#recovened

[10ccs]

@recovened

sam has two glasses of red in hand. it wouldn’t surprise most people to discover him double-fisting two glasses of red wine at the afterparty of an awards ceremony, but they weren’t both for him. 

he spotted taylor from across the room in the middle of doing shots with his bandmates. the heathens took home an award for best original song and he was prepared to spend the rest of the night celebrating with them when his eyes landed on her and, as usual, couldn’t bear to look away.

“fancy meeting you here, doll.” he sidles up to her with a languid smile on his face, looking her up and down before finally meeting her eyes and offering out the glass of wine. he’s shameless, as always. “want a drink?”

[ohfiendangelical]

There’s a bizarre softness to him.

Yes, he came into the house unannounced; yes, he loomed in shadow like a predator—but now he stands in the light, nervously caressing his palms with his fingertips, eyes downcast as if in shame. He’s meek, subdued. He does not look like a monster. He hardly even looks like a movie star.

          “I brought wine,”          he says, motioning to the paper bag by his feet. He picks it up, pulling out the bottle, and dares to make eye contact.          “Blackberry wine. One of my favorites. I think—we may have similar taste.” 

He looks away again. A beat.

          “You’re very handsome,”          he says to the floor. His voice is gentle and genuine, almost childlike—but he looks a little annoyed, too. 

@recovened

[skullfck]

          “Willow’s friend.”          He’s drunk enough to be blunt, straight-to-the-point.          “With the brother.” 

He hasn’t been hearing particularly glowing praise recently, but he’s holding out hope that everyone will calm down and come around. It’s early enough that bad reactions are to be expected. Unwarranted, maybe, in his opinion, but expected. Things have been complicated, to put it nicely—batshit insane, to put it less nicely. 

          “I’ve seen pictures. Of you. On her phone. And Twitter,”          he goes on, leaning against the bar. He thinks of the last photo he saw and his eyes naturally fall somewhere disrespectful; he takes just a split-second too long to course correct. He smiles, quickly playing it off.          “I heard you two got in a fight. I think—I think you two should kiss’n make up. If you haven’t already. I can’t keep up. But you should, y’know, if y’haven’t.”

A pause. He appears to realize something.

          “I’m Hawk, by the way. The one who—who Stockholm Syndrome’d her.” 

@recovened

[seventhea]

lil testing starter call, accepting. ⟢ ( @recovened, taylor! )

                “  magic?  ”    she  asks,  eyes  wide  and  glittering,  dark  amber  and  filled  with  a  wonder  that  she  holds  up  to  all  the  world.    “  land  magic?  oh,  i’ve  never  …  “    the  words  escape  her,  and  the  thought  as  well,  she  catches  hold  of  a  glimmering  ball  on  the  book  case,  but  a  sour  feeling  stirs  in  the  dark,  forgotten  pit  as  she  finds  it  reminds  her  of  a  story  she  has  tried  her  best  to  let  go  of.  ariel  tries  her  best  to  let  it  roll  off  of  her,  eagerly  awaiting  the  other  woman,  rife  with  power  that  ariel  can  feel  through  her  daydreams,  to  tell  her  all  about.    “  what  is  it  like?  ”

[10ccs]

@recovened said: let me be your friend. i want to help you.  

he is so sick of hearing that. not from her specifically, but from everyone. in hushed asides on days off when he’s hungover and strung out, in text messages that he ignores, even in the looks he gets where the words are left unsaid. 

"there’s nothing to help, taylor.” he throws out his arms in exasperation, but deep down he knows everything he’s saying is a lie. “i don’t have a problem.” 

[10ccs]

@recovened said: “old family recipe.” 

sam doesn’t have any of those. he doesn’t have an old family anything—no photos, no mementos, no cute stories from when he was a kid. having things like traditions and recipes passed down through generations are a concept foreign to him. 

this—this moment right here—is also a concept foreign to him. it’s incredibly rare that the morning after turns into the afternoon after. he’s usually out the door pretty quickly. 

with his arms wrapped around her midsection, he watches her cook because asking for his help is akin to asking for disaster. his level of expertise in the kitchen doesn’t extend very far. most of his diet is made up with pizza, leftover pizza, and way too much candy. 

“smells good,” he says. “do you want me to, like, i dunno—set the table?” 

[loetise]

arlo’s bingo card <3

allie's bingo card, accepting.  ˎˊ˗

i LOVE THEM. SUNSHINE BABIES. like 17000 bingos as there should be

[nitebit]

@recovened / arlo.

"You're okay. You're gonna be okay. Just breathe." The dreamscape had kept them apart, constantly pulled them away from each other, but today Bunny sees him up close for the very first time and realizes she doesn't even know his name. Only knows of his pain.

She'd gone deeper than ever before when she heard his screams. His terror guiding her through this storm that knows no end. There's a deep crack in the sky as dark clouds begin to surround them. There isn't enough time, she thinks.

She looks up, eyes wide as she speaks in a rushed, quite voice, afraid that the wind will carry her voice and eject her out of his dreams sooner. "It's going to take me again. It doesn't like me being here."