#praesaga

[postvoided]

the distance between two points. | STILES ♥ LYDIA !   

[adultwararchive-blog]

@praesaga.

                              a simple text from lydia to show up at the library wasn’t much of an explanation but he didn’t NEED one ----- and he isn’t sure if it’s just his built in sense that someone bad is going to happen ( is always happening ) automatically causing him to worry, or if something really IS wrong. either way, he makes it there as fast as he can despite his heavy heart. he really isn’t sure if he can handle one more thing, and just please, not lydia. ( maybe especially lydia. someone that never stopped believing he could DO THIS. and now he was failing everyone. her. ) but when he gets there the library looks empty, the quietness almost eery. he tries not to panic, even though there’s clear distress in his voice when he calls out for her.  ❛ lydia? ----- lydia. ❜

[postvoided]

@praesaga.

                         it’s 2:33 in the morning. an alarm clock blinks red nearby; the glow from a streetlight filters through the curtains in sharp lines of shadows across pale skin. he should be asleep, but he isn’t.  he can’t.  wide awake, legs restless, thoughts racing, heart aching ---- and laying next to her.  he knows he won’t be sleeping for a few hours. can feel it in the needle-prick bite buzzing just underneath his skin, settling uneasily in his bones and making him ANTSY.  he’ll toss and turn all night if he doesn’t ask -------

❛  ------- hey, are you awake?  ❜     he whispers near her ear, chest pressing against her back, quietly searching fingers slipping over the bare curve of her hip where her shirt had ridden up. they dip forward just  a bit to feel the rose-petal softness of her stomach, the slight bump of moon-silver marks branching across her skin. 

[postvoided]

death doesn’t happen to you, lydia. It happens to everyone around you. | L. MARTIN aesthetic.

[postvoided]

                                                              there was nowhere I could go                                                                       that wouldn’t be you.

[postvoided]

❛  praesaga.

                        sleep-bruised eyes; tongue stale with exhaustion; a cloud of frustration nipping at his patience like a storm crackles static across the sky  -- all a result of the persistent INSOMNIA clinging to his bones like a parasite. draining  him, darkening his gaze, biting pangs of aggression and anxiety into his throat. ( when he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t think,  not around all the other thoughts swirling violently in his skull. remembering; burning; suffering. )

                                                     but even as he stares in vain up at the ceiling, it allows one gift: he hears the CRASH in the room next door and is on his feet before he can even think.  he grabs the aluminum bat resting conveniently next to his bed and darts out into the darkness, voice calling out sharply, high with panic: ❛ lydia? LYDIA? ❜ shouldering hard against her unlocked door, he bursts into her room, fingers curling tight around his bat; ready to take on THE WORLD to protect her. but it is not a monster that he finds, crouching over lydia’s unconscious body. no, it’s lydia,  fingers bloody and dusted with shards, glass shattered all around her. the mirror, cracked open by her hand; their reflections, barely visible in the violent display. ❛ lydia, hey -- what’s wrong? ❜ he’s dropping the bat against her desk, hands now held up instead; wanting to comfort  lydia, to wake her up, to ground  her to this reality. 

                          stiles knows a thing or two about sleep-walking -- doing things in his sleep he shouldn’t; waking up in strange places; fingers wet with red, with dirt, with regret he doesn’t quite understand. he understands  that nightmare all too well, so he cups one hand over her wrist, gentle but deliberate.  ( wake up, lydia. ) 

[ppyre-blog]

praesaga.

just awful - lydia tbh

i am awful - nicki