#► drip drop teardrop.ᴍᴘз ( ᵃᶰˢʷᵉʳᵉᵈ )

[overdove-a-blog]

“ when was the last time you left the house ? or opened the curtains for that matter. ” surprise visits after she moved away though

the emerged world is terrifying. wide open, like being naked in a hailstorm — it’s a different kind of drowning, but it’s not as loving as the other kind. she really thought she could make it, for a split second: seemed like she’d learned to swim, or maybe just flail around enough to float & not sink. but it still hits her, that old familiar monster with blue eyes & a bluer soul, the kind that she can’t cure with pills & prescriptions ( prefers booze & self-harming demeanor, it’s cheaper & has less side effects, if you don’t count the self-loathing & hangovers ). she can’t escape it — doesn’t matter if she’s in portland, in montauk, narnia or wonderland. it’ll always know her name, & know how to kick her when she’s down: & she’s down right now, hidden beneath too many blankets — hasn’t even moved from the couch in the past 24 hours. she doesn’t blame church — she supposes a healthier part of her would be concerned about him too, but she can’t think properly right now, can’t consider herself anything more than a vague shape, a leak spread across the floorboards of a house she’s bought with an emotional investment much greater than the financial one, but it couldn’t heal her — the monster is sewn into her, & not even church’s scolding gaze ( it’s so surreal from him, so odd, it doesn’t belong there — or does it ? she can’t remember ) can scroll it off of her. “ leave me alone, church ” it’s faint, & she suspects she doesn’t really mean it — he’s good company, even if she’s not used to being the one being worried about. it’s faint, like the ragged breath of a dying body: she’s not dying, though, she’s just lifeless. “ you can’t really judge me. ” comes the casual, barely whispered comment: it’s mean, & she only vaguely knows this. can’t quite make out the shape of their interaction, right now — all she seems to care is the anesthetic rainbow of pictures on the tv, & she has no idea what they’re saying but they soothe her. there’s something beautiful in the way her guitar & church are alike right now — reasons for joy on good days, absolutely useless when the monster comes. washed out grey eyes are barely able to focus their gaze on him, pleading & pulled down like a dog’s — like an animal. “please. leave me alone. ”

@devotedecay​ / every 10 yrs someone worries abt mo & i cry / sel. accepting !

[overdove-a-blog]

-sneakily sends- "brush" -flees-

sleep catches her off guard, these nights — still wrapped in the electric haze of the stage high, the hours spent playing & rehearsing catch up with her when the stage has already been disassembled & there’s nothing left to do but to get on the bus & head for the next stop. drew’s always around when that happens — as loyal as music itself, soft ground to fall against when she can’t keep herself up anymore. ( bless him, & whatever superpower makes him still hang around ). morgan finds herself leaning against his shoulder way too often these days, & one day she’s gonna have to thank him for this, & to apologize for having taking advantage of his goodness one too many times. meanwhile, she’ll just keep reveling in the warmth of his friendship, in the softness of his caress. she’d like to say something, but sleep gets the best of her before she can even utter a word — she’s barely aware of a hand passing through her hair & a smile paints on her lips, ‘cause she’s safe, she’s happy, & there’s music ringing in her ears. she falls asleep curled against drew the way a child would — perhaps she will regret this in the morning, but in the shrouded comfort of the night, this feels as safe & familiar as his very own music.

@pianomxn / pet morgan’s hair ♥ / accepting !

[overdove-a-blog]

‘ this is your favorite song, right ? ’

the clouds of a momentary mood drop dissipate as familiar notes fill her ears — the depths of her abyss seem to evaporate to the warmth of her favorite melodies, a temporary blessing of summer in an otherwise chilly autumn. her smile is a soft, relieved line, & this quiet joy might be too dramatic but it’s the one thing keeping her afloat. with a shallower abyss to nurse & more sun-filled tunes in her heart, she’d have a lot more lifelines to hang on to — yet not even church, perhaps the only lifeform she can tolerate these days, not even her cousin deserves the responsibility of keeping afloat a ship that’s just destined to sink. but songs sometimes make the tide retreat; marooned on a moonlit night, morgan allows herself to smile & loosen up at the sound of gimme shelter, frail limbs looking just slightly more alive as she dances & pulls him by the elbow — this is a song she has to dance to, & she hates dancing alone. “ fuck, yes — ” her words stretch out, distorted by the music, & as she’s singing, & dancing, & barely balancing the drink in her hand, somehow she even manages to hug him ( or maybe she’s just holding on for balance ). “ i love you, kid ” she slurs, a smirk at the last word ‘cause she knows he’s gonna give her hell for it. “ you know that, right ? ”

@devotedecay / different ways to say i love you / sel. acc. !

[overdove-a-blog]

💥 from jake (:

she was eight the first time she realized happiness just wasn’t for people like her. a luxury, a well-crafted daydream — in real life ( & real life was police headlights & a car at the bottom of the ocean, loneliness & so much silence you could hear time kill your body cells & tick your youth away ), in real life, happiness was a concept as abstract as santa claus. yet she’d found her own happiness: it had taken so much to just get used to it, but she’d found a place — she’d found people actually, four, as broken & flawed as her, as unapologetic & frayed around the edges. she’d found it — and now it’s gone. leo’s gone, & she can’t help but think this is the band’s swan song. last gig, never again to perform. 

 ( she’s done this, she knows. it’s her fault.. she’s cut his heart right open & this is what she got, really: she should have known, happiness was never meant to stay ).

jake’s arms are a comfort, but they can’t hug the guilt away. deep down she knows he must hate her, too; there was something pure & untouchable in what the three of them shared, in that bond that had forged the very beginning of the band itself. & now ? now it’s gone. she can feel it slip right through her hands, like water into a sinking ship. morgan chokes back her tears & holds tighter to jake, ‘cause even if he’s gonna call her out, even if he’s gonna give her the names she deserves ( traitor, heartless, selfish spoiled child ), he’s here now. for a second, she needs to believe someone won’t let go. when he kisses her forehead, it’s like a brother granting forgiveness: he forgives her & the floodgates are torn wide open.

“ i’m sorry ”, hers is barely more than a sob, tears now quickly streaming down her eyes, staining his shirt, making a mess of what she always tried to look like: strong, unbeatable. but this is killing her right to the core — the thought that leo might not come back is burning her up & she can’t breathe. “ i didn’t — i didn’t mean to push him away, i didn’t — ” she takes a step away & covers her mouth, trying to stop the flood of sobs & frayed words that won’t let her breathe. “ i didn’t want to kill the band, it’s — this band is my whole life. i can’t let it die. ”

@flawedseas​ / kiss mo’s forehead ! / acc !

[overdove-a-blog]

“ I’ll drive you, please – please don’t go like this. ” !?

   “ fuck’s sake, church, don’t do this — ”

the cursing, her tone: it’s all a decoy. it hides the shy inflection of her voice, the shyer gaze that hides away from him, can’t face her guilt, her lies. he should have been the first to know, but maybe that’s the point: the one person who could convince her to stay is the one who doesn’t need to know, not until the very last minute, not until that wreck of a car is loaded with all her life ( & all her life amounts to the only pieces of clothing that didn’t smell like wrong nights & bad decisions, some books, a guitar & a truck full of cds ).

   “ this place is quicksand, i just keep sinking —”

new york might turn out to be a chimera, but right now it tastes like a breath she’s gasping for. this might be an escape route, but it’s the one chance she has — with all the faults she’s tainted herself with, she could never forgive herself for wasting this chance. still it doesn’t erase the guilt, that thick acidic aftertaste that makes her eyes sting & her stomach burn. it’s stupid, really: they’re both adults now, however frayed & uncertain their condition might be. they’re both adults & should be way more than familiar with abrupt change — but he’s the one thing that never changed, that part of her that felt as close & vital as a limb: she can’t say goodbye. maybe it was really just about that; she’s said goodbye to everyone, to the bar, to the store, to what few friends she has left. to her father, even — that old vinyl she’s stolen sixteen years before now sitting on the kitchen table, with no note ‘cause she simply has no words left for him. but church: she’s been delaying his goodbye from the moment she got the call. it’s not like he’s gonna fade away from her life, not like she’s even gonna let him become just a number on her phone, but this feels like an admission of guilt: it sounds like i’m sorry i couldn’t protect you. it sounds like running away, tail between her legs. it sounds like it’s best if i go now, you’ll be fine, i could never be the big sister i wanted to be & the one you needed to watch your back.

when she wraps her arms around her cousin she’s trying to hide her tears from him. she sees flashes from a lifetime ago, hugging in that very same way ( like one or the other might disappear any second, like things in this family are meant to just be ghosts ), yelling cooties & running away, carelessly, much lighter than the years piling up on their shoulders would make them. church is the one good thing this place has left, & it feels like treason to leave him, but she can’t ask him to come with her: she knows about his anchors. it’s taken her a lifetime to get rid of hers, & it’s a ritual he has to commit on his own. he has to murder a part of himself before he can breathe again: she’d know, she’s still got her own blood on her hands.

“ i’ll be back, okay ? but you gotta come visit. ” her voice is muffled & she doesn’t bother making it clearer: it might crack then. it takes choking back a dozen sobs before she can pull away from the hug & stare right into her cousin’s eyes: “ you gotta promise me. ”

@devotedecay / protective starters / acc !

[overdove-a-blog]

+💥

the white of the hospital room is unsettling, but she’s been staring at noah for a while, now. long enough to catch the moment his breath gets deeper & she knows he’s fallen asleep — a small relief, if even with his wounds he’s still granted some rest. she’s never believed in god, but there’s a silent prayer caught on her lips, a hope that he might always be strong enough to rest even with wounds cutting him open, but also that she might always be there for him, by his bedside — she knows she’s never going to be anything more than a sinner, but maybe the point is that he’s not a saint. maybe he’s just human, & she needs to know she can heal, too, instead of just destroy. she’s not gonna get home tonight, too anxious to leave him on his own — so when she turns the lights off & kisses his forehead it’s not a goodbye. it’s a promise: not one he’ll be conscious of, but one she’ll mean either way. i’m staying, it says. no matter what, if you’ll keep me, i’m staying.

@peaceific / forehead kisses ! / acc !

[overdove-a-blog]

"I have worn nothing but blood and death for years".

  “ — and bullshit. can’t forget about that one. ”

blame spills out of her like a leak — she can’t contain it, or maybe doesn’t want to. maybe she’s just tired. of what, she’s not sure — waiting perhaps. for him to leave again & come back years later, with his face changed but expecting hers to be that same old freckle-stained face, with gravity pulling her lines down, weighing on her features, making her so much older than she is. he’ll leave, soon enough. he’ll come back. she’ll be the cliffs, he’ll be the tide — but water erodes the rock, & fuck, he’s wearing her out. she’s tired, & she’s angry. she’s lost the ability to pity thomas crowder about two years ago. ( she’s not unsympathetic — she’s not blind to the bloodstains, she can smell the age on his skin. it’s just not her place to give a shit about it, really: it’s not her place to give a shit about him ).

  “ yeah, i’m tired. i’m going home. ”

@devilsxson / i can’t abide a poor liar. / sel. acc. !

[overdove-a-blog]

"That's not exactly a good coping method."

“ says WHO ? ” about a hundred million therapists all over the world, actually, but is that gonna stop her from downing the seventh shot ? nah, she’ll just raise her eyebrows, put on a smug look that seems to say call the fucking coping police & does it again. “ THERE — all problems went poof. ”

@piusprorege / deep ass starters / sel. accepting !

[overdove-a-blog]

Morgan sabotages her own relationships, more or less on purpose, just to keep herself from behind hurt - in other cases she does it to keep the people she loves from being hurt.

✅✅✅✅✅✅ BIGGEST MOOD OF THE CENTURY !!! i laughed reading this ‘cause it’s the biggest goddamn callout ever, thank yo u .

@peaceific / guess hcs about mo & win a kiss, probably ! / accepting !

[overdove-a-blog]

❛ brush ❜

she never falls asleep easily. her mind is a seastorm, the waves too rough & unrelentless to even give her room to breathe, most of the time ; yet look at her now, feet buried in the sand, on a beach that just months before has spat her out like the remains of a shipwreck — her eyes are closed, her eyelids a soft curve of quiet slumber as she lets the song of the ocean lull her to calm. perhaps he’s cast a spell on her — like in some vaguely surreal movie, where what’s happened before this moment doesn’t really matter. there’s just the sea, the lighthouse & him. the depths inside of her can’t nothing against this. “ thank you. ” it’s a soft whisper, barely audible through the wind — comes right as she feels his hand in her hair, but it’s not because of that. perhaps he’ll understand what she means — perhaps he won’t. she’ll be grateful either way.

@oceanforth / pet morgan’s hair ♥ / accepting !

[overdove-a-blog]

um who is this leo guy B)

“ ah, shit. ” it’s the kind of question she’s used to, really ; you don’t spend this much time in the business without people wondering what the fuck it is that ties two people so strongly together ; she’s used at dodging it, too, spit back a million non-answers that just end up blurring the truth. but that was before. things are different now ; now her facial muscles have a life of their own, unconsciously tensing in a smile that’s the most sincere she’s ever been ( even more than the million songs she’s written about him, even before knowing they were about him ). eyes avoid the camera, afraid they’ll look straight into the width of her abandonment to this teenage-like euphoria. “ he’s — i mean, he’s my best friend. has been for a while, you know ? ” laughter follows, & it’s awkward, like dipping a foot into the water when there’s an ocean of things she needs to say. “ he’s — god, i don’t know. i owe him so much. i… i mean i’ve never told him this but he, well, he kind of saved my life, you know ? ” shadows darken her features, as bright as springtime just a moment before. it’s the weight of memories, of a time when thinking about this kind of happiness was a sin she would never allow herself to commit. ( a time before he came & dried the oceans, came & gave a meaning to all the songs she’d been singing & not knowing why, or to whom. ) “ we founded the band when i was, well, in kind of a dark place. i don’t know where i’d be now without it, you know ? i don’t know that i’d be alive, even. ” they’re passing clouds, however : they dissolve easily, melt away like march snow. “ he just — he’s amazing. he talked me into the band, he & jake did, but leo he just… he’s given me so much. he’s — fuck. sorry. ” she’s not used to this, so please forgive the tear that slips past her guard & wets her cheek : she laughs, dissimulates & hides from the camera trying dry it, so inexperienced in the art of being honest, & even less in that of being happy. “ i’m sorry, it’s just — i never talked about this before, shit. fuck i can’t say that on — ah, whatever. whatever, i just — i mean he’s the love of my life, you know ? i know it sounds lame but ” a shrug. she’s laughing again. “ whatever. he is. he’s the best thing that ever happened to me. he’s the love of my life. ”

@dracoiignis / see mo get super extra emo / sel. accepting !

[overdove-a-blog]

💥

the corners of her lips curl up when he kisses her. this is a new language she’s been learning, & her smile is a silent thank you, ‘cause she was never good with words but her gratitude blooms spontaneaously every time she’s reminded of his presence in her life. she shifts closer to him, as if he could never be near enough, as if those two inches between them were an insufferable gap — careful arms ( always so careful, like he’s a beautiful work of art that might be broken any seconds by unskilled, sinful hands ) wrap around him, head on his chest to hear his heartbeat & find peace in knowing it’s steady, it’s calm, it has the taste of lullabies & lazy waves against the shores. perhaps it has the taste of love, too, but she can’t say it out loud, not yet. 

@peaceific / kiss mo’s forehead ! / acc !

[overdove-a-blog]

Nerd. /anon

@peaceific / feed me & tell me i’m pretty / acc.

[overdove-a-blog]

&

@ghostsouth / @maritamed / @somnuseer such !! sweet souls n amazing characters i die !!

@mythsworn / ali recommends blogs / acc !

[overdove-a-blog]

🎤 !

it’s not so much that she’s singing while doing literally anything, ever — he must be used to that by now, as are the few people she’s kept close ( or rather, the few she hasn’t managed to cross off her bucket list of disappointed acquaintances ). no, the problem is not singing; the problem is the song she’s singing, some ‘90s pop aberration that she’s so mindlessly interpreting while cooking, one might even start believing she truly likes it. it’s only after the second chorus she notices church’s presence — ‘90s rhythm drops to an anti-climatic “ —oooooooooooooooooh shit. ” & then she’s staring at her cousin with dead seriousness in her eyes, & the knife in her hands is not just for slicing vegetables anymore, but a threat aimed right at him. “ this has never happened. we’re never gonna talk about this. ”

@devotedecay / catch mo singing ! / acc.

[overdove-a-blog]

talk about the one who won't let you see her peacock :/

KV IS A HORRIBLE HUMAN BEING WHO WON’T LET ME SEE HER PEACOCK LIKE WHAT KIND OF A MONSTER CAN YOU BE ? okay no but seriously. i’m. i don’t know exactly how  we started really getting close but i know i’d always been admiring you from afar ? like i still do ( not from afar anymore thank god ) because the kind of universe you’ve been establishing, the absolute artistry with which you’ve created leo’s universe & all his surrounding charas is ? astonishing & i’m so unbelievably in love with it ? & honestly just. our verse / ship has been destroying me, like it makes me. so. excited whenever i see ur messages or see u on my dash like ? it’s still surreal to have a real actual rockstar such as you be plotting n shipping with me ? i honestly. get excited like a baby every time i think about it i’m lame. i’m just so in awe of everything u write ok ? and i also can’t wait for all that we have planned even with other charas i’m just ........ so absurdly amazed !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i’m gonna found an actual kv fan club one day and when ur book comes out i’m gonna buy 1000 copies and force all my pals to read it bc. such good. i’m so in love. u fucking rock. ilu. i mean leo n mo might be fictional rockstars but ur a real one, so |:

@dracoiignis / lame 2000s pop song says U SHOULD LET ME LOOOVE YOU / acc !