( 𝘷𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘴 ) ⁱⁿ ᵐʸ ʰᵉᵃᵈ

#𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃       an  independent,   canon  divorced  exploration  of  the  character  of  𝗹𝘆𝗱𝗶𝗮 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗻.   heavily  original  headcanon   inspired,   with   celctic  lore  influences  &  primarily   exploring  timelines  outside  the  teen  wolf  canon .  

by  rooney,   ( she/her,  21+ )  highly  selective .   unhinged  activity

   exploring  themes  of:  the  monstrous  feminine,   duality  of  the  goddess  and  the  monster,   a  banshee  in  three  forms  (  hag,  mother,  maiden  ),    the  matrilineal  bond,   survivors  guilt,    the  relationship  between  life  and  death .  

note ;    affiliated  with  @terrorcheer​‘s  depiction  of  chrissy  cunningham  +   the  original  verse  within  the  stranger  things  canon  we  created  for  these  characters

how’s my portrayal:

         his hands are thrown up in immediate defense,      a silent gesture of submission.         his mouth is always known for getting away from his mind,      going too fast for his thoughts to be accurately portrayed.            ❝      hey,      i’m sorry.         i’m just      ―      i’m trying to process everything.         this stuff barely makes sense to me yet,      not like it does everyone else.      ❞            he still hasn’t fully wrapped his mind around the concept of another world beneath his feet,      let alone other species in his own.         there’s a inkling of guilt behind his ribcage,      sympathizing with   having a secret you can’t share.         this whole saving-the-world thing is heavy on his shoulders,      the feeling of uselessness when people like lydia and el exist only amplifying when his thoughts wander too far.

❝      i’m not trying to be disgusting or rude,      i just cope with humor sometimes,      ❞            he defends,      although he knows that   there’s a place and time for everything   certainly applies in this situation.         not the place,      not the time.         a deep inhale as he sits back up in his chair,      hands resting on his knees which are clad in faded blue jeans.            ❝      alright,      fine.         chrissy wasn’t murdered      ―      i mean,      she was.         just not by munson.         there’s a lot of shit happening in this town,      lydia.         more than just sensing dead people.         dangerous shit.      ❞

she’s  glad  he  at  least  has  the  sense  to  be  ashamed.   despite  what  her  raised  hackles,   and  genuine  demeanour  may  suggest   -  SHE  HASN’T  COME  HERE  FOR  A  FIGHT.    and  she  isn’t  in  the  mood  for  once.   she  just  wanted  answers.    so  she  lets  him  off  with  just  a  warning,   cold  stare  maintained  for  a  moment  longer  before  she  shifts  gears,   head  shaking  slightly  to  force  herself  to  move  on.      ❝   oh  you’re  confused   ...   well  spare  a  thought  for  me.   ❞    nothing  had  ever  made  sense  to  her,   her  whole  life .    and  even  as  she  feels  on  the  verge  of  getting  answers,   things  still  didn’t  make  sense.   she  wondered  if  she  would  ever  understand  herself.  

@pluresque​   sent.     “  did you find what you were looking for?  ”