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writing-red · 4 years

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The Onyx Ring | 6

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Chapter six of the Silver Letter series. It’s their sixth year, Draco and the reader are placed in an arranged marriage by their pureblood families, expected to follow through they navigate their feelings for each other amongst the many other social pressures at Hogwarts.

Warnings:

Word Count: 8.2k

A/N: So, I am middle-eastern and I rarely find the opp. in fics for that to fit, and since I talk about family history in this chapter I wanted to make the reader’s ethnicity open ended. Just keep that in mind when the reader’s family history comes up. Also note that I made some changes here and in chp. 5 to incorporate titles because I can ;)

You spent Wednesday and Thursday holed up with Draco in his room healing. The wounds on your back pertinent and angry; the pain there to remind you of your sins against the family no matter what you did or what you took. Not only that but you knew the scars he left would last, layered atop the old. In order to gain some privacy, Draco had told Narcissa that you’d broken your leg and that you were just waiting on the potion to do its job, it usually took two to three days, so the lie served its purpose, and Narcissa left you both alone in order to allow you to heal. The entire time you virtually didn’t leave Draco’s bed, he’d go to your room if you wanted a book or a particular sweater, although admittedly, you were using the situation as an excuse to wear Draco’s. Zilsey would bring you both food and magically tend to your wounds so that Draco wouldn’t have to risk getting in trouble for using magic outside of school.

Throughout Thursday, you laid in Draco’s arms as he read your classic muggle books aloud to you, although you were keen on forcing him to read your favourite, Pride and Prejudice. Less because you wanted to read it, which you certainly did, but more because you wanted him to read it.

“‘Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.’

‘Which do you mean?’ and turning round he looked for a moment at Elizabeth, till catching her eye, he withdrew his own and coldly said: ‘She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humour at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.’” Draco paused after reading the section aloud

“Mmm,” you breathed as you looked up at him. “Why have you stopped?”

“Well, doesn’t he know that Elizabeth can hear him? I mean, that’s quite rude,” Draco huffed, and you giggled despite the pain it caused in your ribs.

“Draco, it is just a story,” you smiled, amused by his investment so early into the novel.

“Yes, but Elizabeth is clearly too good for him,” he said, still frustrated with the fictional Mr. Darcy’s actions.

“Merlin, I wonder how she feels,” you teased him, lightly referring to your own situation.

“I wasn’t ever this mean to you,” he huffed.

“Draco, don’t challenge me on this. As you will indeed lose. Now, unless you want such a lecture, I suggest that you continue reading,” you said playfully.

“Is that all I am to you, an audible library?” Draco asked, mocking pain.

“Yes, dear, that is the only reason why I lie here so that I can use you for that deeply, handsome voice of yours.”

“Fine then,” he said as he returned his gaze to the book. “Mr. Bingley followed his advice. Mr. Darcy walked off; and Elizabeth remained with no very cordial feelings toward him.”

“Draco,” you interrupted, your voice plainly displaying that you were not paying attention.

“Yes?” he asked, looking away from the book again.

“Come here,” you muttered as you propped yourself up on your elbows in an attempt to get closer to his lips.

“Are you trying to distract me from Jane Austen with physical affection?” he asked, sounding as you had truly hurt his feelings.

“Just one?” you asked, “Then I will let my library get back to his very important duties.”

“Fine,” he huffed as he leaned down and caught your lips with his. The kiss was warm and pleasant, and it made you forget about your pain for a moment as you were happy to lose yourself in his soft lips. “Is that what you wanted?” He asked after you both pulled away.

“Precisely,” you said, an entirely satisfied smile gracing your face.

“Good,” he said, smirking, but glad to see you in such good spirits considering you spent most of Wednesday in and out of panic attacks and nightmares. It pained him to see you in such a state, yet it comforted him that he was able to be there for you through it.

You lowered yourself back down and laid your head on Draco’s thigh as he cleared his throat and continued reading. “She told the story, however, with great spirit among her friends; for she had a lively, playful disposition, which delighted in anything ridiculous.”

The two of you spent the rest of the day reading, Draco pausing anytime he had questions or a vote of confidence for Elizabeth, becoming increasingly excited by Lizzie and Mr. Darcy’s interactions. While you continuously had to remind him that you did not intend on spoiling the book for him. You found it interesting how things had shifted between the two of you since just yesterday; you didn’t know that you’d had it within you to trust him the way that you suddenly did. You were sure that you would hate him till you were on your deathbed, and you had been determined to push away any feelings for him. Somehow you now found yourself laying in his lap, essentially trusting him with your life, your secrets, and your traumas, essentially handing your heart to him on a golden platter. And you were nervous to go back to school, that the petty drama, secrets, sneaking around, and lies would return to your relationship, but you refused to dwell on that for the time being.

Friday morning, while you were still asleep, Draco snuck out of bed to find his mother, he was determined to protect you from your parents, and after what they did to you, he didn’t want them back in his house. Aside from the wedding, he didn’t want them around you at all. He was sure that if he told his mum the truth about what happened, she would feel the same way. Draco dressed and made his way downstairs to the kitchen, where he knew his mother would be. Since his dad has been in Azkaban, she had stopped eating in the dining room instead, taking her breakfasts early in the kitchen.

“Mother,” Draco greeted as he entered the kitchen.

“Draco dear, how is Y/n’s leg?” Narcissa asked, setting down her copy of the Daily Prophet when she noted her son’s entrance.

“That’s what I was hoping to speak with you about,” he said as he leaned against the kitchen island. “Leave us, elf,” he assumed the traits he was raised to bear easily around his mum, and Zilsey quickly skittered out of the kitchen.

“Is something wrong?” She asked.

“Well, she didn’t break her leg mum, Wednesday when Sir Y/l/n pulled her away from lunch, she didn’t trip and break her leg, her father beat her nearly to death, he used the splitting curse on her, she had nearly bled out by the time I found her,” Draco explained. “Now, I don’t want either of them over again except for the wedding, and even then, I don’t want them having any contact or control over her.”

“Draco, it is not our place to interfere in the way William and Layah choose to discipline their children,” Narcissa said, hiding the pain she felt for her future daughter-in-law with complete neutrality.

“Excuse me? You’ve got to be joking! You should see her back; it’s been ripped to shreds by that bastard, she’s got a bloody scar reaching from her eye to the bottom of her face, and no potion or spell has been able to get rid of it,” exclaimed Draco in anger.

“Draco,” Narcissa warned, her voice remaining low and quiet.

“Don’t do that. Just because you can’t stand up for me when father reprimands me doesn’t mean you have to let the same thing happen to her.”

“Draco,” Narcissa repeated, her voice tighter this time, rising from her seat. “If her parents have decided that she has done something that demands scolding, then they will handle that as they see fit. It is not our place to interfere. And you shall not be referring to your future father-in-law with such language.”

Draco pushed the tears that were pooling in the back of his eyes away, he refused to show such weakness in front of his mother. “How could you simply turn a blind eye to this?” He questioned. When he was met with dead silence, he nodded, “I see, mother, I will be retiring to my room then,” he said, turning to leave.

“Before you go,” she said, stopping her son in his tracks although Draco did not turn to face his mother. “I expect you to propose to Y/n using the family ring tomorrow night as is expected in our families traditions, I believe you have the ring?”

Draco simply nodded in confirmation before striding out of the kitchen.

Narcissa remained standing with her head held high, only collapsing into her seat when she was sure that Draco was half-way back to his room. She pushed all thoughts of the torture you endured at the hands of your parents, her friends, out of her head.

When Draco made his way back to his room, he found you out of bed and nowhere to be found, which he thought to be a bit worrisome.

“Y/n?” He called.

“I’m in your closet,” you called, and he let out a sigh of relief and collapsed onto his bed.

“It sounds like you’re feeling better,” he commented, although you could hear the distress in his voice.

“I am, it still hurts, but it’s nothing I haven’t felt before,” you said as you stepped out of his closet in a perfectly oversized white knit sweater of his and one of your pairs of jeans. “Although it sounds like you have something going on, does it happen to have anything to do with where you disappeared to this morning?”

“I just had a conversation with my mother,” he said as he dropped his head into his hands.

You sat next to him and put a kind hand on his shoulder, “do you want to talk about it, or do you want to go walk around the gardens?”

“Let’s get outside, the sun is out, and it’d be nice to show you around out there,” he said as he met your eyes and matched your smile, trying his best to put his conversation with his mum out of his head.

“Sounds lovely,” you said as you stood up and reached a hand out to him.

Draco took your hand and stood up, but before he really could think about anything, he pulled you into a tight embrace, only knowing that he wanted to hold you as close as he could.

The hug surprised you at first, taking you off guard, but after a moment, you felt yourself melt into his arms, your two bodies fitting perfectly with one another’s as if you were meant to hold one another. He rested his head on your shoulder and continued to hold you, you could feel his desperation, and you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t be the one to let go. Although eventually, he slowly released you, taking a moment to observe you and take in your beauty.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice now somehow lower.

You simply nodded as he took your arm in his and the two of you made your way downstairs and out onto the platform that led out into Malfoy Manor’s extensive and stunning gardens. Despite the beautiful spectacle displayed before you, again, you were affronted by a cold and unnatural thing. The gardens and mazes were filled with the darkest colours nature could serve, and overlooking them were statues of cruel-looking men whom you often found stalking around in the portraits within the manor, and each of their statues was accompanied by snakes and peacocks.

The two of you silently descended into the gardens, and Draco led you into the towering maze.

“I used to run around through here when I was little. I know it like the back of my hand,” he said as he led you down one of the forks in the maze. “I don’t think anyone else in my family knows it so well.”

“It’s intimidating,” you admitted, to which he responded with a nod. “This whole place is.”

“I think they built it like that on purpose,” he admitted, leading you down another twist in the path. “Apparently, the first Lucius of our family acquired the land, and when Queen Elizabeth I rejected his hand in marriage, he retired from court and focused on the building of the manor.”

“My great-grandfather burned any proof that our family ever fraternized with muggles, although I’m sure they were title obsessed back when they could be. However, I do know that our family didn’t come to England until 1889.”

“Our families certainly are interesting,” he said with a certain level of distaste.

Since your first year, Draco had proudly boasted that his family was better than so many others, something you had always despised about him. Therefore, it amused you to see him refer to his family in any way that didn’t display reverence. You would continue with the topic, but you were sure that the trees could hear you.

Draco continued to lead you through the maze until you found yourself in a peaceful little clearing covered in an assortment of small wildflowers, the clearing resembling a small meadow, and with the clouds gone and the sun shining, you found it to be particularly lovely. In the middle lay a blanket, a basket, and a series of foods and teas laid out.

You looked over at Draco once you registered it, “How in the world did you manage this?” You asked in disbelief of what was before you.

“House-elves are pretty crafty, Y/n,” he said, a proud smirk rising to his face, and you shook your head as you laughed.

He led you over to the blanket, where a floor pillow was situated amongst all of the treats. “Draco, this is too much,” you said as he sat down on his own cushion.

“Impossible,” he said, his smirk returning to his face. “Entirely impossible to be ‘too much’ when it comes to you, darling.”

The two of you broke into the expertly prepared food and tea as you continued talking about whatever came to mind, Draco complimenting you at any opportunity he found, about how the sun made your eyes sparkle, how he loved your laugh, and so on; and with every word he spoke to you, you found yourself falling further in love with him. His voice was a perfect melody you wished would never stop playing, his eyes twinkled when you were around, and he just had you absolutely entranced. And what was even better than watching his perfectly crafted hands pour you tea was watching him finally open up to you. For a while now, you had firmly believed that there was something more to him, that he was hiding his real self from you, and now you finally had proof. You planned on talking about it more when you got back to school as you were both afraid that the walls, the trees, and the paintings were listening in on you, but you were excited to see Draco Malfoy turn into the truly good person you knew existed within him. The person that existed out of his parents control.

As you finished eating, Draco placed all of the dishes into the basket before you, exchanging them for your still unfinished copy of Pride and Prejudice. Excited, you laid down with your head in Draco’s lap, basking in the sunlight, which you hadn’t seen since you left school, as he cracked open the book and begun to read. You only had a few chapters left, and you were quite excited for him to reach the end of the novel.

You listened attentively as he read; as always, you were able to refuse yourself the indulgence of listening to him speak, “Her father had most cruelly mortified her, by what he said of Mr. Darcy’s indifference, and she could do nothing but wonder at such a want of penetration, or fear that perhaps, instead of his seeing too little, she might have fancied too much,” Draco read, turning the page and moving on to the next chapter. You cracked a smile, knowing that he would just adore what was to come.

“‘If you will thank me,’ he replied, ‘let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you.’” you were excited by the joy and intention Draco was carrying in his voice, almost as if he had read ahead and practised, but when he skipped ahead a line, you knew something was up, “‘You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.’” Draco read as he delicately placed a silver ring decorated with curving leaves and set with a small amber gem in the centre on the top of your hand, which was resting lazily on Draco’s calf.

In contrast with the warm sun, the cold metal shocked you as you realised that he was using Jane Austen to propose to you. Draco closed the book while keeping his thumb in between the pages as to not lose your place. He looked down at you with a smile that rivalled even the sun.

“My mother is going to make me propose in front of your parents during Christmas dinner,” he admitted as you rose into a sitting position and twisted to face him, immediately making and maintaining eye contact. “I wish we could wait, that we could have more time but, I have fallen too hard for you to allow anyone to force me to propose to you, you don’t deserve it in the least, and this is a moment that our parents shouldn’t be allowed to control.”

You placed the ring between his thumb and forefinger of his right hand and then guided it onto your ring finger on your left hand. “‘Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances.’” You quoted the passage from memory in response to Draco, and as a way to say yes to his proposal. “Thank you, Draco, and I want you to know that if the situation had been different, I still would have said yes.”

Despite his bright smile, a tear slipped from the platinum-haired boy’s eye, startling you. You really hadn’t ever expected to see Draco Malfoy cry, even a solitary tear.

“Draco, dear, what’s wrong?” you asked as you wiped the tear away with your thumb, leaving your hand to rest on his cheek.

“Y/n, you’re being forced to marry someone who could get you killed,” he said, his voice lowering and becoming melancholy.

You sat up and turned to face him, taking his hands in yours, “It’s the opposite, you’re the one saving me from my parents. I don’t know what you mean,” you said, concerned at his sudden change in demeanour.

“He knows, he knows that I love you, and he’ll kill you if I don’t do what he’s asked me to do,” Draco said, his eyes cast down.

“Who, Draco?”

“Voldemort,” Draco whispered, barely audible. “He’s demanded that I kill Dumbledore by the end of the year in order to make up for my father’s mistakes at the ministry,” he admitted. “And if I don’t do it, he’ll kill you.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you processed what Draco told you, all of Harry’s theories finally making sense. Even more so, all of Draco’s nerves and mood swings over the year finally coming to light, why he had been so hesitant to admit his feelings for you, his possessive nature finally making sense.

“Y/n, you’re so good, such a good person,” he said as another tear slid down his cheek. “You are so much braver than I am. You were able to denounce all of this while I let them turn me into one of them.” You felt the pain in his voice resonate in your chest. “While I terrorised you and your friends, and even now as I plan to murder our headmaster, you continue to find a way to show me more kindness and love than I have ever experienced.”

“Draco, I love you, and you’re wrong. You aren’t them,” you whispered as you gestured to the manor. “If you were, you would have left me to bleed under my father’s boot. You wouldn’t have tried to protect me from him,” you said as you placed your hand on his shoulder. “I know that what you’re doing comes not from a place of evil but from necessity and that all will be right in the end because we will find a way to come out on the right side of the war. I promise that as long as we have one another, things will be okay.” You promised with all sincerity. “Now, the sun is setting, and it’s about to get frigid out here. I say we head back up to your room, and I finish reading Pride and Prejudice to you.”

“I thought that was my job,” he said, the smile slowly returning to his face.

“Well, I think that it is fair of me to want to cheer up my fiancé,” you said, matching his smile.

“Admittedly, I’ve wanted to hear your Mr. Darcy interpretation,” he teased.

“I don’t think it’ll be half as good as yours,” you admitted, glancing down at the ring on your finger, which wasn’t a symbol of the life you were losing but the love you were gaining. “Thank you for this, Draco.”

“Anything for you, my darling,” he said as he reached a hand out to you, which he used to pull you up to your feet and into a kiss in which you melted into Draco. His lips were still warm from the sun and so soft on yours. When he pulled away, you sighed from the loss of touch, yet also in satisfaction.

You collected the remnants of the picnic, along with the book, which suddenly held so much more value in your eyes, and you followed Draco out of the maze and back to the Manor. You were so engrossed in your thoughts and in Draco that you completely forgot about the other residents of the mansion. Although, you were swiftly reminded as when you entered through the large, French style, doors you were affronted by a stoic-faced Narcissa occupying the centre of the room, clearly anticipating your return.

“Good evening, Narcissa,” you greeted warmly.

“Good evening,” she returned coldly. “Glad to see that your leg is better,” she said despite the terrible red scar that now obviously occupied your cheek. “Since tomorrow is Christmas, and essentially our final day together, I have the day planned to the minute. Throughout the morning, we shall be finalizing wedding plans, which require both of your thoughts. Then Draco, you will have time to complete your errand before you return to get ready for Christmas dinner with the Y/l/n’s. Sunday, the two of you will pack and prepare for your return to Hogwarts. We start our day at precisely eight.”

“We will see you at the dining table at eight then,” Draco matched her tone, clearly unfazed by his mother’s sudden coldness, which had uniquely caught you by surprise. This was a side of the woman you hadn’t seen yet.

“Good night, Narcissa,” you said, trying to push aside your shock as Draco pulled you out of the entryway and upstairs to his room.

When you made it inside, Draco closed the door behind you and looked you dead in the eyes, “tomorrow, you don’t get a second of alone time with them. No matter what, I’m by your side.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” you smiled grimly, and he sighed in relief. “Now, lay down, dear. We have a book to finish.”

The two of you cuddled up into one another’s side as you finished reading the book aloud. To your satisfaction, just as you finished the book, Draco started prompting you to softly run your hands through his perfect platinum blonde hair, which in the days without styling or care had begun to curl into soft waves. At some point, you fell asleep with the light still on and your precious copy of Pride and Prejudice open on your lap. Yet, you slept that night without a nightmare or a negative thought, your mind and body entirely at peace wrapped up in Draco’s arms.

You awoke to bright morning light flooding into the room, which startled you as you still felt Draco by your side. You slowly drew yourself up and looked over to see Alexis, your wedding planner standing by your bed, assuming it had been her who had opened the curtains.

“Alexis?” You asked groggily, confused by her presence in your fiancé’s room. “Why aren’t you home? It’s Christmas.”

“Lady Malfoy asked me here,” she said. “She also asked me to retrieve you, miss, as well as Master Malfoy.”

You nodded, “we’ll get dressed and be down shortly.”

She responded with a bow of her head, then she swept out of the room, closing the door fast behind her.

“What in the world was that about?” Draco groaned, eyes still closed.

“Your mother sent the bloody wedding planner up here to wake us,” you said, in complete disbelief of Narcissa’s decision to do so.

“Mm-alright,” he said as he sat up, kissing you on the cheek before sliding out of bed.

“I’m going to slip into my room and grab a dress,” you said as you stretched out your arms before standing.

“Alright, darling,” Draco said as he disappeared into his closet to get dressed himself.

The two of you got ready relatively quickly, donning appropriately formal clothing and descended downstairs and into the dining room together, where Narcissa and Alexis were already talking, papers, linen samples, and photographs spread out amongst tea, fruits, and other miscellaneous breakfast items.

“Good morning,” you greeted as a polite way to announce your arrival.

“Oh, good, we’ve been waiting for you two,” Narcissa said, looking up as you entered the dining room. “Sit, we have a lot to get through.” While she wasn’t as cold as she was last night, she wasn’t the same kind motherly woman who had offered you her dress for your wedding.

You and Draco assumed seats next to each other as Narcissa occupied the head of the table and Alexis sat across from you. Immediately, you were bombarded with questions, confirmations that Draco liked the choices you had made last week, ornate changes Narcissa recommended, and series more decisions you had never considered went into wedding planning. Occasionally, you would lean over to Draco and whisper some joke or terrible comment into his ear, and he would have to stifle his laughter which inherently bothered both Alexis and Narcissa as they were suddenly convinced that neither of you was taking this seriously. As afternoon approached Narcissa dismissed Draco, much to your dismay you were left alone with the two women who buckled down on you the second he was gone.

Eventually, Narcissa dismissed you and Alexis, allowing you to go and change and for Alexis to finally make her way home. Although, you were convinced that she didn’t care about that, instead sticking to her oh-so-important schedule. You made your way up to your room, Draco nowhere to be seen, you slipped into your room where you found the black gown your mother had packed for this exact occasion; it even had a note on it that read, ‘wear for Christmas dinner.’ Not in any particular mood to disobey, you donned the dress. While it did not come with a corset, it was quite tight and held your core in as if it were one. After dressing, you sat in front of the vanity to don the face that would get you through the night. Despite the time you took on your hair and makeup, hoping you would waste enough time so Draco would be ready and you wouldn’t have to face whatever was downstairs alone. However, when you made your way down, you found both the entrance hall and the few sitting rooms to be empty, leaving you to admire the decorations that had gone up in the last hour you had been spending getting ready. Classical music was drifting through the first floor, and the decorations which were already there had been accompanied by more lavish ornaments circled throughout the space, which was almost entirely lit by warm candle-light. Had the manor not been another prison for you, you may have some capacity for admiration of its beauty.

“Oh, well, hello there,” you heard the sharp and twisted voice you hadn’t heard since the battle in the Department of Mysteries.

In response, you shot around to see Draco standing next to his Aunt Bellatrix Lestrange as they were standing in the entryway before you. “Lady Lestrange,” you said, bowing your head respectfully.

“Draco, this is the girl?” she asked her nephew as she crept towards you.

“Yes, Aunt Bellatrix, this is her, Y/n Y/l/n,” he spoke formally.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, ma’am. I’ve been told that you’re a great witch,” you said, your head still bowed. To say that Lestrange intimidated you was a grand understatement.

“Enough flattery, girl, it will get you nowhere,” she said as she circled you, inspecting you.

“Bella,” Narcissa greeted warmly as she descended the stairs into the hall.

“Cissy,” Bellatrix responded, turning away from you to greet her sister.

You used the opportunity to make your way to Draco’s side, Bellatrix’s appearance at the dinner, both shocking and nerve-racking. Having to deal with your parents was one thing; Bellatrix Lestrange was a whole other beast.

“Watch your mind,” Draco muttered in your ear as he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. “She’s a powerful Occlmens.”

You nodded in response, watching as the sisters greeted each other. “How were your errands?” You asked.

“Fine, we can talk about them later.”

“What are we waiting for?” Bellatrix asked her sister, clearly unaware of the plans for the evening.

“The Y/l/n’s, Y/n’s parents are set to arrive in a matter of moments,” Narcissa said. “Then it will just be the six of us, an intimate affair.”

Perfect timing as always, your parents popped into the room through the grand fireplace, green smoke billowing around their feet.

“Hello, Narcissa, Bellatrix,” your father greeted the two witches. “Happy Christmas.”

“Yes, Happy Christmas, William,” Narcissa greeted, her warmth and kindness suddenly flooding back.

“Bellatrix, oh, I haven’t seen you since the summer. How have you been?” Your mother greeted.

“I have been quite well, Layah,” Bellatrix said, a note of sadism to her voice. “Lovely to see you both.”

“Let us make our way to the sitting room. I know we have quite a bit to discuss,” Narcissa said as she eyed Draco, likely referring to the proposal he was meant to make.

Everyone followed Narcissa into the sitting room, sifting out to where they were meant to sit. You and Draco on a loveseat near the Christmas tree, Bellatrix and Narcissa sitting on armchairs adjacent to one another, and your mother and father on a couch together. As you all situated yourselves flutes of champagne appeared at everyone’s side.

“Now, Narcissa I know you said that we weren’t focusing on gifts,” your father spoke up. “But I was thinking, and since Draco is to be my son-in-law, I thought it would be appropriate for me to give him this.” William rose and crossed over to where the two of you were sitting to hand Draco a long, elegantly wrapped, box.

“Thank you, sir,” Draco said, accepting the box.

“Go ahead and open it,” your father said jovially as he returned to his seat.

Draco split the wrapping along the seam, leaving a black jewellery box, opening it he revealed a silver wizard’s watch, the one your father had given to William for his seventeenth birthday. You swallowed your shock, refusing to show the pain that echoed in your heart on your face. Yet, you weren’t surprised at your father using Draco as a replacement for what he killed.

“Thank you, sir. It’ll be an honour to wear this.”

William beamed, twisting his face into a nasty smile, “I’m glad you think so, boy.”

“How kind of you, William,” Narcissa piped.

“Actually,” you chimed in. “While Draco and I were out last week, I picked this up for you. It’s small, but I thought it’d be nice for you to have them for the wedding.” You made your way across the room to hand Narcissa the impeccably wrapped, tiffany blue box. “And Draco got something for you as well, mother,” you said, then walking to her to hand her the black velvet jewellery box.

“Darling, you didn’t have to do this,” Narcissa smiled kindly as she opened the box.

You returned to your spot next to Draco, taking his hand in yours.

Narcissa pulled out the drop pearl earrings, the smile remaining on her face. “Y/n, this is so sweet, thank you.”

“I’m so glad you like them,” you said, returning her smile.

Layah opened her gift, revealing a fine diamond and emerald decorated bracelet that fit into her jewellery collection well. “Draco, this was quite thoughtful of you,” she said, her lack of gratitude bothering you.

“You’re welcome, ma’am,” he said, nodding his head.

“Well, this is quite boring, isn’t it?” Bellatrix chimed in. “It’s a bit of a drag.”

“Is that because no one got you a gift, ma’am?” you asked sarcastically, quickly taking on the ‘ma’am’ as you noticed the gravity of you using such humour in that room.

Silence fell upon everyone in the room, and you could feel your parents sharp glare fall upon you instructing you that you had made a-

A shrill laugh erupted from Bellatrix’s throat, interrupting the concern that fell upon your shoulders, “Oh, maybe I underestimated you, seems you’re not so boring after all,” she said, then continued to giggle, causing Narcissa and your parents to join in with uncomfortable chuckles and false smiles.

“I’m glad you think so,” Draco said, standing up from his spot next to you. “If no one minds I would like to steal this moment to do something quite important.” Once he received looks or nods of recognition Draco turned to face you, bending down onto one knee, he looked up at you and knowing that only you could see his face he shared a bright, kind smile you had only seen when the two of you had been alone. “Y/n Y/m/n Y/l/n, throughout our years of knowing each other, growing up with one another, attending school together I only ever imagined a life with you. When my mother informed me of our arrangement I was overcome with delight at the prospect of joining hands with another great Wizarding family,” You were not surprised by the loveless and prideful nature of the proposal, this was not for you, it was for your father and for his mother. Draco pulled out a ring, something dark, ornate, and clearly ancient. “Now, it is with great admiration for you and your family that I ask you to be my wife,” he said, looking up at you expectedly.

“It would be my honour to uphold the noble name of Malfoy, and therefore the name of Y/l/n, through becoming your wife,” you said, the acceptance taught to you, forced down your throat, word for word by your mother. While you accepted, Draco slipped the engagement ring onto your bare ring finger, the one he had given you yesterday residing on the opposite hand for the time being. As he did so light, polite applause filled the room.

“The two of you do make a handsome couple,” Narcissa smiled, and you couldn’t tell whether or not the curving of her lips was genuine.

“Absolutely,” your mother hissed. “Draco, we are pleased to be inviting you into the family.”

Accolades for Draco, for you, and for the two of you as a couple continued on until dinner was announced. Dinner itself droned on for hours, and drinks afterwards droned on for hours, you felt as if you were a puddle by the time the evening was over. As usual, you spent most of the night silently observing those around you, although Bellatrix would occasionally drag you into conversation in an attempt to read you. The dinner was like the lunch before and the dinner before that, and every, single, individual, societal event you had attended in your life. You yearned to return to Draco’s room fall into his arms and shed the night, the terrible forced proposal, and the stank of society from your shoulders. Eventually and thankfully you did, both of you quick to wish ‘Happy Christmas’ and ‘Goodnight’ to your parents as well as his mother and aunt. Then, of course, swiftly retreating to Draco’s bedroom. Both of you exhausted trading the confining clothing you wore throughout the evening for sweaters and pyjama pants, then collapsing onto the mattress and into one another’s arms.

The next morning you awoke first to find Draco’s arm draped over your torso, and his face nuzzled into your neck. You smiled, happy to see him so peaceful, and terribly sad that you would have to disturb that peace. You slowly started running your hands through his wavy platinum blonde hair, taking in how handsome he looked as he slept.

“Merlin, it’s Sunday, isn’t it?” Draco asked.

“Yes, darling, it is.”

Draco emitted a pained groan and curled his arms around you to pull you tightly into him, “that means I won’t get to hold you like this ‘till June.”

You giggled at his pain, “I’m sure we will find a way, Draco.”

“You know, this is the worst thing about you being a Gryffindor,” he said with distaste. “If you were a Slytherin we wouldn’t have this issue.”

A pleasant smile rested on your face, “Draco, we wouldn’t have this issue if you were a Gryffindor,” you countered.

“As if, Y/n,” he scoffed, you laughed again, and Draco was sure that your laugh could rival the brightness of the sun. He drew away from only for a second so that he could kiss you and experience that brightness for himself. The kiss lasted for a blissful moment before he pulled away to take you in for just a moment.

“You’re beautiful, Y/n,” he said, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.

You smiled up at him, “you’re too nice, Draco.”

“I am the complete opposite,” he countered and your smile widened.

“Come now, we have to get you packed,” you said, gesturing to his closet.

“Y/n, that sounds miserable,” he lamented.

“Darling, as badly as I want to lay in bed with you all day, I also wish to return to school.”

“Fine,” he said, dramatic as ever. “But only because I love you.”

“Thank you,” you said as you planted a swift kiss on his cheek before rolling out of the bed.

It didn’t take you long to get your things together since you didn’t bring much and because most of your things were staying at the Manor considering you were essentially moving in. When you finished, you helped Draco pack his things up, and you were sure to include some of his sweaters which you had come to love so much. After you were both done, you made your way downstairs where Narcissa was waiting.

You stood in front of the fireplace, excited to finally be leaving the terribly dark home. “Narcissa thank you again for having me. I am truly excited to return for summer,” you lied through your teeth, doing your best to make the statement as believable as possible. At the end of the term, you would go to your home for a day in order to pack up whatever you wanted to bring along with you to your new life. From then on you would reside at Malfoy Manor, at the very least until the end of the war, then it would be expected for you and Draco to live alone until Lucius handed the Manor over to his son. Unless of course, the war turned against Voldemort’s favour.

“Y/n, it was lovely getting to know you. I am incredibly excited for the wedding,” she responded and you smiled.

“So am I ma’am, and thank you for including me in so much of the planning.”

Narcissa nodded, a tight smile on her lips.

“Well, you two have a good semester, and Draco, please write,” she said as she brushed her son’s shoulder as many mother’s do.

“Of course, mother,” he said before turning to you. “Y/n, would you like to go first?”

You nodded, “thank you again, Narcissa.” And with that, you stepped into the fireplace with floo powder in hand, “Hogwarts!” You shouted clearly, disappearing in a green cloud with Draco not far behind.

To your surprise, you found yourself in Professor McGonagall’s office. You quickly became aware of your surroundings, and dusted the powder off of your jeans before stepping out of her fireplace and onto her carpet. “Hello Professor, I hope you had a happy holiday.”

“Thank you, Miss. Y/l/n, it was nice, quiet without Mr. Potter around to stir the pot,” she said as she looked up, a warm smile on her face.

“Well he is known for that, isn’t he,” you conceded, knowing you were often a part of the trouble.

“Dear, Y/n, your face, what happened?” McGonagall’s face twisting into concern as she noticed the still fresh raised red scar reaching across your face.

“Oh,” you raised a hand to touch the scar, having forgotten to come up with an excuse for the visibly wound. “Just a freak cooking accident, it seems I-I manage just as much trouble when I’m home as when I’m here,” you said, adding a fake laugh to try and convince her that all was fine, although you were sure she could read right through you.

“Y/n, if you need anything,” she said, her eyes falling on the engagement ring on your finger. “Please feel free to speak to me.”

“Thank you, Professor, I’m going to go unpack now,” you said, wanting desperately to get out of the awkward situation.

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll see you in class Tuesday.”

You nodded, and swiftly left her office, making your way to the Gryffindor common room in the hopes of finding Harry, Ron, and Hermione, knowing you had a lot to explain. When you got to the common room, you were disappointed to discover that you were the first to arrive. You sufficed yourself to grabbing some food in the Great Hall, figuring if anyone was looking for you that would be an easy place to find you. However, your journey downstairs was swiftly interrupted.

“Y/N!” You heard Harry’s voice, and you turned around, excited to see your friend.

“Bloody hell, Y/n, what happened to your face?” Ron asked as you turned to face them.

“Seriously, Ronald?” Ginny scolded her brother.

“No, it’s fine, it was just my father,” you explained. The three of them knew plenty about your parent’s abuse.

“Merlin, he’s never-” Harry started, but you cut him off.

“I know, I’d really rather not get into it, it’s not like it’s a happy memory.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, scratching the back of his head, unsure of what to say.

“Holy shit! Y/n is that an engagement ring?!” Ginny exclaimed, rushing over to you and grabbing your left hand to examine your ring finger.

“Why don’t we go to the common room and we’ll talk about the holiday there,” you said firmly, uncomfortable having this conversation in the middle of a hallway.

“That's probably a good idea,” Harry said, and the four of you made your way back towards the common room, and for extra precaution, you went up to the boy’s dorm which was empty, and thankfully didn’t smell as it often did since the boys hadn’t had the opportunity to stink it up just yet.

“So, how was Malfoy Manor?” Ginny asked teasingly as you all found places to sit around the room, you and Ginny taking Harry’s bed; mutually refusing to trust Ron’s.

“Well to make a long story short, the scar was caused by my father finding our letters, and according to tradition, Draco had to propose to me with our families present, and with his family ring. So, they had him propose last night,” you explained. “Malfoy Manor is a terrifying place, but I have been before,” you thought, and you knew you couldn’t just say that Draco was assigned by Voldemort to murder Dumbledore which is why he had been acting so weird, but you weren’t sure otherwise how to explain to your friends why Draco acts the way he does, and that he really is a good guy.

“What did Malfoy tell your dad about the letters?” Ron scoffed.

“No, of course, he didn’t,” you bit. “My father just spies on me. Draco is actually the reason my father didn’t end up killing me, and he really isn’t such a bad guy.”

“I’m sorry, but there is no way we are talking about the same guy who terrorised us at dinner and announced to the entire school that you were snogging Harry just a few weeks ago,” Ginny countered, and Harry’s face turned beet red.

“We’re talking about Malfoy, I presume?” Hermione asked as she entered the room.

“Hermione!” you greeted her warmly, excited to see her.

“Hello everyone,” she said as she assumed a seat near you. “So, what did I miss?”

Ginny quickly summarised the conversation thus-far, "And I don’t trust Malfoy in the least,” she said, shooting you an irritated look.

“Well I do, and considering it is my life I have no control over, I think that I get to at least decide whether or not I trust him. Anyways he’s proved himself over the holiday, and that’s all that matters, eh?”

“I still think you’re marrying a Death-Eater,” Harry said, confident in his accusation, which you of course knew was correct.

“And what if I am?” you asked. “Harry I am also the child of Death-Eater’s. Not only that, but my parents made it very clear that if I don’t marry him, I’m dead. And wouldn't you rather, when this war happens you have someone on the inside with your interest at heart? Harry I would rather die fighting for a cause than fighting myself.”

Everyone paused for a moment, it was oftentimes easy to forget the gravity of the situation you were all in, but your words made your friends conscious of everything for a moment.

“You all know where I stand,” you said, your eyes were watering, but your voice was firm. “And I intend on fighting with you; I just won’t be able to do so by your side. I assume you already knew that.”

“We just always hoped it would somehow turn out differently, Y/n,” Hermione said honestly. “But of course we understand.”

“Then you’ll also understand that this is likely my last term at Hogwarts,” you said, your voice lower this time.

“Yes,” Harry said quietly.

“So you’ll understand why I want this conversation to end and why I just want to spend time with my friends?” You asked as a tear dripped down your cheek.

Ginny wrapped you in a hug, Hermione quickly joining in, and you wiped the tear from your face. “We love you,” Ginny muttered, and you squeezed her tightly in response.

“What are you two doing over there?” Hermione chided Ron and Harry, ignoring her own tears. “Get over here and join the bloody hug!”

The boys both shook their heads, trying their best to push back their own emotions and joining the three of you in the hug which was quickly turning into a dog pile.

“Anyways, Draco is on our side,” you breathed.

Part 7 - Coming Soon

Tags!

Everything - @sarcasticallywitty15 @fred-love-bot

Silver Letter - @hidejeon @Ravenclawgurl137 @unexpectedly-slytherin @missmercurymoon @herequeerandstressed @lordfxxker@pillowjj@pointlesscoconut @lovelylangdonx @fire-in-her-veinz @morelovemorepeacemoretattoo-blog @oi-itsemily@lukehemmingslut831 @peachybeannn @lovebynorth@bubblesam06@voidnarnia @bethii1 @arthemis-o-negative@roseyrams@treestarrrrrrrr @streetfighterrichie @dreams-in-blxck @psychramt @dracofeltonmalfoy @weasleydream @rottenhexrt@daringvixon @thatguppienamedbae @lord-byron

#draco malfoy fanfiction #Draco Malfoy #draco x reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #the silver letter #red writes #arranged marriage fic #arranged marriage au

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theflashdriver · 4 years

Text

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.

#silvaze #Silver the Hedgehog #Blaze the Cat #sonic the hedgehog #sonic #silverxblaze #Marine The Raccoon #fanfiction #writing

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k7l4d4 · 3 years

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Midnight Striga: Fairy Tail/Owl House Cross Fic Episode 6 Part 6

Hello, and once again, I introduce you all, to a world of fantastic imagination! Welcome, to Midnight Striga!! Everybody Clap Your Hands!!

“Well that was a waste of time.” Amity grumbled, as she and the others broke away from their circles, disappointed at the lack of response.

“Aw, look at the bright side, Ams,” Skara said, slinging an arm over her friend’s shoulder, “At least we gave it a shot, and we’ve had a pretty great time overall, Conjuring or no!” Her peppiness was almost infectious. Scratch that, it was infectious, as a small grin fought its way onto Amity’s face.

“Please don’t call me Ams,” Amity sighed, choosing not to hide her smile. Skara just gave her a cheeky wink.

“But it suits you so well, Ams!” Skara laughed cheerfully, even as Amity gave a good-natured groan. “This is nice.” She said, a look of content on her face.

Amity nodded. “Yeah, it is.” She smiled, before a conflicted look crossed her face. She sighed. “Skara, I’m sorry.”

Skara cocked her head. “Hmm? About what?” She asked.

“That it took you getting hurt for me to start treating you like an actual friend, instead of someone my parents made me hang out with.” Amity confessed, even as the eyes of Skara and the others widened. “I let my issues with my parents define my relationship, and I can’t even begin to say how sorry I am for that. Can you forgive me?” She asked. She didn’t honestly expect to be forgiven, because what she did was nothing less than crappy.

She wasn’t expecting Skara to snort, and laugh in response. “Oh my Titan, is that why you’re always on edge around me?” She asked rhetorically. “Amity, there’s nothing to forgive. We all just got a little look at how… difficult your mom can be, and my family definitely has its own issues.” She explained, lightly pressing her hand against Amity’s shoulder. “While it may have been a lame thing to do, you owned up to it, and were there for me when I really needed you to be, and have done your best to be a real friend ever since. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a great friend.” She finished, pulling a surprised Amity into a hug, which she tightly returned, eyes misting.

“While learning that you didn’t want to be friends with us is a little painful,” Amelia added, drawing glances from Skara and Amity, “Skara’s got the right idea. You may not have been the best friend, but you did what none of us ever has,” She said, gesturing to herself, Cat, and a sheepish Bo and Selena. “You were there for her, and stood by her when she was hurting. You didn’t just walk by and ignore it. You even apologized when you were in the wrong!” She exclaimed, throwing up her arms.

“Yeah, wasn’t expecting to hear that.” Cat said, a sardonic grin on her face. Her face fell into it’s usual stern look. “We all just stood on the sidelines and let Boscha do whatever she wanted, and went along with even her worst ideas. You never did that, even when Boscha really wanted you to. You may have hung out with us, but looking back? It was pretty clear you were only there out of obligation, and you never went along with anything that had even a hint of getting you into trouble. Out of all of us, you were by and large the best.” She stated, a proud gleam in her eyes.

“You pulled Skara out of her funk, and got her to start living again. She was starting to backslide after the Covention, but then you did all this!” Bo exclaimed, gesturing to the party setup surrounding them. “I can never repay you for that.” She finished, bowing.

“I’ve always been a face in the crowd.” Selena stated, her face finally regaining some color after her prediction. “But you took a chance and let me come here. Because of that, I’ve met some really cool people, and had a lot of fun. And while I am now utterly terrified about my imminent future,” Everyone gave her an odd look at that,” for the first time, I can say that I’m living my life without regrets, and I’m going to keep doing that!” She gave a beaming grin.

“Ahem!”

The group turned, looking sheepish at the sight of Gus and Willow standing just a few feet away from them. Skara cleared her throat, blushing. “Um, sorry for ignoring you.”

Gus rolled his eyes. “It’s fine.” He sighed. “Look, Amity?” He began, causing the girl in question to go ramrod straight. “I don’t know you. Not really. I only know what I’ve seen, and some of what Willow’s been willing to tell me about you and her.” He gestured to the two of them, causing both girls to clench their fists in nervousness. “Still, you took a chance and let Willow come here and hang out with all of you. That’s never happened before. So, I’m gonna give you a chance, and while I’ll never forgive you if you mess it up, I don’t think I have to worry about that.” He finished, a half-smile on his face.

“Amity, you hurt me. Badly. In ways that any and all of Boscha’s taunts never could.” Willow said, Amity’s eyes turning to the ground at her words. “But I’ve never hated you over it.” That caused Amity to whip her head up so fast she almost felt her neck hurt. “I was sad, and lonely, and a lot of times I just wanted to scream and scream and never stop! But… I always remembered how, even after we stopped being friends, you never had a real smile. But lately, that’s changed. You’re enjoying life again. And I’m happy for you.” She finished, giving a tearful Amity an honest smile.

“I think we should go check on Luz and the others.” Skara said in a choked up voice, enthusiastic nods following her suggestion. As they walked over to the humans, they instantly took notice of the murderous look sported by Luz and the guards, and Neon’s tear-stained face. “Um, what happened?” Skara tentatively asked.

“Let’s just say that Neon’s dad is an even bigger piece of trash than I thought.” Luz bit out, cuddling Neon closer. She gave Neon a meaningful look. “Do you want me to tell them?”

Neon bit her lip, visibly conflicted, but nodded. “Yeah. If you trust them, it’s okay.”

Luz sighed, unsure if she was relieved or disappointed. Turning to the group, she gestured to Neon’s arms, exposing the heavy bruising covering them. “As you can tell by his handiwork, Mr. Nostrade had a nasty temper, and a liking for using Neon as a punching bag.” She growled, trying to resist the urge to bundle Neon up and scream at them all to leave.

The Witches felt sick. This man, whoever he was, had used his own daughter as an object to take his anger out on? Something to attack and scream at, and blame for whatever problem was plaguing him at the moment? As the sickening feeling built, so too did a surge of blistering hate. “You know,” Willow began, her voice far too casual, “I’ve always wondered how good a living body would serve as plant food.”

“That sounds pretty interesting, Willow,” Gus chimed in, his voice also way too casual, “I’ve honestly gotten invested in this one spell I found. It was apparently based on Grometheus, in that it mines a target’s memory for their deepest fears and most traumatic memories, and traps them in a labyrinth composed of those same memories and fears!”

“That’s fascinating!” Bo chipped in, a toothy grin stretching across her face. “It honestly makes me think of this one spell I read about that forces the body to heal wounds it doesn’t actually have! It’s supposed to be agonizing, ripping the flesh open as extra material and limbs forcibly claw their way out of your skin!” Cat nodded along with her words, a bloodthirsty smile on her face.

“Really? That’s super similar to this one spell I heard of that lets an Oracle summon a spirit directly into a person’s mind!” Selena added, an ominous gleam in her eyes. “It’s incredibly painful, and has a one-hundred percent rate of madness inducement.”

“Personally, I’m rather fond of the idea of using Bard Magic to extract a target’s blood through their pores, deliberately taking as little blood as possible for as long as possible. You know, to really draw the experience out!” Skara chirped, looking far too perky at the mental image.

“Mmm… I don’t know, I think I’d have to go with Willow’s plant food thing,” Amelia maliciously stated, glancing towards Amity. “What about you Ams?”

“Firstly, don’t call me Ams.” Amity said, before an absolutely remorseless grin crossed her face. “And secondly, I always wondered why my textbooks said not to use living beings as Abominations ingredients, and what better way to find out than to test it?” The Witches started cackling, tenting their fingers and rubbing their hands together in malevolent glee. Oh yeah, they would make that monster pay, big time.

“Uuuhhh… are you guys okay?” Luz asked, honestly a little weirded out at the turn the discussion had taken. The Witches blinked, surprised at her confusion, until Amity face-palmed.

“Luz, we’re talking about ways to kill Neon’s father.” Amity bluntly stated, a look of comprehension finally dawning on Luz’s face, along with Neon’s and her guards.

“Oooohhhhhhh!” Luz exclaimed, flushing in embarrassment. “I’m surprised you jumped to that so quickly, not that I disagree, really.” She stated, rubbing her head.

“It shouldn’t be that surprising. Children are precious, and one of the greatest duties a parent can have is to look after them, to care and guide them for their future.” Amity said passionately, a fierce light burning in her eyes. “Of course we aren’t going to stand for someone who treats his children as things to walk away from what he’s done. That is,” She glanced at Neon, who was watching them all with an unreadable expression, “if that’s alright with you?” She asked tentatively.

“Papa never said he loved me. Mama always did. Papa didn’t like it when Mama did that.” Neon stated hollowly, staring into the distance. “I always hoped Papa would tell me he loved me. But he didn’t. I’m never going back. If he has to d-die,” She choked briefly, before soldiering through it, “then I’ll be okay.” She finished, giving a look of gratitude to Luz.

Amity gave a considering look. “Neon, what happened to your mother?” She asked. She felt that she had an idea, but…

“Hmm,” Neon began, pressing her finger to her chin in thought. “Mama and Papa always fought a lot. Mama was always really mad that Papa kept me in my room. She used to yell about leaving. Then, one day, Mama screamed, and I ran out of my room and over to her. Papa said she fell down the stairs and hit her head really bad. I tried to kiss it better, but Papa told me not to, that it was stupid and I was stupid to try it. Mama went to sleep, and never woke up.” Neon finished, a look of sad acceptance on her face. The Witches and Humans all exchanged looks of understanding about what had REALLY happened; Neon’s father had killed his wife, either accidentally or on-purpose, made it look like an accident, and assumed total control over Neon’s life. And with that, they now had another reason to kill the bastard.

“Well then,” Amity stated, her flat tone doing nothing to hide the icy rage in her voice. “If that’s settled, I believe I have a solution for you and your guards’ residency issues.”

Neon and her guards instantly stilled. “W-what makes you think we don’t have a place to live?” Neon nervously laughed.

“I never said you didn’t have a place to live, but thank you for confirming that.” Amity’s reply instantly choked off Neon’s laugh, causing the girl to sigh in embarrassment.

Amity gave a light laugh. “Don’t worry about it too much, afterall, I have a plan.” She gave a daring grin, the type normally found on her mother’s face when she was about to take a high-payout risk. “Simply put, out of all of us here, I am the best equipped to host you and your guards, so it makes sense for you all to stay with me.” She stated, relishing the shock her offer elicited.

“You… you would do that for me?” Neon asked incredulously, a glimmer of hope shining in her eyes.

Amity nodded, now solemn. “Of course. I am the best option, logically speaking, and...” her face screwed up in frustration, “I do owe you for my mother’s conduct earlier, and can use that conduct, as well as your skills and the strength of your guards as a counter-argument for whatever risks or concerns she may use as a reason to refuse.” A calculating gleam peaked into her eyes. “This situation honestly presents a perfect opportunity for loosening some of the… restrictions my mother has placed upon my life. That is, if you aren’t upset at the thought of my offer having such a selfish motive.” She finished tentatively, only to get an annoyed eyeroll from Neon.

“I may not have a lot of ‘weal rorld’ experience, but I’m not a dummy.” Neon stated, lightly thumping her knuckles against Amity’s forehead. “You are still doing something really nice for me when you don’t actually have to. That’s all I need to know.” She pouted, getting an flushed look of reluctant acceptance from Amity.

“Well, if that’s all settled, I think it’s safe for me to share a little tidbit with you all.” Luz said, the Witches puzzled at her mischievous look.

Alador braced his arm, tightening the internals of his project, one ear carefully tuned to his wife’s frantic rantings.

“And it could be the end of it all!! The Blight name, gone for good!! We have to prepare, we have to ensure the children have all the resources they will need to survive the fallout!” Odalia shouted, a frantic look in her eyes. Alador absentmindedly nodded along; he perfectly understood where Odalia was coming from, as the thought of even a fraction of the implications of that prediction coming true being more than enough of a reason to necessitate… drastic actions. Oh for sure, if their back-up plans ever came to light, they would instantly be branded traitors, and most likely be petrified, but that was a risk they would need to take.

“Calm yourself, Odalia.” He announced, feeling a hint of satisfaction peek through as his wife forced herself to center and focus. “While the implications are certainly worrisome, we have more than enough contingencies in place to ensure the Blight name will endure and thrive… no matter who stands at the top.” He stated, an ominous note entering his voice at the last words.

Odalia sighed, forcing herself into her chair. “You’re right dear. It’s just so frustrating! I can’t believe I allowed myself to act so unbecoming in front of the future generation!! What if they tell their parents!? That Porter boy’s father is a reporter, what if they tell the media!?” She ranted, a look of anxious horror on her face. She brought her face to her palms, groaning. “Ugh, and I just know Mittens is going to use this against me somehow, I just know it! Why must she be so ungrateful for the effort we’ve expended to see her succeed?”

“Uh, it may have something to do with you making her wear that stupid Oracle Necklace and choosing her friends for her? You know, just a suggestion. Also, Edric keeps singing off-key in here, and I am THIS close to throwing him out the window!!” Emira’s voice spoke up from the panic room, irritation and amusement coloring her voice.

“~Oh, Butter Town, Like Creamy Streets of Gold!! Oh how we Love you soooo~!!!”

Alador and Odalia blinked at their daughter’s words. “Hmm… you may have a point,” Odalia conceded, before focusing on something far more pressing, “But how would you throw your brother through a window, the Panic Room is a solid block!”

“I have my ways, Mother Dear!” Emira mockingly called back.

“It’s true, she once twisted this one dude from Glandus who wouldn’t take no for an answer so that his face was inserted into his butt! I was watching, and I still don’t know how she did it!” Edric threw in, his voice colored with amusement.

Alador blinked, scratching his chin. “Hmm… that could be an interesting feature for one of my inventions.” He muttered, instantly scribbling the idea down.

“Right!?” Odalia exclaimed, just as intrigued at the idea for one of their self-defense oriented products. She frowned, considering. “Still, I’m unsure just how Mittens intends to use my… earlier indiscretion against me.”

“She could attempt to use it as leverage to allow the Nostrade girl and her entourage to stay here.” Alador stated, calmly resuming his work on the project before him. His wife’s explanations of those… conditional spells were certainly intriguing, and if he could successfully implement it into his line? Oh, the possibilities…

“Yes, that is the most likely possibility.” Odalia conceded, tapping the table in thought. “I merely do not wish to close off alternatives.”

“Perfectly understandable.” Alador replied, lightly nodding as he resumed his work. “Still, whether she attempts it or not, we should move to offer Miss Nostrade shelter.”

Odalia smirked in understanding. “A girl with an incredible talent for prediction and a bevy of loyal guards? We would have to be fools to turn that away.” She chuckled, sipping her tea, only to grimace. It had gone cold.

“I am only understanding half of what you guys are saying, but I’m grudgingly willing to agree with you two!” Emira called out. “Having more bodies around to protect Mittens is never a bad thing!”

“Then it’s settled!” Odalia cheered, her earlier dread pushed aside for the moment. “Whether Mittens pushes for it or not, we will move to have Miss Nostrade and company stay here, under our protection.” Alador nodded in agreement, a faint smirk rising to his face.

“WWWWHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTT!?!?!?!?!?!?”

The two paused, clapping their hands to their ears at the raging shout. Odalia blinked. “Hm, it seems the children learned something rather frustrating.”

“Really mom?” Emira asked through the door.

“Indeed, I am most familiar with such sounds, considering my own experience with making them in response to Edalyn’s childish pranks back in school.” Odalia grumbled.

“I still say you looked adorable in that butterfly costume.” Alador interjected.

“~Oh~! Tell us more!” Edric called, engaging in the conversation at the thought of parental humiliation on the part of the parents for once!

“Alador!” Odalia cried, face flushed.

Eda shouldered her way into the stand, grunting in annoyance. King skipped in after her, warily glancing around the environment. Marching up to the counter, Eda roughly hammered against the counter top with her fist. “Hey, I’m looking for a guy named Grimm Hammer for some potions! Whoever he is, he better get out here now!” She shouted, unconcerned with disturbing someone. If anyone had the guff to complain around a place like this, she’d just knock their head, or heads, off their shoulders.

“Oh, coming, coming!” A higher-than-expected voice called out. As she and King exchanged raised eyebrows, they stepped back, watching as a small, Pig-like demon climbed onto the counter, clad in a dapper little vest. He would’ve looked harmless and charming… were it not for the cold, calculating gleam in his eyes, and the naked greed that danced at the mere sight of Eda. “Oh, and what can I do for you fine individuals today?” His politeness was undercut by the almost menacing undertone, as if he’d been expecting them.

“You’re Grimm Hammer?” Eda questioned. He probably was, but getting confirmation was always best, and it would help her and King get their bearings.

“Yeah, you seem a bit different than what talk made you out to be.” King added. He was totally bluffing of course, they’d heard NOTHING about this guy beyond his name, but the more they could twist out of him, the better of a position they’d be in afterwards.

Neither missed the slight narrowing of the Piggy Creep’s eyes. “Indeed! I am Tibblet-Tibblie Grimm Hammer III, better known as Tibbles!” He explained, grin wide and welcoming, eyes cold and considering. “I must say, I never thought I’d see the day the Owl Lady herself found her way into my humble little shop!” Eda and King instantly smelled a rat; something about this wasn’t adding up, particularly in how he’d side-stepped their little bait to get him talking about himself.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s nice and all, but I’m in need of some potions, and word is you’ve got the kind I need.” Eda brusquely stated.

“Yeah, so fork ‘em over!” King chipped in, trying to make himself look bigger.

“Now, now! There’s no need for such aggressiveness!” Tibbles chuckled, ducking down to retrieve the potions in question. He popped up, a cheerful smile on his face. “And here we go! One stock of Curse-Suppression Potions!”

“Hey that’s great-! Wait a minute, how’d you know what kind of potions we needed?” King questioned, hackles raised.

Tibbles chuckled. “Considering your infamy, very few don’t know about your curse, so there are very few reasons you’d be in search of this elixir for any other reason.” He explained calmly, arching an eyebrow in mocking challenge. King growled, marching forward, only to be held back by Eda’s grip.

“That’s great, really it is. How much?” She asked bluntly, wanting to get as far from this creepshow as she could.

“A thousand snails.” Tibbles stated, an amused grin on his smug face.

“For this whole thing!?” Eda demanded incredulously, eyes panning over the box.

“No. A thousand EACH.” Tibbles grinned, relishing the look of rage building on Eda and King’s faces.

“You slimy little-!” King’s impending death threat was cut off by Eda, whose face was shifting into grave calculation, details clicking into place as she stared at the potions. Her hand whipped out, yanking one of the potions out of the box.

“Hey! You can’t just-!” Tibbles protested, only to reel back at the angered glare Eda sent his way.

“I thought this looked familiar.” She growled, eyes roving the container in her hands. “This is Mort’s work, I’d recognize it anywhere! You bought up his stock to resell at a price hike! That’s low, even by my standards.”

“Hmph! The fool should’ve been more concerned at someone placing such a large order when his most prominent customer is the known bearer of a rather vicious curse.” Tibbles spat, yanking the potion back from Eda. He gave her a glare, grinning maliciously. “I’m honestly surprised no one has attempted this with you before.” He said slyly.

“Most people aren’t stupid enough to provoke the most powerful Wild Witch of our time.” Eda said, honest to Titan murder coating her voice. Her eyes focused on Tibbles sleeve, fixating on an image peaking through. “Hey, what’s that on your wrist?” She asked calmly, a malicious bit of satisfaction slithering to the surface at his face going pale. Before he could scuttle backwards, her arm whipped out again, lifting the little menace off his feet. She roughly yanked back the fabric, staring in hate at the familiar symbol inked into his arm. “Oroboros.”

“Why yes!” Tibbles grinned, abandoning all pretense of civility. “And you should know, this is supposed to be a trap.”

Eda and King blinked, before rapidly turning pale. Before they could respond, a massive blow slammed into Eda’s side, sending her flying. A violent chuckle echoed through the air.

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akechicrimes · 5 years

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it does matter, actually, that goro akechi is a minor. not because this somehow exonerates him morally, or because this somehow makes him not responsible for his actions, but because persona 5 is invested in children as a source of hope for a better future.

once i saw someone complain that people will defend akechi’s murders on the grounds that he’s a child/minor and how they felt that this doesnt excuse multiple counts of murder. and i was like, ok, well, im not sure anyone was excusing him, but alright, sure. and i’ve seen a few rebuttals to that, one of which is that shido and the other adults in akechi’s life had a responsibility to support akechi in such a way that it didn’t come to murder, and of course it’s on shido to just not be a massive dick who endorses fascism and murders in the first place. and i was like ok, well, this seems a little patronizing and dismissive of akechi’s agency and autonomy, but alright, sure.

in a very roundabout way of explaining my first two sentences, there’s one thing that bothers me lately, and it’s selim bradley from fullmetal alchemist: brotherhood.

for those of us not familiar with fma:b, selim, or pride, is the oldest homunculus/artificial human in the show and the second-oldest villain, despite the fact that he looks about eight years old. of the seven homunculus named after deadly sins, selim/pride is the only one to survive the show--with an asterisk, which is that selim gets the “homunculus” part of him erased by the end of the show. with the “pride” aspect of him gone, selim is mortal, without any special powers, without memories of any of his amoral acts, and is generally just a happy, normal child.

which is a weird exception to fma:b’s general rule in which every other homunculus dies. even fan favorites like greed and envy don’t live, despite the fact that greed and envy are far more sympathetic as characters. selim kills multiple people on-screen, shows zero remorse whatsoever, and is an active helper in all the other mass-murders that the homunculi engineer. selim’s not an innocent in any way. also, he’s like, 200 years old? 300? he’s very old. biologically, mentally, emotionally, selim is not a child.

but fma:b goes out of its way to make sure that selim gets a second chance at a future, just because his body looks like a child’s. cut another way, he gets an exception from a large number of terrible crimes, up to an including participation in genocide, just because he looks like a child.

fma:b reminded me that, outside of tumblr’s purity politics over children, and especially so in japan, children are socially constructed in a very specific way, beyond biological age and legal majority cutoffs.

yes, biological age is a thing. yes, legal majority is a thing. i’m not saying that being a child isn’t a biological thing--it is, obviously. but what i’m saying is that there’s a difference between, say, the sex assigned to you at birth and your gender presentation, to use an analogy. there is a such thing as biological age, but the societal status of being a child of a related but separate thing. and this status of being considered a child is a societal construct.

the social construction goes like this, insofar as i’m aware: children should be good and silent and dutiful and work hard and go to school and listen to their elders, and their elders in turn should do everything they can to guide the children to the right path and build a good society for these children to inherit. (if we want more details on this, please see the entire history of filial piety in asia.)

so that’s a social contract right there baked into the social construct of childhood: children don’t have power, but adults have an obligation to make sure they don’t need power, and to make sure that the future and their children’s futures look bright.

children represent the future, essentially. they’re the next generation. they’re simultaneously without legal rights as adults and in a very vulnerable position, for sure, but they’re also simultaneously considered the country’s most precious capital: quite literally the people who will inherit and lead the country next.

which, personally, i think puts a whole new spin on the phantom thieves in general. they’re not just kids who’re being rowdy or kids telling abusive shitty adults theyre being abusive and shitty--or, they’re kids doing those things, but they’re not just kids doing those things. they’re kids who’ve been specifically let down by adults who did not fulfill their social obligation to them. they’re kids who’ve been abandoned and neglected by the very adults who should have been paving the way forward for them, as society has asked those adults to do, because those adults have instead chosen to line their own pockets and cover their own asses.

so the kids said: alright, well, then i’ll take power for myself, and i’ll make my own future. (which is where we get a lot of those promo slogans of “steal back your future” and junk like that.)

sae’s comments about how adults should do their part to fix the world for the kids is just a resolidifying of the way the world “should” work, and we could talk about her comments on the matter, but actually i wanna talk about yoshida.

i especially want to talk about yoshida because yoshida and shido are the two politicians we see the most of, and both of them spend a lot of time reciting political rhetoric to speak to the hearts of the general japanese populace. we all know the way that shido thinks of japan: a large vehicle that one person is in control of, and the masses just compose the throne upon which the ruler sits.

we also already know that yoshida’s a Real G, but it’s worth really close-reading some of his lines. he speaks a lot about apathy, the lack of caring for each other in society--a general willingness to disregard your fellow man, to not uphold one’s social obligation to each other. but he also talks a lot about the “youth”--which is not really uncommon for a politician, obviously, since politicians are always talking about “the children” and “the kids” and “the next generation” and “those damn millennials” and all that shit.

yoshida instead gives us these fun lines:

A world where the young exist only to be exploited... is a world that must be changed!

And while our society appears to be prosperous, many of our young people are quietly suffering. They lack jobs, security, savings... The next generation will lead us into the future and yet they have no plan for how to arrive there.

Passing on the societal ills we have created to the next generation... is not right!

...the current administration refuses to discuss their plans for the future... Can we really accept such an utter lack of transparency?!

If you make a promise, you must keep it. If you make a mistake, you must atone for it. These are basic human principles that we have all learned from the youngest of ages...

yoshida’s entire thing about how the adults have let the children down isn’t just him saying shit--he’s commenting directly on the fact that the social contract has been broken, and he’s putting the blame on the administration for not upholding their responsibility to secure a future for the children, especially since the children are the future of the country.

this is partly why he doesn’t blame the phantom thieves for acting the way that they do; rather, he seems them as a logical reaction to the injustice that’s occurred as a result of the society that the adults have left for them:

I bet [the Phantom Thieves] are a group of young people. Young people who have experienced cruelty and injustice... They bravely face the societal ills that plague our world without thinking of the consequences.

(i think also in part he admires the fact that they’re anonymous and don’t benefit personally from their actions, which is exactly the opposite of what he did as a young politician. he also doesn’t throw the real embezzlement culprit under the bus to exonerate himself presumably for the same principle of desiring selfless public service instead of personal gain.)

in both the early parts of the s link and later on when yoshida starts talking with matsushita more extensively, akira’s important because he’s young--he represents the young demographic that yoshida and matsushita are discussing the future of. akira demonstrating support for yoshida in a public way means a lot because he’s a minor. matsushita asks akira for his opinions on the phantom thieves and other issues because akira is a minor. akira’s opinion is supposed to be heard and valued by adults, who should take his opinions into consideration and do their best to not let him down.

this is tied into the general thread of yoshida being a person who was self-admittedly just as corrupt as everyone else, who was blinded by glamor and fame and money, who got caught up in political scandal. yoshida’s general acceptance of his mistakes as a human being and politician ties over to his general belief that it’s not that the youth are rebellious no-good teens, but that the youth have been let down by politicians like who he used to be. he blames himself, and because he is not too different from the rest of the older generation and politicians in general, he implicates a lot of the older generation and politicians as also blame-worthy.

his quest for redemption and atonement dovetails neatly with his views on the broken societal contract. taken together, yoshida’s s link implies to us the idea that the entire general older generation in japan more or less owes the children of japan a formal apology, and the older generation better get on their redemption arc and start being the vanguard of the change for children:

The reason [the Phantom Thieves are] causing a stir is because they are addressing the world’s problems. Setting aside whether their actions are right or wrong... there is one thing I can safely say about the Phantom Thieves. A belief with conviction... has the ability to move a person’s heart.

I’m sure you are all aware that I am “No-Good Tora,” the one accused of embezzlement. However, because I was accused like that, I was able to understand the suffering of the weak. Why am I in politics? In the past, it was merely for personal gain. But why do the Phantom Thieves continue to change hearts? I believe they do it for the world and its people. And in choosing to do justice for others, they had no choice but to disguise themselves. No matter what the world says, I fully support them.

I’m just an average citizen. However, I will continue to voice my beliefs. I may not be able to become a Diet member this election... and I may not be able to effect change during my lifetime... but I’ve made my peace with that. I will be happy as long as I can be a meaningful stepping stone for the future of our youth!

okay. so that was a lot of close reading about yoshida. why did we do this exercise, tumblr user akechicrimes.

there’s two takeaways from this. the first is the one that yoshida has already talked about extensively, which is that the phantom thieves are just but not because Fuck Cops and Fuck Capitalism and Fuck Anime Jeff Bezos. the phantom thieves are just because the people who are supposed to be upholding society aren’t doing their fucking jobs. the phantom thieves are specifically saying: we’ve been let down by society, so apparently we have to do everything our goddamn selves around here.

(which also ties in neatly to the general “fuck cops” vibe of persona 5 which, i would like to say, is very specifically “the cops are not doing their jobs.” the TV station scene where akira speaks back to akechi is, if i’m remembering this right, maybe the ONLY time we really hear “akira’s” opinion on the morality of his own activities, which is fascinating because he just does these things without ever justifying himself to the player--anyway, his three options are: (1) They’re justice itself, (2) They’re necessary, and (3) They do more than the cops. so akira can’t ever at any point say that the phantom thieves are bad, but his most interesting and detailed answer is to point out that the cops aren’t doing what they’re supposed to do, so who can really blame the phantom thieves for doing what the cops aren’t?)

the second takeaway is that yes, goro akechi does get more leniency because he’s a minor.

yes. seriously. this isn’t a matter of excusing what he did, or downplaying the fact that he committing murder. i’m not saying that he wasn’t old enough to make decisions (although i would never say that he was old enough to make decisions, because he was 14/15 when he got wrapped up in shido’s conspiracy). i’m also not saying that akechi, somehow for some reason, didn’t volunteer himself willingly, because all the evidence points to the fact that he did (although of course “free will” is also highly circumspect considering his living conditions at the time and the fact that shido makes it clear that he was able to manipulate akechi without ever infringing on akechi’s sense of autonomy). i’m not even saying that akechi was driven to the point of murder and had no other choice (although i think that might also be true as well).

what i am saying is that under the construction of childhood as japan’s future and japan’s hope, akechi is considered a valuable member of society, and is therefore worth saving.

or at least he should be.

akechi says that he’s an unwanted child, but “unwanted child,” according to yoshida’s rhetoric (and a lot of japan’s general rhetoric of children as hope for the future) is an oxymoron. (or at least it would be an oxymoron if japan weren’t so fucking hypocritical.) you can’t not want the future of the country. you can’t not want hope for a good future. the very idea that a child could be not wanted or not valuable doesn’t make any sense, because children are the future--in some ways, whether you like it or not, that child is going to inherit the earth when you’re dead.

the kind of person who’d not want those things is--well, shido. (this is why i used yoshida; yoshida and shido are two polar opposite politicians.) shido quite literally does not want a good future for anyone in the country and quite literally does not want akechi and quite literally does not see akechi, one of the very young-person citizens that shido is supposed to be serving, as useful or valuable in any way unless akechi is directly promoting shido’s fame and popularity. shido being akechi’s father is just a very neat and nice way of literalizing the ways that shido, as an adult, has let down akechi as a child--the ways that shido quite literally owed akechi something to make akechi’s life and future better, and instead did everything awful.

there should not ever be a thing like “unwanted child.” that in and of itself, from the start of akechi’s life, was nonsensical. and to the extent that shido being akechi’s father is allegorical of the ways that shido is a terrible patriarch for japan, i would say that akechi, as an unwanted foster child, is just another allegory for the ways that children nowadays are treated as misbehaving, lazy good-for-nothings who have to work themselves into the dirt to be given half the salary and half the praise. akechi, as an unwanted child, is just the personification and representative of an apparently unwanted generation.

what i’m getting at is that akechi’s status as a minor (and yes he’s a minor even if he’s eighteen; age of majority in japan is twenty)--akechi’s status as a minor is a critical part of why akechi gets a shot at a redemption arc. so yes, actually, the other villains or palace-rulers don’t get redemption arcs because they are adults, who had a societal obligation to do better by their peers and by the children of japan. yes, actually, akechi’s informal “trial” in the hands of fandom is to be tried as a minor and not as an adult. yes, i know kamoshida didn’t kill anyone and akechi’s literal crimes are more morally repugnant, but yes, unfortunately, being a minor does actually exonerate him on the morality spectrum to a degree.

being a child matters in the larger scheme of persona 5′s logic of who owes who, who’s responsible for who, and why we should not be apathetic. adults owe children a better future. adults have been letting children down. adults owe every single phantom thief, including akechi, an apology, a better future, and health and happiness; and they owe that to japan’s future not as a matter of exchange or morals, but simple social obligation. adults are supposed to take care of the kids--full stop.

”okay but @ tumblr user akechicrimes?? akechi KILLED people.”

yeah, i know. i said “being a minor does actually exonerate him on the morality spectrum to a degree.”

what degree? no idea. that’s up to you to decide. if you want to play in the black-grey-white morality scale that only goes two ways, you’re welcome to continue to ask “what degree.” we can argue that being a minor somehow reels akechi back from the “black” end of the spectrum into the “grey” or “white” parts.

but (if i may be permitted to go completely off the shits into things that might make people pissed off at me for saying) i implore you to consider that this two-way scale of morality is not the line of thought that persona 5 is pursuing.

this, again, ties back into the social construction of a child. i’ve said “a child is representative of the country’s future” so many times i think it’s lost meaning, so let me dice it a different way: a child is socially constructed as representative of potential and hope. a child is socially constructed as the capacity for things to get better. in persona terms, a child is the fool at the start of their journey, all futures contained in one present, a vast multitude of could-be’s.

for a game very concerned with japan’s general societal ruin, children are not just in the position of having been let down by adults, but are--as the phantom thieves demonstrate--representative of better futures regardless of how terrible circumstances look in the current day. they are a source of believing one day this sad, depressing story might actually end with “and then they lived happily ever after.”

if i may go even more completely off the shits, take a look at this heckler from yoshida’s s link, which is the one that akira speaks back to in the middle of yoshida’s speech:

...I’ve been wrong this whole time. Even though someone has failed in the past, it doesn’t mean that person can’t try again.

this is to say, redemption arcs insofar as persona 5 (and also persona 5 royal, i think) is concerned is not a question of necessarily addressing the wrongs that have occurred. yoshida sets the bar pretty high in that yoshida does not ask for forgiveness for what he’s done, and instead simply accepts his actions and their consequences without attempting to lessen the blow. he embraces what he’s done in all its awfulness.

but because akechi is a a minor, and because akechi as a minor is getting wrapped up in persona 5′s train of thought about kids as the hopeful futures of japan, akechi is at the very least owed a chance to do better. as a minor, japan is societally contracte to give him the space to have the potential to be better and do better. nobody is obligated to forgive him, and indeed neither royal nor akechi ever seem to entertain this as a valid possibility. forgive, forget, reconciliation, retribution, and resolution seem to be all off the table, as if the very idea would minimize haru or futaba’s losses. the very conceit of the dreamworld in P5R wants to shoot down the very idea that the past can ever, to any degree, be fixed, remedied, or even emotionally resolved. akechi will have always killed wakaba and okumura and this fact will always be awful--full stop.

nevertheless, despite the fact that the past cannot be changed, akechi is still a minor. rather than attempting to resolve the issues of the past, akechi is still owed the space to become a beacon of potential change for the better in the future--which is also known as hope.

i’ve said this in other posts elsewhere, but persona games are like, obsessed with hope. they fucking adore that shit. why not? even in difficult times, even when things are terrible and you’re going through misery, if you at least have hope that one day things will be better, that life will change, that the new generation will step up to the plate and make the story have a happy ending, pain becomes easier to bear. and why not? persona games cover a breadth of difficult topics.

especially in a game like P5, which talks at length about modern day japan’s ailments, what good is it if the player walks away with a defeatist attitude that the future will be terrible?

if reality is malleable like morgana says, isn’t the first step to have hope that this is true?

this post has gone on a lot longer than i thought it would. but in any event. that’s why it is valid to say that akechi being a minor “exonerates” him to a degree.

also selim bradley lives because fma:b concurs that children are a hope for a better future and fma:b is particularly invested in this line of thought because it’s a story about edward transitioning from a child to a young adult who is learning about the ways that the world works and is also still just childlike enough to propose that the world shouldn’t have to work in the bloody, awful way that it does. selim is representative that all children should be given as many chances as possible to do and be better because they are representative of potential. if that wasn’t clear. lmao.

#meta #mine

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surveys-at-your-service · 3 years

Text

Survey #406

“turned on all the lights, the tv, and the radio / still, i can’t escape the ghost of you”

Have you ever had an ulcer? No. Do you have any rare medical conditions? I believe AvPD is considered to be a rare mental disorder. Do you have to carry an epi pen? No. What color is your mailbox? I think it's black. I don't pay attention. Would you ever want a job working with animals? I'd love to. The thing is, without a degree in something, my duties working with animals would almost certainly involve cleaning up after them, which I am WAY too squeamish with fecal matter and vomit to do. It's extremely embarrassing, but I've never even been able to clean up after my own pets if they ever had an accident or got sick. I obviously couldn't do it with random animals. Did you have a good high school experience? It's... so odd, retrospecting on high school. In some ways, it was the best time of my life because of my memories with my friends and especially Jason, but at the time, I absolutely loathed it and was horribly depressed. But at least I saw a future for myself. I took better care of myself, all that stuff... That Brittany would be fucking mortified to get a glimpse at who she becomes. Have you ever watched any Monty Python movies? Which one is your favourite? I know I've seen some of at least one. Would you ever get a "below the belt" piercing? Nah. If a couple is married, do you think there should be any legal punishment if one person cheats? No...? Like don't get me wrong at all, I am firmly against cheating under any circumstance, but for there to be legal retribution seems extreme. What is the greatest source of anxiety for you? My future. Are there any hallucinogenic drugs you’d like to try? Nah man. What made you choose your current job? I'm unemployed. Do you feel uncomfortable on the dance floor? Or are you confident with you dancing abilities? Oh hunny, you won't see me on the dance floor. Unless MAYBE if the Cha-Cha Slide comes on, or the Cupid Shuffle. That's as skilled as I get, haha. Is it exciting to you to imagine having an affair with a teacher? ... No??????????? It's fucking creepy. Adultery isn't exciting. Do you like your smile? No. I absolutely look high when I smile. What is something silly that you believed to be true when you were a child? That I could invoke the traits of any animal, which I just referred to as my "animal powers." Like for example, if I "called upon" a kangaroo, I could jump higher. I was a weird fucking kid. Have you ever been in a relationship with someone you completely connected with on a mental/emotional level, but did not find physically attractive in any way? Was physical intimacy a problem? How did it work out? I was never really physically attracted to Girt, but it was never a big deal to me. I cared way more about his personality and how much he cared about me. We were never really "intimate," per se, we just would give each other a simple peck. It didn't work out, but not at all because of physical things. He was just too much of a brother to me. What classic or cult movie have you never seen and have no desire to? Hm. I know there's some, but I'm blanking. Does The Human Centipede count here? Like everyone knows about it, so I would assume it does. I have ZERO desire to see a second of that repulsive movie. Have you ever taken a real liking to a band/singer you never ever....ever thought you'd enjoy? Maybe Melanie Martinez? Her voice is so cutesy, as are some of her songs, but I really enjoy how dark her lyrics can be. People who know me would probably be shocked to hear I thoroughly like her. After seeing the movie Avatar did you suddenly view our Earth as ugly and/or boring? If you have not seen the movie, do you think it’s worth your time? I've seen a little bit of it, but I never finished it because I was very tired and chose to go to sleep. I actually do want to see the full thing, though; it looks very good. How helpful are your parents to you? Would they help you to pay for your first apartment? College? Where does the line end? My parents are truly incredible with helping me the best they are capable of. They helped me pay for school, among other things, but I doubt they'd help with my first home, whenever that is. I wouldn't really want them to, either, because that's my responsibility for sure. Do you like playing video games? If so, what do you usually play? I love video games, and horror is absolutely my favorite genre. I also love fantasy games though with deep stories. I've never been the best at playing super long games, like Final Fantasy games, even if I'm seriously invested in the story, though. I burn out. Have you ever sewn a garment? No. Are there any plants in the room you’re in? No. I don't bother with plants. What’s your highest level of education? Some college. What’s the most important thing in any kind of relationship? Proper communication, probably. If you wear lipstick, what’s your favourite colour to wear? I only really put on lipstick to occasionally take a picture, and it's pretty much always black. Is your style feminine, masculine or somewhere in the middle? Somewhere in the middle, I guess? Are there a lot of dragonflies around your house? I've never seen one around this house, and I doubt I ever will because it's too urban. When we lived in the woods, however, I saw them a lot. Of all the Disney couples, which one would you say is your favorite? Kovu and Kiara came to my mind first. Do you think it is cute/funny or disgraceful when a child swears? It's shocking, more than anything. You don't expect it. I don't believe it should be encouraged, but only because children just don't know when swearing really isn't appropriate. If/when you have a baby, how do you think you would want to decorate its room? I don't want kids, but I'll entertain the question and assume this is before the child is born and develops interests. Whether it's a boy or a girl, I'd probably go with a cutesy animal theme. Would you more likely buy a shirt with a picture of Mickey/Minnie Mouse, a Winnie the Pooh character, Snoopy, Hello Kitty, or Tweety Bird on it? None, honestly. Perhaps like, a gothic Hello Kitty. Of all the states you have been to, which one did you have the best experiences? Putting aside the AWFUL heat and humidity, I probably had the best time in Florida. I loved all the palm trees, seeing so many lizards on my grandma's patio, and going to Disney World was a blast. I liked that swimming pools were always warm, too. Have you ever had a crush on someone “too young” for you? No. Do you regret losing your virginity to who you lost it to? No. I was madly in love with him, so no regrets on that. If your boyfriend ever hit you, would you dump him? HA, BYYYYEEEEEEEEE MOTHERFUCKER. ZERO hesitation. Did the one person who hurt you most in your life apologize? He did, but I honestly don't know if he meant it. Is there anything you want to say to someone? It'll probably go unsaid for the rest of my life. If they were to televise a live execution, would you watch it? Yikes, hard pass. If you could be the president of the USA, would you be willing to do it? Noooo thank you. Did you wake up in the middle of the night? I always do. Does your animal sleep with you? My cat does. Venus obviously sleeps in her terrarium, but she is in my room. Last color you dyed your hair? Red. Will you keep your last name when you get married? Very unlikely. I don't like my last name. What are you looking forward to? Hearing back again from the woman whose wedding I shot literally two years ago. I thought she ghosted me, but she messaged me the other day about seeing the pictures again and going through them to actually buy some. I don't know why the hell it took her two years, but whatever, I guess? I spent two whole hours resizing the files and re-adding the preview watermark (I deleted the OneDrive folder for space forever ago, but I have the files still), so I hate to sound like an ass, but she better buy something. Between sweating my ass off on location when I shot the wedding, editing those 100+ pictures two years ago, and now re-doing the previews, I have invested so much goddamn time into them that yeah, I think I have the right to be pretty damn salty if I don't hear back from her again. If your significant other cut sex out of your relationship for any reason, what would you do? It'd be whatever. I mean sure, that sort of intimacy is a very special part of serious romantic relationships to me, but I can live without it pretty easily. What was the last thing you said out loud? "Thank you for dinner" to my mom. She brought home Hardee's. Who are your godparents? I don't believe I have any. Do you like Gushers? omggggg yes Can you touch your nose with your tongue? No. Is there a particular sport you follow on a regular basis? Nope. Are you waiting for something to arrive in the mail? No. Think of the last film you watched. Who was your favourite character? Uhhhh what was it... The Shining, I think? I didn't really develop a favorite. Do you have a friend whose name starts with ‘L’? Describe him/her. Lisa. <3 She's one of my WoW friends. She'll talk your ear off, but I don't really mind. She is SO sweet and caring for other people and loves to cook. She recently had triplets, and seeing as she had a son only months before accidentally getting pregnant with the triplets, she's obviously been MEGA busy so we haven't talked much lately. When you’re being kissed do you like it when they hold your face? Yeah, but not too early on. Doing that has a promise of seriousness and passion in it to me, and it would probably weird me out if that happened too soon. Last thing that made you cry? My health. Would you ever consider getting a piercing in your septum? Nah. I don't think it would look good on me. Do you enjoy being outdoors? If it's cool outside and I have a place to sit when I want to, yeah. Do people tell you that you have an accent? Only sometimes. It's definitely not as bad as your average Southerner, though. Do you enjoy watching fireworks on the 4th of July? Ha, what nice timing. I think they're very pretty, but I believe I went over in a recent survey how I don't encourage their usage in consideration of veterans with PTSD as well as being conscious of animals and the absolute terror it can cause for them. What’re some unspeakable subjects for you? So my sister is a children's social worker, and she shares a LOT of stories with Mom (and me, if I'm present) that I can't listen to. The ones that involve pedophilia and/or rape, especially from the child's very own parent(s), I just cannot listen to. Period. It's so fucking repulsive and just unimaginable to me how even a monster of a human can commit something THAT goddamn vile. What’s your opinion of root beer? I'm not a big fan. I mean I can tolerate drinking some of it, but I don't really *enjoy* it. Have you ever seen The Breakfast Club, and what’s your opinion of it? I have, and I didn't get the appeal at all. Did you have a Furby when you were younger? Oh god, I did. Those things are so creepy. If you had a baby boy, what would you name him? Damien, most likely.

#survey #surveys #random questions #lyrics: ''the ordinary world'' by the hit house

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d2kvirus · 4 years

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Dickheads of the Month: January 2021

As it seems that there are people who say or do things that are remarkably dickheaded yet somehow people try to make excuses for them or pretend it never happened, here is a collection of some of the dickheaded actions we saw in the month of January 2021 to make sure that they are never forgotten.

Once again, we knew that Donald Trump wasn’t going to take losing well, but when a legion of his most boneheaded supporters storm the Capitol demanding the election result be overturned because a certain thin-skinned orange gobshite had spent several weeks screaming about electoral fraud and, by the way, also set the date of January 6th for some major event, even Mike Pence couldn’t sanction his buffoonery any longer - especially when said buffoonery involved him saying “I love you” to people who were guilty of sedition and, by the way, murder - all of which led to him finally, finally, getting the boot from various social media platforms

...all while Lauren Boebert appeared to be trying to help out the insurrectionists by livetweeting the location of Nancy Pelosi, presumably because Boebert forgot about that Glock she claims to take to work with her every day and was looking for a convenient meat shield, which naturally has nothing to do with her tweeting the day would be like 1776 earlier that morning

...but the real victim in all of this was Melania Trump as it interrupted a photo shoot she was doing, which she somehow thought it was a good idea to mention several days later in a statement riddled with two opinions: “both sides” and “me, me, me” which shows she didn’t realise the optics of rearranging the china as Washington burned around her

...but according to Laura Kuenssberg it was merely a “scuffle” at Congress, as opposed to an organised group attempting to stage an armed insurrection against the government complete with at least one member carrying zip ties

...and finally, we had Ian Austin reminded us that he’s still alive by saying the exact same thing would have happened in the UK with Jeremy Corbyn supporters storming parliament, as if that happened in the four years Corbyn was wishing Austin would go away, then did go away, but sadly didn’t go away

Once again the Tory government think they know better than virologists, epidemiologists and pharmacists with their one-two punch of thinking they can just mix and match the various vaccines available rather than give people two doses of the same vaccine, but they further weaken any chance of vaccination succeeding by ignoring Pfizer’s recommendation the second dose be given within three weeks of the first by adopting a policy of the second dose is given three months later, and it it’s just as likely to be the less effective but cheaper Oxford vaccine they get a dose of

...swiftly followed by the BBC did their bit to encourage people to get vaccinated by reporting a story of a nurse getting a dose of Covid six weeks after her first vaccination jab not by reporting how she was three weeks overdue for the second dose (or, if you prefer, six weeks before her second one) but simply saying that people vaccinated can get Covid, which goes beyond the BBC’s sociopathic inability to criticise Tory fuckups into being downright fucking dangerous - as does their putting sentient testicle Toby Young on Newsnight to say how we’re all overreacting as it's not as bad as all that

Of all the things proven liar Boris Johnson should have said when the UK’s Covid death toll officially passed 100,000 (as opposed to unofficially, which would have been last December), “We have done our best” was not it, because if their best includes not going into lockdown in order to protect landlords, having Dominic Cummings dictate herd immunity in spite the fact that you need vaccinated people for it to work, refusing to have quarantine at airports until July, thinking it would be a bright idea to tell people it’s their patriotic duty to go to the pub, giving them £10 vouchers to go to restaurants, putting children going back to school ahead of any concerns about every single school could become a petri dish and countless other horrifically mismanaged instances, then we should be kept up at night dreading what their worst would be

The fact that Chartwells were given a contract to provide free school dinners with a budget of £30, and the supposed lunches that arrived had £5 worth of food in them which begged the obvious question where the other £25 went, is appalling - but not surprising, as the Tory government gave them the contract and, equally unsurprising, Chartwells was founded by a Tory donor, and equally unsurprising their response to their grift being exposed was to tell all the public school clients they cater to a pack of lies while hoping nobody found out about them doing so...which worked about as well as you can guess

Something possessed the EU to ramp up the row over the AstraZenica vaccine not passing the rigorous tests for over-65s by threatening to trigger Article 16 and limit the number of vaccines that Northern Ireland received, and that something was it was hopelessly misguided as it allowed the Tories to get their hapless response to the pandemic off the front pages for a few days and let the Leave headbangers say this is why we left the EU...in spite this threat would have never been in play if we were still in the EU

There is no way to make jokes about Kellyanne Conway posting what was, in effect, revenge porn photos of her 16-year old daughter, because that sentence is so far out there that it is borderline incomprehensible

In the space of less than twenty seconds proven liar Boris Johnson claimed that there was no prior warning of the new strain of Covid, he had the SAGE paper stating it was coming which was handed to him last September held up in his face, and then said the government acted accordingly. Yes, you read that right, he claimed the government acted accordingly to something they had no prior warning about, which is literally impossible, all in the space of ten seconds

In the latest hire by the BBC which is cause for both comment and concern, they announced their new chairman would be Tory donor Richard Sharp, whose credentials for the position are being Rishi Sunak’s ex-boss at Goldman Sachs, donating at least £400,000 to the Tory party, and having no background in journalism whatsoever

Smirking bully Priti Patel said that the UK should have closed its borders in March 2020 in order to prevent the spread of Covid. Presumably she forgot that she was a.) Home Secretary in Marsh 2020 so could have done that, and b.) Home Secretary when she said that the borders should have been closed as that indicates she doesn’t know what’s going on

The terrifying world which Alison Pearson lives in has now started to cross over into our reality due to her responding to one of the four people she hasn’t blocked on Twitter calling her what she is - namely a liar - by siccing the Torygraph’s lawyers on them claiming libel, doing the usual cry bully tactic of learning the person she is harassing works for GlaxoSmithKline so promptly went to their CEO demanding he be fired, and howling about the hate campaign being waged against her - while telling the person, who was saying he was thinking suicidal thoughts after the pile-on that Pearson had instigated even after he had deleted the tweet and apologised , that “You’re finished”

Someday in the future, scholars will study Ted Cruz responding to Biden rejoining the Paris Climate Agreement within hours of getting his feet under the Oval Office desk by pontificating about how terrible it is that Biden is more interested in the citizens of Paris than the jobless of Pittsburgh and wonder just how somebody who doesn't know why the Paris Climate Agreement was named the Paris Climate Agreement ever got to be a senator

...and judging by how Lauren Boebert also latched onto this brainless rhetoric, not only can it be asked how she got to be a senator when she had the opportunity to actually realise Cruz’s mistake, she also begs the question how she can be a senator after her publicly trying to use Nancy Pelosi as a meat shield during the Capitol riots

Unifying force Keir Starmer stated that Labour should be devoting their time to fighting the Tory government rather than fighting court cases, somehow forgetting that by breaking the guidelines of the EHRC report (which he pledged to follow without question months before it was published) is the reason that they’re fighting court cases, and just so happens to be the reason why people are asking how a meeting attended by Starmer, Angela Rayner, Len McCluskey and others either didn't have a single person taking notes, which is David Evans’ entire defence, or they did take notes by quite conveniently lost them

Oh boy, did Wall Street cheerleaders not take it well when r/WallStreetbets exposed to the entire world that the stock market is little more than a game people play with other people’s money - because the teams the Wall Street cheerleaders support started losing, and all it took was a few Redditors investing in Gamestop and Bed Bath & Beyond

Nice of Shaun Bailey to remind everyone that he’s a Tory by giving his suggestion for how the homeless could get on the property ladder, namely by saving a minimum of £5000

Clearly Marjorie Taylor Greene didn’t get the memo about the Streisand Effect, as the first thing she did after taking her seat in the House of Representatives was go on a mass deleting spree of Facebook posts - which only served to draw attention to her video saying that Nancy Pelosi be executed for treason, her track record of spreading conspiracy theories about the Parkland and Sandy Hook shootings, and her claims that a Jewish space laser is responsible for the 2018 California wildfires

Insufferable self-promoter Jess Phillips got her 2021 off to a good start by tweeting out that, as Britait has happened, we should shut up and accept it. To the surprise of nobody other than insufferable self-promoter Jess Phillips, this led to a lot of people saying that, no, they will not accept an advisory referendum somehow being bolted onto the Ten Commandments, especially as numerous things that were promised wouldn’t happen such as a border in the Irish Sea, leaving Erasmus, losing freedom of movement, leaving the Common Market have all happened

It is wrong to say that smirking bully Priti Patel has lost 150,000 police files. The actual figure is closer to 400,000 - which begs the obvious question as to what those files were, for example if those files also happened to fall under the same category as the ones that 55-year old ex-minister Mark Francois might want to have disappear for the sake of convenience

At last CD Projekt Red took some responsibility for Clusterpunk 2077 being such a cyberfuck...if by “taking responsibility” you mean “taking responsibility, dumping it all on the QA testers, and saying that everyone should blame them for everything” - and then with perfect comedic timing CD Projekt Red released an update for Clusterpunk 2077 that was so broken they had to release a hotfix for their broken patch

Expenses-fiddler Robert Jenrick decided that the most important thing to protect in the United Kingdom at this exact moment in time is...statues. Not key workers, not the vulnerable, not any human life at all. Statues.

So either Rafael Behr wrote a column for The Guardian where he tried to blame Jeremy Corbyn for his heart attack which saw Guardian higher-ups remove that passage from their print edition but forgot to remove it from the online version of the article, or The Guardian deliberately left the passage in the online version of the column in order to get some form of engagement from rage clicks while allowing Behr to act as if he is suffering some great injustice

Of course it wouldn’t take long for Steve Baker to try and claim some spurious victory for Britait, namely him claiming that tampon tax he spent so long fighting against being abolished is proof of the sunlit uplands of our post-EU nation...which ignores the fact that a.) It had nothing to do with the EU in the first place, and b.) The fact that Baker voted to keep it in place in a 2015 Commons vote

Employer of the year WWE went for an interesting twofer, as one minute they were proudly stating that WrestleMania would go ahead with a prospective 30,000 in attendance without any concerns for social distancing or any other Covid preventative measures, and the next telling the wrestlers on their roster that they would not be supplying them with Covid vaccines at the exact same time the NBA were floating the idea of providing vaccines for all their players

Make no mistake, the criticism that Erik Lamela, Sergio Reguilon, Giovani Lo Celso and Manuel Lanzini have received due to the four of them flouting lockdown regulations to attend a New Year’s party is justified - however, the fact that Duncan Castles tried to chase a headline by claiming that Lo Celso and Lamela had tested positive for Covid in a swiftly-deleted tweet is a new low for the noted barrel scraping rumour monger

Self-awareness sceptic Laurence Fox was entirely predictable in his response to the news that talkRADIO had been booted from Youtube for repeated violations of their ToS, specifically the part about spreading Covid misinformation, screaming the usual things about being “cancelled” - and then, within hours, responded to the BBC announcing a plan of educational programming to help during Lockdown III by saying he will be shielding his children from being “indoctrinated” by the BBC’s “left-wing bias” - which not only means he’s cancelling the BBC, but also had people remember that Billie Piper has custody of his children so it's not like he can even enforce his rules on what his children can and cannot watch

...by the way, Fox said nothing about Lord Sumption appearing on the BBC’s Question Time (the same show where failed actor on the grift Laurence Fox announced his new career as a clueless right wing irritant) where he told a woman with bowel cancer that her life wasn’t valuable, it was merely less valuable as she has less life left. Yes, that is eugenics getting free airtime on the BBC, thanks for noticing

Somehow the best choice of words the BBC could find when reporting the death of Phil Spector was “talented but flawed” as if murder is some character flaw instead of, oh I don’t know, a criminal activity?

You would have thought that Twitch would have simply retired the PogChamp emote permanently in the wake of Gootecks going all insurrectionist, but no, instead they thought of having a rotating cycle of emotes of various creators, in spite of those creators telling them this would be a bad idea - and those creators were proven right when Critical bard was inundated with racist and homophobic abuse in his chat that led him to close his social media profiles when he was selected for rotation, with Twitch doing fuck all about it

Fashion editor no matter what she claims she is Hadley Freeman had a really clever take about The Sopranos...actually, no she didn’t, she had an absurd belief that it’s the exact same show as Sex in the City but people overlook it Because Misogyny, and when she was lambasted for missing the point so badly she had noted dipshit David Baddiel rushing in to her rescue to mock those getting “triggered” by her insipid take while saying he never liked The Sopranos because, as he isn't an Italian-American mobster, the show did not speak to him - in other words, he made himself a subject of equal mockery

...but there was no sign of Baddiel when Hadley Freeman then jumped on the BidenErasedWomen bandwagon alongside the TERFs of Twitter as soon as Biden got his feet under the desk, which also happened to show hard centrist extremist Freeman say how she thought Trump did far more for women than Biden ever has, which as takes go is so bad that the best explanation is that she briefly forgot the difference between the words “for” and “to”, before she then deleted the tweet and tried to deny ever posting it with increasingly nonsensical explanations that rapidly looked uncannily like gaslighting

...although David Baddiel wasn’t quite done being a bellend, as he was soon yukking it up with professional victim Rachel Riley about his latest book which accuses the entire progressive left of antisemitism

The oppressed underclass known as Manchester United fans really showed their colours, first by responding to a loss to Sheffield United by sending racial abuse to Axel Tuanzebe and Anthony Martial on social media, and a couple of weeks later responded to a draw with Arsenal by sending racial abuse to Marcus Rashford, because apparently when your team drops points the most important thing is to look for which member of your team you can racially abuse

And finally, oh so finally, we have Donald Trump and his discovery of electoral fraud at last - electoral fraud that consisted of Donald Trump calling Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger demanding he change the result and all he needs is Raffensperger to “find” 11,780 votes while also saying that he had proof of vote-counting machines being removed early...and when told they were still in Georgia, changed his lie to say the inner workings had been removed without anyone noticing. By the way, the only reason anyone knows about this is because Raffensperger told Trump that he wouldn’t release the call to the public if Trump didn't say anything about it - so, of course, the Orange Overlord took to twitter, ran his mouth, and the Washington Post had one hell of an exclusive as a result

#dickheads of the month

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iol247 · 4 years

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Opinionista • Ismail Lagardien • 15 March 2021

Fifteen years along the road to nowhere, and the worst is yet to come

We are at a point, now, where instead of pointing to the perversity of misguided distribution, corruption, theft, maladministration, tenderpreneurs, and State Capture, discussions are deflected – and the spectrum of opinion has been narrowed.

In 2015, Justice Malala published his book We Have Now Begun Our Descent. Without having read the book I sat down to consider South Africa’s future, and concluded that there was little to no hope for the country. I was in Bonn, Germany, at the time, after four or more years in the secretariat of the National Planning Commission. Although the Covid-19 pandemic has had a dreadful impact on South Africa’s political economy and society – as it has on almost every country in the world – the country’s problems took a turn for the worse at Nasrec at the end of 2017, and Malala’s “descent” gained momentum.

I want to break with orthodoxy, and say that it is the politics, not “the economy,” as the old canard goes. Homo economicus might believe that the economy is everything, and everything is the economy, but “the economy” is those millions of transactions that humans make every minute of every day, and the personal and public political decisions that enable or disable those people (from making those transactions).

A collapse that preceded democracy

Before I continue, I want to share a passage I wrote between 1991 and 1993, when I was the southern African correspondent for the New Straits Times of Malaysia. I don’t have the exact date of publication, because the person who decided to make a “portfolio” of my work neatly trimmed my reports and columns but failed to include the date. I was going to save it for my memoir, but here it is – written at a time when the apartheid government was losing its grip on power and state institutions in the early 1990s:

“It is as if a villainous character had every day, over the years, gone to the Union Buildings, the seat of government in the capital, Pretoria, and methodologically and systematically undone every single screw, bolt, nut and nail of government. Every day, now, for months on end, a section of government in South Africa is coming apart. It is difficult, now, after a spate of scandalous exposes in recent months to say exactly when the disintegration first started, or when the first door, window or desk in the Union Buildings collapsed. What has become evident, however, is that the state is collapsing bit by bit, in slow motion, while its powers of rehabilitation [are] dissipating with its political might.”

It has been reported, over and again, that the democratic government inherited a state that was on its knees. As the Afrikaner historian Herman Giliomee wrote, a decade ago, March 1985 marked, “the day apartheid started dying”.

Wrote Giliomee: “Pik Botha recalls: ‘I will never forget the night of July 31 when [Minister of Finance] Barend du Plessis phoned me… [He said]: ‘Pik, I must tell you that the country is facing inevitable bankruptcy … The process has started.’”

We had growth, and increased social spending, but the thieves saw opportunities

The first democratic government of South Africa, led by Nelson Mandela, was fully aware of the terrible state of the economy. They managed, within a decade or more, to provide utilities and access to public goods and services (including social grants) to millions of people across the country (all necessary for a stable, progressive social democracy), while managing the country’s finances, avoiding profligacy – and through it all, produced growth and a Budget surplus.

This demonstrated that you can reduce poverty, provide social services, deliver public goods and services, as well as manage the country’s finances. The problem that emerged, after the first 12-15 years was not lack of growth, or a contraction of the economy, it was about distribution – much of the growth did, indeed go to social spending, but a lot more began to go into the wrong pockets. Corruption, maladministration, cronyism, nepotism and prebendalism took root – what good was the ANC-led state, if it did not line the pockets of its leaders, and members who were deployed to state agencies, and boards across the country?

Fast-forward to a few years later, and we are at a point, now, where instead of pointing to the perversity of misguided distribution, corruption, theft, maladministration, tenderpreneurs, and State Capture, discussions are deflected – and the spectrum of opinion has been narrowed. Somewhat simultaneously rose the politics of identity (the ugly version), and instead of policies focusing on social problems, they focused on contortions of language, the politics of revenge, populism, scapegoating, and the speeches and statements of leaders were increasingly laced with words like “bloodshed,” and all the while xenophobia, aimed mainly at Africans and Asians, has spread.

A careful read of Carl Niehaus’s eight-page submission on likely policies of the ruling alliance, suggests we are expected to choose between Radical Economic Transformation by policy (ANC), or Radical Economic Transformation by force (EFF). At what point do the ANC’s radical forces join the EFF? Impossible, but not improbable.

Are we there yet?

Let’s take stock, briefly, of where we are. We know that “the economy” is in the pits. But what makes an economy stable, expansive, progressive and able to secure social justice? Don’t ask an economist. To them it’s all cost-benefits, assumptions, laws and models which they mistake for truth. And anyway, people who are so sure of their own predictive powers belong on the beachfront with fortune tellers. What makes an economy work is everything else: the people, the institutions, the policies, ethics, food, water, shelter, clothing and, well, energy. If we start just with energy, consider the fact that we may have load shedding for at least the next five years.

This week, Eskom’s Chief Executive Officer, André de Ruyter, confirmed that “there will be a shortfall in supply of electricity of approximately 4,000 megawatts over the next five years as announced by President Cyril Ramaphosa. We welcome further interventions announced by the president, which will include a further request for proposals for a further 2,600 megawatts from wind and solar energy.”

Using non-economic rationalist orthodoxy, us ordinary citizens know, intuitively, that you cannot run a shop, a workshop or any heavy industry without a stable source of electricity. We also know that you cannot get to work without commuter trains running. We also know that we place our lives in danger with every taxi ride. While us mere mortals don’t travel abroad much, if at all, we know that planes belong in the air; that the public broadcaster is meant to serve as, well, a public broadcaster; the police are meant to serve and protect; our military personnel should be able to march in straight lines, and its hardware has to be up to date (you can’t have stockpiles of ammunition that is outdated); along with the police and military, the state security system ought to make us sleep better at night, and criminals need to be prosecuted – even if they are among the highest office-bearers in the ruling alliance.

A woman walking to work is not safe. A family sitting at home watching TV is not safe. A farmer working his or her fields is not safe. The driver stopping at a red light is not safe. Do we really expect someone to invest in an existing or new industry or fund innovation if a faction of the ruling party calls for “the mass nationalisation of industries including mines, insurance companies, steel and chemical companies”? The future of work is changing, but our major union leaders, supported by barbarous professors, want our workers to stay in the bondage of assembly lines – instead of retraining them for new, more innovative means of production.

All of these represent the life world of everyday people in South Africa. Every time anyone buys a loaf of bread or a bag of oranges they comprise “the economy”. Speaking of oranges, you can return the land to “its rightful owners” and (with the help of the former white owner) farm citrus products, but if individual oranges have a fungal disease you may not be able to export your produce. That’s not a racist conspiracy. (I use this one example because I have some insights into a related domestic issues case, and about the way the World Trade Organisation works.)

This can go on and on if we can’t guarantee: the safety of investments; a reliable stream of energy; community and personal safety; trains that run; a reliable justice system – with judges who are unimpeachable; a postal service that is functional; public servants who do the jobs they’re paid to do; teachers who teach; nurses who are paid well, and don’t sign in for one another when they want to escape parts of night duty; and if we don’t play our part, as active citizens.

The government can build schools, but parents must make sure their children attend school, and show an interest in the child’s education. The government can provide trash cans, but people must use them. Visit downtown Johannesburg and you may get a sense of how filth has built up – it’s not quite at the levels of Naples, but give it time. While we hold the state and political parties to a high standard, we need to, also, report on citizens who refuse to pay or steal electricity and water, then cry foul if they are brought to book. That, is largely, the result of ANC promises. With another election in a couple of years, do we really think the ANC, or any political party is going to tell people to pay their electricity bills or get cut off? And so, it’s not “the economy” it’s everything we do, and say, every day, that makes the economy work.

We may have started our descent, as Malala, wrote almost six years ago; my loss of hope has deepened – helped along by #statecapture revelations. But let me turn to the observations I made in the early 1990s, with regards to the National Party:

“What has become evident, however, is that the state is collapsing bit by bit, in slow motion, while its powers of rehabilitation [are] dissipating with its political might.”

https://www.dailymaverick.co.za/opinionista/2021-03-15-fifteen-years-along-the-road-to-nowhere-and-the-worst-is-yet-to-come/

Submitted by TT

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pamphletstoinspire · 4 years

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Fifteenth Sunday After Pentecost - Latin Calendar - 09/06/2020

by Fr. Francis Xavier Weninger, 1882

“And when He came nigh to the gates of the city, behold! a dead man was carried out, the only son of his mother; and she was a widow.”–Luke 7.

by Fr. Francis Xavier Weninger, 1882

Christ, accompanied by a great multitude, approaches the city of Naim, and behold! the corpse of a youth was just borne out of the city gates, followed by a number of people, and his grief-stricken mother. It seemed an accidental meeting, and yet it was not so. Christ, the life, meets death, and again breathes life into the corpse. This unexpected meeting, especially as the dead body was that of a youth, reminds us of the certainty and proximity of death and of the uncertainty of life. It is ordained that all men shall die, as Holy Scripture assures and experience teaches us; and yet, how careless man is in this regard, and what little benefit he derives from meditating upon this truth. Nevertheless it is a truth which, when duly considered, will exert a most decided influence on our lives, and will urge us to arrange the affairs pertaining to our salvation.

Holy Scripture assures us even in the Old Testament: “It is a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the dead.” St. Paul speaks of this continual remembrance of death as “The answer of death within us.

How sincerely I wish that, with St. Paul, we may all feel the continual warning of approaching and certain death–the answer of death within us–and that we may not be seized with that forgetfulness of death, which is, alas! so common. Mary, patroness of a happy death, pray for us that we live in such manner, as to die, in your arms, the death of the blessed! I speak in the holy name of Jesus, to the greater honor of God!

When St. Anthony was lying on his death-bed, he was surrounded by hundreds of his spiritual sons, and they begged of him : “Holy father, you are about to leave us; advise us: which is the most influential, the powerful thought to animate one with great zeal in the service of God?” St Anthony replied: “Brethren, live every day as if it were to be the, last.”

With these words St. Anthony referred to the certainty and nearness of death, but at the same time also to the uncertainty as regards the time, the place, and the manner of death. Nothing else in this world is infallibly certain and sure. The wealthiest may become indigent; the most powerful may lose his crown ; the healthiest may be stricken with disease. Yes, even as regards the last judgment, and heaven and hell. No one knows with infallible certainty what shall be his portion forever; but one thing every one knows he must die.

A multitude followed the corpse of the youth. Every person who joined the procession must have thought within himself: I shall also one day be thus borne to my grave. But when? No one knows. This youth who is borne away as a corpse did certainly not imagine that he was to die before his aged mother.

He who constantly reflects upon what I have said, and lives as if every day were his last, needs no further incentive in order to lead a holy life. And why? This will appear evident when we reflect in what Christian perfection consists, and how the remembrance of certain and approaching death will influence us in this respect.

In the first place, Christian perfection requires a heart free from sin. Shun evil. Therefore a person must, above all things, be able candidly to put this question to his conscience: Am I in the state of mortal sin or not? But this must be done as candidly and earnestly as if we were certain to die the following moment and be judged.

And when a man has thus proven himself, his faith requires of him, that he reconcile himself to God by an entire and sincere confession. But nothing will better bring about this change than the remembrance of the certainty and proximity of death. If one confesses in such a manner, as he will wish to have done when the cold sweat of death stands upon his brow, he will confess well. And that our confessions may really be good and valid, let this truth urge us to the conscientious performance of this duty; do it well; you do not know whether you will ever again have another opportunity; it is, perhaps, your last confession.

“Father, this is probably your last confession,” thus St. Vincent de Paul was addressed by one of his spiritual sons. The saint replied: “Friend, for a number of years I have said to myself: This confession will, perhaps, be my last.”

But to reconcile ourselves to God is not our only obligation; the most important duty is, not to sin again, not to suffer a relapse. What causes a relapse? Fresh temptations. These temptations come to us in divers ways: We are tempted by the concupiscence of the flesh; the world tempts us by her allurements and pleasures; Satan tempts and endeavors to deceive us by investing forbidden objects with delusive charms and attractions. It is especially by means of the honors, possessions, and enjoyments of this life that the world, the flesh, and the devil tempt us. And, no doubt, these things, viewed in the light of the present, possess various charms, and can become snares and dangerous temptations.

But the vivid remembrance of the certain approach of death will nip all these temptations in the bud, and will render them powerless. For what are all worldly possessions, when viewed in the twilight of life's fading day? Dust! What are all the honors of this world? Vapor! What are all sensual enjoyments? Dross!

And even the satisfaction which man enjoys for a time in the possession of wealth, honors, and sensual pleasures will soon end in death.

If we listen to the voice of death within us, the power of temptation will be completely destroyed; because this remembrance of death is inseparably connected with the remembrance of that which is to come after death, and which will decide our eternal destiny. Therefore, the Apostle after saying: “It is appointed for all men once to die,” immediately adds: “And after this the judgment.”

How could man remain in the state of sin, if he constantly reflected upon the terrors of judgment, or how ever relapse into sin! The Memento mori–the remembrance that very soon death will usher you into eternity is the surest preventive against the evil of sin.

This constant remembrance of our end likewise effects the sanctification of our lives, and encourages us in our endeavors to attain Christian perfection; it urges us to accomplish the holy will of God perfectly, in all places and at all times; it puts us in mind of the value of time, and the necessity of making good use of the present; it encourages us not to lose a single moment in the great work of our salvation, nor to neglect the increase of our glory in heaven. But nothing can so clearly prove the inestimable value of time as death, the certainty and nearness of death!

“Time, thou art worth as much as God,” St. Chrysostom was wont to say ; ” for on every hour of time depends a crown for eternity; to win time, is to win God; to lose time, is to lose God.”

Death deprives us of this exceedingly precious gift; a gift for which the angels and saints of heaven envy us.

Now, that we live but once, this once will decide our eternity; this was a maxim of the saints. When once time has flown, it will never again return. We feel this most vividly when attending a death-bed, and considering the last breath which the dying person draws. Now he has expired now his eternal fate is sealed. Not another opportunity of performing a good deed, of increasing his heavenly joys.

I ask: Is there any thing which can urge us more to improve our time for the approaching eternity, than this certainty and proximity of death, this voice of death within us? Oh, that every case of death brought to our notice would remind us with renewed force of the certain approach of eternity!

You should do more; every evening whilst offering your prayers to God, reflect upon some particular circumstance of your death. Think of your last confession, of your last Holy Communion, of extreme unction; and of what you will experience when your soul takes leave of your body; think of your grave, of your appearance before the judgment seat of Christ.

Do this, and no doubt the advice of St. Anthony will not only prove beneficial to his religious sons, but also to you, for the sanctification of your whole life! Amen!

“And when he came nigh to the gates of the city, behold a dead man was carried out, the only son of a widow.”–Luke 7.

There is nothing more certain than death. Everything else is morally certain, possible, probable, as far as regards our future.

Last year we reflected upon the influence this consideration exercises upon our will; it causes us to form the resolution of living as true children of the Church, according to our vocation, to avoid sin, to practise virtue, and to make the best use of time. Even the longest life, how brief it is! and how near is death! How short is a year! Observe how quickly the moon waxes and wanes, and, after thirteen of these changes, a year has passed. And the life of man numbers but seventy or eighty years, and how few reach this age! the majority of those born into the world die as children, and many in the prime of life! The deceased of whom the Gospel of today makes mention is a youth.

You will die,–that is certain; and you will die soon,–this, too, is certain; but how and where you will die is uncertain, also the manner of your death. But it is not exactly so in reference to the moral condition of your soul; and its state, at the time of death, is of the utmost importance.

A proverb says: “As is life, such is death,” therefore, if you have lived indifferently, the troubled death bed of the tepid Christian awaits you; but if you have lived a zealous and holy life, then on your death-bed you will feel the consolation of the just.

Brethren, let us today reflect upon this contrast, and in our dying moments we shall not regret having done so, provided we profit by the light that the Holy Ghost will send to illumine our minds. Mary, our protectress in death, obtain for us, from your beloved Son, the consoling death of the just! I speak in the holy name of Jesus, to the greater honor of God!

What, in the first place, causes the lukewarm Christian sadness and affliction of mind on his death-bed, is inordinate attachment to the goods of this world. No doubt, all who lead an indifferent life will attach themselves more or less to the things of this world; but it is particularly the case with persons who have labored incessantly and under great difficulties to acquire temporal possessions, and who have anxiously provided for their comfort.

This country furnishes many instances of this kind. Many a one who came over from Europe at first settled in the backwoods; there he occupied a log-cabin, and by dint of labor cleared and cultivated the land. Then he erected a more comfortable dwelling, and gradually gained riches until finally he became affluent. Another commenced business in one of the larger cities, prospered, and became wealthy. But, lo! now death raps at his door, and he feels that he must die; he must take leave of all, and can not take even one penny with him!

No wonder that such a Christian, who, amid temporal cares, has abandoned the practices of devotion and of Christian zeal, sighs, with Agag, at the approach of death: “And dost thou part us thus, O bitter death?”

But how widely different the death of a child of the Church, who has led a fervent life, often thought of heaven, suffered, worked, and fought for it; who has already separated his heart from the transitory things of this world, and, on his death-bed, can joyfully exclaim, with David: “We enter with joy into heaven, to behold, to possess, and to enjoy the things of the Lord in the land of the living! ” Child of the Church, a similar death do I wish you. And what are the conditions? A zealous, truly Catholic life.

What furthermore renders the death-bed of the tepid Christian gloomy and fearful, is the inordinate attachment to blood relations. It is true there is a lawful, holy and sanctifying union among men, ties of relationship, friendship and virtue, and the heart must feel a pang at the moment of separation. But this sorrow will increase the merits of the dying Christian, because he resigns himself to the will of God; and, moreover, his sorrow is assuaged by the hope of a speedy reunion in heaven.

The lukewarm Christian experiences not this consolation; he feels only the grief of parting from those who are near and dear to him in this world. And again, how consoling for the fervent soul will be the thought: I take leave of my dearly loved ones on earth, but what an assembly waits to welcome me in heaven! I hope that very soon I shall be with Jesus and Mary, and all the angels and saints, with all my blessed friends and relations, who are anxiously looking forward to my entrance into the eternal joys. This thought gives comfort to the soul. A similar death do I wish you, my brethren; an active, Catholic, pious life will secure it for you.

The death-bed of a careless Christian is hemmed in with fear and anxiety, because the consolations of our holy religion have lost their power over him, and can not drive away the sadness of death. The tepid Christian may have confessed at times, but how? He felt no apprehension from his numerous relapses, and looked upon them as merely the result of human weakness. But now he becomes alarmed; were not these mortal sins into which he relapsed? Or, during life, he endeavored to persuade himself that he did not sin willfully; he did not consent. But now he fears that his confessions were not valid, because he did not express himself clearly as to this or that sin, or did not confess the number and circumstances, as he was obliged to do.

And what of his communions? Were they not, perhaps, unworthy, or sacrilegious communions? His preparations and thanksgivings were so short, so tepid, and, consequently, without effect. And now that he is to receive Holy Communion for the last time, his bodily sufferings will not permit him to dispose himself devoutly for the reception of the Blessed Sacrament as a preparation for his passage into eternity. He receives his last communion with fear and dread. But how unlike this is the death of him who, on this earth, has lived only for Christ in the Blessed Sacrament, who has received Him again and again, and each time more worthily, and who now receives his Lord, Redeemer, and the Spouse of his heart as the viaticum to eternal life! The priest places the Sacred Host upon his tongue, as a pledge of his salvation through Jesus Christ our Lord. Such a reception of the Holy Eucharist on your death-bed, do I wish you; your life,–a zealous, devout, Catholic life will decide.

What renders the hour of death terrible to a luke warm Christian, is the fear of death itself, and that which follows it the corruption of the body in the grave. Yes, to a petted worldling, who knows nothing of penance and mortification in this life, and who has always pampered his body, and gratified his senses, how dreadful the thought: What shall become of me in my last agony, when the cold sweat of death oozes from every pore, when death shall stretch my limbs? What, when all that remains of me on earth lies moldering in the grave, and is food for worms? It is not surprising that such thoughts fill the soul of an indifferent Christian with fear and distress! But how different the situation, if the dying person is one who has practised, during life, interior and exterior mortification, and who tastes not the bitterness of death, and looks forward to a glorious resurrection! The pious Christian remembers that it is only his body that lies within the grave, and that he shall one day find it again transformed and glorious, and be reunited to it for a blissful eternity.

What finally renders the death-bed of a lukewarm Christian fearful, is the thought of the coming judgment. When a soul is about to leave this world in a tepid and sinful state, even if after a good confession it is reinstated in grace, what a terror, what a fright, must weigh upon it, when, disfigured by the leprosy of countless venial sins, it appears before Christ, not knowing whether these sins may not be mortal! And how the soul will tremble when Christ is about to utter the sentence which will decide its fate for eternity!

Oh, could it but again return to the body, to lead a better, holier life! but then it will be too late, too late! May God preserve you from such anguish!

On the other hand, what a consolation and joy when a devout soul departs this life; and, freed from every stain of sin by the Holy Sacrament of Penance, hastens to the arms of its Redeemer, and, without passing through purgatory, enters at once into the joys of the Lord.

Either the one death or the other will be yours, and your life will decide! May God grant that it will not have been a lukewarm and indifferent, but a holy and virtuous life. Then to you may be applied the words of Holy Writ: “Precious in the sight of God is the death of His saints!” Amen!

“And they that carried it stood still.”–Luke 7.

“And they that carried it stood still.” Christ approaches the corpse, but He does not restore the deceased to life as long as the pall-bearers move on. “They that carried it stood still,” probably at a sign given by our Lord.

There is something very striking in this circumstance, if we consider attentively the miracle which Christ wrought at the gates of Naim, in its moral signification. For the raising of the dead to life has reference to the miracle of the conversion from sin to the state of grace, a change from the death of the soul through sin, to the spiritual life through grace.

The four pall-bearers typify four causes of the sinner's impenitence. These are: the proximate occasion of sin; want of prayer; familiar intercourse with sinners; and inordinate longing after enjoyment!

Yes, these are the four spiritual pall-bearers of the soul dead in sin, and as long as these do not stand still, so long will the funeral procession move on; and there can be no thought of a true conversion and spiritual resurrection. And although at times the sinner may appear to be converted, still we can very soon perceive, that, in the sight of God, he is still a corpse!

Let us today take a glance at the four pall-bearers of the soul dead in sin. Mary, refuge of sinners, pray for us, that we may awaken from the death of sin! I speak in the holy name of Jesus, to the greater honor of God!

The first pall-bearer which carries the dead soul of a sinner to its grave, is the proximate occasion of sin! How indispensably necessary the avoidance of the proximate occasion of sin is for a true conversion, can be readily deduced from the earnest and solemn words of Christ: “If thy eye scandalize thee, tear it out and cast it from thee; and if thy hand or foot scandalize thee, cut it off, and cast it from thee; for it is expedient for thee that one of thy members should perish, rather than that thy whole body go into hell.”

But, alas! how many deceive themselves in this respect, and imagine, if they but form the good resolution of not sinning again, it matters little whether they remain in the proximate occasion of sin; this, in their opinion, is no sin. But that is a delusion proceeding from their defective instruction. The remaining willfully in the occasion of sin, is already a sin; and if there is danger of mortal sins, the sin of remaining in the occasion becomes mortal; because to remain willfully therein, is to expose one's self willfully to sin, which is in itself an offense.

Experience verifies the warning of the Holy Ghost: “He who loveth danger, shall perish therein.” To remain in the occasion of sin, is like putting fire, if it be but a burning match, to straw, and then saying: I do not want the straw to burn. But it will burn nevertheless, and you will be the cause. This warning has reference especially to the lewd, to drunkards, and to those who are intimate with persons of loose morals.

The second cause of the sinner's remaining in the sleep of death,–the second pall-bearer of his soul, is the neglect of prayer and the Holy Sacraments. As a rule, persons commit grievous sins only after having first become careless in their prayers and in the reception of the Holy Sacraments. For these are the means of grace ordained by God, and these alone enable us to subdue temptations, and to practise virtue. There are many who sin continually, but at times they appear to be converted; and yet, how very soon they are again spiritual corpses! And why? They omit their morning and night prayers; do not attend divine service; neglect spiritual reading, and the reception of the Holy Sacraments.

We do not go too far in affirming: That all those who begin the day without prayer, who do not think of God during the day, and do not pray at night; who are careless in attending divine service, or do not go to church at all on Sundays and holidays; who are negligent in the reception of the Sacraments, all of these belong to the class of the spiritual dead. They may confess at times, and appear to do better; but until they begin earnestly to say their prayers, to attend divine service as is their duty, and do not receive the Holy Sacraments only at Easter time, but frequently during the course of the year, their conversion will not be a true one. They will very soon lead the old life of sin; nor will they improve in this respect, unless they perform the duties of their holy religion earnestly and fervently, and frequently approach the Holy Sacraments.

The third cause why sinners continue their life of sin–the third pall-bearer of the soul is, familiar intercourse with sinners, their society and company. With the wicked you will be wicked and remain so.

As long as a person does not avoid familiar intercourse with sinners, he will open his heart to numerous temptations, and the bad example of others will have a pernicious influence; upon him. The bad example of sinners may be compared to the diseases of the body. When one is near a sick person, or is obliged to wait on him, one is in great danger of becoming infected with the disease. Physicians who attend the sick, make their visits as brief as possible when the disease is contagious, and hurry away, lest they may become infected!

The same may be said of sinners, whose example proves contagious. Such sinners may justly be compared to lepers. From these you must flee, as Holy Scripture advises. This admonition is addressed particularly to young persons. If your conversion shall prove sincere and lasting, you must avoid familiar intercourse with sinners; otherwise you will soon recommence a life of sin.

The fourth bearer of the spiritual corpse is inordinate longing for enjoyments –the love of sensual, boisterous pleasure, such as balls, plays, and noctural amusements; the reading of bad books, and especially the excessive use of spirituous liquors. Woe to him who already, from his youth, becomes addicted to drink, to frequent gin-shops,–is and gradually becomes a confirmed sot!

Oh! how seldom it occurs that an habitual drunkard is truly converted, that he avoids every occasion of intemperance, and remains faithful to his good resolutions! How often such persons, who, perchance, are not addicted to any other vice, seem to amend and still they do not really change; they lead the same intemperate life! And how sad are the consequences, both for body and soul! They ruin their health, destroy their domestic peace, and are living in the greatest danger of dying unprepared.

Is there, perhaps, a sinner among us whom these four bearers are carrying? Oh! I wish I could today cause them to stand still. For only then will your conversion be sincere, and, by the mouth of the priest, Christ will bid you: “Rise!” and you will be restored to the life of grace.

This standing still reminds us, moreover, of another very important fact. If we wish to be justified in hoping that ours was a true conversion, we must be able to refer to some period of our life, and say: Since that confession–it was a general confession–I did not relapse!

Rejoice, if your conscience gives you this testimony; you are in the right state, and you will be prepared to appear before God, and you will live in Him eternally! Amen!

#15 sunday after pentecost

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