#C: Lydia

[mccallsmemaybe]

WHO ― @girlwaiiled

WHEN & WHERE ― feb. 23rd afternoon, lydia & allison's apartment

He could've swore she had a shirt on when she left that morning. Then again, he could've been reeling from the fact that he'd just slept with the love of his life ( which he'd never thought would happen ever again ) to notice what she was wearing. He hardly remembered what day it was at that point. The shirt caught his eye when he was getting dressed after his shower. He was going to go meet Derek who insisted on talking to him about something to do with all the crazy stuff that had been going on around town. Might as well make a detour over to Lydia and Allison's to drop it off before someone found it and asked question.

It wasn't until he was at the door that he realized it had been a couple of months since he'd been there. Also that he may not have thought his plan all the way through. Mostly when he was staring at Lydia Martin and not Allison, twisting a shirt with his mouth half open. ❝Uh― is, um, is Allison here?❞ He held up the shirt after he stuttered a couple more times at the redhead. Not doing much for his image of complete moron at the moment. Nor was it very subtle. ❝I was just going to, uh, um, return her shirt.❞ Shit, Scott, why would you have her shirt? That makes doesn't make sense. You're not supposed to be hanging out together at all, right? ❝That she left, um, before she left―❞ his mouth kept moving trying to make new words come out. ❝I mean, before she went to... away. She, um, left it at my place. Yeah.❞ He nodded, fairly sure he was nailing it despite being the worst liar in history. ❝I thought she might want it back.❞

[will-york]

Flashback - May 2023

Will knew that today would be a day to remember but when the day had started he thought it would be for a different reason. All week he had been thinking about this vote while trying not to think about it. He had barely talked about it, focusing on just getting through the week doing his job and running his errands. But there was no denying the nerves as he walked into the club house that day. But it had all dissipated when the unanimous decision came down and he found himself shaking Cole's hand. He felt like his dream had finally come true and when the sun was starting to set, there was really only one place he wanted to be.

It was the same place he could be found every Wednesday night. It had easily become his favorite night of the week and he made sure to stop to get dessert before he found himself walking up Lydia and Landon's front walk. He knew how Lydia felt about the club so he wasn't going to burst in and announce it, there was a reason he had dropped off his vest at home before coming over. But he knew he'd have to tell her eventually. He just wanted to enjoy the night first, treat it like a celebration without really making it one. And that felt easy to do when the door opened and he saw her smile and then was soon greeted by Landon running towards him to grab the dessert from his hands. "Be careful, dude, it has to go in the fridge! Jesus, when did he get so fast?"

Will laughed as he looked at his best friend and opened his arms wide to pull her in for a hug. "Been waiting for this hug all day." He kissed the top of her head before he finally pulled away. "It also smells delicious in here. I think I made a good choice skipping lunch." He slid his arm around her shoulders as they closed the door and walked towards the kitchen. "You pop open that malbec I brought you the other day yet or am I a lucky winner?" @lydsdonovan

[hanzajesthanza]

Hello! For the "send a character" ask, could I request my favouritest guy Percival Schuttenbach? Or Lydia van Bredevoort, whichever you are more inclined towards :0

percival

send me a character and i will tell you my:

first impression

didn't care at first. you see from this long post that that changed

impression now

i find him utterly relatable... his excitement about metallurgy is just so special to me... and this bit, when he's too obsessed with admiring the technology that it doesn't register to him that he's being offered a drink for recreation, rather than being asked a question about how something works:

‘Moonshine,’ Zoltan corrected him gently. ‘And what moonshine! Try some, Percival.’ ‘But I’m not an expert in organic chemistry,’ the gnome answered absentmindedly, examining the details of the alchemical furnace’s construction. ‘It’s doubtful I would be familiar with the ingredients…’

favorite moment

it's a tie... my first-favorite moment is when percival and zoltan are showing sihill to geralt, and percival just keeps getting so excited about the technology behind the blade:

‘(...) my sihil’s blade was forged from a refined alloy containing graphite and borax…’ ‘It’s a modern technique!’ Percival burst out, a little excited, since the conversation was moving inevitably towards his field of expertise. ‘The blade’s construction and composition, numerous laminates in its soft core, edged with hard–not soft–steel…’ ‘Take it easy,’ the dwarf said, reining him in. ‘You won’t make a metallurgist out of him, Schuttenbach, so don’t bore him with details.

my second-favorite moment is when they're all freaking out about the alleged witch-girl allegedly cooking her cat in a stew, and percival points out that the cat is sitting right there... and he specifically points out the cat, using his own vocabulary:

‘It’s a shame about that cat,’ Percival Schuttenbach suddenly said in a loud voice. ‘It was a fine beast, sleek and fat. Fur shining like anthracite, eyes like two chrysoberyls, long whiskers, and a tail as thick as a mechanical’s tool! Everything you could want in a cat. He must have caught plenty of mice!’ The peasants fell silent. ‘And how would you know, Master Gnome?’ someone asked. ‘How do you know what the cat looked like?’ Percival Schuttenbach cleared his nose and wiped his fingers on a trouser leg. ‘Because he’s sitting over there on a cart. Right behind you.’ The peasants all turned around at once, muttering as they observed the cat sitting on a pile of bundles. The cat, meanwhile, utterly unconcerned about being the centre of attention, stuck a hind leg up in the air and got down to licking his rump.

idea for a story

i want to know about him and the grail... that was a fun joke from sapkowski, pointing out his namesake, but i want to know about this...

‘A cup…’ Percival Schuttenbach jabbered. ‘A goblet, I mean… Carved from a single piece of milk opal… This big. I found it on the summit of Montsalvat. Its rim was set with jasper and the base was of gold. A sheer marvel…’ ‘Don’t give him any more spirits,’ Zoltan Chivay said. ‘Hold on, hold on,’ Dandelion said, becoming interested, also slurring his words somewhat. ‘What happened to that legendary goblet?’ ‘I exchanged it for a mule. I needed a mule, in order to transport a load… Corundum and crystalline carbon. I had… Err… Lots of it… Hic… A load, I mean, a heavy load, couldn’t have moved it without a mule… Why the hell did I need that goblet?’

unpopular opinion

it's easier to avoid antisemitic caricatures when drawing gnomes than people think... though this is a complaint i've had for-just-about-ever, that artists need to be more aware of racial/ethnic caricatures so they don't replicate them in their work

another unpopular opinion maybe since i've seen no one's opinion on this yet, but i hate his voice in the chrzest ognia audiodrama, oh my lord...

favorite relationship

asides from his friendship with zoltan, i think his potential friendship with regis would be really fun. my intense special interest-having guysss... my mule-owning guys... nerds <3

another favorite moment, between them:

At the sight of the stove Percival Schuttenbach first stared goggle-eyed, then gaped, and finally sighed and leapt up in the air. ‘Ho, ho, ho!’ he called, unable to conceal his delight. ‘What do I see? That’s an absolutely authentic athanor coupled to an alembic! Equipped with a rectifying column and a copper condenser! A beautiful apparatus! Did you build it yourself, master barber-surgeon?’ ‘Indeed,’ Emiel Regis admitted modestly. ‘My work involves producing elixirs, so I have to distil (...)’

favorite headcanon

ern's design for him is the bestest and most supreme in my opinion

---

lydia

send me a character and i will tell you my:

first impression

also didn't care at first. and you see again from this long post that that also changed

impression now

i already wrote a little bit on how lydia and rience are the "as above, so below" between vilgefortz's reveal as antagonist, but:

i think lydia's relationship with vilgefortz and the way he treated her was the first sign, actually a bigger sign than more 'obvious' things like his repeated phrases, research of the elder blood, and attempted tracking of yennefer..., the first and biggest sign that vilgefortz was a bad, bad person.

his way of treating lydia is to use her as a tool, an assistant who will serve him blindly and literally not say a word against him. in other words, total control.

‘Have you ever wondered what happened when Bekker forced the water to gush from the rock? It’s generally put very simply: Bekker tamed the Power. He forced the element to be obedient. He subdued nature; controlled it . . . What is your relationship to women, Geralt?’ ‘I beg your pardon?’ Lydia van Bredevoort turned with a whisper of silk and froze in anticipation. Geralt saw she was holding a wrapped-up painting under one arm. He had no idea where the picture had come from, since Lydia had been empty-handed a moment before. The amulet around his neck vibrated faintly. Vilgefortz smiled. ‘I enquired,’ he repeated, ‘as to your views concerning the relationship between men and women.’ ‘Regarding what respect of that relationship?’ ‘Can obedience, in your opinion, be forced upon women? I’m talking about real women, of course, not just the female of the species. Can a real woman be controlled? Overcome? Made to surrender to your will? And if so, how? Answer me.’

the way it is introduced all makes sense, then:

Everyone knew that Lydia van Bredevoort was in love with Vilgefortz of Roggeveen, that she had loved him for years with a silent, relentless and stubborn love. The wizard, it is to be understood, also knew about this but pretended not to. Lydia made it easier for him by never betraying her feelings to him – she never took the slightest step or made the slightest gesture, transmitted no sign by thought and, even if she could speak, would never have said a word. She was too proud. Vilgefortz, too, did nothing because he did not love Lydia. He could, of course, simply have have made her his lover, tied her to him even more strongly and, who knows, maybe even made her happy. There were those who advised him to do so. But Vilgefortz did not. He was too proud and too much a man of principle. The situation, therefore, was hopeless but stable, and this patently satisfied them both.

vilgefortz knew she was too proud to ever say anything, so he used her love for him to control her.

favorite moment

we don't see it happen, but the attack and then suicide she commits to buy time for vilgefortz is the most tragic thing...

‘How did it happen, Radcliffe?’ asked Triss, withdrawing her hand from the gilded haft of the dagger which was embedded beneath Lydia’s sternum. ‘How could it have happened? This was supposed to be bloodless!’ ‘She attacked us,’ muttered the sorcerer and lowered his head. ‘She attacked us as Vilgefortz was being escorted out. There was a scuffle . . . I have no idea . . . It’s her own dagger.’

idea for a story

the way she lost her face...

Four years ago, on Vilgefortz’s – her master’s – recommendation, Lydia had taken part in experiments concerning the properties of an artefact found amongst the excavations of an ancient necropolis. The artefact turned out to be cursed. It activated only once. Of the five wizards taking part in the experiment, three died on the spot. The fourth lost his eyes, both hands and went mad. Lydia escaped with burns, a mangled jaw and a mutation of the larynx and throat (...)

i'd like to explore how vilgefortz manipulated her while she was recovering, espousing (manufactured?) grief and regret, enough to keep her feeling that he cares for her...

unpopular opinion

sometimes characters are just devices to show something about another character. this is the case with lydia and vilgefortz.

favorite relationship

tissaia and lydia's friendship...

Lydia van Bredevoort, delicately conjuring up a tiny flame between her thumb and index finger, lit the candles in the candelabras. Tissaia saw traces of oil paint on her hand. She filed it in her memory so later, after supper, she could ask the young enchantress to show her her latest work. Lydia was a talented artist.

favorite headcanon

lydia was intelligent enough to guess what vilgefortz had planned. she knew, in the back of her mind, how wicked he was, she had figured it out. but was too loyal to him to reveal anything.

[edgarwayne]

Hawk had insisted Edgar get fresh air and not just stay in bed while he recover, the importance of exercise and not falling into a depression not lost on him. Still, he insisted on being alone, telling Yvette and G that he would be okay, that he was just going to the park for a little bit and that he would ring the doorbell to be let in. As he sat on a bench, Edgar stared blankly ahead of him, feeling as though everything were crushing him. It took a while for him to realize someone was speaking to him. Blinking, he looked up to see Lydia staring back at him expectantly. "I-I'm sorry. What was that?"

@thiingswelostx

[hernando-valdez]

"I know people say it all the time but every time I see the little man I feel like time is flying. Like my beard gets grayer every time." Hernando's smile grew as he walked into the bakery, grateful it was a slower time of day so he could actually talk with Lydia for a bit. Now that he was home he was trying to check in with all of his friends, especially because it made it a lot easier not to think about his own life. "I know my hands may seem empty but.." he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small box. "I already gave Landon his gift so he's all good." Hernando set the box on the table and waited for her to open it to reveal a pink and gold pin in the shape of a pom pom. "I just came across it when I was shopping around in Brooklyn. Made me think of you. It's cute, right." He hard heard about her sister and hated that he wasn't home. Lydia was one of the few friends he had that helped him feel separated from all the chaos of his real life and it killed him not to be there for her. "Missed you, you been remembering to drink water and shit? Like take a shit but also like other shit, you know?" @lydsdonovan

[vvrcths]

where: london natural history museum when: mid-afternoon whom: @lydiacaine

All relationships had a purpose.

To most people, forming relationships kept them grounded. It gave them a point on any horizon on which to look at and know that there was an achor — a safe habor in the storm — and gave them something to work for. Someone to impress, someone to love, someone to learn about and grow with. People were inherently good and tried to improve one another's lives.

To Lucretia, forming relationships was a necessity. A habit that had to be learned over the years and is so practiced at this point to almost look natural. They tended to fall in one of several categories.

People from the Jolly Rogers tended to fall into tolerated in public and at least somewhat genial in private, when she could truly be herself and let go of the pretense of being proper and polite society's idea of normal.

There were people like Caleb who fell into a specific category of friendsly; those whom she had no issues with and, if she were a different woman, might be true friends with, but otherwise are more likely to get a call from Lucretia when she's bored and needs to be out in the public eye but too goddamn tired to deal with the debutantes and socialites.

There were people like Safiye, who were fascinations more than anything. The people she kept hold of because of some curious detail about them, however miniscule, that sparked an interest in her. A woman whose brain is built like Lucretia's tended to go at things like an anthropologist and she wanted to study that which made her question. She needed answers.

There was goddamn Javier.

Then there were people like Lydia. Innocent souls who radiated a sort of purity and kindness that made Lucretia, on a level that she would never admit, somewhat jealous of how they existed. They were bright spots in the world and though Lucretia hated bright spots, she needed some in her life to make sure that no one would think twice about this woman in regards to any of the heinous things she did. Which also mean that... these people were sort of protected.

She'd happened upon Lydia at an art gallery looking over traditional aboriginal art from Australia, an exhibit that Lucretia was forced to attend, and the woman had struck up a conversation. Right away, Lucretia knew it was going to be the way it was. No one could harm Lydia because she gave a certain note of compassion to Lucretia's socialite persona. She was a corner stone at this point, which meant that she literally would not let anyone harm or hurt her. It was as close as anyone could get to actually being friends with Lucretia, which is in and of itself an oddity.

More trips to museums and galleries and Lucretia had taken this young woman under her wing, using the practiced art of 'big sistering' that she had learned to satisfy her familial needs and modifying it so that every time she saw the other woman she could form the warmest smile, posture improving, arms opening for a hug and, yes, her ears lifting slightly with the intensity of her smile. She looks, to everyone who watched, like she truly loved Lydia.

So, that meant that when Lydia came through the doors to the Natural History Museum — a place they frequented often when the exhibits would change and a place Lucretia didn't hate because most of recorded history was a violent cesspool of trauma — the smile came on brightly, the arms opened, and she exuded affection, "Dia, my darling, I am so glad you're here. Its been a few weeks and..."

There was a pause so she could approach the other woman more closely. Anyone who knew Lucretia and watched this exchange would have a hard time proving it wasn't sincere, even...

[notquitedoctorhart]

Where: The BBC When: Lunchtime With: @lydiacaine

@lydiacaine Papers covered her desk and music quietly played from her computer. As much as scrolling through information on her computer served her well, there was something about having physical copies to page through that Lydia found deeply satisfying. Perhaps there was some leftover dreams of working in a library that she’d harbored as a small child that lent themselves to finding paper copies more rewarding than paging through information on a screen. Lydia had gotten more than a little caught up in her own world - she did tend to find herself most successful when she blocked out the majority of what was going around her - at least while at work. It wasn’t that she wasn’t friendly with her coworkers, because she was, even if she was closest with her direct boss (perhaps too much, in the eyes of some, no matter how purely platonic and nearly familial it was), but her coworkers weren’t Sonny - they weren’t Jude - they weren’t any of her other closer friends, and so focusing on her work was what she preferred most. Besides, it gave people fewer reasons to doubt the legitimacy of her working here. A familiar voice did bring her out of her thoughts and she looked up, spotting Mickey. She knew his parents, at least somewhat, and knew Mickey by extension, at least in passing, at least enough that he was someone who she’d happily take time to talk to. “Hey,” she responded, looking up at him. “At least seventy-four percent positive.” She grinned. “Especially if it’s free, then I don’t think I can say no.” She clicked off the music on her computer. “Besides, I’m way hungry, and could use a lunchtime conversation partner.” Another smile. “Though we should probably go to one of the break rooms, I don’t want any food getting on the notes.”

.

Lydia’s desk was barely visible beneath the piles of paper that littered it. But Mickey was familiar enough with cluttered spaces like these to recognize when something was just messy and when something was organized chaos. This was an organized chaos. Any passerby may think this was a disaster, but Mickey was pretty sure that if any editor came by and asked about an article Lydia would know exactly which pile it sat in. It didn’t look too dissimilar from Mickey’s own desk at home; just switch the research out for textbooks and medical journals.

“That’s a passing grade so I’ll take it.” Mickey smiled, ecstatic that the conversation was going well so far. He’d take any win that he could get. “I can’t promise I’ll make good conversation. But I tend to talk when I get nervous so either way you’re going to get a conversation. Lead the way.” Mickey was familiar with the break rooms, but it would feel weird leading the way for someone actually employed here.

[sonxofxansel]

If it were a choice, it wouldn't be called "a curse".  lydia

it had been a long time since he'd crossed paths with one of her kind. the world had grown ignorant to them and lore had been dispersed into folk-tales and stories told over a campfire.

great for entertainment, shit for the poor souls who found themselves hearing voices and seeing death. and in a world where hearing voices in your head bought you a one way ticket to the psychiatrist, was it any wonder why the girl saw it as a curse?

abilities she hadn't asked for. abilities that had clicked into existence without warning and abilities that no one had shown her how to use or how to control. at least he'd had his father and a pack to show him how to hone his curse.

' back when i was born, what i am was seen as a gift. that's what we all called it and we took pride when it came to triggering it ... that was a long time ago though. and now i look at my kind and it's called a curse and there's an innate fear in triggering it, and all this is in spite of belonging to a pack with elders who can teach them what to do. '

' i think you're fair to call it a curse, but whether it remains that or not is entirely up to you. you have these abilities now and there's not receipt to return them - so what do you do going forward? '

@bloodysilverscream

[zoesroyalsims]

[2227, Sulani 💖] The Double Wedding (5/5) The newlyweds, parents of the groom, and more guests dancing (1) Prince James and Princess Sage Newcrest (2) Prince Kamal and Princess Olivia Sulani (3) Queen Rose and Prince Consort Samuel Newcrest (4) King Milan II and Queen Kira Sulani (5) Duchess Lydia and Duchess Erica Sulani, aunts of the brides (6) Prince Asher Laudier and Harper Lothario (7) Riley Bowen and Prinx Toni Newcrest (8) Prince Marcus Newcrest, Prince Taylor, Lady Amanda and Princess Jessica Sulani (9) King William Laudier II

[mccallsmemaybe]

WHO ― @girlwaiiled

WHERE ― motel california

Despite Scott's better judgment, they did pull over and it had been at Lydia's suggestion that they close the wound on his stomach that refused to heal. He didn't realize how dire the whole thing had been until he woke up on the bathroom floor with Allison in front of him. It was naive to think that would be the end of this draining week. No, the bus broke down and now they were at some dingy motel between Beacon Hills and their destination. ❝ Guess it could be worse, ❞ he commented coming up behind the redhead. ❝ We could be sleeping on the bus tonight.❞Already he’d dropped his overnight bag in the room he was sharing with Stiles ( though he’s sure both of them wouldn’t have mind trading spaces with one of the girls ). It was amazing how much better he felt in just a few short hours. Sucks it wasn’t in the city they were destined for so they could all be eating burgers or pizza or something. The microwave burrito from the gas station will just have to do the job for the night. 

❝ Hey, um, ❞ the werewolf shifted in place, idly rubbing at his arm. ❝ I wanted to say thanks for your help. I guess I was just being stubborn about it ‘cause I didn’t want you guys to get hurt. ❞ There was probably more to it than that. Something about being a burden or maybe he just wanted fate to take over. Whoa, Scott, too dark. He shook off the thought. ❝ Are you good? ❞

[will-york]

Will hadn't realized how much of a knot his stomach had been in all week until he saw Landon running into Lydia's arms. He had to excuse himself to let out a good cry, the weight of it all finally leaving him. He was still unnerved about how empty the warehouse had been, how it felt to see Landon tied up. But the image of Lydia being reunited with him was quickly pushing all of that away. Landon was home. They had found him. And it had been his community that had made it possible. He had taken the time to call his fathers, to give Lydia and Landon some space, to make sure all of his brothers knew that things had worked out. And eventually things were quiet and when he finally came back into the house, he found Lydia sitting on the couch with a sleeping Landon. "Hell of a day, huh?" It felt like an understatement as he leaned in the entryway, fully aware that this was the first time the three of them had shared space together in over six months. "I uh, I figured I'd stay again tonight as a precaution. If that's okay. Not that I think I'm gonna get any sleep but," he shrugged, trying not to get emotional as he met her eyes. "Is it dumb to ask how you're feeling?" @lydsdonovan

[azaleastobloom]

I LOVE a good Lydia Nicholas character. An ex youtuber who’s trying really hard to kill her boss? A non binary, many times divorced mad scientist? A young woman who’s trying to escape her crime lord uncle and consistently rolls above 30s by level 5? An alien who’s trying really really hard to convince everybody that she’s a human, and works for alien buzzfeed? Literally never misses.

[jgthirlwell]

JG Thirlwell has contributed four pages of exclusive new graphics for the new edition of Pioneer Zine. This issue was curated by Bob Bert (Pussy Galore, Sonic Youth, Chrome Cranks etc) and features contributions by JG Thirlwell as well as Thurston Moore, Lee Ranaldo, Lydia Lunch , Jasmine Hirst, Reuben Radding and Mark C. You can pick it up here

[lttlewing]

❝ allison! ❞

[greatgaspiads]

Slumber/PJ Party

Babes Week 2023, Day 6

And a little something extra—an alternate timeline if you will—below the cut 😉

[notquitedoctorhart]

Where: The BBC When: Lunchtime With: @lydiacaine

The door had closed in Mickey’s face before he even got the chance to answer his parent’s silent gesture. They were on the phone, most likely a meeting gone over or fire that needed put out, barely able to get off a few hand gestures before they were talking into the phone again and swinging their office door closed. Despite the disappointment, Mickey wasn’t particularly surprised. While they had never shown him anything but love and support, Mickey’s adoptive parents lead busy lives. They had only gotten busier since Mickey had gone off to college. The three all lead busy lives now, and made attempts to connect whenever possible. That was how Mickey ended up in the BBC with a visitor badge pinned to his jumper and holding a bag of untouched food. This was hardly the first time Mickey had made his way all the way here only to be too late for a lunch partner. 

With a sigh, Mickey turned from the closed door and started slowly walking back across the office space. Mickey could find a place to eat lunch, and he was familiar enough with the office and coworker’s faces that most probably wouldn’t bat an eye at Mickey hanging around to eat. Luckily, he spotted someone he did know at her desk. He wasn’t sure he would consider Lydia a friend, unless sometimes conversing with her when he visited the office counted as a friendship. He had never been outgoing or social enough to ever try to ask her about meeting up outside of this office. Still, he liked her enough. And the first step to starting any friendship was extending an olive branch. In this case, he hoped that olive branch would be chicken flavored.

“Hey there” Mickey asked, trying to smoothly slide a healthy distance from her desk. He was sure this came across as awkwardly as he felt in the moment. It was right around lunch time, if he was lucky she would have just been getting rid to take a break and not slammed. “How do you feel about chicken?” Mickey asked, holding the bag up as evidence. “My lunch date ditched me.”