#vcnitie

[fairverona]

@vcnitie​  said  :  ❛ We’ll all grow up, no pretending we won’t. ❜   for jo !

‘  i  have  no  interest  in  growing  up.  ’    ever  pensive  ,  fair  brows  knitting  ‘pon  a  porcelain  forehead.  aspiring  author  yearned  for  nothing  more  than  the  trappings  of  childhood   ----   nostalgia  sweet  like  honey  on  her  tongue.  she  wrote  to  recall  ,  express  ,  maintain.  refusal  to  let  go.  evident  in  manuscript  &  life  decisions  ,  headstrong  since  birth.    ‘  i’ll  pretend  until  the  day  i  die.  ’ 

[melnchly-a]

@vcnitie​ sent:  [ braid ] for AMY to braid MEG’S hair

       she had never thought it such a luxury before, to have someone else to brush and braid her hair. there had been a time when they had all helped one another, flurries of brushes and hair pins and friendly teasing when a lock of hair escaped from its intended place. now, she often braids her hair on her own - - - after john leaves for work and, when she’s lucky, before the twins wake up. sometimes, though, she isn’t lucky, and she must brush and braid and keep an eye on twin toddlers at once. for now, though, demi is napping (and napping rather abruptly, curled up on the sofa almost like a little puppy) while daisy sits contentedly in her mother’s lap, playing with a little rag-doll, and amy stands behind her chair with comb and pins, expertly weaving the brushed-smooth strands into braids. 

       “you always were the best of us when it came to things like this,” meg says with a little sight, closing her eyes in pure contentment as her sister continues her work. “....at least you never burned my hair!” (but there’s laughter in her voice for that long-ago-forgiven incident, only fondness for the memory remaining.) 

[perfectsaints]

℧ !!

Amy and Laurie as buddy cops.

Laurie helping Amy with chores.

Amy and Laurie got handcuffed together and lost the key.

SEND ME ℧ FOR ME TO GENERATE A SCENARIO FOR OUR MUSES.

[abyssill-blog]

                                ❛ . . . turn back.  ❜

      the soft tenor of his voice is tinged with an ancient dark, a haunting timbre of a knight long lost to an old enemy. artorias does not do visitors-- he does not do COMPANY. in fact, the knight of gwyn does very little ( for their own sake, he tells them, better him than any other cursed ) outside of his domain, fate forever linked to the dark. an abyss, vast and deep and all-consuming. and it has left him forever changed. 

           ❛  this place is cursed, ❜ his voice comes again. ❛ to travel here is folly. ❜

       he knows not why such a little speck of light has found her way here. it frightens him so, that such an innocent piece of a grand design may have doomed herself by daring to travel here, to gaze upon a fabled knight whose gallant sacrifice is still spoken of to this day. is it truly a sacrifice if he still breathed? 

         ❛  i know not why thou has come,                but i beg of thee, return from whence thy came. ❜

@vcnitie 

[moretreasurewithinarchive]

“When all this is over, I’ll still be here and so will you.” for beth !

comfort sentence starters

@vcnitie

Tender Beth didn’t have it in her to try and contradict her little sister. After all, Amy felt badly enough leaving home, knowing that Jo was hurt because she was chosen. Why, Amy might not go at all if she knew! And Beth knew she’d regret it forever if she didn’t go. 

“Of course, Amy.” She smiled, hugging her sister tightly. “I love you. Always, and forever. Write often, if you can. I’ll miss you.”