osbrien:

#i want to talk about allison argent. #i want to talk about the girl who died too young. #she found her home amongst the branches of the woods and the hustle and bustle of beacon hills high and in the warmth of scott mccall’s arms. #she fell in love with the thing she was taught to kill on sight. #she was young and it’s unfair #it’s so fucking unfair #that this girl who’d gone to hell and back #had to drop her bowling ball and lipgloss to pick up a bow and arrow. #the girl whose skin turned from porcelain to ivory to steel; #as the world around her grew darker by the day, she only grew stronger. #she was broken and she was bruised #she was pushed down until she tasted the blood at the back of her throat but she smiled through it because someone could have been falling in love with her. #and someone did, but not just with her smile #but the way she cried, #how she blushed and let her hair shield her face to hide it #the way she pretended to be okay i’m okay dad really #how she held her head high when all she wanted to do was crumple to the floor of an elevator because maybe #just maybe #her armour had a fatal chink. #but her fingers were still steady as she pulled the string of her bow back before the blow. #and i am in awe. #of how much i want to talk about allison argent, the girl who died too young. #but lives forever.