lucysgraybird

[lucysgraybird]

[lucysgraybird]

jessi! we talked about context clues.

"ali hazelwood grows my vocabulary" someone needed to put you in a spelling bee

[lucysgraybird]

"ali hazelwood grows my vocabulary" someone needed to put you in a spelling bee

[lucysgraybird]

stubborn, doesn't shut up, in places she shouldn't be....me 2 queen

lois lane i understand you on an intrinsic level

[lucysgraybird]

lois lane i understand you on an intrinsic level

[lucysgraybird]

spencer reid is kinda rattling around in my head

[lucysgraybird]

i did it

i know i just changed my theme but should i do smth for vday

[lucysgraybird]

just heard the seasons of love from chi unifieds.....no i don't regret my life choices why do you ask

[lucysgraybird]

i know i just changed my theme but should i do smth for vday

[lucysgraybird]

feeling very chalant today

[lucysgraybird]

theres no such thing as tmi to me. i want to live in your ribcage.

[lucysgraybird]

scanning down my list of distractions and choosing mychart

[lucysgraybird]

if you thought i would stop posting ahout my body hurting you would be WRONG

[lucysgraybird]

[lucysgraybird]

sigh

[lucysgraybird]

𝐛𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

coriolanus snow x district girl!reader - written in third person

in the wicked!au universe (but can be read as a standalone)

cw// absolutely devastating angst but also a small laugh

“You’re trouble, you know?” he spoke fondly from his seat across from her, “Giving my daughter ideas of how best to torture me, aren’t you?” 

“You’d think she was mine, wouldn’t you? I figured she could use the inspiration,” her voice rang through his mind, every bit of him trying to cling to each syllable. His hair had caught her attention from the second he arrived, a splattering of dried dye painting him in splotchy tones of brown. It resembled a memory far in his mind of when she had done the same thing to him many years ago. He could claim it was a mistake when all her clothes came out of the dryer in various tones of red and pink; the teases she received for weeks had been enough to light her afire with ambition to get him back. But her genius idea of doing so had been a dark brown dye in his shampoo, one that splattered itself down his neck and ears and made him look like a proper idiot to Gaul. Now, he sat in front of her with that same dilemma. 

His daughter was true to her namesake, a detail that blissfully went over his wife’s head, every day it seemed. When he stepped out of the shower that morning, wrapping a towel around his waist, and heard his daughter’s soft giggles through the peek in the door she had made, he knew he was in trouble. It wasn’t until he froze in front of the mirror that he understood what had happened. Even then, it was as if he had been transported back in time. It was a strange thing to see a younger version of yourself staring back at you. The crinkles by his eyes disappeared, and the heaviness of years of sorrow faded away. He could have sworn he saw his love behind him laughing at his poor state, and if she had been, he would have scooped her into his arms and held her tighter than he ever had before. 

“She laughed so brightly at the sight of me. It reminded me of you. You didn’t laugh when you had done it back then, at least not to my face, but she had that same shine in her eyes.” His daughter was not the product of the love he thought she would be. His daughter was used as a weapon against him by his wife, a reminder of the life he had chosen. When she announced her pregnancy, it sent him spiraling. He spent a few too many nights in unsavory places along the edge of the capital, trying to correct a mistake he wished he had the strength to undo. His attempts were unsuccessful, and he wasn’t sure what he would have done if they hadn’t been. But when his daughter was born, despite her biological mother, he still saw his true love reflected in her ears. He would pretend she was theirs, even if it were a fool’s game to do so. 

“It took me a month to get the dye out last time. How long do you think it will take now?” he asked her, feeling the wind carry her further from him. She wouldn’t respond. He had imagined her voice before, a comforting reminder of what once was. He tried to cling to her every waking moment, seeing her in the bounce of his daughter’s unruly curls: a surefire sign of his contribution to her existence, but the liveliness his daughter carried was all her. His daughter’s birth had come a month after her passing, a month after he had to bury his girl six feet under in the woods outside the palace. He had brought the swaddled baby to her grave to introduce the two, his two girls meeting in both life and death, and he swore from that moment on, his daughter had a companion at her side that he wished he could reach out and touch one more time.

His head slumped forward to rest on her tombstone, letting her feel the brush of his damaged hair, and a single tear soaked into the earth she rested below before he could stop it. He could pretend the feeling of the wind in his hair was her hands. He could try and convince himself that the sound of his daughter’s laughter drifting towards him was her own. But as his daughter bound up to him with a bouquet of freshly picked wildflowers, he pulled himself together.

“How’s mama?” her small voice asked as she set the flowers in front of the stone, allowing Coriolanus to grab her and pull her into his lap. Her mother did not know the nickname her daughter bestowed upon Coriolanus’ old love, but he smiled every time she said it. It was as if he could capture a glimpse of what his life could have been if he had made different priorities- if he had allowed himself to want something better. 

“She’s proud of your little prank, sweetheart.” His words brought a wide smile to her face.

“She said that?” 

“She told me. I could hear her laugh in the wind at the sight of me.”  

[lucysgraybird]