#crownedinsin

[qapsiel]

@crownedinsin ;; texting starters (still accepting) ⚠️ a text meant for someone else.

[text: Lucifer] Would you like our next date to be at the park? [text: Lucifer] the crocuses are in full bloom, it looks very beautiful

[trickheaven]

@crownedinsin ;; sentence meme (still accepting) Lucifer said: "I’m not a sign, I’m an omen."

                             "YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, we all know that. There's a whole book about it. It's called Revelation." Gabriel doesn't even look at Lucifer as he strolls through the aisles, eyes glued to the colorful packages and boxes. If his brother wants to act all cool and mysterious here, well, be his guest, but don't expect Gabriel to turn his attention away from sugar and artificial flavors. "Does the Omen maybe want some candy? My treat," he adds as he grabs a XXL package of Maltesers.

[m1dn1ghthour]

@crownedinsin    (    lucifer morningstar    )    wants   a   lyric   starter   from   theodosia   constantinescu .

                    ❛   I   DON'T   CARE   THAT   you   sit   on   a   throne   of   lies    ―    so   does   christ .     look   how   he   treats   his   own   creation   !     as   our   demise   hastens   …   then   ,   i   swear   for   the   rest   of   my   days   ,   satan   ,   i   will   spit   in   the   face   of   christ   if   you   promise   me   that   i   can   stay   here   forever .   ❜

[handgiven]

"well, you know what they say — blood is thicker than water. i mean, we do not... possess blood. or need water. the point still stands though —" (closed starter for @crownedinsin)

[gallowsheart]

😱 @crownedinsin liked for a starter

Ian had been writing long enough to trust his process. When he hit a block, it was time to get the hell out of his office and go experience something besides four walls and a keyboard. Maybe most people wouldn't agree he had a decent work/life balance, but the simple fact was that he'd never really liked people in the real world all that much. Mostly, they got on his nerves with all their talking and the absolutely absurd things they cared about, like how much their shoes cost and what Kim Kardashian had Tweeted recently. When fictional people annoyed him, he could just kill them, which was how he'd become one of the most popular and gruesome indie horror novelists out there. Reclusive as well, his face not available on the backs of book covers or any social media ever. He preferred the privacy that came with anonymity.

But like them or not, the fact was that other people were necessary, and that was how he found himself sitting alone in an unfamiliar bar. Erin was a lousy drinking partner; he hadn't even asked her to come along. She just would have been miserable, and then he would have been miserable. He'd left his sister in her studio coated in a fine layer of limestone dust from her latest art project, where she was happiest. He nodded to the bartender and requested one of the beers on tap, something local with a silly name he wouldn't remember tomorrow, because this was about changing things up, not drinking the same goddamn thing every night and having the same goddamn conversations.

[hartlines]

THE "WE’RE ALL STILL EMO AF LYRIC" STARTERS

@crownedinsin: "I don’t blame you for being you, but you can’t blame me for hating it."

Why shouldn’t Sam see this as a compliment? Out of all the things Lucifer could have said to him, this is probably the best.

Being hated by the devil for who he is only reinforces that Sam is on the right path—the path of light. So why wouldn’t he let that bring a smile to his face?

"Thank you—I really try hard to be everything you despise."

[emeraldxphoenix]

@crownedinsin said "How awfully presumptuous of you to think I'd let you."

They were always going to end up here and they both know it. Each of them vilified by their people; each of them with reputations as liars, cheats, demons; each of them possessing certain appetites: so similar and yet stubbornly unwilling to admit it. This moment is inevitable.

Which makes the other's insistence at playing the tease all the more frustrating.

“‘Let’ me?” The god raises an eyebrow, fingers halting at the hem of Lucifer’s shirt. “And here was me thinking I might be doing you a service.” It’s not untrue – the fallen angel would surely enjoy himself – but the trickster must have let his eagerness to taste slip through the facade.

He licks his lips and steps back, releasing his hold on the fabric. Desire still bubbles beneath the surface, but is now clothed in sharp-fanged offence. “I suggest you select your next words carefully, as I will leave without a second thought the moment it no longer suits me to remain.”

[fangsforhire]

| ℒ | ~ @crownedinsin

The Ponyclub had become Lucien's refuge, a lively space where he could escape the complexities of his life. But lately, the unexpected ‘drop-ins’ by his father—a charismatic figure who cast a long shadow over his personal life—had been an unsettling mix of amusement and anxiety. ( With a heavy heart, he had shared the truth with Jamie, the man he loved, about who his father truly was and the pressures that came with that lineage. ) To avoid awkward encounters, Lucien had taken to scouring the club, hoping to catch his father before Jamie did again. So far, fate hadn’t been on his side, but as he approached the entrance, the unmistakable scent of the man who had created him wafted through the air, drawing him closer.

As he reached the door, one of the familiar bouncers, recognising Lucien’s face, granted him entry with a friendly nod. He wasted no time weaving through the crowd, his goal set on the magnetic figure at the centre of attention. ( He half-expected to find his father effortlessly flirting with a captivated audience, his natural charm pulling everyone in like moths drawn to a flickering flame—just as it did with Lucien. ) True to form, his father was indeed surrounded by admirers, laughter bubbling around him like champagne in crystal flutes.

Clearing his throat to draw attention, Lucien couldn't help but aim a teasing remark in his father's direction. 'Again? He’s not going to grow a second head, yanno.'

He stepped forward, determination etched in his features, and took his father by the shoulder, guiding him away from the group of admirers with the care of someone juggling both exasperation and affection. Sure, his father could indulge in socialising, but Lucien had other plans in mind. ‘C'mon, we’re going clubbing,’ he insisted, a challenging glint in his eye.