#((screams!!!!!!!!

[eagans]

getting very tired of being displaced by romance

[sincenewyorks]

kit connor and rachel zegler my fucking beloveds

[yshiba]

!!!!!!!!!

[omenbrought]

isaac   lahey   is   perhaps   the   last   person   lydia   martin   ever   expected   to   seek   comfort   from,   but   he’s   also   the   one   person   whose   hurt   touches   her   own   all-consuming   grief.   scott   and   stiles   have   their   latest   project   to   keep   them   busy;   chris   fled   to   an   entirely   different   content   (   as   if   paris   could   somehow   take   away   his   pain   &   drown   out   the   loss   of   his   family   )   -----   leaving   isaac.   isaac,   whose   company   she’s   grown   to   crave   above   all   others,   surprising   no   one   more   than   herself.   breath   catching   in   her   throat,   lydia   lets   her   head   roll   to   the   side,   eyes   fluttering   closed   with   bespoke   relief.   ❛   hmm,   not   sure.   i   disappear   for   hours   at   a   time,   stumble   upon   mangled   bodies,   hear   voices   inside   my   head   -   all   while   maintaining   a   4.0   gpa   and   applying   to   top-tier   colleges.   ❜   twisting   so   she   can   peer   at   him   over   her   shoulder,   lydia   flashes   a   wry   smile.   ❛   yeah,   isaac   -   i’m   always   this   tense.   ❜   //      @ghostbloomed​ / continued from here.

[angel427]

muffet stimboard for @kanamori--sayaka​​

x - x - x | x - 🕷️ - x | x - x - x

[isempiterna]

@starbrosforever​ ∬ (and suddenly)

   She's just on the street when it happens. (Later she won’t even be able to recall the name of it, and oh, how she wishes she could, sentimental creature that she is.) It’s a bright day, sky turned the palest shade of grey with light—everything’s paler, even the shadows—and pleasantly warm, summer just coming to roost in the city. She’s always liked people-watching and her gaze roams the crowd freely, though never lingering too long as staring is rude. An older man hurrying along, not dressed in a suit but casually and carrying balloons; perhaps a birthday? Two high schoolers chatting animatedly, a woman sitting on a bench—

   The world explodes.

   Or so it seems; suddenly, Sparrow’s entire field of vision is assaulted by things she has no words for, because even if they can teach you the names they can never show them to you. Only one person can do that. Only your soulmate. Sparrow hardly caught a glimpse of him, quick as a camera flash, but the image is seared into her mind, the first colors to ever touch her eyes. She doesn’t know what they are yet but they are almost painful in their beauty, vibrant and violent. Her eyes burn from the overwhelming variety and her own easily moved heart, everything blurring together slightly as she looks desperately for the young man who threw her world into an entirely new spectrum. There!

   “Wait—wait!” she calls, stumbling to dash after his quickly disappearing form, vivid and wonderful even among the other rushing colors of the world. She’s terrified of losing him (doesn’t know his name or even hardly what he looks like, doesn’t know anything about him at all) and it ignites some frantic part of her that overrules any reservations and manners she has.

   Sparrow grabs his arm, strangely short of breath despite running less that twenty feet, and she’s staring at him like he’s the only one in the world, like he’s the last thing she’ll ever see. Like he’s the first thing she’s ever really seen. If she had enough presence of mind, she’d be horribly embarrassed by her behavior. If she could think of anything at all beyond don’t go, I have to know you!, then she certainly would have wondered how he’d react.