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starry-bi-sky · 11 days

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Stuck in the middle of a forest made of

Flesh and bones and they're all scared of

A lost little boy who has lost his heart

Fear's not enough, they have to

Tear him apart —-------

There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well:

He’s adopted.

He can’t remember anything else before that.

‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents.

What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill.

When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.

(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.)

The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.

It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one.

The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself.

His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.

(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.)

(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.)

They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.

(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)

Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe.

He turned back around and went inside.

—-------

Where do we go

When the river's running slow

Where do we run

When the cats kill one by one

—------

One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.

He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal.

It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking.

He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter.

Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind.

(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)

After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous.

He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.

—------

Hazel beneath our claws

While we wait for cerulean to cry

Unsettled ticks run through time

Enough for the hunt to go awry

—-----

There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own.

He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t.

Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward.

(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”)

(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)

He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell.

A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his.

He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it.

His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.

Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.

—-------

Harpy hare

Where have you buried all your children?

Tell me so I say

—-------

When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now.

Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.

He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.

Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own.

(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)

(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)

(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)

—--------------

It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders

And they will never

Hear me here listen to croons and a calling

I'll tell them all the

Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow

Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare

—-------

More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother.

Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten.

His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands.

They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely.

It is a fast dream.

His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.

His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods.

The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him.

The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal.

His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train.

(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.)

—---

She can't keep them all safe

They will die and be afraid

Mother, tell me so I say

(Mother, tell me so I say)

—-------

When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again.

The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person.

(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.)

(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)

Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird.

(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)

—------

Seeker, do you ever come to wonder

If what you're looking for is within where you hold

Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path

You'll soon forget

Home

—---------

When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is.

When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.

‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off.

He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.

He ends up calling himself Phantom.

(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.)

----------

Home is where we are

Home is where you are

Home is where I am

-----------------

Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #danyal al ghul au #amnesiac danyal al ghul au #songs in order of the album: the hartebeest / harpy hare / and the hound / neath the grove is a heart #musician danny has my heart and soul #yes this danyal IS an alternative danny from the other au. an au where things were a little better :) but still sucks #implied good mom talia al ghul #danyal is a momma's boy send tweet #dpxdc ficlet #dpxdc prompts #dp x dc au #dp x dc fanfic #danyal is sTILL five years older than damian in this au #no beta no edits we die like danny fenton #poc danny fentons #i didnt know where to end this :(( i was gonna go on but i blanked. i thought about going into his relationships with his rogues and so on.#but that felt too much like trying to just increase the word count rather than actually writing?? if that makes sense #ugh im gonna have forgotten to include things and im gonna be kicking myself later #morally ambiguous danny whoo! we love to see it #since this was just for fun it doesnt really go into it all that much other than like. it happens. and that danny realizes he's dangerous #phantom in a hazmat suit? nah phantom looking like an assassin >:].#danyal al ghul with damian and his mom: 🥰🌸✨#danyal al ghul with everyone else: 👹🔪#am i heavily implying that clockwork had smth to do with Danyal’s amnesia and appearance by the cabin? 👀 maybe #not enough danyal al ghul aus where him being an assassin actually. has some kind of affect on him

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gentlebeard · 1 month

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If I could hold you for a minute, Darling, I’d go through it again

For @edsbacktattoo & @stedesearring 💕 Show: Our Flag Means Death - Season 1 & 2 Music: Francesca by Hozier YouTube

#ofmd #our flag means death #gentlebeard #stede bonnet #edward teach #ofmdedit #ofmdaily #ofmd source #ofmd fanvid #ofmd s2 #ofmd edit #blackbonnet #ella’s edit #HAPPY BIRTHDAY JAMS ❤️#AND A BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY KAITLIN ❤️#i'm killing two (impossible) birds with one stone by dedictating this video to both of you absolute angels!!#jams i love you so much. you're so incredibly talented and hilarious and kind and amazing. i'm so grateful for you.#if you didn't live halfway around the world i would come over and give you the biggest and warmest hug #thank you for letting me scream in your dms all the time. whether it's about our pirate boys or your writing or cancellation hell™️#and just THANK YOU for being such a wonderful presence in my life #oh and kaitlin. lovely sweet kind kaitlin. the one we all love to call a human ray of sunshine because you're just THAT lovely #your little yellow hearts in the tags brighten my day every time i see them. whenever i talk to you you're just so sweet #thanks for every single lovely word. for every music rec. for every sweet message or ask. what a gift you are. ily!!!#speaking of gifts: i couldn't think of a more perfect song for the two of you than francesca #so i hope you like my little creation that i've put together. once again shoutout to #evil gang 😈

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fogwitchoftheevermore · 6 months

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ok so. forgive me for a second but i've been abnormal about skizz and ren since the hiatus between third life and last life and holy shit this season is already not helping.

let's talk about skizz, ren, undying loyalty, and golden apples, shall we?

so the thing that you need to understand about skizz is that he is loyal to a fault. impulse literally says this exact thing about him in limited life, and skizz himself says himself: "you know me and my factions, i never turn." the second thing is that the first person their loyalty manifests for in third life is ren. he and ren run into each other on the second night when ren is getting accosted by mobs outside skizz's door and skizz gives him a place to stay the night. ren decides to trade skizz for his leather, for the upcoming enchanting buisness, and gives skizz a golden apple in exchange. skizz thinks this is wildly more than he deserves but is very thankful. skizz doesn't say it here, but this is the moment he swears his loyalty to ren.

throughout third life, he is willing to do or get basically anything for ren. the two of them literally die together to the tnt trap. when ren dies on the alter and everyone thinks martyn betrayed him, skizz is the first person to get there in the morning. he's in half broken gold armor and borrowed tools from bigb and he still tells ren "get behind me", still tries to protect him from martyn. when skizz is on red, he goes a bit crazy, but he channels that bloodlust into protecting ren. he kills jimmy in the red desert, he kills cleo when she tries to attack ren, he chases down impulse when he betrays dogwarts and dies trying to kill him.

when skizz dies in third life, he's got an unused golden apple in his hotbar. after he dies, he remembers the first time he met ren, etho, and martyn, and he spends quite a bit of time on his memory of ren and ren appears in his first memory of etho. after he dies, ren wields a blade named in his honor.

skizz spends third life loyal to ren- he dies for him and he dies with him.

in last life, ren and skizz end up on completely different sides, and it very quickly gets bad because when ren becomes boogey, he kills skizz. he lures him into a trap. he tells skizz he loves him. skizz literally says "i am broken hearted" when ren kills him. ren holds no regard for the relationship they used to have and yet skizz cannot help but compliment ren's skill with the trap, outright says he can't be mad at ren.

and then it only gets worse because skizz tries to storm ren's tower with impulse after they've gone red. and that! doesn't go well! and while skizz is retreating, while he is eating the golden apple in his hot bar, ren shoots him dead.

and that is the last time they've spoken. two years ago.

because skizz isn't in doublt life. and ren isn't in limited life.

and when skizz's time comes in limited life, he ensures he doesn't have a golden apple in his inventory this time. this time, he hands the apples off to his teammates, where he knows they will go to good use. and then he hands etho a diamond fucking axe (red winter is coming) and asks him to execute him for the sake of their alliance. ok! sure! fill ren's role more explicitly, why don't you!

and that first session of secret life genuinely only made it worse. when skizz is talking to tango and cleo about their alliance, skizz says he wants to give leadership over to someone else: "i want to be more of a soldier than a leader this time." cleo says she'll fill the roll of leader- she doesn't take orders well - and then seals their alliance by giving tango and skizz a golden apple each. because of course she does.

and well, we all know that didn't really work out, so that's one person off the list that skizz can fill the dogwarts shaped hole in him with, so then he goes to bdubs. he says he'll lay his sword at bdubs' feet. he says he'll win bdubs with his loyalty. he calls bdubs "my leige", jesus christ dude, you couldn't be less subtle unless you straight up called him ren's name.

skizz has been (whether accidentally or on purpose is up to you) trying to recreate the experience he had with dogwarts, and particularly what he had with ren, since the moment dogwarts fell. he can't have it with ren because he missed his only chance in last life, so he'll fill the void with whoever he can. his fellow soldier. ren's successor. ren's new kingmaker. anyone. and it's never gonna work. i need ren to come back for like, 900 reasons, but i especially need him to come back so skizz can have a shot at making it to spring.

#secret life spoilers #life series spoilers #skizzleman #rendog #secret life #my writing #analysis post #(not really. ill be real this very much veers more into summary territory than i would like for an analysis post.)#(but i like it enough to put it in that tag anyways)#renskizz #(is that their ship tag???)#(you dont have to read this through a shipping lens it should just be known that that *does* color how i think about them)#anyways. training montage by the mountain goats skizzleman song of all time.#“i'm doing this for revenge/i'm doing this to try and stay true/i'm doing this for the ones we had to leave behind/i'm doing this for you”

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updownlately · 7 months

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i like it when you hug me (‘cause i kind of feel you love me)

| leah williamson x reader | trigger warning for mentions of depression and self-loathing. please read at your own discretion!

~~~

“Hey…”

The voice echoing through the room had you burrowing yourself impossibly deeper into your comforter, nearly hiding your face beneath the blanket- the light peeking in from the hallway very much unwelcome in the dark room.

Shaking your head, you let out a shaky breath, quickly running your sleeve over your botched face, wiping it in case the quilt was moved away from you.

Stilling your movements, you listened carefully, on alert as Leah’s hesitant footsteps headed closer to the bed- closer to you.

With each subsequent step, you found yourself wishing she hadn’t entered the room at all and the self-aware part of you felt a pang of guilt bloom from your chest, mentally chastising yourself for being so selfish.

Please don’t care about me. Please just turn and leave.

You swallowed hard as the voices in your head spoke, eyes widening as you felt the bed dip. Curling in on yourself and shuffling backwards, you buried yourself further into the sheets.

Right now, all you wanted to be was alone. The kind of alone where your phone doesn’t make a sound, even though your ringer’s on blast. The alone where your door doesn’t move, not by a single millimetre, because no one’s coming in but you. The alone where it’s heartbreakingly lonely, achingly so, but you can’t think of a single person to call. You just wanted to be alone.

Holding your breath as the blonde neared your lumpy form, you waited cautiously for her next move- body on alert, ready to move further back at the slightest of touch.

You weren’t you right now and she most definitely didn’t need to witness that first hand- it was already embarrassing enough that you were hiding out in your shared bedroom all day, avoiding your girlfriend like the bubonic plague.

Lips moving but no sound coming out, you mouthed a silent plea to the universe, begging that she didn’t come closer. You didn’t know how badly you’d break if she did- and you didn’t want to find out.

Unluckily Luckily for you, almost as if your silent prayers were heard, Leah didn’t reach out for you, hand staying firmly put in the space between.

Smiling sadly to yourself, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at her lack of touch, hand itching to pull her close, devil on your shoulder telling you to push her so far she forgot she was your home.

Taking a silent shuddering breath, pleading for the assault of thoughts in your head to go away, you did your best to be quiet. You tried your hardest not to acknowledge her presence, instead hoping she’d go soon enough. She didn’t need to be around you when you were like this. No one did. No one deserved that.

Quietly praying she’d leave you be, that she’d make this easy on you, you slowly moved your hand to wipe it on the bottom of your hoodie, hands sweating nervously.

I’m asleep. You can go. I’m perfectly fine.

The words you wanted to say but couldn’t- the lump in your throat holding you back.

Rather, you waited patiently for her to make a move, one that hopefully got you out of this situation without too many cruel words said, in your mind or elsewhere.

Unfortunately for you, regardless of the absolute pitch-black darkness in your room, Leah caught the movement, softly speaking when she realised you were most definitely awake.

“How we feeling about dinner?”

You stayed quiet at her words, hoping she’d convince herself you were asleep and leave.

You let the uncomfortable silence rest in your bones, its familiar presence a comfort.

You didn’t deserve to be taken care of. Especially not after how you’d hidden yourself away in your shared bedroom all day- ignoring Leah, the skipper being nothing if not understanding, letting you be as you pulled away. You didn’t deserve it and your brain did a hell of a job reminding you so.

Pity’s what brought her here- a clear look at you and she’ll run.

The long silence that accompanied the voice in your head was uncomfortable but you were used to it.

Taking small breaths to not make a sound, you felt your chest tighten with each passing second that she stayed.

I don’t want you here. I don’t want you here. Not for me but because you deserve better.

The words repeated in your head as your heart constricted, tired of you and wanting to be wrapped around your lover’s arms as much as you wanted her to go away.

It seemed like Leah knew as much, her shuffling closer to you and you could soon tell she was lying on the bed beside you.

“I know you’re awake…”

Her whispered words had your body tensing, any hope that you had of her leaving washing away as your leg vibrated restlessly.

You felt her gently tug on the edge of your quilt and you contemplated resisting, wanting to tuck yourself away in a cocoon but not being able to bring yourself to do so, guilt resting heavy on your shoulders.

Instead you slowly gave in to the skipper’s prodding, wincing as the cool air of the room hit you, reddened eyes and blotchy cheeks making themselves known in the dim light.

Shutting your eyes closed as her face came into view, you tried to shake the image of her pitiful gaze from your mind.

You deserve better. You deserve better. You deserve better than me.

The words continued to repeat, an echo in your otherwise silent mind.

You shouldn’t love me. You shouldn’t love me. You shouldn’t love me. You should leave.

Clenching your jaw, you missed the way Leah’s face softened at your clear distress.

She knew your mental health wasn’t the best, but she never got to witness just how poor it really got- not until now at least.

The way you had sluggishly left your bed nearly two hours after your alarm this morning- how you had hid from her all day, not bothering to have anything more than a few spoonfuls of yogurt for breakfast, completely foregoing lunch, and now, quite possibly dinner. The signs were clear, you weren’t fine.

You weren’t okay, not one bit, but if Leah had anything to say on it, she ached to tell you it was okay.

It was okay to not be you today, not when she was here, you didn’t have to run and hide.

But she couldn’t tell you right now, not with the way you barely met her gaze, head tucked in the crook of your elbow, tear-stricken cheeks just barely hidden, body tense.

So instead she placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, moving the arm on your face to the side as her hands travelled to your torso.

Tugging gently, the blonde pulled you into her embrace, hands coming to wrap around your midsection as you complied, tucking yourself into her side, too tired to protest.

If words weren’t what you wanted to hear, then she’d speak to you with her touch.

Continuing her efforts, you let out a small sigh as her hand came to smooth your messy hair, scratching your scalp gently, just how she would when she’d comfort you after a tough loss.

The ministrations coupled with the faint touch of her rubbing circles on your back, and you could feel your body relax, gears in your mind beginning to slow as your hands shyly made their way to grab fistfuls of her hoodie, not wanting the comfort to leave- not wanting her to leave.

Surprised at the Englishwoman’s actions, you burrowed your face into the crook of her neck as you felt the knot around your heart loosen just a tad bit, a grateful breath escaping you.

You sunk into her grasp as you ignored the dying voices yelling in your head, your weight rest wholly on top of the midfielder's body, back muscles going slack as you let her warmth break through the iciness plaguing you.

Thank you for staying, for being patient, for caring.

The words went unspoken whilst you waited as the rock in your throat to slowly shrink.

And as a minute passed and then two, her grasp on you only getting stronger, more assuring, you couldn't help be grateful.

All your unsaid words from earlier finally had the chance to be spoken now, chest light, speech coming easy.

Letting yourself snuggle into Leah’s hold, feeling her place a soft kiss on your crown, you finally had a breath of comfort, nearly crying in relief.

Though the voices in your head didn’t quite disappear, she made living a bit easier, the simple act of breathing no longer a chore.

It’s why your murmured words finally came easy, heart floating, your grip tightening in adoration.

“I love you.”

#fuck it not proofread #based on the song half hearted by we three #s/o to the one person from the poll that listens to we three! :D #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso community #my writing #blurb #iliwyhm #hurt/comfort

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doobea · 7 months

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WAKE ME UP WHEN SEPTEMBER ENDS - RIN ITOSHI

synopsis: You realize that under his seven layers of unresolved teenage angst, Rin Itoshi is extremely sensitive, whether he wants to admit it or not.

contents: sfw, fluff, convos about growing up, gn!reader, proplayer!rin, play fighting!!, rin is kinda awk but its cute, first kiss and a lil bit suggestive but not really?, a birthday fic :) word count: 1.5K a/n: did i rush home to try and make a birthday fic for one of my favorite boys?? yea maybe. and goodbye i know his bday isn't today and im a day early but i wanna just drop this as an early celebration just so i can post sae on his actual birthday bc im secretly evil

Being Rin's one and only best friend comes with a lot of growing pains. Whether it be constantly receiving threats from his "super fans", always having to show up to his games just to drive him back home because he insists that he's too tired to walk back, or having to hear him vent about how absolutely shitty his older brother is.

And, much to no one's surprise, that dynamic hasn't changed even after becoming one of the nation's highest-praised athletes. And yes, he still insists you to drive him because he claims that his own private drivers "suck ass".

But there are some positive outlooks of being his one and only best friend. No, it's not the fact that you get free tickets to his games or the fact that you essentially eat for free whenever you're out with him. It's nothing materialistic of that sort. One of your favorite things is that he always picks up your packages, even when you order just a bit too much.

"You're going to break your bank account if you keep this up."

"It's your birthday. How can I not celebrate?"

There's a click from his tongue. "You know I hate celebrations."

You sit up from the sofa, flashing him the tiniest of smirks. "It's just gonna be between us. I'm not planning on inviting anyone over."

Rin rolls his eyes before setting down the mountain of delivery packages onto his apartment floor. It looks to be about eight... no twelve? You honestly lost track of how many items you ordered but not like that matters now. The packages vary in size and you can tell by the scowl forming on his face that he's confused by what you have in store this year.

"They're decorations, you dumb dumb." You finally answer after watching him struggle to think.

This only deepens his scowl. "It's my birthday and you want me to decorate?"

"Oh, so now you wanna play that card? Thought you didn't care about your birthday." The kick you receive to your legs is a clear indicator that you've successfully annoyed Rin Itoshi. Which really doesn't take that much effort, but it's still fun to tease him nonetheless. "Are you gonna help me now?"

Rin opens one of the smaller boxes, pulls out a roll of blue streamers, and puffs out his cheeks slightly in frustration. "Where do I put this?"

You blink. "Have you never decorated before?"

You watch his ears turn red and he quickly responds, "I have, idiot."

"You just—" Rin struggles with the streamers and you suppress a laugh when he accidentally tears a ribbon in half. "Actually, never mind, just leave it to me."

He takes a few defensive steps back when you stand up, clutching the streamer close and dear to his chest, shooting you one of his piercing glares. "Stop, I know what I'm doing."

"For someone who's so careful about his actions in football, you sure are clumsy when it comes to anything outside of that." The scrunch on his nose only solidifies your point.

You don't quite understand how someone like Rin can have such a meticulous lifestyle but then mess up when attempting to parallel park or even fry an egg. You're mostly teasing though. Mostly. It's not like any of his "clumsy" actions bother you.

"I made a birthday card for my mom once." He says as if that's enough proof to prove that he actually does know how to decorate. "It's on her fridge."

"Yeah? The one with the shitty drawing of you and Sae hugg—"

"You can stop now."

The blue streamer rolls to the ground as you lunge forward and smack it out of his hands. Rin is annoyed, very annoyed, and attempts to playfully aim at your shin again. You let him but this time around you push him back, aiming for his chest.

Rin is taller and stronger than you are but, during times like this, he holds back just enough for you to take the upper hand. Only for a brief moment that is.

You give up as soon as he pins you beneath him on the floor. "Ok," You manage out. "You win, you win."

Rin loosens his grip on your wrists and rolls over next to you. "That's what I thought."

After what feels like an eternity laying in silence on the floor, you speak up, letting your tongue run. "You know that I’m secretly jealous of you, right?"

His body shifts slightly from your peripheral but you keep your eyes glued to the ceiling. "Jealous how?"

"I don’t know how you do it but you always end up looking like some hotshot supermodel even with all that sweat. Too bad people don’t know that you’re actually so emo that it hurts." Despite saying it in a teasing tone, your lips curve into a small sincere smile. You didn't need to see his face to know that he was also smiling.

Another kick. "Shut up, you sound so dramatic right now."

You kick back but with less force. Too tired out from the struggle earlier. "Says the guy who wants to beat up his brother over football."

Silence hangs in the air again. And suddenly you become hyperaware of his proximity, the scent from the cologne he's wearing, and how melancholic he looks from your angle.

"Are you ever scared of growing up?" Rin's sudden question makes you sit up. "I think about that more often than I like."

You tense for a moment at his words and quickly collect your thoughts, shaking your head. "There's nothing scary about growing up. Think about all the cool things you got to experience. You accomplished a lot compared to when you were sixteen."

He hums. "That's true."

"And think about all the cooler things you haven't experienced yet. Like scuba diving and shit."

"What if I can't swim?"

"Then you take swimming lessons, dummy."

"Also true." He pauses and finally sits up with you. "You'll still be around, right?" Rin stares with his usual tight line on his lips but his eyes seem to be searching for something in yours. He looks very serious and also mildly stressed out.

You realize that under his seven layers of unresolved teenage angst, Rin Itoshi is extremely sensitive, whether he wants to admit it or not.

"Hey," You offer a hand on his shoulder and he flinches at the contact. "As long as you're around, I'm gonna be around too." You say softly.

He holds your hand in place and squeezes it. "Even when we're both old and wrinkly?"

You squeeze his shoulder in response. "Definitely gonna stick around to see that."

There’s silence again for a minute, as he thinks it over. It’s not quite as awkward of a silence, but it’s still not entirely right. You're mentally preparing for another round of existential questions from your best friend. After a moment, Rin's leaning forward, instinctively pressing closer, and there’s something happening between you two. Some weird shift taking place.

Skinship of any form isn't something that Rin is comfortable exploring with just anyone. The most that he's gotten physical with is maybe a hug but even that lasts for just a fleeting second. You find yourself reciprocating and leaning close, relishing the fact that he doesn't do this often. And soon, you feel the sudden urge to kiss your best friend.

"Hey—Rin, do you..." You stumble over your words, but the way that you say his name catches his attention.

"Yes." He cuts you off before you get a chance to finish.

Rin leans in and you meet him halfway. Your noses bump awkwardly against each other due to the height difference and it causes you to laugh. Rin looks like he wants to be embarrassed and annoyed but he ends up laughing too. You two try again, shuffling yourself closer and placing your hands on his thighs to steady yourself, and this time it's better.

There's a bit of mint aftertaste left in his mouth from the gum he was chewing earlier and you didn't know if you should feel self-cautious of your own breath because you're pretty sure it tastes like the cereal you had this morning. You quickly decide it's out of your worries when you feel his hands around your waist, pulling you closer into his lap and deepening the kiss further.

Rin calls out your name when he pulls back and you're positive that you could pass out right now if you're given the option. "Stop looking at me like that." He frowns, red sweeping his own cheeks.

You swallow hard and tilt your head. "Like what?"

"Like you're nervous to be around me. I don't want that."

You feel yourself growing small under his touch. "Then what do you want, Rin?"

He furrows his brows together and you feel his fingers toy with the fabric of your shirt. Rin does this for a while before answering, "I just want you to stay by my side for as long as you can. Is that possible?" He whispers.

"If it's impossible then I'll make it possible for you, Rin." You close the distance and rest your chin on his shoulder. "I'll give you all my seasons if you want them."

You don't hear anything from Rin but soon his grip tightens around your waist and you swear you can hear him sniffling. You pretend to not notice. God knows what he'll do if you catch him crying. Instead, you close your eyes and rub his back gently in circles.

"Happy birthday, Rin."

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #doobea writing #blue lock headcanons #rin itoshi #itoshi rin #rin itoshi x reader #itoshi rin x reader #happy birthday u dumbfuck #how long r we gonna wait till you show up again #bye idk what the title should be #i just know his bday is this month #and i know this song...#and that hes major virgo vibes

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clusterbuck · 28 days

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got the notion

7x02 coda

Hen drives to the firehouse, and changes her mind with every stoplight she hits.

Red light. Maybe this is an overreaction.

Green light. Bobby and Athena need help.

Red light. Cruise ships are built to withstand the weather, and the Uno had turned away from the storm. The Coast Guard has to be aware of the storm by now, and they’ll be on high alert for any distress.

Every rational thought points to everything being fine.

But—the light turns green, Hen hits the gas, and she remembers a sunny afternoon six years ago. Then, too, every rational thought had pointed to everything being fine, until she and Buck had found Bobby passed out cold.

There’s just one nagging thought at the back of her mind.

“Hey, Siri,” she says, slowing down at yet another red light. “Call Karen.”

“What did Maddie say?” Karen asks as soon as she picks up. Her voice is concerned, and Hen loves her for it. Karen, at least, understands.

“Am I overreacting?” Hen asks instead of answering. The question had been building so long it needed to escape.

“Tell me what Maddie said first,” Karen says. “I can’t answer without all the information.”

“She thinks something happened,” Hen says. “She called the local 911 down in Mexico, apparently they got a bunch of calls from the ship that all dropped.”

“Sure sounds like something happened,” Karen says. “So, you’re going out there?” She sounds the way she always does when Hen is about to run headfirst into danger, proud and terrified all at once.

“I—” Hen says, her fingers gripping the steering wheel. “I was going to, but I ran into Chief Simpson.”

“Oh,” Karen says, then, “oh no, he didn’t fire you?”

“No,” Hen says. “Just told me to get back to work. I told him about the ship, but he just said it’s not in our jurisdiction.”

“Oh,” Karen says again. There’s a humming on the line like she’s about to say something else, but she stays silent and lets Hen gather her thoughts.

“Is he right?” she asks, after another few seconds of silence. “Am I making the wrong call again?”

“What do you mean again?” Karen asks. “Didn’t you just say he told you to go back to work? That means you made right call, doesn’t it?”

“Just because it wasn’t wrong doesn’t mean it was right,” Hen says. “It was—Karen, I honestly don’t know what it was.”

“We don’t need to figure that out right now,” Karen says. “Do you think going after Bobby and Athena is the right call?”

Hen takes a breath. One second stretches into two, then five, and still, she doesn’t answer.

“Hen,” Karen says. “What does your instinct say?”

“Something is wrong,” Hen says. “I know it is. And the ocean may not be part of the LAFD’s jurisdiction, but Bobby and Athena are my jurisdiction.”

“Then go get ‘em,” Karen says. “But, Hen?”

“Yeah?”

“Come home to me.” Karen’s voice doesn’t shake, but Hen knows that’s only thanks to years and years of practice.

“I will,” Hen says. “I promise.”

By the time she hits the red light around the corner from the firehouse, Hen is certain that she’s made the right decision. She might have forgotten it for a moment, but she trusts her instincts.

The only uncertainty remaining is how she’s going to convince the rest of the team to accompany her, with nothing but a map of ships off the California coast and a bad gut feeling to go off.

But when she walks into the app bay, Chimney, Eddie, and Buck are lined up and waiting for her.

“Get changed and let’s go,” Eddie says. “Chopper’s on the way.”

Hen blinks. “How did you—”

“Maddie called,” Chimney says, brandishing his phone. “So I called Tommy, called in a favour.”

“Don’t you still owe him from last time?” Buck asks, and Chimney frowns.

“Well techincally—”

“We can settle it on the way,” Hen says, before the two of them can really start bickering, but her heart feels like it grows a size with every half-jogged step towards the locker room.

Bobby and Athena are their jurisdiction, and they’re on their way.

#911fic #hen wilson #911 7x02 #911 spoilers #shush emma #emma writes #they threw off my lyrics from a soundtrack song naming scheme so the title is from the song rock the boat instead #this was hard bc everything is kind of unfinished and i like to do look back and reflect codas lmao #but here we are anyway

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svtskneecaps · 4 months

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lukewarm take of the evening: y'all care too much about being ""outdated"". fellas this smp moves inhumanly fast. it is ok to CHILL holy shit CHILL. y'all are like "(posts BANGER ART) super late guys sorry" friend i am hitting you with a blanket i am snapping you with my metaphorical towel WHAT DO YOU MEAN SORRY. "(posts BANGER FIC) rip this is outdated now" WHO CARES???? I LOVE YOU, OK. ohhhh woe is us as the fandom at large for having MORE HAPPY PILLS ARC CONTENT oh no how outdated!! how could you be writing speculative fiction about how forever felt during happy pills :( slash SARCASM!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN!!!! THERE ARE SO MANY BANGER ARCS, WHAT, YOU THINK WE'RE COMPLAINING????? FOR GETTING MORE OF THE CONTENT WE LOVED????? oh no we're past the period where everyone thought green gay ninjas were like Dead Dead, my work is now outdated and noncanon :( WDYM. GIMME. A BANGER IS A BANGER IDC IF IT TAKES THREE MONTHS. you think rome was built in a day?? fuck you, baltimore, GIMME. my ass has been cooking a goddamn backflipo family fic since july when it was ALREADY outdated do you think i fear god??? "oh no, you're making an edit of slime's (attempted) egg murdering spree?? how could you, that was months ago it's irrelevant" SAID NO ONE EVER.

save your wrists kidlings ok carpal tunnel is no joke. CHILL!!!!! CHILL!!!!!!!! TAKE YOUR TIME SHEEEEEESH OK LOVE YOU <3

#qsmp #shut up vic #block game brainrot #IT IS OK TO NOT ALWAYS POST SHIT THIRTY SECONDS AFTER IT HAPPENS!!!!!!!#for god's sake we have MONTHS of lore and bangers ok???#i still have a mental image of an art i wish i could make from BOBBY'S NIGHTMARE #HE HAS BEEN GONE FOR M O N T H S and you bet your ass if i can make it I WILL BE POSTING IT #SO. MUCH. SHIT. HAS. HAPPENED. who cares if it was months ago!!!!!!#it's ok to be a few days late!!! it's ok to be a few months late!!!!! don't tell me sorry for feeding me!!!!!!#part of me still lives in I'M NOT HOLDING A FUCKING FUNERAL CHAT #part of me still lives in maxo's final song for his son!!!!#part of me still lives in the day we thought ramón was gone for good #part of me still lives in cellbit sprinting to his son only to be ripped away back to the feds just as richas turns to write a sign #part of me still lives in the flooding of the copacabana ocean #THESE ARE BANGERS. REMEMBER WHEN FIT FOUND PAC E MIKE IN PRISON. BANGER.#oh dear new work expanding on a canon moment i super liked that happened months ago how late smh SAID NO ONE EVER #TWO CAKES!!!!! TWO CAKES MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!!!! WE LOVE PASTRIES DON'T EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT #COME ON Y'ALL. METAPHORICAL KISSES. LOVE YOU. HAVE A GOOD WEEK.#long tags

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milfsloverblog · 9 months

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Respite in Heaven (NSFW)

Pre-fall!Lucifer x angel!reader

A/N: This fic was inspired by another one of my favourite Ghost song which you can listen to here (the very last part is a work of art). I love Lucifer. I love to think that they had an Angel lover back in Heaven. And I love to think that the only reason they still dream of Heaven is for that lost love. Anyway, enjoy! <3 ps: it’s more like pre-fall, mid-fall and post-fall Lucifer.

AO3 link in title

“We shouldn’t be here!” You half-whispered half-giggled as Lucifer dragged you through the tall grass.

“Says who?” The Lightbringer answered without ever turning around, their hand tightly holding onto yours.

“You know who!” You said as you reached your favourite spot under the pomegranate tree.

“I do not care what God thinks, not when I have the sweetest of all angels in my arms.” Lucifer smiled as they helped you sit down by the tree and placed a soft kiss on your knuckles.

“You should not be saying these things,” You whispered, knowing He had ears everywhere. “Nothing escapes Him, you ought to be more careful.”

“I would say it to His face if it meant you and I wouldn’t have to hide anymore.”

“I know, Lucifer, I know.” You pushed a soft smile, brushing your fingers through their messy white curls.

Lucifer closed their eyes, revelling in the softness of your touch for a moment before eventually pulling you on their lap. One of their hands snaked under your white linen dress, slender fingers running up the expanse of your thigh.

The way your brows furrowed didn’t go unnoticed by the Lightbringer and they tutted lightly.

“Something is worrying you,” They said, their fingertips reaching the apex of your thigh and grazing against your bare core. “Talk to me, my Angel.”

You knew you weren’t their Angel, and you would never be. You belonged to God, and so did they. But you wanted to, you wished to be theirs so badly. And that’s exactly what you were worried about.

“We could break away together.” Lucifer whispered in your ear, two of their fingers slipping between your folds.

You couldn’t help the moan that tore itself from your throat, your hips bucking as you searched for more friction.

“I would be the shadow,” They went on, dipping their first knuckles into your wetness before lazily drawing circles on your clit. “And you will be the light.”

And it was oh-so tempting, to give up on everything you had and everything you knew, only to run away with Lucifer. But you could never, no matter how good they made you feel and how strongly your heart beat for them.

“W-we can’t-“ You closed your eyes, your head growing dizzy as the Angel continued their ministrations between your legs. You moaned again, quickly hiding your face in Lucifer’s neck to keep yourself quiet.

Lucifer wrapped their pristine white wings around you, shielding you from the outside world.

It was no secret that the Lightbringer was God’s favourite Angel. And it couldn’t have been made more obvious, you simply had to look at how beautiful God had made them. They were the tallest Angel in all of Heaven, had the whitest and largest wings, and the softest features in the whole realm. And somehow, you had been lucky enough to catch their eye.

“Are you not happy here?” You asked, carefully pulling away from them. “Don’t we have all we need? All we want?”

“I don’t know, do we?” Lucifer cocked their head, pushing their fingers inside you up to the hilt.

You let out a pitiful strangled cry that had your lover’s lips pull in a proud smile.

“Nothing ever lasts forever, my Angel.” The Lightbringer whispered before attaching their lips to your neck and sucking on your pulse point, their fingers dragging in and out of your heat in loud, wet, and you dared to think, sinful sounds.

“We-I-can’t, I can’t-“ You were too far gone to even think of anything else but the pleasure building behind the navel that you didn’t possess. “God will be furious.”

“Don’t you see, sweet Angel?” You swore Lucifer’s voice was now tainted with bitterness. “That the God we hail is nothing but the Wizard of Oz?!”

You didn’t know what that meant, or who the Wizard of Oz was, but that was the last of your concerns at the time.

“Please, Luci-“ You whined, your hips moving on their own accord to meet the Angel’s thrusts.

“We will break away together,” Lucifer repeated, curling their fingers inside you and quickly finding your sweet spot to rub. “Say yes to me.”

“Y-Yes!” You cried out when the coil finally snapped inside your belly, making you see stars as you mindlessly swore allegiance to the Morningstar.

“Good,” Lucifer whispered barely audibly as they helped you ride your orgasm. “We will go softly into the night.”

Your head fell forward, forehead pressed against the other angel’s alabaster skin. You weren’t sure, but you swore you could hear distant thunder then. Whether it came from the outside world or from within Lucifer’s chest still remains a mystery.

Only you were right when you said Lucifer ought to be careful with their words, for God had ears everywhere. There they stood a day later, God and Lucifer, facing the entirety of the realm on top of the holy mountain.

“You were blameless in your ways from the day you were created till wickedness was found in you.” Your creator’s voice echoed through heaven. “Through your widespread trade, you were filled with violence, and you sinned. And so you shall be driven in disgrace from Heaven. I expel you, guardian cherub, from the Holy mountain. Your heart became proud on account of your beauty, and you corrupted your wisdom because of your splendor.”

You could feel your heart thumping loudly against your ribcage as you realised what was about to happen. Lucifer, however, never wavered. They kept their chin high and looked right into their creator’s eyes as they spoke.

“You shall be thrown to the earth, a spectacle of you will be made before kings. By your many sins and dishonest trade, you have desecrated your sanctuaries. May a fire come out from you, may it consume you and reduce you to ashes on the ground in the sight of all who are watching.” God added, slightly turning to address the crowd of angels. “Shall any of you be sharing Lucifer’s deviancy, speak now.”

You didn’t even think twice before moving to take a step forward when Lucifer’s head suddenly snapped towards you.

“No.” They answered, and you knew it was said to you more than to God. You exchanged a look with the Morningstar, your head shaking from side to side as if to convince them to come clean and beg for forgiveness. But Lucifer only smiled and turned back to face their creator. “No, it is just me.”

“So be it.” God nodded and with a single wave of His hand, Lucifer was sent tumbling from the edge of the Holy mountain.

“No!” You whispered in horror and made to run towards the edge only to be held back by small cherubim hands.

The silence was deafening as the angels mourned the loss of one of their own, each wondering who would be next to suffer this fate.

You didn’t know how long you had stayed there, kneeling by the edge of the mountain and waiting, hoping that Lucifer would find a way to climb their way back up. But they never did. And you had eventually stopped hoping.

—

"What power would Hell have if those here imprisoned were not able to dream…of Heaven?" Lucifer’s eyes filled with tears, their lips slightly quivering before their mask fell back into place. Morpheus had struck a nerve and he knew it all too well.

“One day, Morpheus, we shall destroy you.” The Lightbringer promised. But not today. No, not today for Lucifer wasn’t ready to part with their dreams.

And so, as always since centuries, that night somewhere in Hell, the Devil dreams of an Angel. And as always, somewhere in Heaven, an Angel dreams of the Devil.

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tag list: @weemssapphic @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09 @pro-weems-places @readingtheentrails @catechristiesstuff @kimiinou

#lucifer morningstar #lucifer the sandman #lucifer Morningstar x reader #Gwendoline Christie #the sandman #lucifer sandman #lucifer sandman x reader #no beta we die like larissa #no I won’t ever stop writing song fics #I kinda feel for lucifer #kinda relate too #larissa weems x reader

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