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spoookymuulders · 4 years ago

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perchance to dream.

read it on ao3 here word count: 23,507 summary: With two families dead, the BAU is called to Colorado to try and connect the murders. Something about the deaths seems familiar to Reid, but he can’t quite put his finger on it. And when a familiar face shows up, it throws another cog into the machine, complicating things further. warnings: mentions of drowning, cpr, mentions of religion, mentions of death and cemeteries a quick lil author’s note on this chapter!! i wanna take a second to thank everyone who's read and commented on this story. it's the first multi-chapter fic i've posted in like.. ten years? probably?? and all of your comments and warm words were SO encouraging. i really really really appreciate all of y'all who read this! like i said at the beginning, this is the final chapter but it's not the end! we've got ten more seasons to get through and i already have a handful of drabbles written/half-written so be on the lookout for more additions to this series!!

chapter six. no place like home.

The summers die, one by one. How soon they fly, on and on. - Musician Herbert Kretzmer

Spencer Reid has never been a religious man. If there is a God, he’s often wondered why they would have let him suffer the way he did as a child? Why would they have let his tormentors harass him the way they did, why would they have let his mother suffer the way she does, when all she’s ever wanted is to put love and light and happiness into the world?

And why the hell would they have taken Parker away from him? Parker, the one ray of sunlight in his life - it’s where he’d gotten her nickname from. His mother had always said she’s like a ray of sunshine, and he’d always agreed. Parker is bright and happy and warm like the sun, and if anything happens to her he swears he’ll lose his mind.

People, religious people, have always told him everything happens for a reason. That’s crap, he thinks, because what reason was there for him to be tied to a goalpost at twelve? What reason was there for his father to leave when he was ten? What reason was there for him to be reunited with Parker, only to have her ripped away from him so viciously again?

Religious people have always told him God’s will must be done; that was Tobias Hankle’s whole thing. God’s will. As Morgan tears down the dirt road in the SUV, Spencer thinks that God’s will is stupid and ridiculous and he’d like to give God a piece of his mind if this is his will.

The SUV screeches to a halt, Hotch throwing the other one into park behind them as everyone hops out, drawing weapons and heading for the house. As they climb the steps, Spencer sees why Parker described it as something out of Pride and Prejudice - it looks like it’s been mostly untouched since that era. They clear the house and Spencer can hear his heart pounding in his ears.

“Where’s that brain, pretty boy, what’re you thinkin’?” Morgan asks.

“Shakespeare’s tragedies. He’s done Othello, Antony and Cleopatra, Julius Caesar, and Macbeth.” Spencer says, pacing slowly. “That leaves Coriolanus, King Lear, Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet - Hamlet.” He stops, his eyes widening, and yanks his phone out of his pocket, dialing Garcia’s number quickly.

“Boy Genius! How can I help?” She asks brightly.

“Is there a - a lake or a river or something near the house where Malloy held Parker?” He asks sharply. Garcia taps away at her keyboard quickly, chewing at her lip as she does so.

“Yeah, there’s a lake about half a mile south of there, why?”

Spencer doesn’t answer, snapping his phone closed and shoving it into his pocket.

“He took her to the lake.”

He’s moving before anyone else can say a word, his legs pumping faster than he’s ever run. Morgan and Hotch are hot on his heels, along with the rest of the team. As the lake comes into view, Spencer spies movement a hundred or so yards away.

“Over there!” He shouts, pointing in the direction Malloy just took off. Emily and Rossi sprint after Malloy, following the sounds of heavy footfalls and snapping branches. Hotch sends Reid along one side of the lakeshore while he takes the other and Morgan goes straight to the water’s edge.

It’s Morgan who finds her.

****

Emily doesn’t remember the last time she moved this fast - honestly, she’s not sure she ever has. She catches glimpses of Malloy through the trees as she runs after him with Rossi, her gun at the ready. When they stumble into a clearing and realize Malloy has trapped himself between them and the wall of a cliff, they slow their footsteps and move forward slowly.

“It’s over, Jacob.” Emily calls, watching him carefully. He looks around, as though he’s looking for a way out. Emily knows he won’t find one. His eyes flick between her and Rossi, a twisted smile touching his lips. “If you come with us now, we can work something out.”

She sees the look in his eyes - sees the moment that he realizes that there’s only two ways he’s leaving this forest; in handcuffs or in a bodybag. His eyes land on Emily again and he smirks.

“The rest,” He says, “is silence.”

With that, he charges at Emily. She wastes no time in firing at him twice, relaxing her stance only when he drops heavily into the grass. Footsteps coming out of the brush catch her attention and she turns, gesturing at Malloy’s body when the locals come hurrying out.

“Come on.” Rossi says, grabbing her elbow gently and tugging her back in the direction of the lake. “I get the feeling the kid might need us.”

****

He sees the fabric of her dress first, and he’s launching himself into the water before he has time to think about it. His heart lurches at the sight of Parker floating in the water, the green gown wafting around her delicately as she bobs up and down slowly in the waves. He slides his arms under her knees and her back, scooping her up, and hurries to the water’s edge, screaming for Hotch.

He lays her down delicately on the rocky beach, vaguely aware of Hotch stopping Reid behind him as Reid lets out a broken noise. He wastes no time in starting CPR, pushing heavily for the chest compressions and blowing air into her mouth. He prays silently as he works, willing God not to take her. Other hurried footsteps on the beach alert him to the presence of the rest of the team, but he keeps working.

“Come on.” He breathes, pushing against Parker’s chest again. “Come on, sweetheart, don’t do this. Wake up.”

Behind him, JJ moves to stand beside Hotch and Reid, touching Reid’s arm gently. Prentiss and Rossi stand shoulder-to-shoulder, watching anxiously. Hotch keeps his face stoic and stays silent, keeping his hold on Reid. Morgan won’t believe that Parker is gone. Not after everything she’s been through. After escaping from Malloy once, she doesn’t deserve to go out, not like this. Not here in this shitty forest, in this shitty lake.

He pushes again, and almost lets out a sob when she coughs suddenly, water spouting out of her mouth. He hurries to turn her onto her side, patting her back and helping her get all the water out. The tension in the air dissipates and Hotch lets his grip on Reid slacken. Reid sprints forward, dropping to his knees beside Parker and brushing her hair back as she lays against the rocks, eyes closed. Her hands curl around his wrists lightly and Morgan sits back, resting his elbows on his knees for a moment and hanging his head.

Reid helps Parker sit up and clutches her to him when she throws herself into his arms, sobbing. He clings to her like a lifeline, pressing his face to her shoulder, tears of his own adding to the lakewater clinging to her skin. He starts whispering apologies and she shakes her head against his neck, clinging to him tighter and curling her hands in the back of his sweater.

****

Spencer hovers by the end of the ambulance as the paramedics check Parker over. Aside from the bruising on her wrists and around her throat, she’s unscathed. His heart squeezes painfully as the paramedics step away and he sees her properly, wrapped up in an FBI windbreaker and with a heavy blanket from the paramedics around her shoulders. She’s perched on the back of the ambulance, her damp hair pushed over one shoulder, and she meets his eye and offers a tired smile. He tries to smile back, but he knows it doesn’t work.

She pats the spot beside her lightly and he pads forward, sitting next to her quietly. They watch the house silently for a few long moments before either of them speaks.

“I’m so sorry.” He says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. Parker shakes her head instantly.

“Don’t.” She says, her voice hoarse but firm. Spencer glances at her anxiously. “Don’t even start. This wasn’t your fault, Spencer, it was my own fault.”

“Parker-” He starts, but she shakes her head again.

“Spencer, I’m the one who wouldn’t let you come outside with me. If I’d let you come.. Who knows. This might not have happened. Or it might have happened and he might have taken you, too. Or done something worse to you, and I couldn’t-” She says softly, shaking her head and sliding her arm through his gently. Spencer sighs slowly, hanging his head, and Parker leans into him, resting her cheek to his shoulder. “I’m okay. I’m here.”

Humming softly, Spencer winds an arm around Parker gently, holding her against him tightly and closing his eyes. She scoots closer, tucking her chin to his shoulder and offering a small, tired smile when he turns his head to press a kiss to her temple. They sit in silence, shut away from the chaos of everything around them for a few minutes before Spencer kisses her forehead again and wrinkles his nose.

“You taste like lakewater.” He says quietly, and Parker scoffs, feigning offense, and smacks his knee gently.

“I can’t imagine why.” She retorts. Spencer looks down at her, smiling softly, and she returns it easily, winding her arms around his waist and squeezing him tightly for a moment. “D’you think the hospital will mind if I use up all their hot water to take a three-hour shower?”

****

Two weeks later .

Parker is still adjusting to life at home. She’s been staying with Jeremy and his family in Vegas - along with her mother and Spencer, neither of whom will let her out of their sight - and realizing that she didn’t miss the heat. She’s been getting to know AJ’s fiance, Alex, and Jeremy’s kids - her niece and nephew. It still blows her mind that she’s an aunt . That her big brother has kids . They’re all out at the park for the day, Parker perched on a bench as PJ and Luke sprint around after AJ and Alex. She smiles tenderly at the scene, then catches Spencer’s eye and jerks her head to the side. He nods and excuses himself from his conversation with Jeremy and Sophia, coming to stand beside Parker as she slides off the bench.

“You okay?” He asks softly. Parker nods, chewing the inside of her lip.

“Can we take a walk?” She asks quietly. Spencer nods, his hand settling at the small of Parker’s back gently as they slip away from the rest of their group. Spencer thinks at first that they’re just wandering, but it doesn’t take him long to see that Parker has a destination in mind, and he understands instantly as the gates of the cemetery come into view. She’s been putting this off since they came back to Vegas, but she knows she can’t do that forever.

They slip through the gates silently, Spencer’s hand lowering from Parker’s back. She slips her hand into his and he brushes his thumb along her knuckles slowly. She feels like she’s on autopilot as she heads for her family’s plot. Fifty or so feet away, she stops. Spencer stops beside her, looking down.

“D’you want me to come with you?” He asks softly. Parker shakes her head, exhaling quietly, and steps away from him. Spencer perches on a stone bench nearby as she approaches the headstone she’s looking for and sinks into the dry grass. She stares at it for a few long minutes, contemplating what exactly she wants to say. In the end, she settles for simplicity.

“Hi, daddy.” She says softly, sniffling. She swallows thickly, twisting her lip as she stares at the tiny dash between the dates of birth and death. “I’m home.”

Spencer watches from his spot on the bench, wondering if he should go sit with her. He decides against it - she needs to do this on her own. He takes in her body language, the way she sits with her legs criss-crossed first, leaning forward and picking at the grass. She talks to the stone for a while - something Spencer has never really understood, but he doesn’t question it - and when she finally sits back and pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them, Spencer stands and pads over to sit beside her, the grass crunching beneath his feet. She leans into him as he settles, and he wraps an arm around her shoulders, rubbing her arm gently.

“He’d be proud of you.” He tells her softly.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

****

Jeremy has a hammock in his backyard, and that’s where Parker spends most of her time. Spencer finds her there now, one leg hanging out, the toe of her sneaker pressing against the tree one end is tied to so she can swing slowly, and an arm thrown over her eyes as she basks in the fading sunlight.

“Hey.” He says, stopping beside the hammock. She hums in response. “Jeremy says dinner’s just about ready. He wanted me to come let you know.” Parker lowers her arm, squinting at him in the sun, and Spencer raises a brow at her as she wiggles for a moment.

“Well, get in, dummy.” She says, squirming to adjust the hammock so there’s room for Spencer beside her. He laughs softly and climbs in carefully, draping his arm around Parker as she settles against him. He cards his fingers through her hair slowly, wrapping one of her curls around his index finger gently and admiring the way it catches the light as she rests her cheek to his chest. They swing together in silence for a few minutes before Spencer speaks, his voice just above a whisper so as not to disturb the quiet of the coming evening.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

Parker hums in response, brushing her fingers along Spencer’s arm absently.

“I want everyone to stop treating me like I’m gonna break.” She murmurs finally. Spencer hums curiously, glancing down at her. She looks up at him, lifting her head to rest her chin to his chest and watch him as she speaks. “I mean - I get it. I do. But I’m not.. I’m not a teacup in a china shop. I feel like everyone is panicking about saying something that’ll upset me or whatever, and I - y’know, I’m not fine , but I’m okay. I’m not gonna shatter.”

“Everyone’s worried.” He tells her, and she sighs softly.

“I know, and I get it, Spencer, I do. But I just.. I wish everyone would stop treating me like I can’t handle anything anymore.” She says quietly.

“Parker, you’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.” He says softly, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear gently. “And we know you can handle anything. But you don’t have to. Not alone.”

“I know that, but.. I want to. I have to be allowed to do stuff on my own.”

Spencer hums softly, tugging at one of Parker’s curls gently and watching as it springs back into place. “I know how you feel.” He says finally. She glances up at him, resting her chin on his chest gently as he speaks. “There was a case a couple years ago that.. Went south, let’s say. Everyone treated me like broken glass after, like if they said the wrong thing I was gonna shatter into a million pieces. And maybe I would have, who knows? But I got through it - and some of it, I got through alone. But most of it, I got through with the help of the people around me. My family.” Humming thoughtfully, Parker nods.

“That’s what family is for, right?” Spencer continues, looking down at her. “They’re there by your side through the good stuff, but they’re there for you through the hard stuff, too. And you have - you have your mom, and the boys, and Sophia and the kids. You’ve got me - and the rest of my team, I think Morgan might like you better than he likes me.” Parker giggles at that, shaking her head a little.

“What am I paying a therapist for when I have you?” She says softly. Spencer grins, pressing a kiss to Parker’s forehead and holding her closer. He closes his eyes as she settles her cheek against his chest again, and as Parker’s breathing evens out, her breaths turning slow and deep, Spencer revels for the hundredth time at how happy - how lucky - he is to have her back. Before long, he’s sound asleep, too, lulled by the lazy swinging of the hammock and the quiet backdrop of crickets and coyotes in the distance, and Parker’s heartbeat against his ribs.

And as she sleeps, Parker dreams of her family, and her genius, and home .

There’s no place like home. - Author L. Frank Baum

#mine*#my writing #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x oc #drowning tw #cpr tw #cemetery tw #death mention tw #????? idk im tryna cover all my bases #fic: perchance to dream #series: vienna

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chezzkaa · 7 years ago

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Von, Pardon?

Pairing: Ryan Haywood x Reader & Jeremy Dooley x Reader Universe: Fake AH Crew (Cinders)

Summary: Jeremy’s attempts to secure a gallery setting for an art show sees you roped into being his wife, a wealthy and influential art investor - much to Ryan and your family’s amusement.

WC: 4788 [Master List]

Jeremy shuffles nervously in the doorway, eyes darting uncomfortably between you and Ryan’s lounging figure splayed across the faded grey couch, hair tumbling over the cream and maroon pillows to spill off the edge. Ray perches in the centre of the muted lilac rug covering the rich wooden floors, completely engulfed in Tilly as she pounces back and forth over his chest, swiping at his nose before bouncing away playfully.

Around you the world bustles without a care, large windows opening up like panels into a narrative; each seat offering you a new outlook. The ocean gently lapping at the crisp sand, the ice cream parlour with the jovial owner who’s love of sunshine yellow cardigans knew no bounds. But in your pent house you could stop and watch others tumbling through their stresses, safe and far away.

Jeremy struggles, a trembling hand running clumsily through his freshly dyed hair, finger tips still stained purple. Your lips pull away into a glittering beam, his tensions visibly easing at the sight.

“Of course I'll come to the show, is that even a real question? You’ve worked your ass off, there's no way I'd miss it.”

Ryan hauls himself into sitting, an equally warm and supportive smile curving across his strong features, “we'll all come.”

Ray's attention darts to the conversation, apprehension shifting in the scorching depths of his eyes, hand busy scratching Tilly's ear; “what’re you volunteering me for? Every time you do that I nearly die.”

“That was once time!” he defends, body rocking back while he shoots out a hand offence.

“Three times, actually,” you pat his knee in correction before tapping Ray with your foot; having to sink down in the matching bucket chair to reach.

“Jeremy's got art show tomorrow.” The man’s face relaxes, eyes drifting back to your cat as she tries to curl on his chest.

“Look at pictures and shit? I can do that, I'm a pro.”

“For the amount of time you spend glued to video games,” Ryan muses affectionately, eyes resting on Ray’s pursed lips and raised eyebrows, “I have no doubt.”

The sound of Jeremy clearing his throat anxiously catches your attention, cheeks growing pink as he rocks on the balls of his feet; incredibly out of place and caught between the kitchen and living space. “It’s a, err, it’s a black tie event; and I sorta kinda need a date.”

"Oh c’mon, lil J,” teases Ryan smugly, leaning back with his hands behind his head, “I can't believe it’s taken you this long to ask me out. But I'm sorry to say,” his face falls, holding out his left hand and wiggling his fingers, “the opportunity's 5 years too late. I'm happily married.”

“You bet your ass you are,” you warn, watching him shrink into the pillows with his bottom lip drawn between his teeth. The sight sends your heart fluttering, his devoting smile contagious.

“I'll be your date,” interjects Ray in between Tilly's fur; grinning up at Jeremy as he moves to stand beside another empty seat, bright purple and orange classing rudely in your living room. “I’ll do anything for free food.”

Jeremy lets off an uncomfortable and irritated hum, fingers drumming against the invitations he gripped in white knuckles. Pleadingly he looks to you, your ball of sunshine now a bundle of nerves.

“See here's the thing: I kinda sorta might've told the owner of the space I was married... To our beloved news anchor's female associate... who happens to be a famous art investor?”

“Oh Jeremy,” you groan as your head falls into your hands, Ryan's deep chuckles swamped by the loud cackles emanating from Ray.

“I had to Y/N,” he cries, “it looked good on the application and it's the only reason he's letting me use the space.” With a half hearted sigh you stand, accepting the thick printed invitation and peering down at Jeremy’s most professional scrawl.

“Oh you're kidding,” you mumble into the golden lettering “Beatrice? You fucking called me Beatrice?!”

“Beatrice Von Bisurart,” he squeaks quietly, collapsing into the empty seat and curling his chest to his knees, arms hanging uselessly by his side.

“Buys your art? Jeremy I taught you better than this.”

“I panicked, okay? It was all very stressful,” the man has to increase his volume, tears now rolling down Ryan’s cheeks as he grows pink from laughter, hunching against his knees to hold in his sides. “And it asked for a significant other and I just lost it and I’m sorry; please be my date?”

“‘Von’, Jeremy!” You smack the paper with wide eyes staring at him, as though you could force some sense into the situation, “where the fuck did you get ‘Von’?”

“It sounded cool, like you’re a vampire slayer or something; I don’t know!”

“You wanted people to think you’d married a vampire slaying art investor? Jeremy, how are we supposed to get matching rings for this shit by tomorrow?”

Recovering, Ryan grins, standing with creaking knees to lay a supportive hand on his battle buddy’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan.”

“You suck, Jeremy. I’m gonna have to find a fucking babysitter now,” you pout at the clashing monstrosity vibrating in the cream chair, small groans falling into his lap. Tossing the invitation onto the glass coffee table in defeat you glance to the sky streaked with paint as the sun sets, chuckling delicately.

“Okay, so Jeremy might suck,” Ryan admits, Jeremy letting out a deep, rattling sigh. “But nothing sucks more than being called Beatrice Von Bisurart.”

“Whatcha think of this one?” Jeremy asks, holding the ring to the flashlight's beam; glow dancing off the particles caught in the air. Ryan looks up from the display he was pilfering, joining Jeremy and staring critically at the piece through the smudged face paint. Eventually he shakes his head.

“Do you really think Von Bisurart would wear anything with less than a cluster fuck of diamonds?”

“Oh crap,” Jeremy groans in agreement, tossing the ring behind him; your fingers pinching it mid flight as you shuffle through the necklaces, “you're so right, Ryan. Von Bon is a classy bitch.”

“I dunno,” you counter, shining the light onto the ring as it shines brighter than the gold dusting your eyes, voice muffled through the bandana, “I think it's kinda nice.”

“My wife deserves more than nice,” Jeremy retaliates indignantly, Ryan nodding vigorously by his side. With a sweeping gesture Jeremy's eyes glaze over, a dreamy smile hanging from his lips, “she deserves the world.”

You're chuckling when returning to scavenge, tentatively stepping over the shattered glass sprinkling the carpet from your entrance, careful of the dangers the dark might house. Careering to the counter you rip out the draw beneath the register to reveal the products too expensive to display for the public; riches glittering in excitement as your eyes rake curiously over the sharp edges and pools of gems.

Rifling through, you're immediately drawn to the thick necklace choked with diamonds, jewels dripping to your collarbone and flush against your neck when you lift the bandana and press it to you skin. With an affectionate chuckle Ryan joins you; fingers brush the nape of your neck to sweep away stray hairs before taking the clasp and latching it, the weight heavy against the hollow of your throat.

“Oh, now that's nice,” he compliments with a hammering heart as you turn to face him; lost in the rainbows fracturing your eyes. “Beautiful.”

“Hey,” snaps Jeremy, his exaggerated frown appearing above your shoulder, “stop fraternizing with my wife, Ryan.”

“She was my wife first, Jeremy.”

“Well, this is awkward,” shuffles the younger man with a quirk of the lips, eyes drifting to the stacks of jewels you'd unearthed. With a start he lunges in to snatch a hefty ring, every inch littered with elaborate diamonds and shifting colours. Ryan's hand moves to your lower back, redirecting attention to Jeremy, the young man’s face excited as you offer him your hand to allow the incredibly loud fake wedding ring to slip neatly above the real.

“And this is perfect!”

In all the time you’d known Jeremy, he’d never been this nervous. His breath rattled with every vibration rocking through his body, hand’s either buried deep in his pockets or smoothing back his hair for the millionth time. You sigh, his anxieties lapping at your skin as you approach the gallery, lights glowing invitingly from the windows.

Though a relatively warm night, the breeze gnawed against your skin and through the tumbling royal purple skirts exploding from your waist, tracing the hems of your chest trapped tightly in a cantaloupe sweetheart neckline, arms encased in flattering sleeves but fingers exposed to the wind. Comfort came from the weighted necklace from last night, nestled in the hollows of your throat and emanating power.

Slipping your hand into his with a sense of familiarity and ease, your fingers give him a gentle and reassuring squeeze, his chestnut eyes frantically glancing between your smiling face and the fear throbbing around the final destination.

“You’ll be okay, J,” you comfort, clicking up the steps in your incredibly tall heels, “you’re an amazing artist. This is gonna be seamless, they’ll be nothing left on the walls.”

“I dunno,” he mumbles in reluctance, an invisible barrier stopping him just before the entrance. You turn to face him, hands moving to his shoulders, resting atop the floral patterns blooming with royal purple variants across his suit jacket.

“Listen to me, just breathe. You’re nervous now, but once we get through those doors you’re Benjamin Von Bisurart. A smooth talking, confident man with a stupid name, who I’m incredibly proud of.”

“You’re right,” he nods, letting you loop his arm intimately around your waist, bodies fitting together like they were fashioned with each other in mind.

“We’re all here to support you,” you continue, straightening his matching cantaloupe bowtie before resting your palm against the curve of his back. He takes a few shaky breaths, his grip tightening as he collects himself.

“Remember,” you murmur, directing him towards the large man at the entrance, his welcoming smile false and pained, “my offer to stab everyone still stands.”

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” he whispers while removing the invitations and handing them over, the man checking them before moving aside.

“You’re such a party pooper, Von Bisurart.”

“Von, pardon? Oh, oh!” he catches himself, passing the man and entering the bustling space, overwhelmed by the crowd muttering at his art in approval, “you mean me. Right, okay.”

Inside the stiflingly warm room packed with dull shades of grey bodies, all you see are erratic splashes of colour glued to the walls. Sharp tones slashing through cool comforts, grand canvases coated in complex patterns, sculptures etched with dramatic angles. Jeremy had left a part of himself in each piece, the expanse of his emotion lain out for critique.

You could pick out which artwork tied to the different points of his life, the darker, brooding works heavy and loaded with stress, loaded with Laura. Loaded with Gareth. Splayed out across bleach white walls and curving hallways, the pieces flowed like a journey. Bright colours moving with ease and the dark pain staggered, cluttered and overwhelming.

Littered throughout the winding rooms are the family that lived the paintings, each brush stroke cutting as sharp as the knife buried in their heart, faded smoke as cold as the gun with bullets whizzing with a splash of colour. Jack’s voice reaches you first, Jeremy redirecting your gaze to the powerful woman with fire for hair and flames for soul. Towering in her signature heels, her shape is draped in elegance and freckle clusters, grape fabric pooling to the floor in fountains, long shapely legs protruding from the slits.

Beside her stands Geoff, tall and proud, incredibly neat in peach slacks and a brilliant white button down, moustache meticulously twirled to follow the curves of his smile. Beneath the cuffs and collar of his dress shirt poke the stifled narrative, seeping into his fingers and tainting his knuckles. He seems content in holding Jack’s drink while she gestures wildly, scolding voice putting a narrow minded critic back in his place. At her words Jeremy smiles, excusing himself to join them after Jack motions with a gold adorned hand, his fingers burning as they leave your waist.

As he leaves, you catch sight of Lindsay and Michael, smartly dressed in matching black attire, streaks of tangerine orange and rich purple dancing through his tie and her sheer scarf. Chatting to a waiter Michael works his charm and talks exuberantly with his hands, drinks tray being emptied behind the server’s back by Lindsay, expertly balancing brimming flute glasses between her fingers. She nods to Michael, disappearing into the shadows as he redirects the servers attention by yelling ‘hey!’ after an invisible culprit, scampering away to hide with his wife and live his best life; duel wielding champagne glasses.

Gavin wastes no time in emerging from the door to the kitchen, clutching a tray loaded with elaborate canapés. Beneath the shimmering gold of his waistcoat glares an aubergine shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and loose around the collar, legs stretching with incredible length in pastel pumpkin trousers.

Tearing your eyes away from their laughter, you can’t help but notice people avoiding the anger and pain, instead congregating around the expansive paintings splotched with happy pastels in their dull tones. Stood in an abandoned hallway, Jon in a classic sherbet orange suit jacket stares up at the suffocating piece twirling with deep blues and heavy grey tones, colours found so easily in his eyes, a hand fiddling with the delicate lavender of his shirt.

Beside the man with wild hair is a familiar face from a lifetime ago. Clinging to your brother’s hand, a suit of orchid, apricot and sunshine yellow hides the inherent clumsiness of his person. His deep olive skin glows beneath the light, hazel eyes studying the piece before him, a hand musing through his messy brunet curls as he stares in wonder. Jon mirrors the expression, though understanding and empathy flows as an undertone.

“This is incredible,” breathes Ben as you approach, eyes tearing from the piece to greet you, the long forgotten fear sparking for a moment before he settles into an easy, lopsided smile.

“I’m glad you appreciate my husband’s work,” you tease, resting a comfortable hand on his shoulder, casting a glance to Jon, who beams brightly.

“He’s very talented,” he muses, letting go of Ben’s hand and pulling you into a hug, as warm as ever, “I’m so glad it’s all worked out for him.”

“He’s been so nervous,” you admit, attention drifting from the bright eyes of your family to the dark pain of one of your best friends, agony splatter on the canvas. “The gallery owner’s been trying to get in his ass all week, apparently.”

“Oh no,” sympathises Jon, lips flattening in concern, “Mr... err, oh god what’s his name? Ermm...” He snaps his fingers; face scrunching as he turns to look up to Ben for help, the man smiling down with patience and adoration.

“Mr Vermont,” he offers, Jon’s forehead resting against his shoulder with a groan, “we’ve still got to speak to him. He invited you personally, and you promised to interview him for your news segment.”

“Thank you,” your brother breathes in relief, “what would I do without you?”

“Look a lot less attractive,” he teases, pressing a gentle kiss into Jon’s wild hair, gentle chuckles resonating from their shoulders and dancing around your feet.

You’re smiling at Ben, overwhelmingly grateful for the role he’s played in your life and the lives of those you loved; knowing you couldn’t apologise enough for the years lost to anger and confusion. Still, the joy that had returned to Jon could only be attributed to him. His patience, understanding and loving adoration leading him to devote all he had to Jon’s recovery from the trauma of memory loss. You’d never be able to thank him for bringing your brother back from the brink, certain the downward spiral would have dragged him further into self destruction.

“There’d be less ice cream,” you joke, ears pricking at the sound of youthful, girlish giggles; “that’s for sure.”

“You’ve got a point,” Ben agrees, watching your eyes scan the room for the source of the joyful noises, “it’s not as though there’s 20 other ice cream parlours in Los Santos or anything.”

“Heaven forbid!” Jon gasps, eyebrows quirking as Ben laughs, rich and deep.

“Besides, you’re conveniently within walking distance of our apartments.” You chuckle, eyes coming to land on Ray, dressed head to toe in purple bar a bright orange tie, a red haired two year old doused in a starfish orange dress sparkling as bright as her amethyst shoes perched against his hip. As soon as he appeared Ray vanishes behind Trevor and Alfredo, the pair in matching mulberry and pink ginger pinstripe suits, talking animatedly to one another.

“We should probably let you go,” admits Ben, a sweeping motion catching the entire room, “Mrs. Von What’s-your-face must have some networking to do!” Your eyes narrow at the mischievous pop of his dimples, gold glittering in his eyes.

“Careful, Benji,” you warn with a teasing smile, “I made you, and it’ll be easy to break you.”

“Go on,” he challenges as Jon laughs, coaxing away his beaming boyfriend – who can’t help but trip over his own legs, “bring it on!”

“I’ll eat you out of ice cream, don’t you think I won’t!”

A sharp, insistent tugging on your skirts makes you turn, Jon and Ben dematerialising to explore the rest of the gallery. Stood beside you is a bright girl, her eyes achingly familiar, a deep blue ocean meeting the crisp white sand, light fracturing playfully. You smile, crouching to level with her, giggles tumbling from her lips as your face scrunches; taking her hands in yours.

“Georgina, what’re you doing running around without Daddy?”

The girl shrugs, lips sharing the shape of your own as she chews the bottom, “I lost him.”

“I don’t think you did,” you state knowingly, poking her button nose, “I think you ditched him.”

“No!” she exclaims joyfully, attempting to hide the smile splitting her pretty face, eyelashes long and fluttering.

“Georgie, did you abandon Daddy?”

“... Maybe.”

“Oh sweetie,” you chuckle, brushing back the tumbling golden curls cascading over her shoulders and straightening the amethyst dress that had begun to bunch around her waist, “you know Daddy can’t manage on his own.”

“She’s right,” comes a deep and affectionate chuckle, Ryan parting through the crowd to stand behind the girl, who shrieks in delight. “What would I do without my girls?”

“You’d die!” Georgie offers, skipping in place as you straighten up, laughing while greeting Ryan’s churning eyes and adoring expression. Stood with confidence, his grey, slim fitting jacket traces his curves and angles, papaya dress shirt tucking snug into wine slacks. Taking him in, you’re breathless, hair in similar curls to those of your daughter – if not a little darker – perching atop his head in an elegant bun with spiralling locks brushing the nape of his neck and resting against his jaw bone and shoulders.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you murmur, having to shake out of the trace ensnaring you in his eyes, caught in the waves. He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips and pressing a delicate kiss that leaves your skin tingling and excited.

“Henry Lawrence.” He released your hand reluctantly, instead stroking Georgie’s hair. “Mrs. Von Bisurart, this is my eldest, Georgina.”

Your daughter waves, delighting in playing pretend and offering you a tiny hand similar to the way her father had. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss.”

You accept it, fingers curling against her warm palm, “the pleasure’s all mine.”

“Good job, Georgie,” Ryan breathes as he creaks to the ground, hands carefully lifting the small girl into his arms; a joyful smile sparkling in his eyes as she giggles. Brushing her blond hair from her face her blue eyes shine with the same light as her father’s, her dress crinkling as he supports her against his hip; flowers spilling with amethyst making up her skirt. “You’ll get your candy later.”

“Now,” she giggles, Ryan pressing his nose against hers, rocking back and forth.

“Oh no,” he smiles, “a deal’s a deal.” Georgie pouts, eyes moving to you as her eyebrows knit together.

“Mommy-”

“Ah ah aahh, you little sneak,” Ryan cuts off, looking proudly at his daughter’s triumphant expression, her hands out and eagerly awaiting her prize.

“I’m so proud.”

“She got that from you,” he sighs, planting a kiss against her forehead and pressing a noisy packet into her tiny hands, fingers clumsily ripping open the bag.

“I’m not even denying it,” you smile, reaching out a hand as Jeremy joins you, ruffling her blond curls and receiving another beautiful giggle in return, “I’m teaching her to take over the world.”

“Don’t you mean ‘take on’?”

“Oh no,” you deny the correction, smiling at Jeremy and slipping your hand into his own, Ryan beaming and bouncing your daughter; Georgie’s feet kicking with glee, “she’s going to rule the world.”

She beams, chest puffing out and face falling serious as Ryan rests his head against her own. “I’m gonna be a princess.”

“Oh really?” chuckles Jeremy, “and what will her ladyship Princess Georgina do?”

“Rule with an iron fist.”

‘“Ryan, don’t let her think dictatorship is a valuable form of governance!” you cast him a half hearted glare, the young girl cackling evilly along with Jeremy.

“Okay, yeah I taught her that. But she’ll be the cutest little dictator.”

“Mad King and Princess Georgina!” the small girl chants excitedly, Ryan swinging her in his arms and tossing her onto his shoulders; her tiny arms winding around his neck.

“That’s right, sweetie,” he smiles, “but don’t forget about your sister.”

“No,” she shakes her head in small jerks, “Corrie to the dungeons.”

Ryan draws in a dramatic gasp, peering up lovingly into her crystal blue eyes, “don’t imprison your knights! How’s she gonna defend our kingdom if she’s dead?”

“Oh,” Georgie considers this fact hard, face contorting in concentration before she sighs. “She’s no good dead.”

“That’s my girl, you’ve gotta be logical about these things. Let’s go find her and Uncle Ray.”

“Uncle Ray! He can go to the dungeons,” she squeals in delight, Ryan’s chuckling as he holds Georgie steady.

“It’ll probably be the nicest place he’s ever lived.”

“I’m a good princess.”

“The best,” agrees Ryan, the love in his eyes shifting to you and Jeremy, offering out his free hand. You take it, shaking firmly and settling back into the role you still had to pay. “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Von Bisurart. Do you mind if I call you Bee?”

“Yes, I do Mr. Lawrence,” you grumble, Jeremy’s laughter warm against the exposed skin of your shoulder. Ryan’s eyes flash mischievously, their corners crinkling in amusement as Georgie’s feet swing playfully either side of his head.

“Bee it is,” Ryan smiles, shaking Jeremy’s hand next.

“Be good to her,” he warns warmly, motioning as you wiggling your fingers at your daughter, blowing her kisses and watching her attempt to catch them; pressing the final one clasped in her fist to Ryan’s forehead. “She’s a keeper.”

“She’s out of my league,” his sighs teasingly, watching as Ryan backs away with Georgie, her small hands grabbing at the air in a wave goodbye.

“Oh yeah she is.”

Then he’s disappearing into the crowd, Georgie’s blond curls towering above the milling guests, laughter accompanying Ryan’s joyful chuckles.

“We couldn’t find a babysitter,” you whisper to Jeremy, lips brushing against his neck as your children skip alongside Ryan and Ray; their laughter pealing through the room and weaving with the canvases.

“Understandable,” he manages, shaking himself as you pull away to beam at him beneath the watchful gaze of the patrons, his fingers gripping the fabric against your hip.

“I didn’t think their Uncle Jear Bear would mind,” you muse, the depths of your eyes shifting in the light, splashes of colour reflecting in thanks. Jeremy shrugs, a comedic smirk curving through his face before he’s interrupted by a gruff, reproachful voice.

“I didn’t realise you’d be inviting children into my Gallery, Mr. Von Bisurart.”

“Why wouldn’t children be welcome?” Your tone is harsh and belittling, anger pooling in your stomach. The man attached to the voice acknowledges your presence with wide eyes, taking in the cruelty deep beneath your vicious beauty. He doesn’t speak for a moment, his sallow face and sunken eyes dragging on as long as the silence until Jeremy wraps an arm more firmly around your waist.

“You must be Mrs. Von Bisurart,” he tried politely, but you brush his words aside; face hard and fierce.

“Why wouldn’t children be welcome?”

“Art galleries are for the prestigious, the meaning is wasted on children. All they do is kick and scream, it ruins the peace. I mean, this child and a man in a hideous purple suit were just playing on the floor!” he explains, caught off guard by your forwardness, casting a glance to Jeremy that told him to keep you in line. The same look Geoff must have experienced before Jack had lost her cool.

“That couldn’t be further from the truth, Mr..?”

“Vermont.”

“I don’t really care,” you spit cooly, enjoying the rejection flitting across his face. “I’ve met many a men like you, and I can tell you from experience, none of you deserve the spotlight you’ve directed to the self constructed pedestal you stand on.”

“Excuse me?” He splutters, Jeremy somehow finding the confidence to stand beside you.

“No one will want to invest in art with such unprofessionalism – which your husband seems talented in.”

Vermont visible flinches from your anger, Cheshire kept comfortably on her reins like she had for years, pacing in the ruts of pattern.

“It’s nothing personal,” Vermont growls, “your art just doesn’t fit the space.”

“It’s a good thing we won’t be coming back,” you snap, eyes like daggers. “You seem to have forgotten, Vermont, that I could ruin your career in the creative space within an instant. All it takes is one bad review from someone influential; and by god am I revered.”

He shakes, blubbering his apology when realising his career rested in your imaginative, art investor hands. An audience attunes to your scolding, gentle murmurs of agreement and fearful respect rippling through the crowd. Geoff’s yells of ‘hear, hear’, not going unappreciated.

“How dare you treat the talent keeping your business running so poorly. Without them, you’re nothing. A single one of his paintings will fetch more than you’re worth outside these walls, and that’s a professional’s perspective. It’s also important for you to know that you’re fucked.”

Beneath your glare he cowers, whispers of price ranges surrounding you, a young man tapping Jeremy on the shoulder to inquire about one of the larger pieces. All at once offers for purchase hurtle towards him, mind unable to juggle all the numbers as an impromptu auction breaks out. Ryan’s moves to stand beside you, arms filled with your daughters, Corrine tugging at your hair while Ray nods vigorously from your left.

Amidst the yelling and desperation to purchase Jeremy’s artwork and his excitement radiating against your back you bring Corrine into your arms, satisfied that the room was distracted while you prop the girl against your hip, hand holding her head against your chest.

At the sight Vermont’s eyes widen, hopes and dreams crashing as he realises the children he’d despised throughout the night were your own. Confusion and fear brims as he tries to understand whose work was really being housed in his gallery; and who he’d be left to deal with once everything was said and done. “Trust me; the Fakes don’t take too kindly to assholes like you.”

“J,” calls Ryan over his shoulder, the man looking to him with glee as your husband jabs a finger to the painting splattered with the colours of Ryan’s eyes, laced with Cheshire’s signature golden shimmer and ash black splotches twirling in the gleaming colourful depths of your own eyes, “we’re taking that one home!”

Yells of protest sound from the crowd, Ryan pressing a kiss to the top of Georgie’s head as Corrine cuddles into you, watching the chaos in bubbly delight.

“Sold,” yells Jeremy, hands in the air to hold back voices clambering over one another to be heard, “to the terrifying man with great hair.”

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macdnldsarchive-blog · 8 years ago

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hey ! i’m jc, 20 & hail from the pst. i’m hp & eddie redmayne / newt trash. literally eddie is the loml. i am a college student working towards a psychology major, i love puns & i recently rescued an abandoned puppy & named him remus :-) enough about me, here’s some information on my lil lion mary ! this may be a little long so pls bare w/ me !

alycia debnam-carey — mary macdonald is seventeen and a seventh year member of gryffindor house. she is a muggleborn, which explains why they’re in support of the neutrals/order. most people know them as loyal and openminded at their best, but aggressive and impulsive at their worst.

P O I N T E R S ;

mary is the definition & embodiment of a ray of sunshine.

you associate mary with oversized sweaters, tea & the smell of rain. warm summers & the smell of the ocean breeze, surrounded by your closest friends having a bonfire. she is the calmness the sound of the rain brings on a late night as it falls against your window, but she’s also the power, rage & strength of the ocean as it crashes down onto the sand. she’s the warmth of the sun on your skin, the comfort & feeling of home wrapped in a sweater with a nice cup of tea. she’s your favourite song, blasting through the speakers while all your friends sing along, not giving a damn about everyone else. she’s deep conversations under the moon, empathy & kindness. she’s getting back up after being knocked down, standing her ground no matter how tough things got.

mary is a CHAMELEON. but not in the sense you’d think. not in a bad way.

she’s a chameleon in the sense that she adapts to other people, not necessarily being two faced, but in how she interacts. she limits herself to what she can say or do. she draws a line of what’s too far and what’s alright when with someone.

EXAMPLE: with lily, mary — of course — would be annoying & childish, but i believe that lily does keep her grounded so she doesn’t reach that full potential of annoyance. HOWEVER, if she were with james or any of the marauders... it’s over. there’s no coming back. she becomes this obnoxious person, childish to the point she’ll laugh at the words boobies or immature to the point she can’t say the words penis or vagina but this is just an example :-)

her range, type, level ( ? ) of socialization can also vary from the type of mood she’s in!

there will be days where she’ll be quiet, others where she’ll be her normal self -- a bit of quiet, a bit of loud, grounded & where she’ll be the most care free person in the world, doing whatever whenever & enjoying herself as well as her friends.

B A C K G R O U N D ;

so, mary was born to two muggles — marilyn & jaime.

they were two ordinary, hardworking muggles.

they were modest & honestly just trying to give their little girl the best life they could.

being an only child, mary was a little weird. she’s often found talking to herself, a habit that she still holds. often in concentration or watching a film, or even reading a book, you could hear her mumble something under her breath.

with her parents always at work, mary found herself with other families & children while they were gone. it was a fairly small neighborhood so everyone knew just about everyone. her family was well-known & loved.

mary always played with the other children, didn’t have trouble making knew friends & always made sure that everyone was included.

it was when she was ten that her modest, simple & easy lifestyle had changed.

her father was offered a position that wouldn’t make their family worry about money as much as they did now & he took it.

within the first half year, their lifestyle changed drastically.

mary ended up getting a nanny, there were no more shorts, pants or shirts there were a little too big, but dresses that fit a little too tight, pearls & flats.

just to offer an example her family pretty much went from the weasleys to the malfoys.

her parents began going to fancy parties to uphold their newly found image & leaving mary behind. they’ve given her the life they wanted but had lost touch of their modesty, & their roots of hard working class people.

mary hated it & had resented her parents for dressing her up like a doll & taking her along to the boring parties where the adults would talk about the weather, work & nothing else. maybe a compliment or observant comment about the chandelier that hung from the ceiling at wherever building the party was held in.

when mary had gotten her letter to hogwarts, her family thought that it was a prank.

they gave credit to those who came up with it & mary had half believed it as well, knowing that magic just couldn’t be real. they even laughed as the letters continued to come & eventually got annoyed when they would come home to about fifteen letters a day. they eventually got the police involved to try & track where the letters were coming from — the owls. whom they’ve attempted to follow, but would lose in the middle of the chase.

it wasn’t until albus dumbledore himself had gone to mary’s house that he talked to his parents, apologising for the overbearing amount of letters they had received, but with the school year drawing closer they needed a response.

her parents were furious ( they had a dursley-esque response to this whole thing. ) & had demanded albus dumbledore to leave.

however, in the end mary was allowed to go to hogwarts school of witchcraft & wizardry even though her parents did not approve.

they didn’t disown her, but they have made it a point to not have time for her.

so when she came back from her first year of hogwarts during the holidays, there was nothing for her under the tree, no conversation about what she’s learned, how she’s been — nothing.

so because of that mary had decided to come and stay at hogwarts all year round.

throughout her years at hogwarts, she became a target for not only the purebloods, but even the halfbloods that believed mudbloods didn’t deserve a place in the wizarding or worse, to live.

and it wasn’t because she was a mudblood, oh no. it was because she never backed down. no matter how many hexes you throw at her, she’ll never give in. she will never give anyone the satisfaction of her seeing her beat down.

it doesn’t mean she didn’t feel it though. the abuse beat her down hard, their words cut deeper than any knife, but she never wanted anyone to see her cry. partly because she was always known as this enigma off good & bravery, she didn’t want to seem weak.

she had the mindset that if you cried, you were weak. especially after it happened for the first time during her first year when mulciber had started to harass her where she cried & he began to kick her down even harder.

however, it was also during that time she met the marauders as well as lily & everyone else where she aspired to be brave & fearless just like them.

so she grew tougher, grew another layer of skin.

she’s no longer the sunshine she was, but rather a strong blazing fire.

the attack with mulciber took place their fourth year.

she was crippled with fear & anxiety, cutting most people off.

when word got out about the attack, many thought she was making it up while others believed she also deserved it if it was true.

she was hardly at hogwarts her fourth year. with the permission of albus dumbledore, she was allowed to go back home, taking stats of homework with her.

but her parents weren’t around & her nanny was still there. she could care less though, she just wanted to be isolated.

like if u tried sending her owls she’ll just ignore you tbh,

but fifth year, she’s still broken & weary of slytherins.

sixth year, she learned to forgive, but not forget.

seventh year, she’s back STRONGER than ever.

M I S C ;

she won’t hesitate to hex of jink you if you mess with her or her friends.

honestly she’s in detention more often than not bcus she jinxes ppl & her excuse is ALWAYS that she was practicing a spell & it just happened to come out wrong & hit the person in the face. LMAO

she’s fucking good at dueling though, hence why she’s in the dueling club.

loves qudditch. compares it to basketball, but there’s flying & three hoops involved.

she’s a fucking BEAST in the pitch & hella competitive. honestly, fuck with her in the pitch & ur dead.

she’s very muscially talented. she can sing & play the guitar.

she’s shy performing solo & would often look at her feet if she had to for frog choir.

if she ever feels musically inspired, she’ll take her guitar and go into the room of requirement.

she has insomnia & anxiety. diagnosed when she went back home after the attack.

mary has a bad habit of being around people who’ve done her dirty.

she always gives second chances & that’s like her biggest weakness.

aLRIGHT. IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR YOU DESERVE A COOKIE. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR BEARING WITH ME & MY CHILD. HIT ME UP WITH ALL THE PLOTS !!

#dO YOU KNOW HOW LONG I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS ? LMAO.#revolt.intro

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sundrought-blog · 8 years ago

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hannah’s super sappy bias list 2k17

☽║☾ OOC. u heard it here folks-- i’m in love w/ all of you.... in all seriousness, it’s been a hard year for me, between school, work, and family commitments, i felt myself on the edge of a breakdown all year. truly, it’s only thanks to all of you lovely angels here that i’m still ready and rearing to meet 2017 head on. b4 i get too sappy and weepy, i just wanted to say that i appreciate everyone so much!! you’ve all been nothing but supporting and patient with me even though i’ve had a very hectic schedule lately. you’ve made me laugh, smile, and generally, have given me a place and community that i can truly be happy in. i’ve made invaluable friendships here that i know i will cherish forever.

now, i’m gonna give out the bad news before i get to the good stuff-- i’m officially putting this blog on a semi-hiatus. when university start up again, i will be juggling quite a lot-- between working on my capstone, preparing myself for a study abroad, general science-y classes, studying for the MCAT, longer work shifts, and getting ready to apply for medical school, i will need as much free time as i can get. this means i will most likely only be on to rp on the weekends-- however, i will always log onto this blog every day to reply to messages, inbox stuff, etc., so it’s less of me being away and more that i’ll be even slower than usual w/ my replies. i’m sorry that i have to do this, but i have to make time for what’s important in my life right now, and above all else, i have to focus on my future plans. i do wanna reiterate that i’m not abandoning this blog by any means-- merely that i will have to take a step back and focus even more on my studies!!

and now, to the fun stuff! underneath you’ll find a list of lovelies whom i love chatting w/ ooc and who make my dash bright and cheery!! *smooches*

lil’ special mentions:

@askharukakujo // ELYSE ohmylord are you just the sweetest thing in existence??? i know i say it a lot, but i seriously am so lucky to have become friends with you!! your writing has always been astounding and the amount of love and effort you put into making haruka such a well-developed character is just mind-boggling. thank u so much for sticking w/ me from basically the beginning of this blog!! i love you so much <333333333333333

@viiorels / @edelweissmage // ZACK thank u so much for sticking w/ me for all this time! you have some of the best world-building i’ve ever seen and i sincerely hope you do write a book someday!! i love all of our interactions, and i’ve truly come to love Vai and Mihai so much!! the amount of detail you put into your character’s is amazing and i hope that u have the best year of your life yet!! sending good vibes ur way for, well, forever!! *hugs foreverrrrr*

@valorandheart + all ur other blogs lmao // JPP you are such an inspiration! you and bun bun are so amazing!! to be writing your own books and everything?? honestly, u guys are one of the reasons i’ve gotten back into writing my novel even tho i had been on a hiatus for like 3+ months. thank u so much for letting me ramble about my novel and listening to me rant about anubis and chet 24/7. you have to be a saint to be able to put up w/ me lmao-- i love being ur friend and i hope that in 2017 you and bun bun complete all ur writing goals for the year!! *insert more gushy words of affection here and a ton of hugs*

@photographicink // JACKEE *inhumanly screeches* i could go on forever and ever about all the reasons i love you, but it’d take up 99% of this post so i’ll leave u w/ this: thank u so much for befriending me back then!! you were my first online friend and it’s been lovely seeing how much you’ve grown as a person and a writer! i love you for your creativity, your kindness, and overall, for just how awesome you are and how you make me wanna be a better person! i love our oc ramblings, how passionate you are with your writing, and how kind you are! you’re always so positive despite everything going on the past few years and i hope more than anything that 2017 brings you nothing but happiness and good times!! i love you with all my heart!!

@servusx // MA u are hella cool and deserve all the goodness the world has, okay?? it’s been so awesome talking w/ you ooc and being able to just chat about our muses!! richard has such a special place in my heart-- he’s an absolute sweetie just like you!!!! i hope that 2017 is kind to you and that you continue to grow as a writer! it’s been so great rping w/ you-- ur so talented and it’s always a joy being able to come up w/ different threads/plot ideas. overall, i love how easy it is to talk to you! i really treasure our friendship and i hope we get to rp for many more years to come~

@deadmans-last-breath / @badlydrawnphichit // LUKE BRUH *just koala clings forever* you are an adorable boi with so much talent and potential!! you are legit a ray of sunshine on my dash and i’m so happy to have become friends w/ you!! i’m so proud of everything you’ve accomplished in 2016!! know that i’m always rooting for ya and that i love being able to talk to you all the time!! ur an absolute sweetie and that i love all of our interactions!! anubis and arthur are so cute and i’m still squealing over the drawings you’ve done of them ahhhhhh

@ichorspit // ALEKS you are amazing!!!!!!! i love you and lonnie so much and am so happy when i see you on my dash! ur such a lovely person and i sincerely hope you have a wonderful year!! thank u for sticking w/ me for so long and indulging all my AU ideas and general ramblings! i truly treasure our friendship~ i look forward to rping w/ you more in the future and once again, hope you have a lovely 2017!!!!! *hugs*

more super rad people who i’m hugging in my mind:

#☽║☾ out of heartlines | ooc #☽║☾ demands of a god | psa #( r i p i'm such a sap oops )

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