heart that doesn’t beat as she stares at him unseeingly. he’s so small. so young. but he came back. like his sister. he came home. olivia smiles at him, bright and beautiful and enamoured with her little boy as she rushes down the stairs with a grace she didn’t know she possessed. she reaches out, palm cupping his cheek, hand hovering above his chest. she doesn’t notice that he’s taller than her, that the stubble on his cheek scratches at her skin or that it took no time at all to reach him. she appeared, like early morning fog, and she breathes his name with adoration in her green eyes.   ❛  i’ve missed you, my love.  ❜

[twice-lit]

sometimes, liv called luke her little robin and he had no idea why until he saw her again in the red room and she told him the story of the house with the red roses.

[builtwalls]

do you remember that storm ? - generotten

THOHH MEME  |   @generotten​ ! 

𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐈𝐂, though he can’t do anything to hide the emotions reflecting in his eyes. Years of practice -- suppressing memories and pain -- only going so far. “Y-yeah, I do,” he stumbles somewhat, looking to younger brother curiously. He’s not sure why Luke would be bringing THAT night up, back to the forefront of memory, but he doesn’t want to push back. Despite tension beneath the surface, Steven forces himself to be open. 

“-- Why?”

[hallowburnt-a]

          new   beginnings   were   always   nerve   wracking,   but   nothing   east   coast   born   and   raised   josephine   wilson   couldn’t   handle.   FIRST   DAY   AT   A   NEW   JOB,   nerves   were   not   unexpected.   dark   blue   scrubs   adorned   and   coffee   in   hand,   she   watches   interns   –––   grouped   together.   scared,   yet   excited.   NEW   BEGINNINGS   ALL    AROUND.   all   attending’s   having   had   their   pick   from   the   litter.   one   in   particular   having   caught   jo’s   eye,    though   she   didn’t   have   a   face   to   put   to   the   name.   eyes   search   amongst   the   small   sea   of   people   for   the   recovered   addict.   she,   like   he   had   –––   had   her   fair   share   of   struggles   to   get   to   where   she   was.   in   jo’s   experience,   it   only   made   for   better   doctors.   ❛   luke   crain?   you’re   on   my   service   today.   i’m   dr.   jo   wilson.   ❜

@generotten.