#☇ 𝚆𝙰𝙺𝙴𝙻𝙴𝚂𝚂. ↠ arc 000.

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        𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐅 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐃. It is laughable -- his ass in the air, his muffled voice, THE STRAIN IN IT. Had his face been visible, it would be red red red with his efforts. ❝ 𝙈𝘼𝙇𝙄𝘼, ❞ he calls, desperate, quiet under the mattress and bedframe. ❝ Malia, did you find them yet? I don’t think it’s under here and my phone just died so I’m now blind. Please, Malia, 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢’𝚛𝚎 𝚖𝚢 𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚠𝚎𝚊𝚛! Chewbacca, okay? Chewbacca is on the crotch, COME ON! ❞

☇ @fatalles 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚍.

[mieczyslawtm]

𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽.

    𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌. It curdles, somewhere deep in his gut, and prickles, slow across the skin, but oh -- OH, it jolts more than anything else. He still tastes rot, something still feels sticky on his fingertips and, if he lifts them to his nose, they’ll smell coppery. RUST. Plasma-stained. But his hands hold their vice-grip on the sheets, damp, as if they could ground him. THEY CAN’T. Not when he is still screaming through the tail-end of sleep, or whatever it was that held him under consciousness. He screams through the fog that clots his mind, that tells him that he is still asleep, that will not let him focus just enough to see that HE IS NOT ASLEEP AT ALL.

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        𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘𝐒. Attribute them to exhaustion or perhaps the guilt. Maybe the trauma. It all bleeds together. 𝙷𝚘𝚠 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚑𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚜𝚘𝚗 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚝? Stiles reverts back to bad habits because distraction always works. NOT. ❝ D’you get my text? Roscoe died. TWICE. Anyway, can you give me a ride out to pick the damn thing up when we’re done?𝙒𝙖𝙡𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙖𝙮. ❞

☇ @monstrim 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚍.

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        𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐘. The glass screen of his phone is ACCUMULATING MOISTURE pressed up to his face like this and his ear is getting sweaty. 𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚏𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐. ❝ Okay. Are you near the rugs? Because the sign says rugs are coming up ne-- Ohhhh, my God. OH, MY GOD. Please hurry up, I found something. Please, Lydia, I’m serious, 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨. ❞

☇ @lydstm 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚍.

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[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟸:𝟶𝟺 𝙰𝙼 ] do you ever wonder if like

[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟸:𝟶𝟺 𝙰𝙼 ] people will ever be nicer

[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟸:𝟶𝟺 𝙰𝙼 ] that’d be a neat revolution

☇ @darlingflight

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[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟻:𝟹𝟼 𝙰𝙼 ] quick casual question

[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟻:𝟹𝟽 𝙰𝙼 ] hypothetically speaking of course

[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟻:𝟹𝟽 𝙰𝙼 ] what should i do if i have a person being held in the back seat of my dad’s patrol car?

☇ @hericaene

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[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟷:𝟻𝟾 𝙰𝙼 ] i have an entire pinterest board dedicated to different ways to make fake blood

[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟷:𝟻𝟾 𝙰𝙼 ] is that questionable yes or no

☇ @gilbaert

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[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟹:𝟷𝟻 𝙰𝙼 ] let’s move to australia 

[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟹:𝟷𝟻 𝙰𝙼 ] i’ve always wanted to get kicked in the face by a kangaroo

☇ @mortalhost

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[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟸:𝟺𝟿 𝙰𝙼 ] i have ten rolls of duct tape that i need to get rid of immediately

[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟸:𝟺𝟿 𝙰𝙼 ] can i borrow an out of season purse

☇ @pristinegrl

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[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟺:𝟷𝟽 𝙰𝙼 ] do you think that sharks have started like

[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟺:𝟷𝟽 𝙰𝙼 ] a conspiracy against humans

[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟺:𝟷𝟾 𝙰𝙼 ] like one day one shark turned to another shark and was like

[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟺:𝟷𝟾 𝙰𝙼 ] hey jim bob let’s start gnoshing on some of those two legged bastards so we can finally be on the big screens like we deserve

☇ @mysterynerd

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[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟷:𝟹𝟽 𝙰𝙼 ] bro

[ 𝚂𝙼𝚂 : 𝟷:𝟹𝟽 𝙰𝙼 ] BRO

☇ @sctmcll

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        THE AIR CHILLS TO THE BONE. It doesn’t deter him from walking her home from her class, but he grits his teeth a little tighter, chin tucked to chest against the sharp wind. OH, he is cold -- and yet, and yet! One hand presses to the small of her back, keeping her close, huddled to his side. ❝ Liam has asked about you twice. In one day. I thought college was about LEAVING THE NEST. ❞

: / / @mysterynerd liked !

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𝙾𝙿𝙴𝙽.

   𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌. It curdles, somewhere deep in his gut, and prickles, slow across the skin, but oh – OH, it jolts more than anything else. He still tastes rot, something still feels sticky on his fingertips and, if he lifts them to his nose, they’ll smell coppery. RUST. Plasma-stained. But his hands hold their vice-grip on the sheets, damp, as if they could ground him. THEY CAN’T. Not when he is still screaming through the tail-end of sleep, or whatever it was that held him under consciousness. He screams through the fog that clots his mind, that tells him that he is still asleep, that will not let him focus just enough to see that HE IS NOT ASLEEP AT ALL.

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        ❝ I’M BORED. ❞ A blink, and his books are shoved onto the floor. It’s ridiculous, the way he rolls into her, nuzzling at her arm insistently. ❝ Can we EAT SOMETHING? Or not eat something? Anything but this. I’m dying here. ❞

: / / @taeted liked !

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        ❝ OKAY, I FEEL LIKE I CAN SAY THIS TO YOU-- ME-- US... Whatever. I can say this and you won’t get your ass hurt over it. But I’m OBVIOUSLY the hotter version between us, you know? ❞

: / / @unsolvedcase liked !

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☇ @mysterynerd

    𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓. Her moon is high and full, pregnant with a light that seems ethereal when filtered through the canopy-top. The California sycamores are not dense enough to muddle the landscape, so Stiles only has to blink away the darkness twice before the shadows take shape against the trees. It isn’t smart that he is out here ALONE, but it’s been a long time since he’s considered his wellbeing anything close to a priority. 

    His step is not LIGHT, something that crunches atop the fall underbrush -- he makes up for this lack of care with an alertness that does not match the bruises under his eyes. A branch cracks and he checks the ground beneath his shoe to find only leaves. Now, his gaze is frantic, wide-eyed, cheeks flushing with the slow rise of his adrenaline. He wishes suddenly that he wasn’t so stupid and had brought back up after all.