allison argent died this night protecting her friends and living by her code that she made and don’t any of you fucking forget it
i won’t LET you fucking forget it
There’s no cure.
The art of organization…
"The Art of Clean UP": El arts de ordenar
i forgot my earphones more like throw me off a building
Au revoir, au revoir
You probably don’t even know what that means
crimsongravedigger asked: scisaac: blindness.
"I put in a cardboard separator between every color," Scott said, guiding Isaac’s fingers over the soft cottons of the shirts hanging in the closet. "And they’ve got tabs so you can tell where you are. I cleaned the apartment, got rid of some of the extra furniture."
"You didn’t have to," Isaac told him softly, tracing down the line of shirts until he reached the closet door. "You don’t have to do any of this, Scott. I know it’s a pain in the ass."
With a pained look Isaac could no longer see, Scott reached out, slid his fingers along Isaac’s as he drew them away from the door. “I don’t have to, I want to, Isaac. I want to work on this with you. I want you to stay.”
Isaac’s eyes closed, more on reflex than anything, and he smoothed his hand up Scott’s arm, over his shoulder, until he found his face, his jaw. He leaned forward until their foreheads could touch. “It’s going to suck.”
Tipping his head, Scott brushed their lips together, more comfort than kissing. “I hope it still sucks,” he said, not bothering to hide his grin.
A soft huff of laughter escaped Isaac, the first since the accident. “You know what I meant.”
"I know," Scott agreed. "And I don’t care." He pressed their noses together and then moved forward until he could pull Isaac into a hug. Isaac’s arms circled over his shoulders and he buried his nose in the crook of Scott’s neck. "I told you in sickness or in health, and I meant it."
He felt the curve of Isaac’s smile against his skin, and he held on just a little tighter. They were going to beat this, too.