#gunwieldingargent

[triskelionalphas]

I'm no photographer, but I could picture us together.

Why are you doing this.

[belligerently-bibliophilic-blog]

fxregirl | mendacibus | caroline-forbes-forever | gunwieldingargent | inkedinrunes | godiss-missgodiss | wilson-matthew | thewailingman | ludibriumx | callthecleaner

    '--I wouldn't buy that copy, if I were you. It's got the cover from the movie, is which sorta overrated, but if you look over to the bargain bin, there's a hardcover copy of it with the original cover art.'

     'And you'd be saving around thirty percent, so.'

[alwaysfiguresitout-archive]

[text] It’s like the only way I know how to apologize is by giving a blow job.

[text: Allison ]: Remember that one time you did that one thing and it hurt me? You should apologize. 

[saintdxriangray]

✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖✖

Send “✖” If you think that I’m playing my character properly.

"Sorry,   --Mar is unavailable right now."

                 [ muffled screams in the distance                   and the sound of intense coughing                   through a-- g a g ? ]

             "She'd say thank you, but she sucks at it.               So I'm going to say it for her."

[ there's a loud crash and another fit of coughing  and there may or may not be words spaced between  the coughs. if there are, they probably sound like-- ]

    "f'CK Y--G'NNA--THANK--FR'CK?"

[metalbaseballbat-blog-blog]

+ gunwieldingargent

"Allison?" Stiles gives her a confused look, one hand gripping the strap of his backpack. "What're you doing here?" It's not just that Stiles hasn't seen her in a few days, but people don't usually end up outside the basement's chemical lab during class. Stiles looks around him, the confusion growing.

So what the hell is he doing here, too?

[scottmchungup]

I miss you *evil laughter*

1 year

Dear Allison,

Personally I find these letters pointless. What can I say in one strip of paper that would mean something? Anything really. How I would have died, killed, or done anything for you? Because as the events turned out we all know that isn’t true. I failed you, and by some series of unfortunate events you suffered for my problems.

I guess what Im really trying to say is, I miss you. Simple enough, right? But its more than that. I miss how you used to twirl your pencil in your fingers when you got bored in class, or how you would push your hair behind your ear when you got defensive, or how when you smiled, it made all of the problems in the world seem obsolete. And now, without you here, everything else just feels… empty. Like Im searching for the bottom of the abyss with no light to guide me.

You were my light, and now everything seems that much more dim. Im sorry I couldn’t save you. I sorry I didn’t get to say the things I needed to, but most importantly Im sorry you trusted me.

Forever yours, Scott.

5 years

Dear Allison,

I almost thought everything was fine. That if I just ignored the pain, and pretended to smile, eventually it’d become real, right? Practice makes perfect, or whatever right?

And then, at the weirdest times in the day, someone will laugh, just the way you used to, and my façade falls. Or someone will write something in your scrawl, or have the same color hair and Im right back to that blubbering boy I was the day you died. Stiles tried to ask me about it, but I couldn’t look at him. He’s just another person I’ll let down eventually right? I mean, if I cant save you, the only girl that matters, then how am I supposed to save anyone else?

You used to say you didn’t believe in fate, but I did. And you were always my forever.

——-Scott

10 years

Dear Allison,

Its been ten years now. Ten, miserable, blackened days and I still haven’t gotten over the ‘grieving’ stage. Everyone keeps telling me ‘it’s normal’ and ‘things get better’ but how can it? How can things get better if you aren’t here? You weren’t just my better, you were my best.

I hate the way the memories attack me sometimes. How they creep up, just when I think I can be happy again, reminding me of the numbing depression that hangs behind me like a storm cloud. I hate it, and yet I cant get myself to stop. Theyre the last pieces I have of you, and what am I supposed to do, let them go? Let you go? That’d be like asking me to remove my lungs, but keep on breathing. Impossible.

Just like living without you.

I love you, Allison. Ten years apart doesn’t change a thing.

-Scott