#arthistoried

        𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄. you wear twenty two years as if they were sixty for how tired you are, and yet you are still a boy if the bars of your ribs were pulled back to reveal the heart of you. there is something exhaustive in the way you hold yourself, SOMETHING TRAGICALLY CLOSED OFF and jaded, but your tongue is sharp, quick, betraying you. ❝ look, man. it’s a crime scene. you don’t have the authority to be here, ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴏʀ ɴᴏᴛ. i’m sure there’s another museum to check out a few blocks away that has less, you know, yellow tape keeping you out. MOVE ALONG. ❞

❛   𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄  .   ❜    𝐒𝐇𝐄  ,  𝐓𝐎𝐎  ,  𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐃  .    he says nobody can see into the future the way she used to think  ,  there’s no such thing as werewolves  ,  the way she used to think  ,  i am normal and i am vacant and nothing can hurt me  .  she was no psychic  :  there were no winning lottery numbers  ,  no touching palms  ,  no knowledge of pretty little babies and picket fences and happy families  .

but there was death  .  there was always death  ,  when it came to her  .

❛   it’d do you some good to realize that not everything’s so black and white  .  there’s room for things that don’t make sense  .   ❜    like her voice  ,  like her mouth  .  she shrugs  ,  appears unbothered  .    ❛   but i guess that’s your internal crisis to deal through  ,  not mine  !   ❜

ELLEN… .… . .ELLEN. ..  .ELLEN YOU STOP THIS RIGHT NOW

ellen i’m CRYING i am TRULY : (((((((((((((((( this is so sweet my heart aches you are so kind thank you for saying all of this what the FUCK i am SO unworthy you are the one who is like a warm fireplace ok !!! so gentle and sweet and good and i lOVE YOU WOW THIS IS SO : (((((((((( SWEET I’M GOING THROUGH IT

i love you!!!! AAAAA !!!!!! 

❛   𝐎𝐇 𝐍𝐎  .   ❜    𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐃  ,  𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄  -  𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃  .  𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃  .  she wakes QUICKLY  ,  now  ,  that little bit of sleep  -  sweet haze replaced with a sense of dread  .  it isn’t UNLIKE her to fall asleep at a desk  ,  reading  .  studying  .  something  .  but she was usually alone  .    ❛   what did i do  ?  did i say something  ?  was it enough to warrant wanting to leave town and take on a new identity  ?  was it uncomfortable  ?  jinkies  ,  sorry  —   ❜

𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐇𝐈𝐌  .  𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄  ,  𝐌𝐀𝐘𝐁𝐄  ,  𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 the wrong time  .  maybe it is beacon hills  .  maybe it is this little town  ,  this hellmouth  .  this hotspot  .  but lydia cannot separate herself from it  :  this place was woven into her bones  ,  this place was beneath her skin  .  in her blood  .  even if she left  ,  even if she left  —  lydia would always be more omen than girl  .  he says  ,  it’s not us  ,  and she truly does not know how to tell him that she  ,  too  ,  is part of the problem  .  she  ,  too  ,  is death  .  instead  ,  lydia offers a bitter little grin  .    ❛   yeah  ,  well  ,  welcome to beacon hills  .  i bet you’re REGRETTING accepting that event invite  ,  aren’t you  ?  nothing good came out of this  ,  for you  .  you’re being hunted  .   ❜

❛   𝐈'𝐌 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓  .  𝐈𝐓'𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐎 support all of your weight  ,  but i’m sure i could figure it out  .   ❜    it comes haughty  ,  unbothered  ,  as though he isn’t nearly dismissing her once again  .  lydia could be very persuasive  ,  and very stubborn  ,  when needed  .  and for his benefit  ,  here  —  for his safety  —  it felt needed  .  she was not used to being met with such blatant brush offs  ,  but it does not seem to stop her  .  lydia martin has seen TOO MANY deaths  .  she would not let herself see his  .    ❛   leave your objections here  ,  thank you very much  ,  as i’m not listening to anymore from this point on  .  now  ,  tell me about your event  !   ❜