#songs by adrienne lenker

[wutheringheights78]

tagged a few times for my favorite albums of this year 🎧🤍 i love you music

honorable mention to the boygenius album :)

[uranium235s]

forwards, beckon, rebound

[diyasgarden]

after cutting off ties with patrick, art experienced the furtive desire to go back to the summers of their youth. the summers when patrick chose to go with him to his grandma’s house in the midwestern suburbs instead of heading back to the lonesome place he grew up in. summers filled with running around outside and planning for a shared future which no longer exists. the world doesn’t seem as bright as it did back then, and now his body has grown heavier with something far beyond age.

art wasn’t deluded enough to pretend this distance wasn’t his fault, so these feelings brought along a shame he couldn’t quell. how foolish to long for something he had destroyed? how foolish to long for something he would never have back?

(inspired by @andwordsarefutiledevicess’ post that featured the center picture of the moodboard)

[maurzipan101]

weren’t we the stars in heaven? 🌌

weren’t we the salt in the sea? 🌅

…

I love Adrienne Lenker 😭

[cicobuffs]

sewn together

preachers son!art donaldson x reader

cw: heavy use and references of christianity, reader mentioned throughout but not present, pre-relationship, deviance? i guess?, this guy is a yearner lol

wc: ~500, short but idc!!!!

Rumble.

It always starts with that. A rumble. It comes deep from the marrow of his bones. A rumbling of need, a lecherous desire, that has always found home between the cracks and crevices of his mind.

With all intents and purposes, it’s never been something Art could ever keep control of. It just lashes out, snarled and bloody, when he least expects it. Lashes out when he sleeps, haunting every thought and dream that comes across him. 

It’s thoughts of inherent impure nature. Thoughts of you. Thoughts of your hair, your skin, your hands. The way you walk and talk. How you smile and laugh. When you change perfumes from a flowery scent to something more vanilla that he always seems to notice. How’d you look in his bed, tangled up in his sheets. These musings linger, always, always linger that sometimes he thinks that these are things that he’s supposed to think, supposed to utterly yearn for. 

He’s always felt that calling, that whole draw to you, of course. Like every angel in heaven is screaming to him to go and get you and sweep you off your feet. That was the purity of it all, the sort of vocation. But once night falls and he’s settled in bed, that carnal rumble unearths itself and it makes him wonder if this is a desire of devilish nature, what he has been taught since he’d been in diapers, or a desire of the human sort: the normal feeling of want that grips everyone else's mind that is deemed just human nature. 

But to him, this is sinful, something unholy: something that would make the women at the church clutch their pearls and make his father shun him completely, where Art wouldn’t dare step foot in his home ever again. The rumbling brings him to shoot awake, breath heavy against his chest and red in the face. The darkness of his room is cut in half by the moonlight streaming in in pieces from the blinds against his window. He looks around trying to find his bearings as he clutches his chest: he can feel that rumble in his bones start to die down. He can make out his desk, photos of family and a depiction of Christ on top of it next to strewn about pencils and papers. He turns his head to look at the cross hung above his bed, all worn wood and chipping paint but despite that it always feels like it’s the center of his small room.

He throws the blankets he’s under aside and brings himself to the floor, kneeling. It’s a ritual now to bring his hands together and pray after nights like these. Pray for his own sake and pray for you. Because he does really like you, a very, very genuinely like and he feels like he’d be damned even more so to hell if he didn’t pray for you. So he begins like he always does, “Oh Lord, my father, grant me protection on this, my day of trouble…”.

[ramblingsfromthytruly]

i don't wanna be the owner of your fantasy

i just wanna be a part of your family

[antigoneikk]

Eugene/Merriell

"We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown."

[littlefirefly42]

tfw it’s not the hunger revealing nor the ricochet in the cave nor the hand that is healing nor the nameless grave

[shaunashpmn]

being an adrienne lenker and jackieshauna lover is not for the weak

[swiftfootedachilles]

I just want a place with you, I just want a place

dragon eyes by Adrienne Lenker

[madaqueue]

have a long plane ride tn time to listen to the same song on repeat and daydream abt childe

[racetheskies]

"standing in the yard...

... dressed like a kid...

... the house is white...

... and the lawn is dead."

[boywonderrr]

is anyone still thinking about arkham knight jason todd or am i screaming into the void (wip)

[currentlyincognitoperson]

[phoebebuggers]

oh i stand by this

[ramblingsfromthytruly]

weren't we the stars in heaven?

weren't we the salt in the sea?