Lilith Mars Forrester (they/them) and Blake Forte (he/him) belong to my WIP, Madame A’s Retreat for Spellworking.
No sickness or whump. Just a snippet with character vibes.
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It was late afternoon, and Lilith had just found Blake in the library. He was cradling a leather-bound book in both hands and his back was slightly arched as he sat in the green-and-orange chair that he’d re-established as his designated ‘reading’ spot ever since his return. Lilith would have liked to scoff at his audacity, but had to admit that the tangerine tinge of his hair, and the dark tones that wove through most of his clothing choices, suited the aesthetic of the upholstery. He and that chair looked like a painting.
Unluckily for him, Lilith believed in a firm rift between the art and the artist. Blake and that chair and that book might all look beautiful together, but they knew the bullshit behind the visuals.
They walked right over to him and slapped the book out of his hands.
Its covers collapsed together and it flipped onto its back side before landing on the floorboards with a thunk.
"Hey!” Blake screamed. “You made me lose my page, asshole."
"Page sixty-nine," Lilith snapped. "Same page you've been ‘reading’ for the past two weeks."
Lilith half-expected him to say something snarky about Lilith looking over his shoulder often enough to notice that he never turned any pages.
“I’m a slow reader.”
“The other day, you had your book upside down. For an hour!”
If Blake had been flustered, it only lasted a couple of seconds before his face corrected itself.
“It’s page sixty-nine,” he shrugged. “It’s the same both ways.”
“Oh, shut... up,” Lilith murmured, trying not to think too hard about the fact that Blake was, infuriatingly, right.
Blake folded his arms.
“So, what are you actually thinking about all day?" Lilith planted their hands on their hips and tilted their head so aggressively that their whole body leaned to the side. "While you're staring a page, pretending to read? What’s going on in that head of yours?"
Blake shrugged. "I don't know. Chickens with bras on? Did you want something from me, Lilypad?"
Lilith almost physically retched in repulsion. Giving out nicknames was one of their proudest talents, and they sincerely hoped this wasn’t a case of their own medicine tasting terrible. “Okay, hate that. Knock that off this instant.”
Blake shrugged as if he couldn’t give a shit whether or not this conversation progressed. Or whether or not Lilith lived or died.
“What’d you want?” he repeated.
“I wanted to ask you what you came back here for!” Lilith gestured all around them, at the books and the leather and the gentle streams of sunlight that fanned out across the floorboards. It all seemed aggressively at odds with Blake’s icy presence. “Hmm? You’re not here to improve your skills. You’re not here to make friends. So what the fuck are you here for, Blake?"
Blake’s lips curled just a little. He leaned back into the armchair and propped a couple of fingers under his chin. It made Lilith bristle whenever they were reminded of the serene, commanding presence that Blake was capable of exuding; like his body was a golden statue, and he was surrounded by plastic imitations.
“Well?” Lilith asked, emphasising that their questions were not rhetorical.
They were pissed off enough that they genuinely wanted answers out of this guy. They’d have been lying if they denied being vaguely curious, too. Something had held Blake’s attention elsewhere for two solid years, and suddenly he was back at Madame A’s retreat, acting as though he’d never given a shit about anything or anyone in his life.
“What is it then? Are you here purely to make the rest of us miserable?”
"You flatter yourself, Lilypad."
"Okay, this is your last warning. Call me that again and I'll -"
Blake snorted. "This'll be good."
Lilith ground their teeth. Even if they could think of a suitable threat, Blake was going to dismiss them anyway. It was thankless work, arguing with this guy. It was better to scrunch your annoyance up into a little ball and store it somewhere within yourself.
"Blake.” Lilith lined up the tips of their fingers on each hand and pressed them together. “You've got Rex picking up the slack for you on the pairs project. You’re mean to Astrophel...”
“When have I ever been -?”
Lilith parted their hands, demanding to be allowed to finish. “You haven't cooked for us on any of your designated nights. You don't even hang out with us after lessons.”
"Fuck’s sake, is this what you're upset about?” The ghost of a smirk crept over Blake’s face. “That I won't come to your tedious Doctor Who marathons?"
"If you would just give Capaldi a chance - hmph." Lilith stroked their hands through the air to calm themself. "Blake.”
“Lil....”
Orion, give me strength.
“...lith,” Blake finished, his face the picture of forced innocence. The picture of a smug shithead.
Lilith exhaled. “Forget about hanging out with us. Forget about the dinners. No one missed your ‘plain pasta with salt’ anyway.”
“Harsh.”
“But stop. Taking. Advantage. Of. Rex,” Lilith said. “The only reason Madame A brought back the pairs projects is because there’s an even number of us this year. Thanks to you. Which means the extra work you’re dumping on Rex is double your fault.”
“You don’t give Rex enough credit.” Blake’s tone was disarmingly sharp. Accusatory, even. “If she had a real problem with me, she’d tell me herself. In fact, didn’t it occur to you that maybe she prefers not having to work with me? Do you think I didn’t see those looks all three of you gave each other when Madame A set the pairs?”
Guilt spilled over from the pot of emotions bubbling in Lilith’s gut. Had Blake really just made a series of good, morally impressive points?
“So. How about you shut up, leave me be, and stop trying to be everybody’s hero?” Blake looked nauseated, as though the word ‘hero’ had tasted like petrol on his tongue.
The guilt was abruptly washed away in a tide of anger. The least useful of the emotions, and the very last one you should bring into a conversation with Blake Forte.
Lilith turned away. For a few seconds, they were fully intent on just walking out of the library and leaving Blake’s words hanging, untouched, in the air. But before they could get through the door, they turned back around.
“Fuck you.” They wished their tone hadn’t been so gentle and matter-of-fact. They might as well have just told Blake that the weather was nice today.
But they were still kind of relieved that they’d said it.
Blake had just leaned down to pick his book up from the floor. “Hey, Forrester, remind me - what page was I on, again?”
👁🗨- Talk about someone/something you like, but pretend to dislike
For any!
Thank you!! Answering for Blake.
Ask Game
___
Blake huffs and sits back in whatever chair he's in, looking at you as though you are the embodiment of the entity that he's picturing in his mind. If he had a cat on his lap, he'd be stroking it ominously right about now.
"Lilith. Mars. Forrester." He says the name in an almost accusatory tone. "Master of the Body, some might say, and if that doesn't make them sound like a slut, then I don't know what else to tell you." He looks smugly pleased with himself. "A prodigy, a natural talent, a golden child, always the centre of attention. Very obvious that they were adored and nurtured by all three of their parents. So it's very inconvenient, for me at least, that they're also a funny, kind, radiant soul who inspires me to be a better version of myself, even if I don't always believe that version exists..."
He narrows his eyes now, and gives you a bored, blunt look. "What?"
Make assumptions about my OCs based on their appearance!
(sorry for the reposting shenanigans. I’m having formatting issues on my phone and my laptop, which is why the images are stacked instead of arranged in a square.)
Their names are (in the same order as the images):
Rex (she/her)
Blake (he/him) - please imagine with one blue and one brown eye.
Lilith (they/them)
Astrophel (he/him, or any neo pronouns).
Also here's the Picrew maker link. It’s a really fun one!
Assumptions:
“Astrophel is a good friend”
“Blake plays guitar (or wishes he did)” (Part Two)
“Lilith was bullied into being/looking ‘normal’ as a kid”
hold my hair back: do they like to be alone or have company when they feel ill?
Absolutely alone. He generally prefers to be alone when he's in a vulnerable state, but at the time of the story taking place, he's got something extremely private and embarrassing going on, which he desperately doesn't want the others to witness.
thermometer: how do fevers effect your character’s stomach?
For another (different) secret reason that I haven't revealed yet, Blake's whole body is quite sensitive to changes in temperature. Just the slightest fever will make his insides react as though he's suffering mild heat exhaustion, so we're talking full-blown nausea and cramps.
greasy spoon: how does your character’s stomach react to junk food?
Answered over here already.
bartender: has your character ever had a bad experience with over drinking?
Yes, but it wasn't with the rest of the MARS gang. When he was in public school, he found it just as hard to click with his peers as his does elsewhere, so whenever social events would happen, he would drink a lot to try to compensate for how isolated he felt. More than once his father or stepmother had to come drag him home, and he woke up the next day with a horrible hangover and barely any recollection of the night before.
bad memory: is there a food your character refuses to eat due to a bad experience with it?
Until he was six, he was raised solely by his father, who struggled a lot with his own mental health at the time. Mealtimes were particularly stressful, and he ended up feeding Blake a lot of plain pasta instead of balanced meals. To this day, Blake won't eat pasta unless it's completely covered in sauce, because otherwise it reminds him of that stressful, vulnerable time with his father.
For that ask game: ice cream, thermometer, greasy spoon, and hiccups for Shayne, Charlie, and Blake (I love Blake btw. Can't wait to see more of him)
Thank you!! And I'm so excited to hear that you like Blake so far. I've got lots of angsty plans for him.
Note: I have done this game before and it's possible I've answered some of these for Shayne and Charlie already, so if anybody finds doubles and they don't correspond, feel free to send me a link and tell me to fix it lmao)
Ask Game
Shayne:
ice cream: are there any foods your character cant eat?
In the earlier parts of the story, it's thought that Shayne might be lactose intolerant, so he generally avoids dairy, but it's not catastrophic if he doesn't; he just has a generically weak stomach that isn't particularly sensitive to one thing more than another.
thermometer: how do fevers effect your character’s stomach?
Fevers will generally give him a dull, sluggish kind of ache in his stomach, keeping him just nauseous enough that he can't relax without causing him to vomit.
greasy spoon: how does your character’s stomach react to junk food?
He generally starts to feel full pretty quickly once he starts eating, but this happens even faster when he's eating heavy or greasy food. His stomach also gets a little noisier than usual while trying to digest it. He won't be able to tell if he's hungry again, or just nauseous, for... quite a while.
hiccups: does your character get burpy/gassy/hiccupy when they eat too much?
One of the benefits of how slowly he eats is that he avoids getting too gassy from eating. However, he has a lot less control when it comes to fizzy drinks/sodas, and more often than not ends up with a case of deep, hollow burps, or a very rumbly stomach ache.
Charlie:
ice cream: are there any foods your character cant eat?
I’ve been thinking, and I actually don’t believe there are! The only reasons Charlie might avoid certain food would be because he doesn’t like the taste, or because it takes too long to prepare (especially during his college years, he starts to see cooking as a waste of time).
thermometer: how do fevers effect your character’s stomach?
Charlie's head and his stomach are very much in sync with one another, so as soon as a fever starts to make him dizzy or light-headed, you can be sure that he's busy locating the nearest bathroom or bucket.
greasy spoon: how does your character’s stomach react to junk food?
His stomach would react absolutely fine to it, no problem... if Charlie had any ounce of self-control when it comes to junk food. Charlie is an emotional eater, so if he's even a little bit stressed and there are snacks available, it's basically guaranteed that he's going to keep picking at them until it's too late. This can end in two different ways - a long-drawn-out belly ache that feels like a ton of cement in his gut, or some very sudden and urgent nausea.
hiccups: does your character get burpy/gassy/hiccupy when they eat too much?
Sometimes! But as I so love to point out (because I think it’s so adorable), he gets gassy and hiccupy when he’s hungry. Food is usually what calms it down, and doesn’t really cause him to get burpy again unless he eats incredibly fast.
Blake:
ice cream: are there any foods your character cant eat?
He doesn’t like to admit it to anyone, but his stomach is quite delicate to anything overly rich or spicy. Not to the point where it’ll make him sick, but leave him with a pretty distracting stomach ache.
thermometer: how do fevers effect your character’s stomach?
It doesn’t take much for Blake’s body to turn on him, so the first stirrings of a fever would already be throwing his digestion into chaos. He’d have no appetite, and anything already in his stomach would have a hard time staying down.
greasy spoon: how does your character’s stomach react to junk food?
He’s not very used to eating junk food; he grew up eating relatively healthy, fresh meals prepared by his stepmother, and his father was strict about them not ordering takeaways or eating at fast food places, so junk food doesn’t tend to sit with him very well nowadays. However, he loves the taste of it, plus the feeling of defiance it gives him, so the potential pain and nausea don’t tend to stop him from indulging in it when he can.
hiccups: does your character get burpy/gassy/hiccupy when they eat too much?
Yes, and he is fairly, um, forthcoming with his burps, priding himself on not really giving a shit if (almost) anybody thinks that he’s disgusting or annoying (he’s fairly sure most people wouldn’t like him anyway, even if he was polite). The hiccups, on the other hand, he’ll do his best to suppress, as he feels they’re a bit more childish and embarrassing.
