#Lydia’s POV

[whitedahlia13]

Some things you just can't speak about

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Characters: Stiles + Lydia

Words: 6407

Summary: Aftermath of 3x07. Lydia wants Stiles to know everything, but the words never leave her mouth.

Some things you just can't speak about.

Lydia thinks maybe five minutes have passed. Ten at most. Ten minutes standing in the doorway of Derek Hale’s loft, him kneeling with his head in his hands while his sister’s sobs echoed in the cavernous space, the two inches of water flooding the floor not just amplifying the sound but making it a tangible thing—intermittent ripples spreading outward in every direction.

Now, there’s a hand at her back and a soft voice against her ear. “I’ll take you home.”

Her fingernails dig into the doorframe as another wave of grief hits. Cora’s mixed with her own and everyone else’s.

They were too late. Again.

Their plan failed. Again.

And now…

Boyd is dead.

“Come on, Lydia,” Stiles nudges. “There’s nothing else we can do here.”

We didn’t do anything, she thinks, but she lets him lead her towards the stairs.

Read More: ao3 & ffnet

[irisbleufic]

Of all the bullshit I never expected to be back on with the same intensity of October through December of 2000, Beetlejuice was not it. But I finally got to see the musical yesterday, and the part of me that has adored all 94 episodes of the animated series from the moment I started watching them on ABC Saturday mornings in 1989 just fucking flared—this fond, awful tightness in my chest. It’s the first TV show I ever imprinted on; it’s been with me since childhood. Surreal.

About 4 years into watching the cartoon, I finally saw the live-action movie that the cartoon was based on. I hated it, because it was so malevolent and empty compared to the incredible world-building characters in the animated series. Serious shout-outs to Stephen Ouimette and Alyson Court for all that stunning, hilarious, and often moving voicework.

Now, okay, I need to go back to 2000 again to make this all make sense. I’d watched the show from 1989 until whenever the 4th season ended. It wasn’t until I was in my first semester of college, newly transplanted to New England, that I found a couple folks within my program who had loved the show growing up, too. I ordered all of the episodes on VHS. It was difficult to track them all down in 2000, and it was expensive. But I pulled it off, and we had Friday night watch parties for weeks over the month of October. But that is not where this ends.

I was in the process of winding down the writing I’d been doing on Tim Burton’s Sleepy Hollow for the entirety of my senior year of high school. Suddenly, I’m in college and watching this fucking cartoon and thinking, there is so much heart in this. How the fuck is there so much heart. I haven’t seen two characters this wholesome codependent in, well, ever. I went looking for forums and mailing lists devoted to the cartoon. I found a mailing list. There were a handful of artists drawing amazing fancomics on there, and they were like, what do you do? Oh. I write. And they were like: do you understand how desperately some of us have wanted fic, but just can’t find it?

That is the wrong thing to say to me when I’m on a downward spiral of realizing I’m not going to escape a fandom without getting myself into a project so long that it’s all I’ll be doing for fucking months on end. If you’re one of the people who knew me back then, you know what I did for those four months in the fall/winter of 2000. I wrote a novel. Sure, I came close to failing a couple of classes, but it was the first time I understood exactly what I was capable of building as a fanwriter. Maybe even as a real writer.

“Time Will Tell” was hosted on a friend’s Angelfire site for a handful of years. People found it via LiveJournal, too, because I linked it there. I put it on AO3 somewhere circa 2012 and took it down again in 2017 because I didn’t feel there was enough interest in it, and also, my 19-year-old editorial foibles and typos were aspects I wanted to amend in it.

The musical took more inspiration from the cartoon than the film. I’m stunned and grateful for that. I found the “Time Will Tell” file buried pretty deep in my Gmail folders. I’ve been reading it since the drive home last night. I just can’t believe there’s now enough of a fandom for me to consider finally polishing it and getting it back online. It’s one of my two oldest surviving pieces of writing.

Anyway, sorry for the Gotham fic delays that I’d been trying to get a handle on. Now that the semester’s over, I feel that getting this thing I wrote twenty-three years ago back to the light of day is the best use of my time for a couple weeks.

If you’re one of the people who read “Time Will Tell” back in the day, thank you. I don’t know how many people out there still remember it beyond maybe ten or so friends I’m still in contact with all these years later. I’m sorry it disappeared for a while.

[sapphosclown]

lacy, oh lacy, i just loathe you lately, and i despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you

lacy - olivia rodrigo (version 1)

version 2

[mmoosen]

Lydia Martin Week 2023 = Outsider POV

Lydia Martin is an icon on the MIT campus, a real life Elle Woods, the prettiest girl with the genius to match. Not many on campus truly know her, but everyone knows of the girl destined to be the smartest person in every room.

[liplessthomas14]

You Bit What-!?!?!?!?

Stiles was having a boring dinner of something and thinking about Malia and the notes Malia had burrowed from Lydia which had actually been code written by Lydia and how no one ever answers their damn phones!

His dad was sitting in front of him and chewing god knows what and looking at him with a weird expression on his face. Was that the "you're in so much trouble 'cause I know you ate my totally-not-very-well-hidden midnight snack" look or the "care to tell me what possibly life-threatening news you're hiding?" look?

Whatever, it didn't matter. Thank God for phone calls. "Scotty". Uh, finally. His hand grabbed at his phone before his dad coughed, giving a pointed look.

"No phones during dinner, remember?"

"Wha- but it's important!" He protested "It's Scott and I gotta tell him about the banshee code-"

"What 'banshee code'?"

"Dad you don't just ignore pack phone calls, ok? For all I know Scott could be bleeding to death in an abandoned mine somewhere because Jennifer or someone woke up from the dead and decided to make alpha kebab out of him! How would you feel if you didn't let me answer cause of some dumb rule we made years ago and he ended up dy-"

His dad's phone started ringing- "Deputy Parrish". There was an awkward silence of several seconds, punctuated only by the synchronised ringing of the two phones, before his dad waved a hand in defeat and they both clicked the "answer" button.

"Hey, Scott, is Liam-" Stiles started.

"I buhit uhm shit-" Scott mumbled rapidly, sounding panicked.

"You hit shit??? Ew, gross. Why would you- yo Dad where're you going?" His dad had pulled on a shirt and was pulling his police jacket on.

"Murder at the hospital. Stay. Home." He warned as he started pulling on his shoes.

"Murder!?"

"Yeah Sean," Scott answered, "he's dead. The mouthless guy killed him and Stiles-"

"Wait, Sean? The creep with dead bodies in his cellar?"

"Yeah he was found dead on the roof of the hospital," his dad answered, "Now I might not be back before-"

"So is everyone ok?" Stiles interrupted him, focusing back on Scott. Scott, his mom, Liam, and a few other nurses he'd become close with over the years cause of his mom-they'd all been at the hospital.

"Stiles!" Scott sounded like he was sobbing at this point, "I bit Liam."

Stiles choked on his green peas, letting his fork clatter loudly onto his plate as his nose started to burn painfully.

"You bit-" a pea shot out of his nose, landing on the table in front of him, drowning in snot.

"Woah, you ok?" Scott asked worriedly. His dad shoved a napkin up his nose.

"Gah, I'm fine I'm fine- Dad, stop it- Scott where are you?"

"At home," he whined, "Stiles, I don't know what to do..."

"Ok I'm coming just- hang on." He hung up and rubbed at his nose with the napkin, pushing away from the table.

"I'm going over to Scott's," he called back to his dad as he shoved his feet into his sneakers.

"Stiles, what happen-"

But he was already out the door. Jeez, Scott, what have you done?

[ksbbb]

Pack

The constant static and noise surrounding his every waking thought of what he saw, has Mason seconding guessing everything he’s ever thought possible. Lydia didn’t seem phased by it at all. Like it was a normal everyday occurrence. That’s what shocked him the most and he’d mention it to Liam if he could, but he’s still wrapping his head around it.

“Hey, just checking in.” Lydia smiles, as Mason turns around to find her standing there, a small smile of concern laced on her face. She’s worried, but she also holds a certain level of confidence that has Mason feeling like whatever is going on, isn’t going to break them.

“Hey. Yesterday was. Yeah.” Mason can’t help but laugh, the Berserker from the other night flooding his thoughts, reminding him just how fragile every thing is, but Lydia saw that.

“Yes, it was. You didn’t back down back there.” Lydia says, sounding impressed and surprised all at the same time. He thinks back to the bat, but his level of enthusiasm was heightened from concern over his friends, and also by Lydia’s unwavering ability to take on anything.

“Yeah, I never let down my friends.” Mason smirks, not entirely sure what’s going on just yet and he’s a little behind with what everyone is facing, but Lydia was there too and something tells him that she’s the same way.

“Me too. I think we have a lot to discuss.” Lydia informs him, and just like that Mason knows exactly what she means. The ferocious loyalty and powerful nature of the person standing before him has Mason feeling less alone. Less out of touch with everyone and the worry he had, disappears from his mind.

“Nice to meet you Lydia. The real you.” Mason smiles, as Lydia solemnly walks away, nodding for him to follow. Lydia’s a lot more complex than he thought but if Liam has Lydia watching out it for him too, he’s not worried.

@lydiamartinappreciation

[rellsingsovern]

let me paint you a picture

me, sitting down to write chapter 3 of There’s no grounds, Jawbone: im full of so many good ideas about how Bobby sees both buddy and Kristin this will be Fantastic nothing can stop me

the canon divergence fic stemming from the everything in the briefcase going Horribly Terribly Wrong instead of relatively okay: sup Bitch I exist now. you’re gonna write three more works about this

[weneedtotalkaboutcate]

POV: You're having a conversation with Cate... *obsessing over every little movement*

[warmpeachesandpears]

POV- your on your knees.

[vivitalks]

“You don’t seem surprised,” Isaac says. “That she loves you.” Stiles shrugs. “I know her,” he says simply. “I pay attention.” ✦ Five times Stiles knows, and one time Lydia does.

for the "5+1" prompt for teen wolf bingo!

[whitedahlia13]

That's Where You'll Find Me

Chapter 1: I'm Not Leaving You

Fandom: Teen Wolf / The Wizard of Oz AU

Characters: Stiles + Lydia, Prada, Natalie Martin

Summary: Everything stopped. His breaths. His heart. Time.

There was only the two of them and the immensely powerful connection he felt whenever they were within a hundred square miles of each other.

Three days ago, Stiles saved Lydia’s life.

With the help of their friends, he coordinated a rather masterful plan, risked everything to free her from Eichen House.

Eichen House, where she was held against her will, drugged and shocked into altered planes of consciousness, poked and prodded for information she didn’t know how to access.

For weeks, she was trapped. Inside that place. Inside her mind. Always with the threat of what else might be done to her or to her friends. She endured the heartbreak of foreseeing their deaths, one by one. She experienced the excruciating pain and trauma of trepanation when Gabriel Valack, the madman posing as her doctor, drilled a hole into her skull to amplify her banshee abilities.

The brutal and archaic procedure left her in a volatile, virtually nuclear state of supernatural unrest.

But just when it seemed as though all would be lost, Stiles appeared.

I’m not leaving you here, he said.

He meant it too. It was clear in his unwavering tone and soulful eyes that he was ready and willing to go with her – through Hell and back.

When they were separated, she could still hear him, palms pounding on steel, echoes of his screams – Lydia... Ly-d-ia!!! penetrating thecavernous walls of that awful, century-old prison. He didn’t give up. No matter the obstacles he faced, no matter who nor what interfered, Stiles found his way back to her.

Now, whenever he walks into her room, that moment replays in her mind. Stiles bursting through a pair of industrial doors. Stiles running to her with open arms. Stiles promising, We’re gonna get you out of here.

Every time, she feels the same relief, the same awe, the same surge of love for him. Her sweet, sarcastic, occasionally clumsy, super smart, superhero in plaid.

Keep Reading: ao3 & ffnet

[erythristicbones]

i don't feel like copying what i wrote, so take some screenshots of me having brainworms for the JDK villains again. primarily spurred by me going "hey wouldn't Nisha and Artemis and Apollo make cool rockstars instead"

[generalized-incompetence]

“So,” said Lydia, leaning back against the counter and crossing her arms, “you want me to come help you break into some random guy’s house at three in the morning because a sixteen-year-old drop-out is a great substitute for the female embodiment of James Bond.”

Dirk raised a finger, lowered it, and raised it again. “I never said,” he said, “we were robbing a man.”

Lydia gave the matter her full and complete consideration for an entire two seconds. “Yeah, okay,” she said. “Let me go get my shoes.”

Lydia is losing her mind stuck in Farah's safehouse after returning from Belize. When Dirk appears in the middle of the night, she leaps at the chance to solve a case, and, more importantly, go outside. But as they search for clues, both Dirk and Lydia uncover more about themselves than they bargained for.

[pandoraheadcanons]

Would y'all rather have an average length chapter of WMITS (9 pages), or a longer chapter that might take a little while more to write?

[little-cat-cute]

you are Lydia Martin's daughter

All found on Pinterest as usual if I should notify someone or delete please let me know.