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{ An indie selective and private Lydia Martin roleplay blog, tracking the tag: bravexbanshee. the images and the character are not mine.}

NECESSARY INFO;

my guidelines are under the first heart. my reply time is rapid but i don't always expect you to be rapid as well. my tagging system is under reconstruction. the icons are not mine and neither is the background image. this wonderful theme is the work of carson.

STATISTICS;

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openmindxd:

He sends his best regards to the Sheriff with Stiles and tells him to be safe. His hards are steady, despite the fact he felt like being shaken up on the inside. He had killed someone. Not the first time he does that, being in the army does that to you but still, it’s not a pleasant feeling.

It’s the turn to take Lydia back to her house but she starts talking. And man, he can tell she isn’t okay. It’s none of his business, but honestly, it had been a hard day. He got lit on fire, learns about the supernatural and shots someone cold dead, and they find out Meredith Walker is The Benefactor. “Depends. I like rock music.” Jordan does answer however, it the LEAST he can do.

He has the car on stand by only a couple of blocks away from her house, he doesn’t feel like letting her go walk alone and be alone. Or maybe that is him. “Lydia—-I honestly don’t know what to think.” His head turns to the side to face her and sighs, his hand running through his hair.

image

{ silence ticks by for a few seconds after
parrish finishes speaking and she savors
it. she doesn’t know what to think either
but she doesn’t know how to tell him that.
she is lydia martin, she is supposed to be
self-assured. she is supposed to know what
she’s doing. and she can’t tell parrish that
she doesn’t. even though she knows that it
is probably obvious from how her hands are
shaking. }

{ she smiles faintly, a sardonic edge lighting
up her features as her hand rests on the door
handle. the streets are dark and long, even with
the few street lights that the citizens of beacon
hills fool themselves into believing that they
offer protection. she gazes out of the window
for a second, thoughts wanting to come out
before she finally turns back to him. }

You can come with me if you want. I have
take-out from earlier and an empty couch.

{ it’s a plea to him. a plea that says that she
doesn’t want to be alone even if she doesn’t
exactly say the words. she finally allows the
door to click open, offering him an inviting
smile. she won’t beg. if he doesn’t want to,
she’ll go by herself. and try to ignore the
voices in her head.

image

hellish