#twisted palette. more like... angry cat thing

[cartoonishreal]

aggro up

In reference to this silly little gimmick I added to Palette's description teehee vv

[ganymedesclock]

If I may ask, what inspired you to make your world and story for Lornwood? was it a random idea and you build something on it over time, or something else? I'm really curious since many people have so different kinds of processes of creating something like a fantasy world.

In a broad sense my story creation process is adhd and overthinking.

Basically my brain has a lot of restless energy and it likes to bat ideas around sort of like a cat with a yarn ball; I see ideas or concepts and I roll them around in my head.

The story that became Lornwood was built heavily around Aeon, first as a character, and they were not necessarily created unique but out of something that affects a lot of my ideas: I really like "final boss" type characters, grand weird mystical beings or such, and it stands out to me that a lot of the deathless fantasy dark overlords of fiction exist almost entirely out of context with other characters. It's often hard to imagine what sort of daily schedule they might keep, if they live somewhere, or if they live at all.

One of my favorite things to do is put character archetypes played more or less straight in roles that they would normally have nothing to do with, also played as straight as I can get them- so, putting the space flea final boss in a protagonist role.

So I guess if there's a kernel that has been with Lorn from the very start, it was a question of, "Well, what makes someone a bad person? How do they become that way? And, what are they supposed to do when they've been that person for long enough and don't want to be?"

Because if you think of someone who, despite absolutely having the power to ruin or end others' lives, lives in the equivalent of a bleak dark room with no real possessions or comforts, there's a certain bereavement to that. And if you start to extrapolate a character just from that idea- it becomes a question of morality. Would we be good people, if we were alone in the dark and the only way that we reached other people was to make a fist and strike it out into the world?

Early Aeon was much more willfully aggressive- an active schemer and destroyer fitting their original inspirations. They were a big monster with no natural human form, who had, over a long period of time, played games and cut deals with various people of different degrees of desperate or angry, and took parts of their petitioners that they coveted, eventually assembling a body that they meant to use to escape into the real world.

It was a lot more of a narrative about laying low a haughty god- the chronic pain of the body thus assembled forced them to rethink everything about how they had before been unable to feel pain at all, and cared little about inflicting it. So early Aeon was a little, for lack of a better term, tropier- straightforward jrpg villain archetype, with one twist (basically living in a sensory deprivation chamber and lacking much ability for cognitive empathy) sent on a redemption arc. There were other gods in the setting, but their reasons for disliking Aeon were basically just because Aeon was a genuinely evil god. The setting overall was much more “rpg fantasy” rather than what it is now, which is more of a gothic fairytale vibe.

Honestly one of the biggest remainders of this time period is Eva’s color palette- she was directly inspired off a final fantasy white mage, so her outfits always prominently featured white with red accents. She was overwhelmingly invented as Aeon’s deuteragonist, who would supply them with medicine and carry her own troubles that led her to deciding somehow despite her mounting anxieties that this was Her Patient and she was going to see them through to the end.

That early story, called Heal, started to unravel I think the more I got acquainted with Aeon and Eva, and the former ended up more the deuteragonist to Eva than the other way around; not because their issues are less compelling but because the more their situation came together for me, the more it seemed intuitive that Aeon wasn’t really making progress on their issues- they were stuck, while Eva was the one whose presence and influence became the reason things start moving at this particular point. When she’s the whole reason the story happens at the time it does, it made sense to focus on her perspective.

Really, the funniest thing about that was I settled on Aeon‘s animal motif really early on as a shark, with the idea of their fearsome reputation as man-eaters contrasted with the fact that most shark attacks are an earnest accident, the consequence of a nearly blind predator groping in the watery dark with the only ‘hand’ they have to understand the situation- a hand that happens to be full of very sharp teeth.

Now, I feel like the shark as a motif fits current Aeon (trying their best, frustrated and trying to decide if they’re really resigned to being an ‘evil demon’ rather than actually working to be accepted as a god who can bring good to others) way more than it did original Aeon (a certain amount of genuinely malicious and uncurious, didn’t really worry about things until they were forced to). Although it certainly could be that in coming up with the symbol first, I built a language to talk about Aeon and then adjusted my understanding and depiction of the character based on what those symbols were telling me.

The Lorn itself was actually inspired off of Silent Hill- in particular I was thinking of how several Silent Hill games imply that the town is itself particularly antagonistic or angry due to its inextricable tangling with Alessa, and her perspective around her upbringing and torture. It made me wonder how a comparable “species”- a living location that seethes with power and reflects the hearts of those within it- might behave in a truly neutral sense, and that made me think of fairytales and folklore, the kill-or-cure of snake venom. And of course, the role of The Woods in so many stories; particular among them Little Red Riding Hood and her fraught passage into adulthood, the need to contend with darkness and ill-intended strangers to make her way to maturity.

So Lorn coming into the picture as simultaneously a setting and a character itself really was the thing that broke things away from Heal and gave an immediate and significant goal with all of the characters. At all times, they’re boxed in- both by the literal trees and eerie manifestations of the forest, and with the things in their lives it has taken on and embodied. The phrase “Lornwood” was a thing that I came up with offhandedly from a different idea and liked the sound of, but it wasn’t until I could properly anchor it in this story that I could answer what exactly the Lornwood was- the word “lorn” etymologically talks about loss.

And I think that was perhaps an important movement in conceptualization- because “Heal”, while I always intended it as a story to ask questions about what can and can’t be fixed and what it means to want to fix someone in the first place, still nonetheless implies that this is a story about, well, healing- rather than a story about loss, a story about grief, and the necessity of making our bed with the darkness one way or another, healing or not, to be complete human beings.

As far as fiddlier decisions, a lot of those happened sort of incidentally. Syther was originally conceived as a vampire, which in this setting was a thing accidentally Aeon’s fault; the character of Shion has probably changed the most out of the core three; I batted around a lot of different concepts for the gods before settling on the decision that this whole pantheon is one troubled family.

(the earliest concept for what became Sivi was close to an abject villain, which is very funny to me considering her current character incarnation is in some ways the closest thing this entire family has to a Lawful Good)

Really the person who’s changed the least is Eva. She became steadily more deadpan and a bit more fleshed out but for as much as the setting changed around her, her backstory stayed mostly steady. Sometimes you just get an idea that keeps going. I guess this is how she was able to seize the main character slot so easily.

Sorry Aeon. You’re still a protagonist in my heart.

[theflashdriver]

Faux (A fake dating Silvaze Fic)

Here’s a little something I wrote to promote Silvaze Week 2020. It starts on September 27th, for more information please go see the Silvaze Week twitter! This story uses the oblivious prompt and is over 11,000 words wrong!

---------

“I still don’t think I get it, Blaze. If nothing’s changing, what’re you asking me to actually do?” Silver the hedgehog said, sat at the foot royal bed. A book was sprawled open in his lap, but his attention was fully focused on the princess.

Blaze the cat was supposed to be working at her desk. The sun was well on its way to setting yet papers were still stacked high before her; agreements to endorse and budgets to look over and constructions to sign off on, it was nothing too out of the ordinary. Rather than tending to those though, she’d turned her chair to discuss a more personal matter and project with her closest companion. She’d thought it would be easy to explain but, in hindsight, the plan she’d propose was nothing like their usual fair. It didn’t help matters that neither of them had any experience in this department. Well, as far as she knew, he didn’t.

“I’m proposing that you say and pretend that you’re my boyfriend, Silver. That’s really all there is to it,” She instructed, using as simple and plain terms as possible, “I’ll do the same for you and we’ll go on a date tomorrow,” She caught the flexing of his brow and elaborated further, “A fake date, of course, just something small, we could visit the beach for a picnic lunch?

“Right,” He nodded but confusion still twisted his face, “But I’ve never actually been a boyfriend before, how will I know what to do?” It didn’t surprise Blaze that he was willing to go along with this, but it did surprise her that, of all the first questions, he’d landed on that. Not why they were going through this in the first place, just what he was supposed to do; it was very like him, but it still managed to catch her off-guard.

“I’ve not been a girlfriend, we’re both going into this blind and I think that’s what’ll make the ruse more believable,” She answered, “Honestly, I don’t think you’ll have to do anything different. If anything, I’ll have to be a little more forward.”

“More forward?” His head gently tilted, and his eyes squinted; her phrasing was throwing him off. Perhaps she wasn’t being clear with him.

“We’re both new to this but I think it’s clear that I understand this potential task better than you. While I have not been in a relationship, those around me have,” Blaze elaborated, “That means I’ll have to take the lead, initiate bolder actions that’ll suggest to the public that we’re an actual couple; that we’re not just partners.”

Then again, that’d hardly be difficult. Silver was perfect for this plan because, frankly, that nature of their partnership was nebulous. They’d been mistaken for a couple more times than she could count. When Silver had first arrived in the Sol Dimension and her public had observed a total stranger hugging, laughing with and being doted on by the princess, rumours and gossip had quickly sailed to inform all corners of her kingdom. She’d never acknowledged that hearsay, denying a rumour only spread it further, but now she was going to use it to her advantage; she was going to turn that gossip on its head.

His ears were still slightly folded and, though it had faded, befuddlement lingered in his eyes and on his brow. The why was almost as important as the action itself, his curious nature would surely gnaw away at him and she wasn’t opposed to explaining. It was just a wordy and rather sad story, ideally the cliff notes alone would suffice.

“I know it’s all a little strange but my birthday’s only a couple of months away and I’m starting to worry,” Blaze began to explain, “When my mother turned eighteen, she started to get letters from suitors. People she’d never met wrote to her and asked for her hand in marriage. They were rich and powerful people, important to her kingdom but, equally, they were people she hardly even knew let alone loved,” The cogs in Silver’s head were turning, his fist tightened at what he surely thought and injustice, but Blaze thought it best to tell a more complete tale, “She was afraid to turn any of them down for fear of worsening her professional relationships but, atop that issue, she had already fallen in love with my father; she had a secret boyfriend. When that information became public those letters stopped arriving, but a few families felt as though they’d been led on and public relations worsened. Many of them refused to speak with her for several years, some won’t even speak to me.”

“What? People cut her off because she didn’t marry them, even though they didn’t even know her? Of course she didn’t want to marry them, why would she want to marry someone she doesn’t know?” Silver was aghast, she couldn’t help but smile at his innocence and the sense of justice behind it, “That’s awful! Did they just want to be in charge?”

“Yes,” Blaze affirmed, “They didn’t love her; they just wanted the royal name, be it to further their brands or grow their pride. A lot of parents wrote in on behalf of their children, many either much too old or much too young, offering them up to further the family’s social status.”

“So, you want to avoid all that by making them think you already have a boyfriend? That way, they won’t send any letters in the first place and won’t have anything to be angry about?” The hedgehog surmised. His stare was still galvanised by the tale of her mother.

“If you wouldn’t mind being that person Silver, yes,” Having made that request twice now, feeling a pang of guilt, Blaze hesitated, “I wouldn’t trust anyone else to do this, but I know it’s a lot to ask. It’ll take up time and, obviously, stop you having this kind of relationship with anyone else. If you’re uncomfortable then we don’t have to, I don’t want to impose-

“If it’ll make you feel more comfortable, I’m willing to do anything, Blaze. I’ve never dated anyone before, but I’ll do my best to do it right,” Before she could finish, he’d bounded from his seated position and let his book tumble to the floor. He’d flown forward and taken her by the shoulders. When the hedgehog agreed to something, no matter how small, he made it his duty to see it through. She should have known that he’d want to see this through, “Starting tomorrow we’ll tell people that we’re dating. It can’t be that hard!”

The hedgehog had never quite understood personal space, his forehead was practically against hers and it’d only take a small push for their noses to collide. Blaze rolled her eyes, reaching up and returning his hold, “Thank you, Silver. Really, you have no idea how much more comfortable this will make me. I’ve been worrying about it for months now, weighing my options.”

“I just hope I can play the part well enough to convince everyone,” He awkwardly smiled, failing to mask his concern, “I’ve never had to act before, let alone trick people.”

“I doubt you’ll even have to act, just be yourself, you’re a very…” She searched for the perfect word, “Passionate person. When your mind is set on doing something, you invest in it so deeply; I’m sure that’ll come through and it’ll be more than enough,” Concern faded from his eyes, just a little, “But, like I said, I’ll take the lead. If I don’t think we’re being convincing enough, I’ll make a move.”

“Do you want me to do anything to help prepare? What about tomorrow’s date?” He asked, already trying to help even more, “I’ve got stuff back at the hut, I could easily put together a picnic if we do want to do a beach date?”

“I think that would be perfect, Silver,” She admitted, having intended to imply that was what she wanted later. Though he claimed to love her cooking, she had a far more rational palette, “This should be the last weekend before the weather turns, it’s already getting too cold for beach going. The crowds shouldn’t be huge but hopefully we’ll be visible enough that the word will spread itself.”

“We can go around the rock pools, walk along the beach and look for shells,” A new idea popped into his mind, his eyes lit up, “O-Or we could just relax if you prefer? Take a few books to read, maybe even get ice cream and…” Silver seemed to catch himself, his eyes began to lower, “I’m sorry, I’m trying to plan all this out. I want to help you Blaze; you should be free to choose who you want to love; you shouldn’t have to do this in the first place.”

He wanted to make things right, of course he did. The princess found herself shifting just a little closer as her grasp on him grew just a little tighter. Silver’s strong sense of justice didn’t have as many opportunities to shine through in this dimension, the world’s state of relative peace contributed to that, but it was a part of him she adored seeing. He was willing to put himself through so much and try so hard, she didn’t think he was romantically interested in anyone but even still; he was willing to put future romances on hold just so she could be comfortable.

“It’ll be easy, Silver. Don’t think of this like a date, think of it as one of our usual outings; like stargazing or visiting the crystal caves, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. We’ll do whatever comes naturally. All you need to do is stay by my side and be how you always are, all that’s changing is how we refer to each other,” Despite her reinforcement, his gaze drifted further from hers. She reached across and pushed his chin, turning him to face her. The worry seemed to vanish from his bright yellow eyes, “Just act natural, it’ll be fine. I’ll do the heavy lifting; it was my idea after all.”

“I’ll do my best,” As he promised, their heads came to touch. The contact seemed to invigorate him, “I’ll be the best boyfriend I can be! You don’t have to carry all the weight; I’ll handle it!”

Her smile only grew as she pushed against his contact, “You’re so naïve…”

----

Whittling the evening away, talking and toying with Silver, proved to be foolish. By the time he’d left, midnight was mere minutes away and a good two hours’ work still lay upon her desk. Coffee had helped her through it all but, unfortunately, it’d also scared away sleep for an additional hour at least. By the time she’d finally drifted off, it couldn’t have been far from four.

The princess awoke just after nine, her head made heavy and ears brought to curl by the incessant blaring of her alarm clock. Groggily rising, stretching cricks from her body, Blaze managed to stumble the path from her bed into her en suite. Warm water and morning rituals washed away much of her morning daze, though a small pain continued gnawing just behind her forehead. She supposed it was her own fault for leaving so much undone, but it surely wouldn’t make today any easier.

This proved to be true as the princess entered her walk-in wardrobe only to find herself befuddled. She’d already chosen an outfit for today, the same outfit she usually wore (her long sleeved tabard and tights, her standard guardian-wear), but, for whatever reason, it wasn’t appealing to her. Something about it didn’t seem right for today, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

Though she didn’t fight her gut intuition, Blaze told herself that it was the fault of nerves and a want to be more convincing more than anything. After all, the public had seen her dressed like that and with him a good few dozen times. Rather than take the garb at the front of her closet, she pressed herself to take a few steps deeper inside. Her stomach fizzed at the sight of jeans, dresses and other casual wear. She’d never intended to wear most of these articles, but they’d gathered here regardless of her want.

Most of her alternate outfits were gifts sent from fashion designers and clothing chains, dropped on her in the foolish hope that the princess would act as their living advertisement. She’d learned as a youth that it was wiser to wait a year and donate them rather than simply send them back, it was just another way she managed to avoid sour responses. Still, as she found herself near the back of her closet, none of those gifted items called out to her. One ensemble was singing to her, both loudly and clearly, but it had a far more embarrassing origin.

When Amy Rose set her mind to something, it was difficult to stop her. During one of her brief excursions to the other world, the young hedgehog had dragged the older feline away to pick out some summer clothes. Blaze had successfully rejected most of Amy’s recommendations but one of them had managed to pierce her armour, early into the outing Blaze had been caught off guard by a certain garb and the hedgehog had built upon it.

She pulled the hanger free and its scary splendour was fully revealed to her. It was an amber sundress, the fabric littered with inconsistent clusters of white lilies. Once Amy had pushed her into a changing room, the pink blur had rushed off to gather some matching accessories. An amber scrunchie to replace her usual red ring, a set of saltwater sandals and a pair of white rimmed sunglasses had been shoved beneath the changing room curtain before Blaze was even half changed.

This outfit would play into their charade incredibly well, Blaze knew how much a change in garb could do, but her stomach was doing backflips. She knew she was overreacting, when she’d tried it on for the first time she hadn’t felt like this, but that knowledge did nothing to curtain her errant emotions. It was only after she donned the full outfit the Blaze realised why she felt quite so tense. Utilising the full-length mirror attached to the closet’s outer door, Blaze found that her reflection’s cheeks had turned scarlet. The dress was pretty, undeniably pretty, and the lower five sixths of it were fine… but…

The dress hung from her shoulder on two, rather thin, fabric straps. The white fur of her underbelly wasn’t quite visible but, this dress exposed her shoulders, her arms and almost the entirety of her collar. Everything else about it was perfect but those straps were just too thin for her liking and the neckline was just a little too deep. Perhaps it was made for someone with a different body shape?

Why was she wasting so much time on this? For whatever reason she wanted to wear this dress but, simultaneously, couldn’t overcome its collar. Blaze knew that if she’d just force herself to wear her usual attire this’d be over with already but something about this just felt… right for today. She was worried about fully convincing her public, perhaps this change really was needed.

Eventually, she managed to come to a compromise. She decided to wear the amber sundress, and all the additions Amy had piled upon her, but don her swimsuit beneath. It was a plain, dark purple, one-piece leotard intended for sport rather than casual use. Fortunately, the dress was baggy enough to hide the under-outfit but its straps were too thick to be covered by those of the dress. Well, it didn’t alter the outfit and it did immediately make her feel a lot more comfortable. It wasn’t uncommon for people to wear swimsuits under their beachgoing clothes, was it? Settled, she managed to finally leave her room and, having snatched a banana for breakfast on the go, made her way out the front doors of the palace.

Immediately, the arrival of sunlight forced her to don her sunglasses. They were supposed to be in autumn but, even despite her pyrokinetic nature, Blaze could feel the heat. It wasn’t even muggy; the day was dry, and the sky was totally clear, it was as though a summer day had been transplanted later into the year. That would complicate things a little, she assumed. It was better this than it being rainy, but the beach would probably be a little better stocked than she’d assumed last night. This was a Saturday too…

Regardless, it’d take more than a new garb and a little sun to stop her. Silver was waiting, everything was prepared, their late-night planning couldn’t go to waste!

----

The uproar on the beach wasn’t just a little louder than she’d anticipated, it was much louder. She’d arrived outside Marine’s driftwood-hut, a good hundred or so metres from the sands, but the princess could hear the sounds of families shouting and playing… so many families. She’d hesitated at the doorstep, that noise and all it implied had managed to paralyse the powerful pyrokinetic. A few eyes she could handle, she’d given hundreds of speeches, but this was different. Blaze told herself that she could endure the stares, but would he be okay with this?

She hadn’t known the hedgehog to get stage fright, but this was new ground for both of them. If she didn’t know how she’d handle this, what chance did she have of guessing how he would? Well, then again, she’d watched him more than she’d watched herself. They probably had a better idea of how the other would react than themselves. Hopefully, ideally, he’d be too focused on their task to notice anyone else.

Mustering all of her courage, the princess brought her knuckle to rap against the door. Her thoughts on the hedgehog’s state were split into two distinct pieces. The first was that he’d try his best to lie and put on a front, following her lead, but, ultimately, his inability to lie convincingly would make today more than a little silly. Perhaps that was for the better, maybe that’d make her feel more relaxed.

Alternatively, it was entirely possible that his obliviousness in regard to romance would make this incredibly easy. He’d play along blissfully unaware of what he was actually doing, entirely comfortable in his position. Try as she might; Blaze struggled to picture Silver being romantic, let alone in a relationship. He’d been through so much, both with her and without her, that ideas of who he’d want to be with, let alone what he’d want to do with another person, assumedly hadn’t arrived in his mind. He almost seemed too selfless for love, too focused on other things.

Blaze supposed she hadn’t really pondered it until recently, whether he actually had an interest in romance. Just before she’d proposed this plan, she’d considered it and come to a similar conclusion but now, for whatever reason, that questioning refused to abate. Was he actually interested in romance? Who would he even be interested in? Were it not for her discordant mind, she’d be far more comfortable making assumptions about his position. Something about this morning was simply off, working too late must have been taking its toll.

The feline, so lost in a world of her own, almost fell backwards as the door flew open. Marine the Raccoon, garbed in her usual green dress and wearing a ludicrously knowing grin, had reared her head in Silver’s place. It was as though she’d been up and waiting for this moment for hours.

“Picked out some nifty duds, didn’t ya? Strewth, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen them. You’re lookin’ for your fella, aren’t ya?” Her smirk seemed to grow evermore with every passing second. Before Blaze could even offer up an answer, the raccoon had turned her back, “Silver! Your Sheila’s here! How could you just leave her out on the doorstep, some boyfriend you are, are you even up? Oi, mate? Mate…?” She toddled back inside, leaving Blaze’s eyes to roll in the sailor’s wake.

Marine had been more than a little insistent that the pair were together long before this plan had been hatched. She’d undoubtedly been overjoyed to hear the false news from Silver, she’d probably been the first person it’d spread to. When the truth eventually came out, she’d probably be a little disappointed but, surely, she’d be old enough by then to understand the princess’ position.

That was a thought, how long were they going to keep this up? Months perhaps, but years? She supposed they’d have to, the moment they admitted to the contrary she’d likely be bombarded with letters and gifts. Well, they didn’t have to, but she couldn’t see herself finding a reason to stop. No one really appealed to her but if Silver ever wanted out, she’d let him out. If he met someone or-

“Oh, Blaze! You’re here!” Just as her mind had refocused on Silver, she heard the hedgehog approaching from behind. She turned to look over her shoulder and his smile almost knocked Blaze from her feet, “Sorry I’m late, I had something to pick up in town. I hope you didn’t have to wait too long?”

Something about him was different today… well, many things looked different. Like her, the hedgehog was wearing casual attire, but it was an outfit she recognised all too well. She’d bought it for one of his birthdays, when she’d noticed him outgrowing much of the wardrobe he’d been gifted upon his arrival to this dimension. It was a basic but well-fitting garb she’d picked out because she’d thought it’d suit him and, well, today it especially seemed to. He was wearing a button up, short-sleeved, teal and navy shirt with a set of long navy shorts. In place of his typical boots, Silver had donned a thicker set of walking sandals, almost intended for hiking. Naturally, his cuffs and anklets had to remain so she’d chosen colours that wouldn’t clash with his aura or gold.

The psychic had worn the outfit quite a few times, though only on occasions he seemed to consider important. For as plain as they were, the hedgehog was very much making them work. They let him look relaxed, as she always liked him to be now that he was safely away from the future, without looking untidy. She hadn’t noticed that the outfit rather… accentuated a distracting feature of his. His quills were pulled back into a messy ponytail, an attempt to avoid battle with the sea breeze, but the edge of his chest fluff had managed to breach his shirt. Hiding some of his fluffiness only drew her eyes to what little remained. She blamed her choice in neckline for that latter issue.

There was something else though, something deeper than fabric that was drawing her attention; causing some strange quaking in her gut. She told herself that it was just grogginess, that she was just being silly, but even as her eyes broke from his form, the hedgehog’s visage lingered in her mind. Blaze supposed she just hadn’t seen him dressed in them for a while, the hedgehog liked to wear clothes but his outfits were usually more ragtag; tempest tossed quills, a hoodie pulled over his bare shoulders, dirty boots and crumpled trousers. He’d made an effort for her and… well…

It’d paid off. Try as Blaze might; she couldn’t deny it, he wasn’t exactly unpleasant to look at. But then, why were her eyes locked onto the ground?

“He was up half the night putting everything together; the clothes, the food…” Marine listed from the corner of the feline’s eye, “I’m glad you both finally came to your senses, I always knew he’d make the perfect boyfriend for you.”

For whatever reason, those words had stoked something within Blaze. The wriggling within her stomach longed to go on the offensive and chastise Marine but, being such a foolish feeling, the princess knew it would do neither her nor them any good. Instead, she simply brought her toes to curl and fists to ball. When the hedgehog arrived at the doorstep, the scent of sweet goods hit her nose and further drew her attention.

“Marine, could you get everything I made last night? There should be a little basket on the kitchen counter,” Rather immediately, the little sailor scampered off to do what he asked, “So, are we still doing this?

“Y-Yes,” Her response was quick, but that stutter wasn’t a result of speed. She swallowed, “As long as you’re still okay going through with this, I’m okay.”

“I feel the same. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. This is still a little strange to me but then it must be for you too. We can do this, I’m sure of it,” He hesitated for a moment, blinking at her slightly, “I don’t think I’ve seen this outfit before. You look really pretty!”

Her face went from red to boiling, he clearly had no idea what he was doing to her. Well, to be frank, she had no idea what he was doing to her either. She scrambled for a reply, “Y-You look nice too,” Was that arrogant to say? She had bought him that outfit after all.

As she looked up to him- no, as she realised that their difference in height forced her to look up to him, the wriggling and jostling in her stomach exploded into two dozen angry butterflies. Something about him today, the way his eyes met hers and his shoulders seemed broader, was holding her full attention. It was as though she hadn’t seen him in a while, no… it was more like she hadn’t looked at him in a while. He was surely still the naïve hedgehog she knew, but Silver had grown. He looked far more mature than Blaze recalled even last night. What had changed beyond her clothes? She supposed they had fake titles for each other now? But why would that-

“Blaze?” A shock ran from the top of her shoulders to the tip of her tail, bringing it to dance and curl around her waist, “Are you alright? You were staring…” He reached up, rubbing at his muzzle, “Do I have something on my face?”

“N-No Silver,” The princess practically choked on her stutter, she tore her gaze from him again, “I just didn’t get much sleep last night, I was too busy… planning all this. It was a lot of work.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” He cringed slightly, “I would have stayed and helped if you’d said.”

“I-It’s fine, don’t worry about it. What’s done is done,” She was usually better at lying but, for whatever reason, today was proving to be an exception to all of her norms.

He didn’t look entirely convinced but Marine had returned, he gently stuffed his current bag into the she’d retrieved basket, “What’s the plan then? Are we still heading for the beach?”

“It does seem a little busy,” Blaze mused, trying to resign his worry to the business of the beach, “Perhaps we could keep to the cliff face, the near edge. That way we won’t be getting in anyone’s way and their attention should be towards the water.”

“That seems like a great idea, that way we’ll be seen but not too seen,” He enthusiastically nodded, “The cliff should keep our picnic in the shade too, it’ll be perfect!”

The excitement in his voice sent a wave of heat up her face to tip her ears, as her temperature rose the hedgehog’s gaze overwhelmed her; Blaze’s stare fell to the ground. Only three words managed to slip beyond her lips, “Y-You’re so naïve.”

With an awkward wave goodbye to Marine the two finally set off towards the beach, walking together as faux boyfriend and girlfriend for the first time.

----

The beach was just as busy as it had sounded; children were running wild, frolicking in and out of the water with reckless abandon. Beach towel after beach towel littered the sand, slovenly forms comfortably spread across each and every one of them. They’d stuck to their plan, keeping to the far side of the beach and walking alongside the great cliff edge that shaded it; passing into and out of its shadow based upon the warping of bluffs.

Talk had been, admittedly, sparser than usual. He had made attempts to start conversations, but her mouth had been rather useless today. Speaking seemed to further the heat on her face and strip her tongue of its rationality, resulting in stuttering. Thus, she’d kept replies brief; a handful of words at best, awkward nods and headshakes at worst. If she was walking with anyone else, they’d surely think she was being rude. At least with Silver, he’d been around long enough that walking quietly was normalised. Still, given the nature of this current outing, she couldn’t help but assume he was either worried or confused.

Blaze was a good half pace behind him, rending her stare from the sand to throw him a look every so often. Since their arrival on the beach, she’d kept her sunglasses firmly covering her eyes; both to partially obscure where she was looking and hide some of her panic. Unfortunately, they weren’t doing much to prevent her embarrassment.

Their difference in height was really throwing her off, the feline felt like she should have been walking on her tiptoes to better match him. Had it really been so long since she’d worn flats? Had the difference between their heights grown so great without her even noticing? The Silver she saw in her mind’s eye was sweet and insecure, she could hardly even identify him as anything beyond his name; he was simply Silver, her partner, a person she could trust above all others. Looking at him now it was… it was as though she was actually seeing him as a man and that was, somehow, far more embarrassing than being dressed as she was. She’d probably find it easier to publicly admit that they were together than spend five minutes eye to eye with him, something had changed; he wasn’t the same cute, naïve, hedgehog she’d once known.

Well, he was still naïve, and he was undeniably cute; just not in the way she recalled it, not in a way she could bring herself to describe internally let alone audibly. How had he gone from the amorphous, fluffy, form she pictured in her mind’s eye, to this in only one night? What had changed? It couldn’t just be his clothes. It was so fascinating and yet so hard to dwell upon.

As he turned to look at her, Blaze’s gaze darted towards the waters and stumbled between the people watching them. There weren’t too many gazes on them, at least not consistently. A few people were whispering, and an elderly pair were throwing some kind of stare their way but most of the public seemed squarely focused on their time at the beach.

“Blaze?” His words drew her stare back to him, there was concern in his eyes.

She couldn’t muster a word in response, only an acknowledging hum. Her tongue was weighed, if she spoke then she’d surely stutter. How long would this feeling last?

“Is everything okay? Am I doing this right?” He’d slowed and taken a step closer, her eyes dropped to meet what little chest fur was free before darting up to meet his eye again. At this distance, she had no idea if he could make out where she was looking, “You’ve been very quiet. I thought we were supposed to be making a scene, drawing attention to us being together.”

“O-Oh,“ She gulped, ballistic at herself for swallowing, “I’m not entirely certain how we’d go about that. I think we’re drawing enough stares as it is, it’s probably fine...”

“Is this making you uncomfortable? Is it too much?” He fumbled with the picnic basket, switching it into his right hand as he looked past her and to the beach, “We can swap places if you want, that way they’d be looking at me instead.”

Despite this feeling in her gut, Silver was still Silver. If he thought he could do anything to help, even the slightest thing, he’d offer it without hesitation. She didn’t have the heart to tell him he was wrong, let alone that she was being bombarded by feelings she couldn’t explain, “Thank you, Silver.”

He shifted to her outer side, acting as a barrier between her and the stares, but part of the endeavour caused her heart to skip a beat. Once he’d arrived on that side, Silver had slipped his left hand into her right. She almost stumbled and he quickly looked back at her, very clearly confused. This kind of contact was regular for them, whenever the other was troubled the other would take their hand or wrap an arm around their shoulder; last night even, he’d held her by the shoulders and she’d casually returned that grasp. They’d held hands thousands of times, more than she could ever hope to count but, today, this afternoon, there was something almost electrifying about that contact.

He was staring, waiting for some kind of response, but her tongue would surely fail her again. She had to make up for its lack of fluidity.

Bluntly, boldly, she brought her fingers to lock between his and squeezed his hand tight; forcing herself into the leading position, she spoke without turning back to him, “L-Lets find somewhere quieter to eat. I’m starving.”

Her cheeks were on fire, she locked her eyes on the path ahead but no matter how she charged or tried to distract herself; Blaze’s embarrassment refused to shift. A lack of sleep had never done anything like this to her, at least not before today. Was that all this was? Tiredness and the stupor brought on by it? It had to be, nothing else made sense.

He’d caught up, matching her quickened pace to walk beside her, “Somewhere quieter, okay, um…”

Silver cast his eyes to the beach and Blaze’s stare followed, it seemed that their shift in pace had caused them to draw more attention. Rather than one or two older couples, a larger group of multiple families seemed to have noticed them. That, or word had simply spread up the beach and the world had finally noticed them together; dressed differently and holding hands, more than likely on a date. She slowed her pace again, turning to the cliff face. She’d had an idea, born of his recommendation of picnicking in the cliff’s shade. It was a stupid thought, so very stupid, but she knew somewhere more private. People might still see them, people could still reach them, but it’d perhaps make her feel more comfortable long term… even if it was bound to make her less comfortable in the short term and draw many more eyes.

“What about up there? We’d be away from the beach itself, but it’d be a little more private. I think we’d still be seen enough,” She suggested, gesturing up the cliff face, “They’d see you carrying me up there, perhaps that’s enough of a sign that we’re...”

He came to a stop, glancing up the cliff’s edge before quickly turning to the beach behind them, “Are you sure you’d be comfortable with that?”

Blaze knew what he was implying. Not only would this draw more eyes to them initially, but it involved scaling to a height that, while not ludicrous, was a little beyond what he knew her to be comfortable with. The concern in his eyes was so genuine…

“I know you won’t drop me, Silver. I trust you,” She squeezed his hand again, “Just, please, make it quick but not too quick.”

He managed a nod, his worry quelled, and slipped his hand from hers to shift the picnic basket further up his arm. Without blinking or flinching, he turned and put his right hand to her back while crouching and lowering his left arm for her to swing her legs up and across. While she’d focused on his concern her embarrassment had faded. Now, the heat had returned.

This was how he usually lifted her, it was more comfortable to lie in his grasp than to cling to him as he flew, but, due to her addled and tired mind, she was having further thoughts. Usually she’d have stepped up without flinching, she’d allow her head to fall against his shoulder and focus solely on his face until they reached their destination. They’d make conversation, he’d distract her from the distance between them and the ground. Today however, that seemed more difficult. Her tiredness couldn’t be responsible for that. Was it because she was wearing a dress?

Briefly catching his eye again, Blaze rapidly neatened her clothes a little. As she finally brought her legs over his arm, she tried to keep herself decent. It was stupid, the skirt of her dress was long, but it didn’t do anything to dispel the heat on her face. Her head still found his shoulder and, although she’d been looking up at him all day, at least this was a more familiar view.

“Are you ready?” He made sure, she felt his grasp tighten just above her knee and around her shoulders. Something about that contact, contact she’d experienced hundreds of times, coupled with the view energised the butterflies in her stomach.

She forced her gaze to roll from him and to the rock wall in front of them, “Yes.”

Cyan light crept into her vision and weightlessness set in. Her choice to focus on the wall didn’t serve her well. While it was better than looking down, she could tell that they were rising and with each passing second the ground drifted further away. They weren’t going slowly, but Silver was making sure to keep things stable; ergo, their pace wasn’t as fast as she knew he could fly, or he’d even normally fly with her.

As his concern for her was made manifest and the shifting rockface began to make her queasy, the princess couldn’t help but return to her normal position. Historically, her cheek would be cushioned by the edge of his chest fluff but now his shirt was in the way. Why did she miss that comfort?

Her shifting brought his attention back to her; those piercing yellow eyes were upon her again. Without so much as thinking, she stuttered out; “Sh-Shouldn’t you be watching the sky?”

He responded to her request immediately, shifting to look upwards, so he didn’t catch her grimacing at her own stupidity. Her gaze lowered slightly, and she ended up staring at what little of his fluff was visible. Despite his endeavour to look presentable, a few tufts were out of place. If she was feeling more regular, she might have seen reason to undo its tugs and neaten him. As things were though, Blaze could only stare.

Though he stopped ascending when he reached the green grass that topped the cliff, he didn’t quite put her down. Instead, the hedgehog flew just a little more inland so that she wouldn’t have to see the worst of the height; they touched down a good twenty paces from the edge. He gently set her down, dipping her legs and allowing her to step free from his hold. The grass wasn’t exactly thin up here, they were a little off the beaten trail, but it seemed like a fine spot for a picnic. The tide was out, so they could see where the beach met the waves, and to their backs was a lush palm tree forest. They would only be visible to those close to the water’s edge and out at sea. More eyes were on them for the moment than had been before, a few kids had run up the beach to watch their flight, but she knew they would drift with time. In the long run, this was better.

“Here seems pretty perfect for a picnic,” He commented, taking in their surroundings, “This was a great idea Blaze!”

“I suppose it will do,” Blaze tried to underplay her decision, unwilling to claim praise for what was an impulse decision rather than a planned one, “Let’s just relax for a while, away from so many prying eyes, and return to our walk later.”

The princess wasn’t sure if she was instructing him or herself.

With a nod, Silver reached into the hamper and drew out a large plaid picnic blanket. Without so much as blinking, he tossed it into the air and caught it with his psychic aura; completely flattening it and holding it in the air. He slowly lowered it with a single glowing hand, the long grass beneath the blanket was made to bend down flat, free to pop up whenever the cover was removed but smoothed for their sitting. That done, he dropped to the ground and dug through the basket. First revealed was a flask and two tin mugs, next a reasonably sized plastic container and, finally, a smaller white paper bag that was, assumedly, the reason he’d been late to meet her

Everything set out, he caught Blaze in the midst of staring. Rather quickly, the feline dropped down to sit with him; positioning herself on the other side of their bounty. The lid was popped free from the container and steam rose from its depths. Six pastry parcels, surely too much for the pair of them to eat, were revealed, perfectly browned and sealed along their top.

“They’ve got prawn and salmon in them with a cream sauce and some vegetables,” He quickly explained, offering her the box.

She knew his taste; this was more for her than it was for him. Without so much as hesitating, she picked up one and took a bite. They’d managed to maintain their heat in the box, she’d known that by sight and touch, but the taste managed to fully draw her attention. The blending of flavours was perfect, the sauce didn’t overwhelm the fish and the fish didn’t overwhelm the sauce; the prawns were just small enough not to manifest in large chunks.

He’d been about to reach for the box himself only for a realisation to strike him, “I’m supposed to be being the best boyfriend I can, r-right, okay…” With a wave of his hand, the flask and tin cups were pulled toward him. He poured her a cup of tea, gesturing again to hover napkins, a small sugar-jar and a spoon from the basket. Once he’d presented her the mug, he unwrapped and opened the white paper bag. Inside was a small assortment of muffins and fairy cakes, “I would have baked us a cake, but we were a little too short notice. I hope that’s okay…”

She took the jar, adding two teaspoonfuls of sugar to her brew, “Silver, this is more than okay. I was expecting sandwiches or something small, not all this. How long did you stay up last night?”

Somehow, unlike the stares or most of today’s endeavour, that managed to prompt a bashful response from the hedgehog. His cheeks lit pink as he claimed a pasty of his own, “It took a couple of tries to get them perfect, but It wasn’t too long. I got up a few hours earlier rather than staying up late, I just wish I’d had a little more time.”

“Don’t be silly, I only planned the walk while you did so much; even though this was all my idea,” She passed him back the jar as he poured the flask.

He added far more sugar to his cup, the blush had spread from his muzzle to his ears, “But this is just what we normally do. If we’re pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend, shouldn’t I be doing more?”

Having something to eat, as well as seeing his blush, seemed to reduce her own embarrassment, “This isn’t about actually embodying those roles so much as just making others think we are. You don’t have to go to extra effort like that, you do more than enough by just being you. A lot of people already debate whether we are a couple,” She managed to smile, blowing her tea to cool it, “All we need to do are the public things, the more blatant things. Go out together, hold hands and hug in public, those kinds of things. Don’t worry too much about the little details.”

“I’ll try not to, but I promised to do this right,” He affirmed as she took a sip. Despite his flush still lingering, he gave a proclamation, “I’m going to do my best, I’m going to be the best boyfriend possible!”

“Y-You’re so naïve,” She pretended to sigh and grumble, turning her attention towards the meal.

He’d probably said that both to renew his promise to her and to bolster himself for the coming task. Just as she’d begun to overcome her embarrassment, he’d managed to stoke it again. Despite that fact and despite the renewed heat on her face, Blaze flicked her sunglasses up. She couldn’t keep hiding forever and brewing thoughts were becoming too much to contain.

He wasn’t wrong to have done all this, and Blaze knew she should be showing more gratitude, but the feline’s state was making that impossible. The hedgehog had also led her to think on an interesting aspect of their plan; just what should they be doing, what would convince the public and what were they willing to do? Were there lines she wanted to draw and what lines would he like to draw? A certain concept, a thought, fluttered up to reach her brain that Blaze couldn’t help pondering. There was no easy way of broaching it though. Two questions were gnawing at the back of her head, a thought that was relevant to this concept, but she wasn’t willing to entertain.

Was she willing to kiss him, and would he be willing to kiss her? If they did kiss among the public, that was all the proof they’d ever need.

Last night she would have said yes to that question without hesitation. If it meant completing their ruse, she’d be more than willing. But as these feelings spiralled both in her head and through her gut, Blaze couldn’t help but squirm. She threw Silver a quick glance only to find him entirely focused on his meal, being up so early and going to the bakery had perhaps caused him to miss breakfast. He was willing to go so far for her, could she plant her lips on his for her own sake?

For a split second, her eyes drifted to her muzzle only to be torn away and thrown to the plaid blanket beneath them. She wouldn’t have been opposed to it before, so she supposed she wasn’t now, just a lot more nervous about it. If they did it, it’d only have to be a peck; nothing too scandalous, something small. Blaze had chosen him to play this role for a reason, she trusted him and was willing to do things with him that she wasn’t comfortable doing with others. She could see herself doing it, embarrassment aside, but what about him?

Silver was like her; he’d never been in a relationship before. While she’d accept him as her first kiss, would she be his? Would he want her to be his? Well, she’d brought up not knowing how to draw stares before. Perhaps she could ask through that? Now that the concept was in her head, Blaze wanted to know if there were any boundaries between them; was he saving certain things for someone else? As he reached for his next pasty, she took a deep breath and made a move.

“Well,” It was going to be roundabout, but she had to prompt this discussion somehow, “Is there anything you think would make it more obvious that we’re a couple? Something quick and easy, anything we can do to get the message across. I was up last night considering options but couldn’t come up with a concrete solution.”

“We already do most of the things couples do, right? We hug, we hold hands and we visit all kinds of places together,” He pondered aloud, tugging at what little exposed chest fur he had as he thought, “I guess there’s other stuff we can do; like writing each other love letters, wearing clothes that match or just telling others how much we’re in love. More blunt stuff,” Silver managed to answer, “I think that’s what couples do. You know, they kiss and stuff; give people some kind of undeniable sign.”

What he thought couples did; he’d phrased it so innocently but implied so much. He’d hit the nail on the head, brought up the very object of her curiosity. He’d been so casual, did that mean he was willing to do it?!

“R-Right, yes, th-they…” Her stuttering came to a head, her tongue was useless; she should have taken a moment and considered her words.

“Are you sure you’re okay, Blaze? You’ve been kind of red all day,” He, so helpfully, informed her.

“Yes, don’t worry, I’m fine,” She waved him off, almost pulling down her shades but catching herself before she could, “I’ve probably just caught a cold, they’re common at this time of year.”

That’d surely worried him, her brain was going a mile a minute. Blaze knew he’d never been in a relationship, but that didn’t mean his heart wasn’t set on someone. She didn’t know who they could be, a fact that made her want to assume that there was nobody, but a larger chunk of herself wanted to be sure.

“Silver,” She was fighting to keep a straight face, attempting to hold back her stutter merely forced Blaze to pause and hold her breath, “Have you ever actually…” She knew it was better to be blunt, best to keep things simple, but it was the most embarrassing way to ask, “Kissed anyone before?”

“No,” His reply was immediate, he didn’t even blink!

“Oh,” He looked confused at her response, “I-It’s just that, most people think first kisses are important. I wouldn’t want to take something like that from you. By having you pretend to be my boyfriend, I feel like I’m already asking a lot,” She was blabbering, not asking what she really wanted. Her fists clenched, “I-I wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with kissing me or…”

“Blaze,” He crawled closer, their knees almost came to touch, “You’re my partner. I agreed to do this because I want to help you, you’re not asking anything of me. I decided to do this, it’s not like you’re forcing me.”

“It’s still…” She wrestled with herself. There was only one way to reach her desired answer; to ask her desired question, “Is there anyone you’d want to be that first kiss?”

“Well, people only kiss those they’re close to, right? Specifically, the person they’re closest to and want to stay with…” He defined, clearly deep in thought but trying to relax her at the same time, “I’m not an expert on it or anything, but that’s how it always seems in books. I don’t really know a lot about this dating stuff, just what I’ve heard from Amy really.”

The mention of Amy immediately explained a lot of things; his change in garb, the holding of her hand and this picnic. Though they’d only met a handful of times, across both this and their past life, the pink hedgehog overabundant love for Sonic made sense as an informant to Silver’s understanding. She was though, admittedly, a terrifying informant.

Swallowing, she nodded, “Yes, that’s not how it always is but that’s how people romanticise it, Silver. If there was someone you wanted to kiss, that should be someone you care about in a way that’s different to how you care for everyone else.”

“Well, the person I’m closest to is you, Blaze. I don’t think I could ever share the kind of bond we have with anyone else,” That feeling was undeniably mutual, she knew where this was going but he wasn’t done talking. She felt the butterflies squirm in her stomach, “So, if I was going to kiss anyone, I guess I’d want to kiss you.”

Her heart skipped beats and she couldn’t help but shift, he’d called out her blushing before but now it was surely worse. He’d used such simple and honest words, the likes of which she had no defence against. His heart was on his sleeve, she couldn’t deny its existence; there was no front, there was no lie.

“Just, promise me you’ll say if that changes,” She insisted, taking on a sterner tone in an attempt to smother her slurring, “If, for whatever reason, you either don’t feel the same about us or you meet someone or… whatever it is, just promise you’ll say.”

“I don’t think that will ever happen…” She couldn’t help but frown at that. His eyes softened, her concern had gotten through to him, “If that happens then I’ll say, but I’ll still help you in whatever other ways I can. You’re my best friend and I want you to be happy.”

“Good,” She managed to huff, “A-And thank you.”

A moment passed. While he’d smiled at her response, after another sip of tea and a few bites, confusion crossed his brow and he dared to ask, “Blaze, have you ever kissed anyone?”

“No, I haven’t really considered…” Well, she had no more than a moment ago. She’d worried about whether he’d be okay with her kissing him, albeit to further their ruse. With that exception though; “I’ve never even thought about it. I worried so much that it’d be a suitor that I never considered who I’d rather k-kiss instead.”

She longed to snuff her stutter, but an immediate shift in Silver’s demeanour caught her off guard. His brow hardened and he’d set down his food, shifting closer still to put his hand atop hers, he said, “Well, now you will be able to think about that without worrying. You’re amazing, whoever you chose will be so lucky; after all, they get to be the closest person to you.”

He was just being protective, being a good friend and bearing his sense of justice, but the combination of his honesty and physical touch sent her senses into further disarray. She couldn’t meet his eye and, for what felt like hours, she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Part of her was screaming to admit, as he had, that Silver was the only person she’d truly consider kissing but another part kept promising Blaze that saying so would lead to ruination. He’d ask more questions, or he’d ask if they should kiss or something else naïve yet heartfelt.

“I-I only asked because…” Her tail was dragging across the ground without her consent, “If this goes on for too long, people might expect us to kiss. I’m glad you’re okay with that.”

“If you’re okay with it then I’m okay with it,” He swore, squeezing her hand, “First kisses are supposed to be important but, I guess, since we’re not actually together, it wouldn’t count if we kissed? So, you don’t have to worry about that.”

The way that was worded, it was almost an invitation to kiss him whenever she felt like it. While it didn’t outright state it, it implied that they could essentially practice using each other. Somewhat stunned, Blaze could only manage a meagre, “S-Sure, I guess so.”

“If you ever think we should, just say and we can!” He promised, as though it were the most normal thing in the world.

Thoughts and emotions bubbled and boiled; his hand was still in hers, had he even noticed? The butterflies had never settled in her stomach, but their vigour seemed to have been renewed. What was wrong with today, what was wrong with her today? Ever since she’d woken up, something had been off. Everything they’d done so far was regular for them, they’d regularly visit the beach and picnic, let alone hold hands and talk.

“Oh, huh,” The engine of her heart skipped a beat, bringing her train of thought to a ludicrously quick stop. What could possibly fall from his mouth next? “We’ve got the same hair now.”

The most bizarre concoction of relief, embarrassment and anguish flared across Blaze’s face. Her muzzle was cast in scarlet, but not the burning red of before, “Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Pushing herself, to speak more quickly proved unwise. Rather than complementing the change, her blush led her to chastise him, “You should take better care of your quills. I-If you kept them like this, they wouldn’t get into such a mess.”

Despite her rudeness he continued to smile at her and enjoy the meal, “They’re getting a little too long again,” He admitted, trying to look over his shoulder at those fluffy extremities, “Maybe I should cut them more properly.”

Despite her initial outburst, this conversation was a relaxing breath of fresh air compared to their last one. Drawing her tea to her lips, she tried to talk from her heart rather than her flushed face, “I wouldn’t clip them too short, just short enough that they’re easier to manage. I could do it tomorrow if you’d like?”

“That’d be great! We can try to have a more relaxed day,” He immediately grinned, but a realisation overtook him, “Wait, would that be our second date? Or would we just be doing that as friends?”

“It can be whatever we want it to be,” She practically blurted out before quickly realising what that implied, “I-It’ll be in private though, so we hardly have to call it a date. Perhaps, if someone asks about your quills, then we’ll say it was, but we can actually treat it like a normal day.”

“Alright, that’ll work!” He practically cheered, finally releasing her hand and drawing out another pastry from the box.

She took that opportunity to change her grasp, holding her teacup in both hands. Despite her pyrokinesis and the mug’s heat, her hand felt substantially colder without his touch. This grogginess was playing games with her senses now, what could be next?

She managed to turn her attention towards the picnic spread, quickly reaching down and claiming another pasty. It was only as she did that, that Blaze realised why he’d brought up their matching ponytails. He’d mentioned matching clothes before, clearly implying the likes of matching shirts and wedding rings, but their current hairstyles were a way they matched. While she didn’t think it made them look more like a couple, he had planned this out even more than she thought.

Attempting to distract herself, she began to eat the baked good and tried her hardest to focus upon its creamy flavour. Despite how delicious it was, it was not enough. Blaze found herself dwelling upon the shift in how she viewed their relationship; the change she had undergone but he hadn’t. She’d done all this to avoid marrying a suitor, but who did she want to take the place of a suitor? She’d convinced herself that this was for long term convenience, that it would give her the chance to find someone, but, the truth was, she hadn’t planned to look. She hadn’t considered where to start, let alone where to find someone she trusted as much as Silver. She couldn’t see herself being closer to anyone than she was to him; their bond had lasted beyond her death and into this next life, they’d survived the unsurvivable together. Who could even come close to filling his role?

She’d never considered her endeavours with Silver to be romantic, it was simply how they were with each other, but some combination of their lifted burdens, their actions’ current context and time had freed this realisation from her subconscious. Time was surely an important factor, in their last life things hadn’t had the opportunity to blossom this far; they hadn’t had the chance to grow both physically, as individuals, and as a pair. This time though, not only had they been in a more comfortable position for growth but they’d both learned what life was like without the other; they understood what that loss felt like. Not to mention, they were newly adults now; they’d aged further than that last life. No wonder she was embarrassed, she’d asked the only person she’d consider dating to pretend to go out with her.

She didn’t think she’d change much physically, but Silver had undeniably grown while she hadn’t been paying attention. The most obvious changes were physical, he’d grown taller and his shoulders had broadened, but there’d surely been internal shifts that Blaze couldn’t quite discern. Silver was still very naïve, his heart was attached to his sleeve and he’d shown his want for justice throughout the whole endeavour, but his living in a more peaceful world had led him to acquire hobbies and interests. She was seeing him at his best, better than he’d ever been. Many of his skills, his interests too, either matched or complemented hers.

Having finished the pasty just as her thoughts concluded, Blaze threw him another glance. He was fairly focused on the coast, absentmindedly making headway on a third pasty. Following his gaze, she found that his eyes had landed upon a flock of migrating birds; a sign of the coming Winter. This would be their last chance to walk the beach comfortably for at least three months. She should have been making the most of this.

She reached into the bakery bag, drawing out a muffin before pushing the bag his way, “Come on, let’s hurry and head down again.”

----

Unfortunately, despite now understanding her state, Blaze found herself no better equipped to combat her embarrassment. Talk was less scant than it had been last time, Blaze was trying her best, but she still wasn’t comfortable with this sudden upwelling of understanding. She’d stutter and stammer, catch herself staring, tear her eyes from him and, occasionally, chastise him when her embarrassment became too much to bear. It wasn’t perfect, but at least they were talking this time.

Still, she was managing to walk hand in hand with him. The hedgehog himself, seemingly in response to her slightly calmer demeanour, had shed most of his worry. He’d panic, just a little whenever she told him off too harshly, but he was certainly smiling more now. They were almost walking shoulder to shoulder, Silver on the water’s side, approaching the rockier far edge of the beach; where sand gave way to low crags, a prime site for rock pools. Of course, as a result of that, this part of the beach was particularly swamped. Many families with younger children were searching for the likes of hermit crabs and trying to make memories.

As they reached the shift in ground, Silver came to a halt. Before she could even fully turn to him, his hand had slipped from hers; both his left palm and right were suddenly on her shoulders. Her eyes collided with his and a pair of stern brows. The concern that she’d just thought abolished had returned in an instant, bringing her prior embarrassment with it.

“Is this going to be okay? Are there too many people over there?” He asked, his concern and care on display, “We can turn around if you want.”

Blaze looked over her shoulder, both to better scan how many families had gathered and, more primarily, to simply hide her renewed blush. The hedgehog’s hands were in the exact same position they had been last night; she had looked him in the eyes, returned his touch and thanked him for his aid. Right now, she could only think to avoid his gaze and call him naïve.

But she didn’t want to do that. There were families by the rockpools, yes, but before today she would’ve been entirely comfortable among her people and beside him. Her boosted bashfulness had swollen to such an extent that not only was Silver pointing it out, he was actively concerned about it. She couldn’t let this stick; she couldn’t let it drag into the future days! She’d promised to take initiative and that was exactly what she’d do.

Her hands came to latch on his biceps, her brow steeled, and lips pursed as she met his eyes once more, “W-Well, what about you, Silver?”

“Wh-What about me?” He asked, concern quickly being dashed by confusion.

“You’ve said it before, but I’ll ask again; are you okay with this?” She had to be more specific. She took a step forward; surprised, he almost stumbled back, “Are you okay with us being seen like this?”

“I am!” He swore without hesitation, “As long as you are, I am.”

“So, you do want to be here with me?” She went further, tightening her grasp and taking another step. As long as she kept moving, she could overlook the stutter in her voice and the heat on her muzzle. If she controlled the pace, if she took hold of the momentum, then she could manage all of this.

“Of course I do,” He immediately answered. His seriousness grew further but it couldn’t match hers, she’d always known this, “Even if we weren’t pretending to be together, you know I like being with you.”

He had no idea what she’d prompted from him but, essentially, she’d managed to tease free an admittance that he wanted to be here with her. That fact he’d admitted to wanting to be there, regardless of their overall scheme, went a long way to setting her at ease. Despite that though, she still had a point to get across.

“And as long as you’re okay with this, I’m okay with this. This was all my idea after all,” She forced her amber orbs to burn into his brighter set, “Don’t worry about me being uncomfortable, but I want to know if you are,” Blaze refused to let herself flinch and denied herself even the right to blink. She rose to her tiptoes and brought her head closer to his, mirroring the way he’d leaned down to her last night, “As long as you’re okay, I’m okay.”

“R-Right,” His stutter wasn’t born of embarrassment, merely a combination of surprise and confusion. He broke from her gaze and took a deep breath. His grasp had tightened when he met her eyes again, “Let’s do it then, it’ll be easy.”

“If you change your mind or worry about anything, you just have to say,” She wanted to press her forehead against his, but height wouldn’t allow it. Instead, she opted to take yet another step. With that, they escaped the shade of the cliff, “You can rely on me just as much as I do you, you know this?”

“I do, of course I do! I don’t know what I’d do without you,” He insisted, not so much embarrassed but flustered by her endeavour. Strangely, Silver somehow looked cuter still when positioned like this. Despite that, he managed to keep talking, “You look out for me and I look out for you, th-that’s what we do.”

She let herself drop to her heels, her arms left his, “Good. Then we’ll make it through this,” He, almost lost and confused, replicated her release; allowing her to turn back towards the rockpools, “We’ll look out for each other, no matter what.”

They resumed their approach, many eyes had turned upon them but, noticing their shift, were quickly dropping towards the pools. Blaze hadn’t had the gall to retake his hand, but she was still leading, she was succeeding!

This would be easy. If she could keep a tight grip on herself and control of the pace, then she was certain she’d make it through today’s date at least. Tomorrow would be a more private affair, prime for both self-discovery and prying further into how he felt. She wasn’t sure how long this fake dating scheme could last now, it would be immoral to steal kisses from him with her new understanding, but hopefully this state’s replacement would eventually grant her that freedom. She couldn’t help feeling embarrassed by that thought but, as long as she could subdue it, overcoming this meant future efforts would become easier. She just had to chip away at these feelings, work and practice until she could properly control th-

“Oh, I meant to ask earlier,” Her ear twitched, registering the return to his more casual tone, “Why’re you wearing a swimsuit under your dress, are we going swimming later?”

She’d entirely forgotten that was a choice she’d made; a choice that’d become especially obvious when his hands found her shoulders and she’d drawn so close. As Blaze’s cheeks reddened, and her temperature spiked, the undeniable became clear. She was far from overcoming this embarrassment. With a quick fumble, her sunglasses were made to lower again in a half-hearted attempt to hide her panic.

“It’s just, I didn’t bring my stuff with me,” He continued, seemingly oblivious, “I don’t want to ruin these-

“Sh-Shush!” She took hold of his hand again, dragging him towards the rocks with a speed unmatched by any prior, “It’s fine, don’t worry about it! Let’s just go find some crabs, o-or something.”

Finding her ideal partner, the very goal of this scheme, had taken no time at all, but being comfortable seeing him in such a light… that was going to take much longer.

[tazzytypes]

Apocalypse: Sanctuary - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Just because your roommates are horrible doesn't mean you all can't have a good time now and again... just don't tell Venable.

Hey guys. this scene is pretty short in comparison with my other chapters thus far. It didn't blend well with the other things I have planned, but I thought it was important to show the good times at Outpost 3 as well as the bad. Consider it a palette cleanser for what is to come. Michael will be here by Chapter 4...

The excitement over the idea of salvation by the cooperative was a short-lived joy. After months of listening to “The Morning After” by McGovern over and over and over was enough to make the residents of Outpost 3 question their sanity as well as their conviction.

Em walked into the salon, her hands wrapped around a collection of pens she had been able to scavenge from her room. She pulled at the obnoxiously high collar of her white shirt. Whenever evening wear wasn’t an obligation, she liked to dress in as few layers as she could — Victorian underwear and a dress that made her look like some governess of orphaned children in a period drama. 

Swinging the door open, she stopped in her tracks. The room was usually devoid of life except for the 6 o’clock “cocktails.” Andre sat there on the couch, his back to her as he stared into the fire.

The brunette debated turning on her heels, but by the time she took a step back, it was too late. Andre’s head turned, hair raising on the back of his neck as he sensed her green eyes boring into his back. He wondered if she would go away if he ignored her long enough, but curiosity got the better of him His head turned ever slightly and Em pretended like she had meant to be seen by the man.

Heels clicked against the wood flooring, only a few steps before pausing at the edge of the large black coffee table between the two large dark sofas.

Two months after Stu’s death and his cheeks were still damp with tears. His red eyes burned her, anger unyielding. She was deserving of his hate... even more so than the others. Just as she couldn’t reassure him of Stu’s safety she could not tell him of her guilt. At least the others showed remorse and disgust at their own actions.

Em tried to speak with Andre on multiple occasions, but her words came out hollow. Anything she said was just to chase off her own guilt. At one point she had mistakenly reminded Andre that he had also eaten from the stew... it didn’t end well. 

Needless to say, these days, the only person he spoke to was Dinah.

There was so much anger and grief twisting inside him. He wanted to scream and throttle Venable damn the consequences. At least then he’d be reunited with the man he loves... loved. One meal and the bonds made in good faith and mutual tragedy were fractured with the crack of a whip. 

Em wished he would just verbally eviscerate her like he did Evie. His silence was suffocating. Instead, they stood in awkward silence. She really wasn’t good at this.

“So…” Em trailed, leaning back on her heels and biting her lips as she thought of what to say. Another apology would sound insincere and they both knew it would end them right back where they began. 

“So,” Andre mocked, scoffing as he turned back to the fire. 

Em rose a hand as if to reach out to him, mouth opened before closing it once more. Her hand reached out to him before drawing back, hand running through her hair then returning to her side. 

 “What’s it like having Dinah Stevens as a mother?”

Another scoff, followed by his gaze flickering up and down her with disdain.

She finally settled on the couch opposite him, “Sore subject… fair.”

“Also literally asked by every person I’ve ever met.”

Mc nodded, “basic.”

“Yup,” Andre said, popping the “p.”

Fiddling with the pens in her hand, Em racked her brain for something to say. It was a curse, anxiety. It made everything seem much worse than it was and was often accompanied by an overwhelming desire to be liked by everyone… well… almost everyone. Involuntary cannibalism would have been considered some of the worst, but it pales in comparison to nuclear winter. 

Her leg bounced up and down and her eyes flickered from the fire to the ceiling to Andre and back again. Usually, in these moments she’d take out her phone, pens could only distract one for so long.

“God, I wish we had alcohol,” She sighed.

“Amen to that.”

The door creaked open. Em jumped to her feet, holding back the urge to run towards Emily as she quietly closed the door behind her. It felt like an eternity before she turned around. A smile lit up Emily’s face and she waved a collection of paper she had been able to find.

“Ready?”

Relief rolled off Em, tension leaving her shoulders as they can to settle around the coffee table. There was plenty of room, but Em still found it more comfortable to sit on the floor, skirt billowing around her like a puddle of purple. She took a pen and piece of paper and leaned over the table.

“You start. Give me a band.”

Emily’s lips twisted and her nose scrunched as she thought, “… The Beatles.”

Em scribbled down the name and tore it from the rest of the paper, placing it in a small wooden box Emily had brought with her. She grabbed a paper and pen of her own and turned to Em. “Now you.”

“Panic at the Disco.”

“Why am I not surprised.”

Em couldn’t help the laugh that left her, “shut up. You said The Beetles.”

“What? It’s a classic.”

Andre’s attention turned from the fire to the pair sitting across from him. He would have left, but after months and months of doing nothing but waking up and waiting to sleep again he was dying for something different.

“Lady Gaga,” Em said.

“Madonna.” Emily countered.

“Justin Bieber.”

“Justin Timberlake.”

“What are you doing?” He finally asked after a few more rounds of them shooting random words back and forth. 

“Pictionary,” Emily answered him with a smile, cheeks flushed from laughing, “Em had the idea.”

“Pictionary?” Andre asked, slowly scooting closer, “Is that a game?”

“Yeah!” Em answered, “My siblings and I used to play it all the time. Right now we’re coming up with random things to go in a hat.”

She motioned to the box slowly gathering more and more strips of paper, “The game is to pick one of these and try to draw it while your teammates guess what it is.”

“So like art charades?”

“Pretty much!”

A small smile flickered to Andre’s lips as he stood up and came to sit beside Emily. 

“Okay. I have one: Dinah Stevens.”

“Oooh,” Em awed, pointing a pen at Emily and Andre, “that’s a good one. Should we do one for each resident?”

Emily shrugged, “I don’t see why not.”

“How angry do you think Coco would be if we put her in there?” Andre asked, grabbing a pen and paper of his own.

Em looked like the Cheshire Cat, smiling ear to ear, “Furious,”

“Let’s do it.”

As the hours passed, more and more residents joined. A few Greys even whispered ideas into Em’s ear as they passed and she would scribble them in and throw them in the box. Em finally took a seat on one of the couches, Timothy and Emily on her right and Coco to her left.

“Okay!Okay!” Em exclaimed as people yelled things at her all at once, “One at a time! Give me stuff. Movies, books, albums, famous people, sayings. Coco! Go!”

“Michel Jackson!”

Em scribbled down the name and tossed it into the pile of paper that threatened to spill from the small box, “Alright! Now… Emily!”

“To Kill a Mocking Bird!”

She nodded as she scribbled it down, “… and since I’m Emily squared I get to go next.”

Gallant groaned, “oh, c’mon!”

“Hey!” Em snipped, smiling as she swung a pen at the man who could only smile and laugh at her antics, “I’m the one with the pen. My pen, my rules!”

Coco leaned over Em, “What are you writing?”

“Stevie Nicks!”

Leaning back in his seat, Gallant draped an arm across the back of his chair, perplexed, “Isn’t that the woman that sings Jolene?”

“NO!” At least five people yelled in unison, quickly falling into a collection of giggles.

Em feigned insult, “how can you mistake Dolly Parton with Stevie Nicks.”

Gallant waved a dismissive hand, “We aren’t all from the countryside of Georgia.”

“I was raised near Atlanta, thank you very much,” Em jested, “I’m only a quarter country girl.”

“Do you have those shirts that say: ‘don’t talk to me until I’ve had my sweet tea?’” Coco asked, hands spreading out like she was hanging up a banner. 

Em couldn’t keep her smile down, “That was one time!”

“Uh-huh,” Gallant laughed, “Suuure it was.”

The brunette grabbed an extra pen and chucked it at the man. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d laughed like this. God knows none of them had even been in a room together without mandatory attendance.

Timothy sat at the edge of the group. He shuffled through the cards they had made, sorting them so they’d fit in the box. “I think we’ve filled out the last one.”

Coco looked around at everyone, “So… we get to play now?”

“Not today,” Emily declared, smiling at Timothy as he held out the box for her to place the top on it. Coco, Andre, and Gallant booed them.

“Look,” Em defended Emily, hands wringing at her wrists “I know y’all were just spitting out words, but I had to write them all down. My poor wrist needs a break.”

“Oh boo-hoo,” Coco said.

“Half the fun is not knowing what’s coming,” Timothy reminded, his eyes not leaving Emily. Em could tell he was smitten with her. Poor boy didn’t know how to hide anything.

“Well I don't know about y’all,” Andre spoke, mocking Em’s slight accent as he rose from the couch, “But I’m going to take a nap.”

“I agree, y’all,” Gallant jumped on, dodging another pen Em threw in his direction. 

“Words are an illusion created by humanity,” She jested, earning a dismissive wave from the hairdresser as he walked out the door, “It’s conventional!!”

Coco sighed and laid back on the couch, closing her eyes as she began to whine “I wouldn’t mind the constant hunger if it didn’t come with the constant tiredness.”

Em looked to Timothy and Emily. The latter rolled her eyes.

“I feel like I’m back in college,” Em said, leaning back on Emily, “Eating sleep for dinner.”

She could feel Emily’s shoulders shake as she laughed. Timothy took a seat on the other side of the coffee table, resting on the arm of the chair, “C’mon. It couldn’t have been that bad.”

“I spent finals week eating only spoonfuls of peanut butter. Then the next year I bought a Costco-sized thing of ramen noodles.”

Emily leaned back her head and groaned, “Don’t talk about food. Even ramen noodles make my mouth water.”

Somehow, Em had made her way from leaning on Emily’s shoulder to having her head in the other girl’s lap. Emily’s hands absentmindedly ran through the brunette’s short bob which was growing longer by the day. 

“Oh!” A memory struck Em like a lightning bolt, “my friend took me to an authentic ramen place before the bombs.”

She hummed at the mere thought of the food, “Best. Thing. Ever. They had special ramen eggs and topped it off with a slab of pork that just fell apart—”

Coco jumped from her seat with a huff, “You’re all sadistic!”

The three of them watched as the blonde stormed across the room, door slamming behind her with a loud bang which made their bones shake. Then they looked to each other, biting their lips but ultimately falling into laughter.

“If I knew it was that easy I would have done it months ago,” Emily laughed.

“C’mon,” Timothy tried to be the voice of reason, trying to keep a straight face but ultimately failing, “That’s just mean.”

“So is Coco,” Em scoffed, reaching for a glass of water, “it’s not like we threatened to kill her.”

“You did,” Emily reminded. 

The other girl paused in her movement and pointed up at her, “Mead said ‘murder’, not me. I said I’d come for her… I didn’t specify how.”

Timothy sighed and shook his head while Emily only looked at him with a smile. 

“At least we have each other,” Emily noted.

Em smiled at that, finally sitting up, “The Three Musketeers!”

“All for one and one for all,” Timothy said.

Emily sighed, “God knows Venable won’t do it.” 

[gem-quest]

[ P L E X I P E D I A . ]

SCREEN NAME: Ophelia REAL NAME: Goes by Cat on Discord, the Plexipedia discussion boards, and roll20. Possibly short for Catherine, Cathleen, or a related name, or possibly just derived from her preferred online username catinthebox. GUILD: Moonstone SPECIES & CLASS: Specter Bard GUILD RANKING: 59th percentile

[ B A S I C S . ]

Ophelia was among the first wave of players to enter into Gem Quest after its initial public launch. She was also among the first players to devote extensive time and resources to creating original items via the game’s crafting system, and to establish a player-made shop to sell her personally crafted items.

Ophelia is a specter bard who plays for the Moonstone Guild. The most recent reports on her activities from other players place her primarily in and around her shop location in the City of Magic in Level 11. From this location, she provides custom equipment, magic items, and repair services.

Her most recent level cleared, according to Plexipedia, was level 36. Ophelia has previously been a member of two parties, according to Discord and Plexipedia users, but left both. At the time of writing, she is thought to be without a party and providing material and crafting support away from the Moonstone front.

She has been linked with the Discord username catinthebox#6439 by Discord users rebelscum#8992 and arches#4731. Through her activity on the official Plexipedia Discord as Cat/catinthebox#6439, she has been heavily involved in discussions of in-game crafting and items since shortly after Gem Quest’s public launch. Under the username catinthebox, she is also a regular contributor to entries on items, materials, and the Gem Quest crafting system and skill tree on Plexipedia. She’s a regular respondent to inquiries about the location and properties of in-game materials, the mechanics and applications of crafting, and GQ lore bites and side quests.

[ S T A T S . ]

The following stats are based on the reports of two former party members with previous access to view Ophelia’s stats. Ophelia’s stats are set as invisible to all players other than party members, and she is currently reported as being without a party. Stats included here may therefore be outdated.

STRENGTH - 0/X*

DEFENSE - 2

CHARISMA - 6

PSYCHE - 7

WILLPOWER - 7

CAUTIOUSNESS - 4

AGILITY - 8

ENDURANCE - 3

INTELLIGENCE - 8

LUCK - 5

* Specters do not have a Strength score.

[ T R I V I A. ]

Based on the most recent data about player-run businesses in the Gem Quest economy, Ophelia’s shop in the City of Magic is ranked as one of the top 10 most frequented player-run business in the game, and one of the top 20 most profitable in terms of coins. She also is currently thought to be a serious contender for the title of player character who’s created the largest number of distinctly titled and ranked items not derived from existing crafting guides or official in-game item lists.

According to Discord user arches#4731, corroborated by other members of her TTRPG gaming circles with a presence on Discord, Cat is a university student currently based in Dublin, Ireland. Her accent has been described as “difficult to place, but definitely kind of Irish.” As mentioned above, Ophelia is an active online TTRPG player who plays in multiple Dungeons and Dragons groups on roll20, including one with arches#4731.

Her in-game appearance features the typical washed-out color palette, vague transparency, and occasionally misty form of a Gem Quest specter. In regards to fashion, Ophelia is noted for her exclusively black and white color scheme, fondness for layers and stripes, omnipresent elaborate collars and/or capes, and strong tendency towards gothic, steampunk, and Victorian-inspired styles.

Her in-game persona is that of an inventor and musician murdered after delving too deeply into the disappearance of her older brother at court, returned to the land of the living to find her brother, make her mark on the world, and avenge herself on her killers. She has never been seen to deviate significantly from her set character within the game, even for the purpose of practical conversations or casual discussions with party members.

[ C R E A T I O N S. ]

In-game, Ophelia currently works as a crafter and shopkeeper specializing in magical items and minor gadgetry. She is best known for pioneering the use of symbols, glyphs, and runes in the crafting of custom magical items. Most of her crafted items are rune-powered magical instruments or small weaponry, trick/trap devices, and clothing/accessories with added utility. A small selection of especially notable and/or common items crafted by Ophelia are listed below. For further information, visit Ophelia’s section in the Player-Crafted Items Index.

Screaming Lute - A modified beginning bard instrument, customized to serve as a container and channeler of magical energy. Creates a variety of effects through the use of engraved runes on the lute’s surface, each of which is activated by a different note or chord played on the instruments, and an unidentified internal source of magical energy. So-named for its tendency to scream in abject agony and despair whenever the magical effect of a B-level spell or equivalent is fired from it.

Whispering Flute - A modified bard instrument customized to fire off a limited number of blasts of Ventium and Murmurationium upon the playing of specific notes in conjunction with a small extra motion by the wielder.

Shifting Cloak - A cloak embroidered with symbols along the hem that allow it to change color, pattern, length, hem, and apparent fabric quality based on the other current attire of its wearer. Custom versions can be made that allow the cloak to shift into specific, commissioner-requested appearances when paired with certain outfits and/or wardrobe items.

Performer’s Cloak - A cloak that trails illusory sparks, smoke, glitter, or flower petals (depending on the make) in precise proportion to the amount of movement the cloth’s fabric makes. The effect is only visible to persons other than the wearer, though it does appear in captured in-game images of the cloak. Vigorous swirling, twirling, twisting, or thrashing of the cloak creates effects dense enough to impede or obscure the vision of persons within range other than the wearer.

Wielder’s Gloves - A pair of gloves enchanted to turn fingerless at a key word or signal from the wearer or when the wearer reaches for one or more specifically linked weapons or tools. They also create a powerful adhesive effect between the palms of the gloves, the wearer’s hands, and any item linked to the gloves, an effect that can only be disabled on the wearer’s signal. This eases the handling of certain finesse weapons and makes the wearer nigh-impossible to disarm.

Mood Ring - A magically accurate mood ring. An early creation, notable for the fact that one of the first things Ophelia is known to have done in Gem Quest was sit down and take 5 in-game days to figure out how to make a really good mood ring. Improved versions can have their mood-responsive color-changing enabled or disabled with a key word or signal, display the color of the mood of another wearer with a ring linked to one’s own, or (with limited charges per day) display the mood of a chosen NPC or PC target within range.

Trick Gem - A glass vessel with a permanent illusion charm etched into its surface, usually giving it the appearance of a gem or other small loot item of A rank or higher. The illusion can be dispelled only by breaking the glass, as the enchantment is part of the glass itself; thus, it can stand up well to moderate standard attempts to check for magical effects or dispel magic, as long as no one thinks to throw the “gem�� at the nearest wall. If transferred to another person other than its current owner without a chosen signal/permission from its owner, a small mechanism within the hidden vessel will trigger after one minute, exposing the true contents to air. This liquid ignites instantly, causing significant fire damage to the gem’s new holder or (if already transferred to storage) to their inventory. Ophelia claims that the needed etchings cannot be done on an Unbreakable Bottle, thus making a sturdier version aimed less at blowing up thieves and more at pulling impressive con jobs non-viable.

Nuisance Galthrops - Small, four-spiked area denial weapons individually etched with runes to keep them invisible until either a key word or signal is given by the person who deployed them OR they pierce flesh. Each does a single unit of damage, and they cannot penetrate most boots or foot armor in one hit, though repeated strikes from them are likely to damage and/or pierce most materials.

Summoner’s Box - A small wooden box with a red Summoner’s Crystal built into its frame, usually slightly behind and to the side of a small hole hidden within a panel of intricate decoration. If the lock is opened without a specific signal or key word chosen by its owner, the opening of the lock will trigger a small metal spike to crash into the gem, shattering it and summoning an angry imp or other small demon hostile to those responsible for doing it damage via opening the lock. 

[ L E V E L S . ]

LVL. 11: THE CITY OF MAGIC & VALLEY OF MONSTERS. Ophelia’s workshop and storefront are located in one of the major retail districts of the City of Magic, close to the starting points of several in-level quest lines involving the city’s undead residents. She is also frequently spotted in the city’s cemeteries, various haunted houses, and the local apothecary shop noted as the level’s fetch-quest hub.

LVL. 16: THE BURIED TEMPLE OF AMAUNET. Ophelia has been spotted in what appear to be multiple independent runs through the temple, and some of the inscriptions on her items have been noted to resemble the temple complex’s rune system.

LVL. 20: A MIDWINTER’S NIGHT DREAM, & LVL. 35: THE ENCHANTED FOREST & THE FAERIE COURT. Favorite material foraging/collection locations.

LVL. 36: RAINBOW ROAD & THE SEA OF STARS. Ophelia’s last known cleared level, completed after parting ways with her second party two months ago.

Please fill out THIS anonymous form if you have information regarding Ophelia’s family and/or identity. 

T A G L I S T . @ayzrules​ @bebemoon @armadasneon @now-on-elissastillstands

[calmgrove]

Lizzie Ross, co-convener since 2018 and last year’s co-host for Witch Week, blogs about reading and writing at LizzieRossWriter.com. In this post she rightly draws attention to villains in graphic novels, the range of which may prove surprising to those not familiar with this genre.

Yesterday, Laurie from Relevant Obscurity set the tone for Witch Week 2019 by providing us with a list of despicable qualities found in evil rulers. In this post I apply Laurie’s points to villains of all sorts in fantasy graphic novels. Some of these villains are leaders or want to be; others use/enslave/kill characters to gain power or wealth or longer life; still others just seem to get joy out of causing mayhem. But whatever their motivations, they’re all heinous enough to provide frissons of horror.

Watchmen: The Deluxe Edition, Alan Moore / Dave Gibbons, DC Comics, 1986-1987/2013

Lately, the distinctions between hero and villain in graphic novels have grown nebulous, with sympathetic villains and troubled heroes making it difficult to decide who we’re rooting for. Unlike Jadis in Narnia, whose icy demeanor hides nothing more than a cold lust for power, characters like Watchmen’s Rorschach and Monstress’s Maika Halfwolf have so many flaws their very clothes and skin seem to writhe in agony. And yet, neither is a villain. Nimona kills her enemies with barely an afterthought, finding it more expedient to wipe them out than to negotiate or try to go around them. And yet, we can’t help rooting for her, and she is most definitely not the villain of the story.

Beowulf, Santiago Garc��a / David Rubín, Image Comics, 2018

Of course there are still many traditional – that is, unredeemable – graphic novel villains. Grendel in García’s and Rubín’s Beowulf, based on the 1000-year-old Old English poem, is as relentlessly blood-thirsty as a reader could wish and, when finally revealed in a snowy two-page spread, seems to glow with internal fires of hatred. And those teeth!

The Shadow Hero, Gene Luen Yang & Sonny Liew, First Second Books, 2014

Ten Grand and his gweilo cronies, in Gene Luen Yang’s and Sonny Liew’s The Shadow Hero, are traditional noir villains, greedy and ruthless, preying on Chinese immigrants to enrich themselves via bribes and protection money, never hesitating to kill uncooperative “clients”. Then out of the tenements comes the Green Turtle, a reluctant hero who avenges his father’s death and then returns to his quiet life as Hank Chu, shopkeeper. The Green Turtle made his first appearance in the 1940s, joining other Marvel heroes to fight Axis spies, and in their 2014 prequel, Yang and Liew propose an origin story for this superhero – a “tiger mom” and an ancient spirit provide the push, and the superpower, that turn Hank into the Green Turtle.

Norroway: Book 1 The Black Bull of Norroway, Kit & Cat Seaton, Image Comics, 2018

Drawing on traditional tales such as Beowulf and well-known fairy stories often results in archetypal heroes and villains. But not always. Sisters Kit and Cat Seaton collaborate as author and illustrator of Norroway: The Black Bull of Norroway, a graphic version of a Scottish fairy tale. The Seatons give us the heroine Sibylla, a stubborn and angry teen fated to marry a bull. At first, we suspect the bull itself – huge and stubborn and easily riled – might be the villain, except that we soon recognize that Sibylla will eventually fall in love with her bull. But before that can happen, she loses him. That’s how Book 1 of this proposed trilogy ends – the subsequent volumes will follow Sibylla on her search and, no doubt, let us know what Brom the Bull is doing in the meantime.

So who, then, is the villain in the Seatons’ tale? Is it Brom’s father, who used his children to lengthen his own life? Is it the Old One who caused Brom’s taurine metamorphosis? Or could it be Sibylla herself, who, as a typical teen, resents every burden placed on her and throws periodic destructive tantrums? Only the first volume of this series has been published, so I have no answers yet. Cat Seaton’s dark and muted palette for her illustrations sets a somber tone, making me wonder if the expected happy ending might not arrive after all. We’ll see.

Blackbird: Book 1 The Great Beast, Sam Humphries / Jen Bartel, Image Comics, 2019

Sam Humphries and Jen Bartel in Blackbird give us another angry teen story, set in a modern LA troubled with territorial violence. Cabals of Paragons (magical zombies who look really good for dead people) fight each other for power and new recruits. Nina Rodriguez, the pill-addicted heroine, gets caught up in the battles when her sister is kidnapped by a giant tiger-like beast. Nina’s mother is dead, her alcoholic father AWOL – so Nina’s on her own to rescue her sister. Who can she trust? The handsome flashy guy from the Zon Cabal, or the gorgeous punk blonde from Iridium? As with other villains discussed so far, the evil-doers here seem to be motivated by lust for power. But there’s much still to be revealed as Nina’s tale unfolds, with surprise appearances and the usual plot twists.

Nimona, Noelle Stevenson, Harper Collins/Harper Teen, 2015

Noelle Stevenson’s Nimona began life as a web comic. Dedicating her book “To all the monster girls”, Stevenson turns heroic and villainous archetypes on their heads. The eponymous protagonist, a chubby girl with a punk haircut, talks her dark idol, the evil Lord Ballister Blackheart, into letting her be his sidekick. “Every villain needs a sidekick.” An orphan with shape-shifting powers, Nimona wants to kill all Blackheart’s enemies, who include Sir Ambrosius Goldenloin (Stevenson isn’t coy with her characters’ names), and manages to kill several of them and destroy a lab on her second day of work – to the dismay of Lord Blackheart, who doesn’t believe it’s necessary to kill anyone just to defeat his enemy. Nimona reluctantly falls in line, but we know there’s more mayhem in her future.

Yes, this is a comedy, and yes, from the start there’s no doubt who the real bad guys are. But Nimona’s actions remind us of a few questions for which there are probably no answers: Can you be a hero if you kill people without regret? Is collateral damage ever justifiable? Is it okay to do the right thing for the wrong reasons? Nimona sets the tone within the first few pages: “We’re villains!” she says to Blackheart. “Villains kill people sometimes!” Later, when he protests her love of violence, she points out, “No one’s ever going to take you seriously if you’re too afraid to kill anyone.” She takes “villainy” seriously, and we can only laugh as we see her unintentionally allied with the good guys. She seems always to be doing the right thing for the wrong reason, even if she’s overly bloody in the process.

Black Panther: A Nation Under Our Feet, Ta-Nehisi Coates and Brian Stelfreeze, Marvel Comics, 2016

As with Nimona, moral ambiguity underlies Black Panther, Watchmen, The Sandman, and Monstress, but all four are serious graphic novels, about who should hold power over the rest of us, and whether anything justifies such power. In Monstrous and The Sandman, that power guarantees longer life; in Black Panther, it leads to increased wealth. And in Watchmen, that power allows one man to create his version of Utopia. He wants a better world, but he doesn’t care who dies to get us there. In all of these, the heroes and heroines are constantly faced with choices – what does each fight demand of them? What are they willing to give up, or compromise, in order to win? Only Black Panther, the rightful ruler of Wakanda, escapes with the least compromised principles, but early on his father tells him, “You’re a good man, with a good heart, and it’s hard for a good man to be king.” It’s a warning to us all.

The Sandman, Neil Gaiman /Sam Kieth / Mike Dringenberg / Malcolm Jones III VertigoComics, 1988-89/2010

Monstress, Marjorie Liu / Sana Takeda Image Comics, 2016-2018

To round out this list to an even 10, I close with Shaun Tan’s lovely and enheartening The Arrival, a wordless picture book about the wrench of leaving home for a new life elsewhere. There are no villains in this book, unless you want to count the challenges of being a poor immigrant in a new country whose language you don’t know and whose wife and child are still in the old country. But the story is glorious, with otherworldly sepia-toned artwork. Monstrous tentacles twine around the stone buildings and through the streets and skies of a town in the old country. The new country is like something out of Hieronymus Bosch, full of steaming smokestacks, pyramidal skyscrapers, giant beasts (harmless, mostly), and teeming streets. Terrifying because it’s all so strange. Each page needs several minutes to examine. Perhaps most revealing of Tan’s intent here are the endpapers – 60 passport-like “photos” of people of all ethnicities. These, Tan seems to be saying, are the citizens of the new world; get used to it.

The Arrival, Shaun Tan, Arthur A. Levine Books, 2006

I’ve had fantastic fun re-reading old favorites and discovering new graphic authors and artists for this year’s Witch Week. Have I inspired you to pick up one or two of these books, or at least to tell me about your own favorite graphic novel villains? Let me know. And HAPPY WITCH WEEK!

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Lizzie Ross

Hopefully Lizzie has persuaded you that graphic novels have a wider range of villains than conventional wisdom claims for the comics genre!

#WitchWeek2019 Day 2: Graphic Villainy Lizzie Ross, co-convener since 2018 and last year's co-host for Witch Week, blogs about reading and writing at…

[hazelandglasz]

Stammi Vicino 2.0

I got inspired by an idea, and then the plot bunny just ran with it …

AKA The IT AU no one ever asked for

AKA My pleasure writing ;)

On AO3

Contrary to popular beliefs around the hallways of The Rink,Viktor is not completely incompetent around computers.

He didn’t become the “hero” of his department by being entirely clueless around those electronic beasts.

But.

This time around, no matter how hard he tries, no matter what he tries--and it ranges from unplugging his whole system and plugging it back off to singing a lullaby to it--, the report that needs to be on Yakov’s desk in … oh Lord, thirty-five minutes, simply won’t. Fucking. Print.

“Arrrgh!”

Plisetsky rolls away from his cubicle to glare at Viktor. “Do you mind keeping it down, old man?” he growls. “Some of us do work around here.”

Viktor wordlessly growls back, raking his fingers through his hair. First of all, he is not old, fuck you very much, and second of all, he would so work too if he could.

“Vitya, just call IT, that’s why they lurk around in the basement,” Georgi says over the wall that separates their two desks.

Georgi is right.

He’s the voice of reason, as melodramatic as he may be in his color palettes sometimes.

“IT, Chulanont speaking, how may I help you?”

“Hello, hi, this is Nikiforov, station 1804?”

“Yes?”

There is a smirk behind that cheery tone, Viktor doesn’t need a conf call to know it.

He may use his break time to watch videos of dogs. Maybe. So sue him.

“There is a problem with my printer.”

“Any error message on your screen?”

“No--nothing happens.”

“Did you try to turn it o--”

“Yes!”

“Alright, buddy, I’ll send someone within the hour. Slow down with the caffeine, alright?”

Before Viktor can reply or, you know, defend himself, Chulanont hangs up on him.

The little--

“Chulanont told you to untwist your panties?”

“Yes, Mila.”

“He has a point.”

“Can you kindly mind your own panties and leave mine as twisted as they want to be?”

“Kinky.”

“Mila, do you need another visit from HR?”

“Hmmm, yeah, I’d say I do, it’s been a while since Ms. Crispino paid us a visit …”

Michele’s angry eyes appear above the partition at the mention of his sister before slowly sinking back down, and Mila clears her throat, twisting her mouth in embarrassment.

Her eyes land behind Viktor, and her smirk makes a comeback. “Viktor, did IT say the name of the guy coming to help you?”

“Nope.”

“Hm-hm.”

Viktor swivels around on his chair to follow her line of sight and when his eyes find the guy who stepped out of the elevator, fixing his hair and pushing his glasses up his nose, he lurches forward mid-turn and faceplants.

God. Fucking. Bless.

The Mystery Dancer from the company’s Christmas party is … not looking as mysterious and daring as he did back then--now that was a night to remember, the way they danced together through all the songs that played, laughing like Viktor hadn’t laughed in God knows how long, smiling and brushing fingers …--but still as captivating and interesting with the thick frames hiding his beautiful eyes.

“Yuuri!”

Viktor may have had his fair share of champagne that night, but he didn’t forget that name.

Which made his inability to find Yuuri in the personnel's log even more frustrating.

The man seems surprised that Viktor knows his name, and a oh so pretty blush spreads on his cheeks--really, Viktor would love to observe the way it flares like pink paint in a glass of water. With his fingers, his lips …

“Mr. Nikiforov? Station 1804?”

Oh.

“Y-yes, that … that’s me.”

A small smile, one that screams of discomfort. “I’m Yuuri. Katsuki. I’m from IT?”

Viktor can only nod as he stands to let Yuuri sits in his chair. Yuuri starts typing some commands and codes while explaining in a soft voice what he’s doing, but there is a distant ringing sound in Viktor’s ear at the moment.

He doesn’t remember.

“See, Viktor, your computer was not connected to the same network as your printer, I don’t know what happened there …”

He doesn’t remember me, our dance, the whole night, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him.

“Viktor?”

I know it happened, Chris has pictures. I was ready to take him on all the dates and he. Doesn’t. Even. Remember.

“Viktor? Mr. Nikiforov? Sir?”

Oh Lord …

“Ow.”

Viktor shakes his head, rubbing at the back of it. On the floor, next to his foot, there is a little black cat still holding some paper clips.

And Yuri is glaring at him. “Can you stop being pathetic for a second, old man, and answer the guy so he can return to the cave where he belongs?”

Yuuri’s face matches Viktor’s scarf now. “Yuri!”

Both men look at him and Viktor has to pinch the bridge of his nose. “This is going to get confusing very fast,” he mumbles. “Yuri, you’ll have to find a nickname or something?”

“Or you can just call us by our last names, like a professional human being.”

“Nah, that’s no fun, right Yuuri?”

Yuuri looks back at him and shrugs. “I guess .First names are … good?”

“That’s the spirit!”

“You’re out of your mind.”

“Relax, coolio, Yurio!”

“Don’t you dare.”

Mila’s head pops out again from her cubicle. “Yurio? I approve.”

Yuri--no, Yurio now--groans and disappears back between the wall of his space. “Fine, do whatever you want. And bring me back my paper clips holder.”

“After the violence you used to throw it at me?”

A small sound, innocent and so tentative Viktor could have missed it, stops him mid-drama.

A giggle.

From Yuuri.

That’s fucking adorable, and Viktor is going to combust.

“I understand now why some days are not so productive,” Yuuri says as he stands up.

Why is he standing up?

“Seems like your printer is working now … Viktor.”

Oh, my name sounds pretty in his mouth.

Nope, not going there.

“You’re a miracle worker, Yuuri,” Viktor exclaims instead. “How can I thank you?”

Yuuri tilts his head to the side and brushes a strand of hair away from his face with a crooked smile. “You just did.”

And with that, he’s gone, and Viktor lets himself drop in his chair, looking at him go.

Not a bad sight to fixate upon.

“You are pathetic--oww, you asshole, you nearly hit me!”

---

Now that Viktor has found Yuuri again--he didn’t even consider IT to be the place where his mystery man was hiding, and he will make amends for that neglect--he cannot fathom the idea of not seeing him.

Yes, he does have a melodramatic streak to compete with Georgi, why do you ask.

Lunch hour doesn’t work, because apparently, the whole IT team--all three of them, it’s like their computers are guarded by an adorable Cerberus.

(Yes, Viktor did mark the page for the IT team in the company’s mug book. why do you ask?)

--seems to take their lunch break at odd hours.

Whyyyy?

“Because it makes sense for them to run diagnosis and tests while we mere humans are out for lunch.”

Georgi, once again the voice of reason.

“Since when are you so logical?”

“Since he is getting laid again.”

“Ah.”

“Mila!”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“...”

“Thought so.”

“Maybe Old man here needs to get laid too to get his remaining grey cells working ag--oww!”

“Yurio, show some respect.”

“Thank you Sara.”

“--for your elders.”

“Fuck you Sara.”

“The job is taken.”

“Eww.”

“Yes, don’t hurt the baby’s sensitive ears with your trash talk.”

“Fuck you Viktor.”

Viktor laughs, leaning back in his chair. “That doesn’t tell me how to, how did you so romantically put it, get laid with my beautiful mystery man.”

“You know his name, he’s not a mystery man anymore--did you actually bring the mug book with you?”

“I needed to look at his face.”

Chris leans over his shoulder to look at the page too. “He’s a cutie,” he says thoughtfully. “The other two are not too shabby either--Sara! Why did you hire only models to be in IT?”

Sara smirks at them. “Eye candy.”

Michele seethes in a corner, and as entertaining as it may be--it so is--that doesn’t help Viktor with his situation.

“Goddammit, Viktor,” Yurio explodes, “if you want to see the IT guy, either go down to the cave or get the IT guy to come up here!”

Now that’s an idea.

“Or you can be a creeper and wait for him and follow him and slaughter him before making a suit out of his skin, for all I care.”

What.

No, the first idea was better.

---

Thus starts the big Week of Viktor Against The Machines.

Unplugging and replugging everything in the wrong order is a pretty easy task, and it gets him the priviledge of looking at Yuuri’s butt wiggling for, oh, only a minute.

But a minute of that particular sight is more than enough to fill a lifetime of fantasies when you’e Viktor Nikiforov.

Even worth the comments about him drooling from … many cubicles actually.

Kicking the router until the Wi-fi network collapses is a job of precision and only done once he has checked that this wouldn’t be too much of a bother.

Mila carries Yurio away for coffee before the young man can start screaming bloody murder, so not bothered.

This time, Yuuri is not alone--he brings his intern with him, a serious looking dude with an extreme focus.

And an undercut.

“Altin,” he says to introduce himself before lifting the router in the air like he’s going to perform Hamlet’s monologue. “Hm.”

Yurio and Mila return just as Viktor manages to invite Yuuri for a drink while Altin repairs the thing--and he doesn’t even embarrass himself in the process.

Lo and behold, Yuuri accepts, checking with the younger man--that he calls Beka for some reason--before returning his attention to Viktor.

Who, frankly, doesn’t know if he can handle that smile without doing something idiotic.

As they walk out, Yurio stands close to the door, eyes wide as they look at Beka Altin working his magic.

Interesting.

Not as interesting as Yuuri talking about how computers are more than electronic circuits, but still.

---

The following day, Yurio waits for Viktor at the entrance with a papercup and a frown.

“Want some help with your mission?”

“My what now?”

“Your mission,” Yurio repeats, shoving the cup in Viktor’s chest. “I figured, the bigger the mess, the longer he’ll stay, the more opportunity you’ll have to charm him because he seems receptive to,” he pauses, gesturing at Viktor’s everything, “this, and the quicker you’ll stop moping.”

Viktor takes a careful sip of the drink and considers his young colleague.

A genius, yes; but Yurio is still very young.

And not very subtle.

“The bigger the mess, the more likely Yuuri is going to bring reinforcement, hm?”

“Look, do you want my help or not?!”

“I do. Thank you, Yuri.”

“Nah, use Yurio, I got used to it.”

“So what’s the plan?”

---

Alright.

Alright.

Maybe they took it one step too far.

Uprooting the whole database from the server, forcing it to halt as if under attack and putting everyone but the IT team on hold was … perhaps a bit much.

Possibly.

Neither Viktor nor Yurio ever denied being over-the-top.

Even with the unhappy frown on Yuuri’s face, it’s worth it, because it means that they need to go back and forth between the servers and the desks for the next two weeks.

(Viktor will totally buy muffins baskets for the team)

“So, Yuuri …”

“Not now.”

There is something new in Yuuri’s voice, something dark, that doesn’t let Viktor completely indifferent.

He fears that there isn’t much Yuuri could do that would make him feel differently.

But that little growl?

Straight to the spank bank.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know this command would provoke that reaction,” he still says softly.

He did not, that’s not a lie. Yurio did, though.

Even if it worked beyond even his expectations.

Yuuri sighs, leaning back in Viktor’s chair to look up at him. His hair is pushed back--after pulling at it for hours, it’s almost like Yuuri gelled it--and he took his glasses off.

Viktor could kiss him on sight, for all to see, he’s so heart-wrenchingly beautiful.

“I know you didn’t mean to do it,” Yuuri says tiredly, “but you have to understand that your actions have consequences.”

Is Yuuri scolding him?

“That what you do put everybody else in jeopardy.”

Signs point to yes.

“Boss, don’t be so hard on him,” Otabek--Altin’s name, after all--says, eyes on Yurio’s screen while he types line after line of coding. “We should have safe-guarded that command.”

Yurio is perched on the cubicle’s wall like a cat--no surprise there--following Otabek’s every move.

“You can save it, thought, right Beka?”

It’s weird and sweet (sweird?) to see Yurio looking at another human being with so much fondness.

“We can put it back online,” Beka says, “but Yuuri is the only one who can save what has been lost.”

“My hero,” Viktor says softly.

He didn’t expect Yuuri to smirk at him. “Hero, uh?”

“Of course.”

“Does that make you the princess in distress?”

“Of course.”

“Meaning that this is my task to complete to win your hand.”

“It’s already yooo look at the time, gotta run, gotta get … um, coffee. Lots of it. For everybody.”

“Vitya.”

Viktor freezes on the spot, red high on his cheeks.

Yuuri stands up and walks towards him, glasses back on his nose but his hair still pushed back.

Forget about walking, Yuuri Katsuki is stalking towards Viktor.

And Viktor has no intention of going anywhere--what’s a little humiliation in exchange of this sight, this determination aimed at him.

“Will you go on a date with me when I put the system back fully?” Yuuri asks, voice soft yet confident.

Viktor reaches for Yuuri’s hand, and bring it to his lips. “I can’t wait.”

---

And now for a little prologue-epilogue

From the moment Yuuri started working at The Rink, he fell in love with the chief creator Viktor Nikiforov.

Talented, amiable, gorgeous--the man had everything going for him.

Why would he even look in the direction of some IT schmuck like Yuuri?

After the Christmas celebration, which Yuuri only remembered as the Headache From Hell, Yuuri feels a little bit better, like he belongs there. Phichit is a good manager, sure, but Yuuri is the computer wizard.

With Otabek as an intern (and soon a colleague, Yuuri will make sure of that), there is nothing they can’t do, from the basement where they work surrounded by all the machinery.

That doesn’t make his crush on Viktor any less pathetic, but it is a consolation.

“Yuuri, desk 1804 needs you urgently.”

Yuuri rolls closer to Phichit. “Can’t you take over from here?”

“No, no, it’s … important that you go and fix it on sight.”

Yuuri narrows his eyes at his best friend. “Who is station 1804?”

“Why do you care?”

“What are you doing?”

“My job?”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s not Mr. Feltsman, is it?”

“Oh no.”

“Ms. Liliana?”

“Nah, I wouldn’t put you through that.”

“You’re not trying to play matchmaker again, are you?”

Otabek looks at them with a confused look. “Again?”

“He got me drunk at the Christmas party, saying that I just needed a little liquid courage, which, a, it got me nothing except a headache, and b, certainly didn’t work to approach Viktor.”

Otabek’s eyes are all round and wide. “The Christmas party?” he repeats. “The one where--”

“Yuuri, Station 1804 is waiting,” Phichit cuts in, perhaps a bit too loudly to be honest.

But he’s right, and he’s his boss, so Yuuri sighs and goes out.

“This is not over,” he warns Phichit.

Before the door closes, he swears he hears him reply, “This is just the beginning.”

[clarenecessities]

spooky changelings

Rating: PG 13 Word Count: 1439

Content Warning (spoilers): discussion of child abduction, explosions, not-so-twisty plot twists

[First] [Previous] [Next]

Read on AO3

They filed into the classroom in pairs, Alya pulling Marinette along by the elbow and Adrien perched on Nino’s shoulders, turning an unblinking stare on the classroom. A few students had already gathered, though Adrien knew most only by sight and scent, not by name. He recognized Alix by her pink hair, slumped forward and drooling on her desk. He knew Rose, spinning to show off the flare of her dress, but not the ghost that floated beside her with a faint smile.

The ghost looked strange through these eyes—she was somewhat more defined than she had appeared yesterday, but the faded colors that comprised her had dimmed even more than the rest of his palette. She looked almost tangible, but so washed out she was nearly black and white.

“Cat,” came a voice from behind them, and both Nino and Adrien jumped, turning to see the massive boy with flaky, rocklike skin looming over them, looking at Adrien with keen interest.

“Hey Ivan,” said Nino, relaxing.

“Hey,” said Ivan, smiling. Adrien swore he could hear the grating of gravel as the boy moved. “Is that Adrien?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” said Nino, rolling his eyes, “but if you see him use a fork or something, don’t be too surprised.”

“Forks require thumbs,” Adrien muttered.

“Oh my god, a talking cat!” gasped Nino, clapping his hands to his cheeks.

Ivan plucked the hat off of Nino’s head, ruffled his hair, and put the hat on Adrien. “Good morning, you big dorks.”

“Who you callin’ dork, punk?” Nino laughed, shaking a fist at the retreating giant’s back.

“Who you callin’ punk, dork?” tittered Alya from her seat, rolling her eyes at him. “Face facts, Fido. He’s got you figured.”

Nino pouted at her as he pulled the cap mercifully from Adrien’s head and upper torso. “While I admire the alliteration, I object to ‘Fido’. On the basis of it being a very outdated name.”

“Well shit, I don’t have a dog,” grumbled Alya. “What do people call them? Rover? Spot?”

“My friend Bridgette had a dog named Refrigerator,” Adrien supplied unhelpfully.

Alya stared at him.

“I don’t think it was a regular dog name,” he added after a moment.

“I thought we were your only friends,” said Nino, steepling a hand on his chest in mock offense. “Am I even your first BFF? I feel so lied to.”

“This was a long time ago,” said Adrien, laughing. “She was a changeling, but she was only around for a few months or so. It used to be that my neighbors would get changelings every so often—they called it ‘summer camp,’ and arranged all these silly little games for us to play.”

“Wait, like—just straight up kidnapping?” asked Nino, losing his playful stance. “Why?”

“A lot of reasons,” said Adrien, shrugging. He jumped off of Nino’s shoulders onto their desk so he could see his face better. “Usually it was a deal for somebody’s firstborn, but sometimes it was just trespassing.”

“Only a few months, though? I didn’t realize they gave firstborns back,” said Marinette from the stair beside him.

“Well, it depends who took them,” said Adrien. “I think Trixx fully intended to keep Bridgette, but she isn’t really cut out for child-rearing, you know? Which I could have told her from her disastrous attempts at babysitting me, but hey, try telling a fox anything, am I right?” He grinned over his shoulder at Alya, who stuck her tongue out at him.

“Watch it, cat,” she muttered. “I know the sídhe are cheeky, but there’s a limit.”

“A limit to how many painfully obvious truths you can tolerate?” asked Marinette, smiling as she slid onto the bench next to her. “C’mon Alya—you’re stubborn as anything.”

“Not as stubborn as you,” said Alya, bumping her shoulder with a smirk.

“Well, I’m not just anything,” said Marinette, fluffing one of her pigtails ostentatiously.

“Uh, excuse me?” Nino interjected, voice keyed higher with humor, “I’m trying to get some fairy secrets?” He threw himself dramatically onto his side of the bench, throwing the back of his hand against his forehead like a swooning damsel, almost knocking his cap off again in the process. “My heart can’t go on like this, my dudes. I gotta get the scoop.”

“’The scoop,’” Adrien scoffed, the tip of his tail flicking back and forth. “I explained the way time works in our realm, didn’t I? How long we have them isn’t necessarily how long they’re gone for. Bridgette was out for seven years.”

“I still don’t get why you’re so sure you aren’t like, a hundred,” said Nino, leaning forward so his elbows were resting on the desk. He propped his face up with an idle fist, twisting to stare at his new friend. “I know you said you were tied to the human realm or whatever, but…”

“I guess it has more to do with being tied to the aos sídhe,” said Adrien. “Like… it knows it’s important to me, and since the realm like, acknowledges me—it tries to help. As a mundane human child, Bridgette didn’t really register, so it was like, why do the extra work? If that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t,” Alya put in.

“Well, I don’t know,” said Adrien. “It’s like, uh—blood types. If somebody puts the wrong kind of blood in you, your body’s like ‘uh, what the hell,’ you know? So I can sort of work with the magic of the realm, whereas a human kinda confuses it—or pisses it off, depending what they’re trying to do.”

“So if I were to go to your sídhe and try to cast a spell, I’d get zapped?” asked Marinette, raising an eyebrow.

“I wouldn’t say zapped,” he hedged, “but yeah, there’d be some sort of consequence. Could be as minor as the spell not going full power, could be a flash flood. It varies. Actually, depending on what the deal is with your ‘things,’ you might have consequences just for being there—”

“Seriously?” she asked sourly, making a face. “No wonder you’d never had a sleepover, if your house is gonna try to kill people.”

“There is one foolproof vaccine,” Adrien purred, seizing his chance. “A contract with one of the aos sídhe, say—a dashing familiar?”

Marinette’s mouth clicked shut, while Nino burst into laughter. Alya had the decency to try and smother her giggling.

“Just, uh—something to think about,” said Adrien, awkwardness overcoming him as he lost his nerve. Marinette ducked her head to retrieve something from her bag, (or to avoid making eye contact with him). “I—I mean, there are lots of benefits—”

THWOOM.

Adrien stiffened at the sudden sound in the courtyard, his fur bristling. Nino and Alya copied his stance, whirling instinctively to face the noise, tense, magic flaring around them so sharply that Adrien could feel it.

The wall to the courtyard buckled inwards, glass showering the classroom as the scream of ripping metal filled the air. Children shouted, some diving for cover, but for most it was too late, and the consequences of the explosion took effect.

Adrien was thrown off of the desk and against the far wall, spine twisting automatically to help him land. He immediately ducked under a chunk of cement, growling wordlessly at his surroundings.

Some of the desks had been toppled, and everything had been pushed against the far wall, including most of the students. The concussive sound and resulting shrapnel seemed to have knocked about half of them unconscious—he and the others with animal instincts had made it out, while Marinette’s fortuitous timing meant she’d dodged the worst of the blast. Maybe it was that luck she’d mentioned.

A lucky duck. Heh.

The ghost was floating anxiously beside a crumpled Rose, while Alix and Ivan were straightening with small groans.

Adrien staggered a few paces out from the pile of debris, to where Marinette was hunkered under her desk, Alya beside her. Nino had been thrown into the aisle, but was similarly scrambling to get to their friends.

“What the hell?” he asked, voice shaking as he pulled Adrien nearer, picking him up so he wouldn’t walk on the glass. “What’s going on?”

“Angry,” Marinette whispered, eyes locked on the hole in the wall that revealed the courtyard. “Cheated, jealous—mostly angry.”

“This was a person?” Alya demanded, her hands fisted into the fabric at Marinette’s shoulders.

“I—I don’t know,” said Marinette. “It’s—”

“I,” announced an unfamiliar voice, echoing through the courtyard and their ruined classroom, high and nasally and unpleasant, “am Stormy Weather.”

[underwhelminggalaxy-blog]

Rant Corner #3

Ah, it is that moment in time again. Where I waste everyone's time by pretending to be dramatic for this opening. I won't be dramatic this time because this entire rant is going to be bloated with me being a dramatic asshole. Double Chocolaty Chip Frappuccino (But Also Me and Starbucks in General)

You ever just been so tired that you would sacrifice your first born to some kind of witch or demigod if it would just get you five extra peaceful minutes in your day to sleep? 

That was me this morning.

See, I stayed up until 4 in the fucking morning on a day I have to get up at 8 on. Oh yeah, I'm that kind of stupid asshole. Getting out of DnD at 2:30 and arriving home only to be pulled into the circulation of Tumblr for an hour and a half. Why didn't I go to bed as soon as I got home you may ask? Because my brain has selective insomnia and I don't get to pick the times. 

It was fine, kind of. 

I almost made it through my 3 hour long boring Astronomy class, and then I started dragging. We have a Starbucks in my school and I thought "screw it, I'm so tired I'll give into these terrible money grabbing buggers", except it was more "ScRw IT, NEED ENERGY" because my brain isn't terribly wordy that early in the morning on a good day.

So, I look up what drinks taste the least like coffee, but still have a kick because surprise upon surprise, I hate coffee. It gives me heartburn, I crash too fast, and it tastes like Satan needed a protein shake to continue being evil in the afternoon. Oh yeah, but my google search decided to exclude that much needed caffeine fix. 

Let me tell you about this awful ass drink which I put up with for almost 40 minutes. 

Grande. Anyone who has taken Spanish knows that Grande means Large. Everyone except for Starbucks. You know when you go up to the counter for the first time and order a drink with all the confidence of a kitten about to hurl itself out a three-story window? Yeah, and then they ask you what size and you're dithering because you've heard Starbucks doesn't know what a small, medium, or Large is because it's too special to follow the conventional sizing equation. You see the word 'Grande' on the menu and think "well, I don't need that much coffee but at least I'll get my money's worth". HA. HA. HA. 

No you won't. A Grande in Frappuccino Land would not fill up one of my standard mugs at home. I paid 5 bucks for this stupid cup of tiny that dares call itself a Grande, and they expect me to be grateful.

You know, maybe I would have been if there was any actual caffeine in the damn drink, or at least a pleasant flavor. Neither of these things existed.

It turns out that any caffeine in this drink comes from the freaking chocolate. 10 MG in a Grande. Which I had the amazing hindsight to look up AFTER I BOUGHT THE FREAKING THING. Here I am sucking on this straw trying to imagine I'm drinking anything, but the abomination I decided to order and I get smacked with this truth fact. 

Oh my rage was truly something to behold. I screamed, raged, and threw the biggest fit in my head. Truly a ragegasm to beat all other forms of rage I have ever gone through on this blog and in real life. I was so livid I ended up texting my best friend and couldn't release the throttle on my CAPS button for even a second of reprieve. Mind you I was texting on my phone and was angry enough to keep reengaging my CAPS to screech. 

Of course I wouldn't want to deprive anyone here the hilarity of seeing my stupid yelling, so I took some screenshots for y'all. (Yes, I'm aware how stupid this all is. I think that's the point of these rants, so everyone can see how ridiculous I am.)

Alright, so let's go back around to the flavor of this horror fest. Keep in mind there was no damn coffee in this thing. So, logically it shouldn't take like mutilated beans set to roast over a volcano with no temperature gauge, right? HA. HA. HA. 

How does a drink with absolutely no coffee in it taste so much like coffee? The main ingredient was chocolate, in fact it was double chocolate! Yet, that prevalent taste of coffee still stole itself away on my taste buds. 

This is also an iced drink so reason holds that it should taste better cold. That I should be worried about it melting as it would destroy the amazing flavor palette. Ya know, maybe I would have been worried if the drink was actually good. For the most amusing twist of all time, the drink actually tasted better warm. Melted and it was bearable to choke down my gullet like a reluctant baby bird eating a plastic ring. 

It goes without saying that I didn't finish the damn drink. Oh trust me I wanted to. 5 bucks is a lot of money to a community college student, and I wanted to lick the cup clean. I just couldn't bring myself to drink more than 3/4. Never before I have been so disappointed in my ability to finish something for money. 

Once I had dumped the retched drink into the nearest garbage can I felt freed from its grasp. Even as my wallet screamed for mercy when I bought myself a coke. Hell yes 34 mg of caffeine, save me from the zombie-like state that allowed me to wearing a bright red shirt and bright jade basketball shorts to work. With luchador cat socks to top off this disaster of an outfit.

The best thing about this entire experience was the Coke. If only because I paid 1.50, it tasted like it should, and I am now awake enough to write this rant. 

Five Dollars. Unbelievable.

[recentanimenews]

Everybody Hates Death Note

That anguished sound you’re hearing? That’s the collective howl of a thousand Death Note readers reacting to Netflix’s brand-new film adaptation of the phenomenally popular manga, which debuted last night. The project was controversial enough to attract interest from major media outlets like Variety, The Guardian, The Hollywood Reporter, and The New York Times. While many news organizations have been kinder to Adam Wingard’s movie than rank-and-file fans, critics more knowledgable about the source material have taken issue with Wingard’s efforts to transplant Tsugumi Ohba’s story from Japan to Seattle.

Writing for GQ, for example, Joshua Rivera praised Wingard for his diverse supporting cast — brilliant detective L is played by Lakeith Stanfield — while noting that the Americanized Light “is an angry, disillusioned young white guy who might as well be a faceless Redditor who gains the power to kill people via forum posts.” Other reviewers — such as Forbes critic Dani Di Placido — took issue with the way that Ryuk was reimagined as “a malevolent force, pressuring Light into murder and pursuing his own private, twisted agenda.” Di Placido noted the strong contrast between Wingard’s interpretation of Ryuk and Tsugumi Ohba’s original creation:

In the original, Ryuk is simply bored. That’s it. That’s his motivation. He hangs around in the world of death, bored out of his mind, until he decides to give his Death Note to a random human and just … see what happens. To his delight, the tense game of cat and mouse that ensues is the most entertaining thing he’s ever witnessed.

Ryuk is supposed to be a spectator, just like the audience, standing beside Light and giggling at the human’s plans. He doesn’t have a horse in the race – he just likes eating apples and watching the chaos unfold. I really loved that aspect of Ryuk, and again, it’s a shame that his character had to fit the Western perception of demonic entities.

Roger Ebert contributor Brian Tallerico was less charitable in his assessment than Di Placido, awarding Death Note a measly one star rating and arguing that “it doesn’t feel like any of these alterations to the source material, and there are many of them, had true artistic or thematic purpose.” His sentiment was echoed by BGN critic Jamie Broadnax in her aptly titled review “I Watched Death Note So You Won’t Have To,” in which she catalogued the film’s myriad problems, from frantic pacing to an ill-conceived love story. Broadnax’s most trenchant comments, however, addressed the race-bending of the story’s principal characters:

…the whitewashing of Death Note is problematic as hell and it was even more egregious to see Asian actors used more for set dressing than actual principal characters. And as much as I love LaKeith Stanfield and I stan for most of what he does, racebending L and listening to him speak very bad Japanese is not enough for me to forgive the whitewashing of Light Yagami.

Also addressing the whitewashing issue at length was Pajiba’s Kristy Puchko, who shared Broadnax’s frustration that the film’s Asian American actors functioned more as props than people:

Wingard transported the story from Japan to Seattle, then decided to cast white actors in the two lead roles of Light and Mia. (Because people of Japanese heritage don’t live in Seattle?) “Kira” is still used as a pseudonym as it means “killer” in Japanese, but it’s presented as a misdirect to keep the cops off Light’s trail. Yup, the white hero is hiding behind an assumed Japanese identity. Aside from supporting character Watari (Paul Nakauchi), the greatest representation for Japanese actors is the slew of dead yakuza members, and their molls, who are clad in skimpy lingerie, dead or alive.

I give the last word to Anime News Network’s Jacob Chapman, who joined his fellow cinephiles in panning Death Note while arguing that Wingard’s film has a unique integrity:

It’s hard to imagine Death Note aficionados being pleased with something so flagrantly disrespectful to its source material, but there’s still reason to rejoice in the specific flavor of badness we were gifted. Rather than being dull or disposable, Death Note 2017’s desire to be different no matter the cost gives the movie its own maverick charm, inimitable by the flood of safe remakes we forget one week after they hit theaters. (Lookin’ at you again, Ghost in the Shell.) There’s a trashy kind of triumph that rises from the uniquely poor decisions holding Death Note together, and every fan should watch it just once for a one-of-a-kind example of how adaptations can go wrong.

If you’re in need of a palette cleanser, VIZ has you covered: on September 5th, the publisher will release a 2,400-page Death Note omnibus for a wallet-friendly price of $39.99 — which, as the folks at Gizmodo helpfully observed, translates into a per-pound cost of $1.50. As an added incentive, VIZ will include a new epilogue chapter that hasn’t been published in English before. Pre-order it here.

By: Katherine Dacey