GIRL / OMEN

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄: a female spirit, harbinger of death and a messanger from the other world. the wailing woman.

[girlwaiiled]

❝lydia, you have been right every single time something like this has happened — so don't start doubting yourself now. ❞

[girlwaiiled]

❝ lydia wasn't on the chess board! ❞ ❝yeah, well she is now. ❞ ❝ kanima? ❞ ❝ banshee. ❞

[stylinskies]

Brown eyes tracked the manicured fingers stroking soft assurances into her knuckles. Each circle a reminder to breathe. Slowly. Not like the shallow breaths that followed the probing questions Rafael asked about where his father was. Because how do you explain to someone that his father was kidnapped for the last part of a ritualistic sacrifice that would bring the end of the world? Rafael already didn’t trust him. So he had to lie through his teeth to a higher level agent and his friends from work. All around this situation was giving him heartburn. But watching the way Lydia’s finger moved against his skin, scattered with bruises from when he punched a wall a few days ago - at least he didn’t break his hand this time - brought all the agitation down. Quieting it to a murmur that thankfully, her words drowned out. “Could expand out into the suite next door,” Stiles mused softly, twisting his hand underneath hers so he could lace their fingers together. “That place has been empty for months.” 

Smiling softly, Stiles lifted their linked hands up to brush his lips against her knuckles in a quiet thank you. “I mean…he’s kinda right about quinoa.” He said, his father’s constant fight against healthy food a happy reminder that he was still a person. He wasn’t a body..not yet at least. “But I will absolutely use this to guilt him into eating healthy.” Will it work? No. But he was damn well going to try. Using their joined hand to tug her closure, Stiles let go of her hand to slide an arm around her waist. “Are you going to drown Allison? Or can I put in a request for you myself? Because if you leave me with Isaac I can’t be sure he’ll bring me back..”

[girlwaiiled]

Something in Lydia melts feeling Stiles lips brush against the back of her hand, enjoying leaning into a quiet moment with him despite the situation at hand. Her lips quirk upwards, scoffing gently. "Quinoa is good. You guys are just ordering it from all the wrong places." Or worse, trying to make it. She's come to learn that Stiles is decent in the kitchen but she has a feeling that a lot of that comes from his father either not sharing that skill set or just being too busy to ever try. Maybe a little bit of both. The thought pulls up an image of decades ago, Stiles as a little kid and Noah trying to navigate life as half of a family with Claudia gone. Her chest tightens and Lydia sends up a silent prayer to a God she doesn't really believe in that all of this works.

She squeezes his hand again. "I was thinking about that too." Because how could she not? The only thing that's been going through her mind since Deaton told them about the ritual was the logistics of it and how it was all going to play out. "If I had it my way Isaac could just sit it out and I would do the whole thing," she admits with a shake of her head though she knows that would only result in something catastrophic. It had seemed like a no brainer that Lydia would go with Allison, but the more she thinks about it the less clear that becomes. "I thought I would go with Allison. She's my best friend — it makes sense, right?" She chews on her bottom lip momentarily, brows furrowing. "But I think it makes more sense the other way now. She and Isaac..." she trails off, unsure just how much Stiles knows about all of that. "They've got something between them. And you and I...." Well, something doesn't really seem like the right word for that. "You like me better than Isaac. I figure that might be more motivation to wake up again."

[stylinskies]

Sometimes when you’re overwhelmed, it’s best to count backwards from ten. The voice of the grief counselor his father sent him to after his mom died floated in the back of his brain. And well, Stiles has tried everything at this point, so why not count? Ten…nine…eight… The crashing sound of ice into tin baths pulled Stiles back into reality and he had to start over again.  He made it to six before it happened again. At this point, he was figuring that there was some sort of supernatural entity that wants him to suffer, and he was just going to give in. To walk in there and drown himself in ice and mistletoe to save his father because at least the more worthy Stilinski would still be around. Fight back. 

A new voice. One he’s never actually heard before. Pushing at the center of his brain. If he ever paid attention in his biology class, he’d know it was the thalamus, the part of his brain that dealt with his dreams and sleep. It absolutely hadn’t been used in days, stress and anxiety keeping him awake since his father got taken. And maybe that was for the best. This voice sounds…angry. Terrifying. Vengeful. Fight back. It repeated. He wanted to respond. It felt like a bad idea. But he was closing his eyes, trying to find a thought, a way to push back and ask how, when a hand on top of his brought him back out to reality. The voices in his head faded back into static, but quieter this time as his entire being focused on Lydia. It was second nature at this point, when she was talking, to turn everything around him off to make sure he caught every word. Snorting softly, Stiles lifted a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. 

“Sounds like we’re starting a trend. How long ‘til rich dumbasses are gunna start showing up at vet’s offices asking for the Nemeton special?” His laugh was dry and unconvincing. But the half smile curled in the corner of his mouth was real. It was hard not to feel a little relief that she was there with him. It’s going to work. Nodding a little Stiles’ brown eyes fall back down to the hammered out badge on the counter. “It will,” He agreed. Because Deaton’s never really led them astray before. “But I guess I’m worried about what happens after…” Turning back to the strawberry blonde, he sighs heavily. Because he really wasn’t okay. And for once, someone wasn’t just taking him at his word. “I just…I’m an adult. It just feels kinda weird…to consider myself an orphan if this all goes wrong and we don’t get to them in time, y’know? But that’s what I’ll be, and that scares the shit out of me.”

[girlwaiiled]

Stiles seems distracted even on his best days and this is far from one of those. So when Stiles seems to slip away from her for a minute, Lydia doesn't take it personally. None of them are at their best today, a fact that weights heavily on her mind because if there was ever a time that they needed to be their best, it was now. Mentally, she packs away anything that doesn't need to be dealt with now — the banshee bombshell, Aiden's consistent texts, her latest fight with her mother. Anything that might even be a little bit distracting, Lydia compartmentalizes it for future Lydia and gives one hundred percent of her focus to Stiles and the incoming ice bath ritual because that's where she needs to be now.

She hums, nodding and brushing her thumb across the back of Stiles knuckles. "Maybe Deaton can expand the place. Add on a wing with a spa and double his profits." She doesn't point out the fact that, technically, she and Allison are rich dumbasses showing up in Deaton's office requesting the Nemeton Special. She also doesn't bother telling Stiles he can't start thinking about what happens after if they don't get this right. She knows there's no point, he's clearly already running through every scenario in his mind and nothing is going to stop that until they're finished with this — she knows because she does the same thing. "Just because you're an adult doesn't mean it would be easier to lose a parent. You and your dad..." she trails off for a moment, trying to find the right words. "You guys have a bond like something straight out of a Disney Channel Original." Her shoulder bumps against his, offering a small, teasing smile. It's something she's been almost jealous of sometimes, but Lydia doesn't say that. "This time next week I'm sure he's going to be trying to strangle you over quinoa."

[stylinskies]

When it’s explained outright the way Deaton explains everything, it makes sense. There will be someone there to anchor them to reality. To keep them from actually dying. It’s as foolproof as these things can be. So there’s nothing to worry about. Except the longer he stood there, Stiles kept finding things to worry about. Who would anchor him? His best friend was being sacrificed along with him, and even then, he would’ve gone to Allison. Isaac’s also got a stronger connection to Allison and Scott than him, and well, Lydia and Allison are best friends. So where did that leave him? Desperately clinging to the ledge, too scared to jump off without a parachute all over again. 

But too much was going on to be reassured, so Stiles kept the concern to himself. Just letting the chips fall where they may. He had to save his father. “How’d you put it?” Stiles hummed, reaching down to grab the discarded badge and slipping it into his pocket. “Because supernatural polar plunge feels…crass.” He could tell that she was worried - who could blame her really? - but he really wanted to reassure her. Even though reassuring was difficult when you weren’t exactly assured yourself. “I…just want my dad back, y’know? And if this is the only way to get him back then let’s do it. But I’m…I gotta be fine, right?”

[girlwaiiled]

Initially, Lydia had thought it only made sense she would go with Allison. She's her best friend — the two have been to hell and back together. They know each other better than anyone. Of course Lydia would be the one to pull her back from the edge of death. Why wouldn't she? And Deaton would pull back Scott, because he's like a father to him and Isaac... Lydia had been mulling the whole thing over earlier, racking her brain trying to figure out if Isaac and Stiles had suddenly gotten super close and she had been oblivious to it. They hadn't — but Isaac and Allison had been another story, despite Lydia's warnings about not going down that road. So maybe she's not pulling Allison back at all. So maybe it makes more sense if Isaac is with Allison and Lydia is with Stiles. Because Lydia and Stiles do have a connection — one that she would put on the same level as she does with Allison, even if it's different. Still, Lydia's not entirely sure how to feel about that, afraid of leaving Allison's life in Isaac's hands. But she doesn't want to leave Stiles' life there either. Really, if Lydia had her way she would just be able to hold all three of them under and bring them back. She knows that isn't possible though.

She lets out a breath, shrugging her shoulders. "Extreme hydrotherapy — well, cold water immersion therapy, technically." She reaches out for him, land coming to land on top of his and squeezing gently. "I know you do." Lydia's heart goes out to Stiles, unable to imagine how she would feel in his position and her relationship with her parents is no where near as healthy or close as Stiles and Noah. Even with Chris, Noah and Melissa missing Lydia is anxious enough. Chris has taken on a parental role with her ever since he decided she's not a supernatural being that needs to be put down (the irony isn't lost on Lydia), it's obvious that Melissa McCall would do anything for anyone and she's been spending more time with Noah since she and Stiles began... whatever you want to call what they're doing. Lydia feels a connection to all three of them in varying degrees and wants to see them all back safe and sound. "We're going to get all of them back. It's going to work." Lydia says it confidently because they have no other choice but to believe that it's going to work. "You don't have to be fine right now. It makes more sense if you're not."

[girlwaiiled]

🥃 what do you REALLY think about me? (yes he's using her drunkenness to his advantage tyvm)

🥃 drunk lydia.

She has had way too much to drink. Her head feels foggy, cheeks are warm and she's pretty sure she's one more lemondrop shot away from seeing double. The question makes her grin and she barely manages to hold back a drunken giggle as she turns in her seat to look at him. "I like you." There's that giggle, no longer able to swallow it down as a disgusting, sugary sweet feeling swells inside her chest. "I don't really think I deserve you sometimes, but I like you." She reaches forward, hand landing on his arm, searching for something steady. "You remember earlier when I was talking about makin' a normal life with someone? Whenever I think about that I kind of think about... someone like you." A sober Lydia Martin will look back on this and regret it, embarrassment sure to flow through her if she has the sense to remember any of it in the morning. "Or just... you know... you." Because really, she does think of him when she lets herself think of a life like that. It had snuck up on her, a sort of hopeful vision fogging up the fear that is rooted so deep in her heart. "I think we'd be good at that."

[girlwaiiled]

🥃 what do you hope for your future?

🥃 drunk lydia.

Lydia hums, eyes rolling as she pretends to think the answer through. "Besides the obvious of world domination?" She's kidding — mostly. Though a cocky part of her does think that if she really wanted to, she could probably be running the country by forty-five. The world by fifty. "I'd like to be in charge of something that's actually making a difference in the world. I don't want to just like... use my brain to benefit myself. I want to be a part of the change or whatever." Her fingertips drum against her glass, head tilting and a blush dusting her cheeks. "And I wouldn't hate doing all of that with someone. Someone who like... gets me and wouldn't be threatened by it all. Having a normal side of life — if that's even possible now."

[stylinskies]

His hands were bruised from the hammer he used to flatten out the crushed badge he was twirling around, letting the faded light of the lamp behind the desk he was leaning against catch against the metal. The last connection to his father, battered and dented, but it was still there. A physical depiction of how Stiles felt - like this last hope had to be something. He couldn't bury his father too.

Though he really wished there was another way. Being essentially drowned in an iced mistletoe bath seemed like a bad way to spend an evening. But nothing about this supernatural bullshit was easy was it? So he's been standing here, staring at the badge in his hand, but not really seeing it. He hadn't really seen anything, since Deaton told them the plan. In all honesty, Stiles wasn't fully there. Instead, stuck in a maze of his own invention. Each corner shadowed by futures that he couldn't let happen.

Stiles was pulled out of his thoughts by a voice beside him. Long fingers loosened, letting the badge between them fall to the counter top with a clatter muted by the sound of ice being poured into metal tubs in the next room. "Huh?" He asked lamely, giving away how distracted he was. "I mean...yeah. About to go for a swim fully clothed...how are you? You don't really have a great job today either."

[girlwaiiled]

Anxiety courses through Lydia, her mind running a mile a minute as she goes over every potential outcome of this and tries to settle on the least horrific one. Obviously, an ideal outcome is this working. Their friends will be deadish for a few hours, they'll find the answers they're looking for and they'll be able to save the parents and take out Jennifer Blake. The least ideal is that all of this goes wrong, Stiles, Scott and Allison never come back up out of the ice and Jennifer wins her endgame. The margin of error all feels too big for Lydia's liking, but she has to trust that Deaton knows what he's doing. After all, he's been doing this longer than they have and he's their resident expert, even if it feels like they're on their own more often than not. Even with all of that in mind, it's a tough pill to swallow — putting this kind of blind faith in someone. But what other choice do they have?

She watches Stiles with concerned eyes as his fingers curl around his father's badge before letting it fall. It's obvious she has interrupted his train of thought, and she wishes that mind reading was something that came along with being a banshee. "Swim is a nice way to put it," she responds with a raised eyebrow. "I'm fine, Stiles." Which is kind of a lie but right now she has no choice but to compartmentalize and be fine. She'd had her breakdown over everything and now it's time to start putting it behind her and figuring out how to navigate her new life — finally with some answers. It's her turn to be something solid for Stiles to lean against. "Tell me where your head is at."

[girlwaiiled]

🥃 + if you could say anything to jackson, what would it be?

🥃 drunk lydia.

"I'd love to tell him what an asshole he is, but I think he already knows that." Lydia's feelings on Jackson are complicated even on the best day, and she's yelled at him what a dick he is more than once — it never really mattered. A part of her understands why Jackson is the way that he is — he's a product of his environment but that didn't mean that it was okay. "He's a narcissist. He wouldn't care what I had to say anyways."

[girlwaiiled]

🥃 + what’s your biggest regret?

🥃 drunk lydia.

"I wasted too much of my life pretending to be someone that I wasn't. Looking back on it it's embarrassing. That I spent so much time dumbing myself down for the benefit of other people? For the benefit of men, especially? I wish I hadn't done that."

[girlwaiiled]

🥃 + do you think someone can ever truly love you?

🥃 drunk lydia.

"No." The word tumbles out before Lydia has a chance to even think about the question, but it feels heavy on her tongue, causing her to pause. Her brows furrow, lips pursing because she finds that she doesn't really believe that in the same way she had once before. "I don't know. I felt that way for a long time. I'm... I can be difficult. I'm a lot to handle — I've heard that my entire life and I know that it's true. A lot of people won't like who I am underneath the version of me they think they know." She feels a tug in her chest, memories of the last few months with Stiles replaying in her mind. "But I think maybe I'm starting to rethink that."

[girlwaiiled]

🥃 if you had to sacrifice one thing in order for your life to go back to the way it was before, what would it be.

🥃 drunk lydia.

Now that is a question Lydia has asked herself millions of times over the last few years. "I mean, I don't know if it works like that, does it?" She asks, a brow raised. "If I got to pick the sacrifice wouldn't that make it kind of an easy out? I'd just give up something manageable like... no more Jimmy Choo's but at least I don't have to keep finding dead bodies all the time."

[girlwaiiled]

OPEN!! vague enough for all u bitches setting — deaton's office pre-ice baths

Lydia feels like her nerves are fried. The past twenty-four hours have felt like a lifetime, not to mention everything that had lead up to this. With Chris and Melissa having been taken, it's clear that their already limited window of time has become even smaller, leading to desperate and borderline insane methods to get answers. She'd tried her hand with Derek and Peter Hale — to her displeasure — who had both ended up being wholeheartedly useless with no memories of the root cellar thanks to Talia — because werewolves can take memories now, apparently, just to add to the millions of things they have to keep straight already.

They find themselves in Deaton's office now, a sacrificial ritual of their own only moments away. Lydia bites down on the inside of her cheek, wishing they had any other option at this point. She feels a tug in the back of her mind, like the answer — this stupid tree she's been drawing all semester — is somewhere back there, locked away, but she can't help. What else is new? She sighs, hand raking through strawberry curls as she glances into the exam room where Isaac and Deaton are filling up another tub. She feels anxious but who could blame her? She's sure they all are. Her lips purse together, glancing to the left of her. "Are you okay?" The question feels stupid because when was the last time any of them were okay?

[stylinskies]

Pushing strands of strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, Stiles nodded a little bit. “Honestly, I don’t think any of us were…like besides the Alpha’s and Derek. But then apparently Scott’s a True Alpha, so she started paying attention.” Letting his hand drop back down to brush fingertips against her thigh he shrugged. “She probably was shocked she missed it. A powerful being right in front of her? She thought she was this big bad unstoppable force.” 

Licking his lips, Stiles laughed. It felt weird in his hollowed out chest. Like he shouldn’t be. Not when everything was falling apart around him. But Lydia was a lifeline. Keeping her close was a reminder that there was other stuff going on. That not everything was disgusting and bad. Except for that one time where he asked his - girlfriend? friend with benefits? He didn’t know for sure - if she was a serial killer. “Flowers, orgasms, dinner, and taking care of your boujee dog….” He pointed out. “I think it’s a pretty solid forgiveness plan.” Chuckling a little bit, he watched her face. 

This wasn’t easy, he knew that. And knowing that she now had to deal with not only the fact that this was all happening to her, that she had to accept a new identity, he didn’t know how to make this better. Like once again, the wrong person was being punished for something he had a hand in. If he didn’t drag Scott out into the woods, he wouldn’t have been bitten. And if Lydia had gone to the formal with Jackson, she wouldn’t have had to find him and wouldn’t have run into Peter - right? He couldn’t know for sure. But what he did know was that he could help find a solution. “Hey…we’ll figure it out alright? I’ll see what I can find about a cure. Or at least something to make it bearable for you.”

[girlwaiiled]

Lydia resists the urge to scoff at Stiles words because she doesn't feel powerful right now — she certainly hadn't felt that way last night. Lydia had been helpless in that moment — again — and almost lost her life... again. "I don't think powerful is the word she would use," she shakes her head, teeth gnawing on the inside of her lip. She doesn't think it's the word anyone would use. "If it hadn't been for Scott and your dad..." she frowns, both because of what could have happened and what did happen. Logically, Lydia knows that Jennifer had had her victims picked out long in advance but it would be a lie to say that a part of her didn't wonder if Noah may have managed to evade her grasp if he hadn't been caught in that empty classroom with them the night before.

Stiles laugh sounds wooden and Lydia doesn't expect any less. They're both far from okay right now — but at least they're not alone, right? Lydia can't remember the last time she had felt that way. Her mind wanders back to the year before, when she'd felt like she was slipping down a slow spiral into insanity with no one there to hold onto. When Jackson had saved her from bleeding out on the field she thought he might be someone she could turn to but that obviously hadn't been the case. Most of her friends had taken Jackson's side in their break up and Allison had been avoiding her at every turn. It had been simultaneously the loneliest and scariest time in her life and right now she clings to the fact that she has someone she can trust to be there.

He drives that thought forward now, pulling her attention back to the present. The feeling of his fingers on the back of her thigh ground her in reality and she tears her gaze away from his laptop and back to him. A sigh falls from her lips, "We don't have to worry about that right now." It's not like this problem is time sensitive. Lydia can tough it out for a little longer, she's gotten surprisingly good at that. The hand on the back of his neck slides forward along his jaw, thumb stroking against his cheek. "Thank you for doing this — looking into this." It means a lot to her — her chest feels like it's cracked open, heart exposing itself and glowing with appreciation. "We can look at more later. Have you heard anything? From Scott? About your dad?"

[pulpexcess-deactivated20241115]

The Strangers: Chapter 1 (2024)

[mccallsmemaybe]

Scott nodded empathetically. A tent, sleeping bag, and a foam pad on hard earth seemed like a better option than all three places. Maybe it would be a lot better with Allison in that sleeping bag with him and Stiles and Lydia at the next campsite but he digresses. Eyebrows perked up when she concluded her thought. ❝ Do we though? ❞ The words fell out before he could stop them. ❝ Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. ❞ He's not one to be pessimistic about these types of things. In fact, he's more likely to point out that there's always a solution or way to get through it. That hopeful mentality didn’t make itself present at the moment. He felt bad that he was putting that pessimism out to Lydia who’d had enough to deal with between getting dragged out to follow him and Stiles to volunteer and then having to come up with some way to fix him. Then having to stay at that motel. He should be trying to bring light to the situation.

❝ Call it even, sure, ❞ he nodded sheepishly. He’d only done what any decent person ( or werewolf in his case ) would do. That in mind, he felt responsible to tell someone what he was feeling and despite having no proof, there was something about Lydia that lingered in the realm he’d been forced into. She obviously wasn’t a werewolf or any of the other things they’d encountered thus far but she had something special. Scott could feel it. ❝ No, not about Derek. It’s just like, I don’t know. It’s like this dread but at the same time I feel, out of it or something. ❞ It was hard to explain and he didn’t know if it meant anything or not. He listened to her explanation and it was like a lightbulb went off in his head. Of course Lydia would be better at explaining it. ❝ Yeah! Suffocating! That’s exactly what it’s like. But, maybe I’m just tired. I think I’m going to go try to get some sleep. ❞ Either way, it might be the best option for all of them if they can manage it. ❝ But, if you need anything we’re just a few doors down, okay? ❞

[girlwaiiled]

The edge in Scott's tone doesn't bother Lydia. She's used to far sharper words being hurled her way, though it does surprise her coming from him. Her eyebrows furrow, lips pressing together momentarily. They haven't been friends for very long so maybe Lydia doesn't know Scott that well yet — but from what she does know he's never really been one to lose his cool. Scott has always been synonymous with the words empathetic and kind in Lydia's mind — well, for the last few years, anyways. Before that it had been benchwarmer, but she's not too proud to admit when she was wrong. "I said kind of," she repeats with a shrug of her shoulders. "Maybe we don't know everything and we don't know how to handle it — but we have an idea. And we aren't alone there. We have help."

Scott is obviously out of sorts. Lydia is far from surprised about that, all things considered. With Derek supposedly losing his life the night before and Scott's temporary inability to heal, she can't imagine how he wouldn't be both physically and mentally exhausted by it all. Selfishly, Lydia doesn't want to let him go — she doesn't want to be alone here, wants to cling to the fact that he believes her and he feels it too that something is wrong. But he needs rest and she knows that, so she nods. "Sleep will be good for you," though it feels like a lie as it rolls off her tongue, she doesn't know why. "We'll talk more in the morning. Maybe we'll laugh about being paranoid tonight."

[rpmemes-galore]

Send me  ‘ 🥃 ‘ + plus a question, and my muse will answer it while drunk.