#grewaren

[puhnatsson]

➕♥️🖤➕

full quality art is already on boosty

[literare-archive]

features are kept motionless, heart keep to it's normal, slow phase. yet the words strike. she fought for something bigger, something else . . . but did she really have someone ? shielded herself, never let anyone close because it was the safest. the few she cared about, all but hidden away where nobody could reach them. where nobody could form a connection to her. keep herself protected, in such a bloody mask. it doesn't even drip anymore, it pours off of her. yet she would do it all again, for the two innocent beings on that boat. gaze slowly lift to him, corner of lips barely quirk upwards.     ❝   and what would you know about that, hmm ?   ❞

@grewaren : you must be so lonely.

[sapphicparrish]

i could not babygirlify adam parrish if i tried. i wouldn't even know to begin. the bastard is too devious and dastardly

[your-void-senpai]

Declan thinking for years that he's not a real Lynch when in fact he's actually the only real Lynch

[rodansey]

What do you want to see / prediction will happen in dreamer book 3?

This is a GREAT question! Here's my shortlist of stuff I'd like to see:

Matthew using the sundogs in their lil water bottle to defend himself/his brothers

Declan getting a hug

Maggie promised us Declan would do a Thing and my body is ready to see him do a Thing

Adam and Declan team up to save Ronan

The end is contractually obligated to provide the Lynch brothers a happy ending where they all live

Gansey, that's all there is

Something I still predict:

Ronan is a dream thing

[altarcup]

﹙   ＊   ﹚      &*  @grewaren:      𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚔.  𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚠𝚏𝚞𝚕.

s̳h̳e̳ ̳r̳a̳k̳e̳s̳ the country like a fine-toothed comb   ‒‒   roams through forgotten fields of golden wheat and blood-red poppies,    over rich, cracked asphalt ˢᵗⁱˡˡ ˢᵘⁿʷᵃʳᵐ in the creeping dusk. henrietta is but one tiny needle-head on the map of 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖕𝖎𝖑𝖌𝖗𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖊.    and ronan Iynch is but a snag, 𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚍𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚋,    yanking painfully at alice’s mind.    his future is molten and addled   ( . . . )   not just by the past, as so often is the case,    but also, ˢᵗᵘⁿⁿⁱⁿᵍˡʸ,    by 𝐀 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐋 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓.    he is a knife-sharp censor blur. he is a high beam bouncing off cateyes,    and 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜 in which the cat is hiding.    there is death in him, and so, so much life.

alice twirls to face the boy   ( 𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖘𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖊-smiling ),   then away ;    ʀᴇᴅᴀᴄᴛꜱ her pensive silence by grabbing a crackling bag of sugared popcorn off a neonlit gas station shelf and pushing it at ronan with 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝗼𝗳 𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗲, of good-natured defiance.

      ❛❛  you will be fine,  ❜❜      she says,  ʷⁱᵗʰ ᶠⁱⁿᵃˡⁱᵗʸ, knowing this is likely worse than any horrible, terrible, a̳w̳f̳u̳l̳ ̳t̳h̳i̳n̳g̳ she could have said to him.      ❛❛  just 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐲.  ❜❜