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#I looked up 'man hugging dog' to find a good hugging-while-kneeling reference image.
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you’ll always be my favorite ghost - Big God, by Florence + The Machine
[Image description: Lineless digital painting of Ford kneeling in front of the stone statue of Bill, hugging it and crying. He is in the woods, surrounded by birch trees, with beams yellow light streaming down from the treetops. The grass around Ford is shaded to be reminiscent of the shape of the portal.]
#original art#billford#god I havent drawn in ages let alone lineless art#i dont know how to draw tears or anatomy at All#I looked up 'man hugging dog' to find a good hugging-while-kneeling reference image.#sometimes you gotta say fuck it and draw the thing before the idea of it eats you alive#i'm writing a fic about ford confronting the statue. the feelings are just so Complicated#he is so angry and relieved and exhausted.#angry at everything bill did. angry that hes gone forever. angry at himself for spending any energy on thinking about bill#most of all angry at himself for missing bill. he doesnt even Miss Bill#he just misses the version of bill that he thought he knew pre-betrayal. but that doesnt make the complicated feelings any less real#i imagine he would avoid the statue for a long long time and then one day accidentally walk past it#and feel a ton of repressed feelings bubbling to the surface#and he would want to kick the statue or run away or yell at it but all of those feel so silly to do to a statue. basically a gravestone#so he ends up hugging it and feeling like an idiot for hugging it but he just has to sob for a little while#sometimes you gotta cling to the tombstone of your horrible toxic ex and sob about how much you miss them#and sob about how bitter and angry and lost and Tired you feel. there will Never be any Resolution. he's just. Gone Forever#i can picture him laughing through the sobs and muttering 'we'll meet again huh. as if.'#'i never want to see you again you asshole. and having the chance to meet again would be too good to be true.'#he's just So Heartbroken about it all. and he wishes he could get some kind of closure or something. but there IS none.#even if bill came back what would he say? nothing new. He would keep feeling no remorse about any of it. he would keep being horrible.#ford is kinda mourning the final tiny little irrational ray of hope in him that got crushed when bill died.#the irrational hope that maybe bill Could end up regretting what he did and become better and then he could have his best friend back.#the irrational hope that the betrayal was all just a bad dream and any second now he will wake up and bill will be benevolent and good#none of these feelings are things that ford can admit to himself. not even all these decades later.#but it Does Something To You to see your ex-closest-friend's tombstone!!#regardless of how deep and terrible the betrayal was.#ford so badly wishes he could stop having any kind of feelings about bill anymore. especially the lingering remains of fond feelings#but i dont know if those feelings even Can be completely gotten rid of. hes stuck with the knowledge that he feels upset about bills death.#and he hates it. he hates feeling upset about the death of an evil dream demon who tried to destroy his family and his dimension.
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heavnofhell · 7 years
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For Every Little Wonder
Inspired by a headcanon developed with @whatisitlikeinyourfunnylilbrains and based in our verse “Bless This Home” (Homemade Heaven)
{also tagging @charlie-bradcherry (our many fluffy discussions contributed greatly) @theboyk-ng and @soulllesssam
There are many things about Earth and humanity that Lucifer is still learning, some of it eagerly, but most of it, begrudgingly. Sam has given him a mobile phone - one which the human programmed first. Of course, it hasn’t taken Lucifer long to understand the basic functions of the device, taking to technology surprisingly quickly when he has a reason. In this case, the main purpose it to keep Sam company while he’s having a slow day at work, sending him text messages (which he refers to as texted messages, regardless of the number of times Sam has corrected him) or answering his calls during his breaks. 
Ever one to encourage the advancement of knowledge, Sam is keen to show the Archangel all of the little gadgets and luxuries of modern-day society. After the mobile phone is mastered, he moves on to the PC he keeps at home. Lucifer doesn’t take to this quite so quickly, and after a few articles and videos that make even Sam question the sanity of humanity, the man decides that this is something better left unexplored. 
He does show him, however, the convenience of online shopping - explaining to Lucifer that this was how he and his brother would obtain some rare artifacts they needed when all else failed. He stands just behind the seated Archangel, a small smile on his lips as he watches him scroll and click his way through the endless offerings on the website. Once again, however, he feels the sting of his good intentions when, with furrowed brows and parted lips, Lucifer looks up from the photo of a throw pillow adorned with an image of a shirtless Nicolas Cage, his sapphire eyes both amused and confused. 
“That’s uh...” Sam stammers for a response, clearing his throat and swallowing down hard as his cheeks tinge the lightest pink. “Let’s go check on the dogs, yeah?” He leans over, reaching out and quickly closing the laptop, dropping a kiss to Lucifer’s temple as he mutters quietly, “And quit looking at me like that.” 
He leaves it alone after that, deciding that, just maybe, Lucifer is better off being naive to the web culture - he’s replaced enough of their appliances already, all guilty of pushing the Archangel just beyond his patience threshold. But then, one day, while working at the firm, his phone vibrates with a notification, an email message alerting him of a charge to his checking card. The amount is negligible, something around thirty dollars, and he makes a mental note to call the bank later - one which he quickly forgets. 
It’s not until a week later, when he comes home after a particularly trying day - one which prompted him to skip out an hour early - that the little mystery reveals itself. Early or not, Lucifer rarely missed the sound (or was simply a feeling?) of Sam walking down their driveway and through the door. But today is different. Today, the Archangel is nowhere to be seen. 
“Lucifer?” Sam calls for his other half, but the downstairs rooms are eerily quiet. For just one fraction of a second, Sam feels that old, familiar rush of panic - an almost paranoid reaction that could only come from living a life that teetered on the precipice of death and destruction. He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly and silently reassuring himself. Lucifer is an Archangel. He’s fine. 
The racing heartbeat beneath his ribcage belies the cool calm he’s pushed onto his features, and he moves with footsteps that are far more hurried than they would be on a usual day. Subconsciously (or maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing), he scans each room for signs of struggle, looking for anything out of place. It almost disturbs him more when he sees everything is just as it always is, but he keeps moving. 
There is a part of him that wants to call out to the angel again, but he’s still in hunter mode, despite his best attempts, and disturbing the silence would feel too haphazard and sloppy. He moves through the living room and back into the dogs’ room. When he finds it devoid of life, he walks to the far end, looking through the window to see their pets are out in the yard, a few sleeping, others playing, but no sign of Lucifer.
While he would normally be sure to greet the little pack, he simply can’t bring himself to spare the time right now. Moving quickly back through the room, he pushes his way back into the living room, leaving the door open behind him as he heads straight for the staircase, ascending the steps with a light, swift gait. 
He makes for their bedroom immediately, and at this point, he is absolutely certain he’ll open the door and find the Archangel perched on his normal place upon the window seat. Unfortunately, that isn’t the case. Sam pushes the partially open door, stepping into an empty room, his brows furrowing as he considers what this might mean. 
He isn’t given time to leap to any conclusions, however, the sound of quiet splashing reaching his ears through the closed bathroom door. Of course. The shower. It is Lucifer’s safe haven - a place that makes him feel at peace when the claws of his memories dig a little too deep. It is unusual for him to shower alone when he has the option of waiting for the human to offer him company (which Sam always does), and Sam can’t help but wonder if something has happened to upset his angel. 
He approaches the door, knocking softly and waiting just a moment before letting himself in. The sight that greets him stops him dead in his tracks, his jaw dropping slightly as he simply stares in silence. 
The Archangel is sitting on the floor in the middle of their enormous, tiled shower, his legs crossed and a large, pink bottle next to him, another lying on its side a few feet away. There is maybe half a foot of water around him; not that one could tell from simply looking, the view obstructed by the plethora of bubbles that surround him. 
And they are everywhere - they are covering every last inch of the tiles, and they are clinging to the pale skin of the Archangel, dripping down his torso, and shining brightly in his hair. Sam looks on for another moment, watching curiously as Lucifer picks up the bottle beside him and turns it upside down, squeezing ample amounts of pink gel into the pool he’s created. 
“Lucifer...” Sam’s voice breaks through the sound of the running water, the faucet still set to run on full blast, causing the bubbles to swirl and grow. At once, the Archangel’s eyes turn up to the human, his hands loosening their grip on the bottle as he stares up at his other half in silence. But he doesn’t need to say anything - his eyes are soft and happy, his blond hair is in complete disarray, and his cheeks are flushed and rosy from the heat of the bath.  
Before he even takes a moment to reconsider, Sam is moving right into the shower, his socks soaked through in a heartbeat, his clothing soon to follow as he kneels down and pulls the slightly bemused Archangel into a sudden hug. 
“Sam - your clothing -” 
“What are you doing, sweetheart?” Sam chuckles quietly, pulling back again and looking his Archangel over with an amused smile, his eyes filled with relief. 
“It’s bubble bath.” Lucifer lifts the bottle as a way of explanation, his own expression turning uncertain as he watches Sam’s reaction. “I found it on the computer. And since we don’t have a bathtub...” He gestures vaguely toward the center of the shower, and Sam’s eyes follow, another laugh tumbling from his lips when he sees a piece of Tupperware covering the drain. He turns back, shaking his head and reaching up to brush the bubbles out of Lucifer’s hair, glancing to the bottle in his hand and laughing yet again when he sees the label. 
“Johnson’s? Luci - you smell like a baby.” 
“I... what?” Lucifer scrunches his nose in confusion, looking between the bottle in his hand and Sam’s entertained expression. 
“Nevermind.” Sam smiles, leaning closer to kiss his forehead. With a sigh, he sits back on his heels, reaching up to begin unbuttoning his shirt with a small shrug. “Mind if I join you?” 
“I think you already have.” Lucifer chuckles this time, taking a dollop of suds in his hand and plopping them carelessly onto Sam’s head. “And now you smell like a baby.” 
“No - now I smell like a curious Archangel who is far more tech-savvy than I’d been led to believe.” 
“...fair enough.” Sam shook his head at the response, shrugging off his shirt and tossing it as close to the sink as he could manage before turning back to admire the Archangel again. 
“You’re free to buy whatever you want. Just... maybe check with me before you order anything too wild, okay?” He leaned closer to place another kiss on Lucifer’s damp skin, but stopped short when he saw the look of amused guilt in his icy eyes. 
“Lucifer... what is it?” Sam’s tone was even and stern, but there was a tiny curve to the corners of his mouth, his brow raised in expectation. 
“Does this mean you’d like me to send back the Custom Nicolas Cage Pillowcase Standard Size of 20 inches by 30 inches? Because, Sam - I gotta tell ya - it really goes with the theme you’ve got going in the guest bedroom.” 
{A/N: guys. WHY??? }
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