❛ I’m tired of their stories, let’s write our own. ❜ (Allison)
atticus poetry prompts || accepting
PENCIL taps against the edge of the book and he raises an eyebrow, casting a glance in her direction. He shifts on the bed, sitting up so he can get a better look at her. Papers are strewn out across every visible surface of his bedroom, more books than he can count that provide information about the supernatural tossed about. ❝ yeah not gonna lie i’m pretty tired of it too. i think i’ve read every single one of these things about a hundred times. ❞ Head tilts slightly as an idea forms and he sits up even straighter, ❝ that’s actually not a terrible idea. think about it, there’s so much shit we’ve dealt with and sure we’ve got the bestiary but that just provides information, that doesn’t give anything more than that. ❞ He clambers out of the bed, kicking aside loose papers as he paces, excitement growing, ❝ it’s not like stuff is just gonna stop ever and we’re all gonna grow up and leave some day. the people who protect beacon hills after us are gonna need some type of account of what it’s like. something to give them all of the shortcuts we had to figure out ourselves. ❞

















