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#i'm sure nothing will go wrong

katatty · 9 months

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Hallie picks up a job in cuisine, at last! She's muddled through adulthood so far, not managing to find a job in her dream career, being set back by an unexpected pregnancy... but now she can finally start getting her life properly on track.

#shellcastle sands #the fiero legacy #Hallie Fiero #i'm sure nothing will go wrong

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thebad-lydrawn-sanses · 3 months

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If Killer has a stuffed friend, I think all the others should have one too *gifts plushies to all the boys*. I hope these at least help you guys feel better while you recover! :)

Nightmare: …cute.

Horror: ah, thank you Background text: 20% off Background text: hfdjk Background text: please pretend i drew- Background text: -food on the shelves

Dust: snrk… it's baby sized. Cross, amused: you're holding it like a child too. Dust: i'm naming xem Bismuth Technetium Hydrogen Dust's shirt: bone hurting juice Cross's shirt: GAY (in the colors of the aromantic flag)

Cross: !

#nightmare sans #horror sans #dust sans #cross sans #injury #<- they're actually scars but they look like injuries #Nightmare looks bored/upset but he just woke up i swear #lil guy is eepy #Horror on a mission all by himself without telling anyone i'm sure nothing will go wrong :D #Dust and Cross are in Killer's room i just didn't feel like drawing the stupid bed #i can't draw raised eyebrows on Cross anymore because of the giant scar nooo #also can you tell i do NOT know how to draw the bottom half of stuffed animals #i just can not and refuse to try tbh #for the record the plushies that Nightmare and Horror got are the same size #i can't tell if the bone hurting juice shirt is funnier on Cross or Dust #queue

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egophiliac · 1 month

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Hello!! I followed you for your absolutely amazing Twisted Wonderland comics (thank you for making them, by the way-) but I saw you posting about something called Ride Kamens? I haven’t heard of it before, what’s it about? Or if that’s a bit much to ask, where could I find more info about it? It seems right up my alley 👀

Thank you!

thank you! :> :> :> (this is also for the other anon who asked about where to find it, I am honored to be infecting the world spreading interest in this silly game)

Ride Kamens is still doing prerelease marketing and isn't out yet; it's set for "early summer 2024", so a bit yet to go! similar to Twst, it's a mobile game about anime boys loosely based on an existing franchise (Kamen Rider), although it seems like it's going to be more standalone/won't require familiarity with Rider going in.

the (very) basic premise is that your player character has just taken over their late father's role as a secret agent, supporting the city's superheroes by running a secret base disguised as a cafe (plus you have a personal butler for some reason) (the reason is because it's amazing). you also have to help the heroes regain their lost memories, and it looks like it'll have a bit of a route/choice aspect there (not romance, just different endings to the character episodes depending on what you do). the details are kinda hard to tell at this point but the characters seem like a really fun bunch; there's definitely big "idiots with emotional problems" energy which I am extremely into.

all the official info is in Japanese only at the moment, but here's the website and the ride_kamens twitter! (though the twitter is sort of overtaken by posts about the AnimeJapan exhibit right now, whoops.) and I believe some people are already planning on doing translations for it too? lots to look forward to! :D

#ride kamens #joseimuke games are serious business #this is why like 99% of my posts about it so far have been just 'hey it's that guy' :')#the characters look like fun i'm just waiting to properly meet them!#i suspect they're doing a bit of a reverse-twst where instead of familiarity with the source drawing you into the game #they're aiming to get people into rider via handsome animes #we have officially reached the zany gambit phase of the franchise #honestly i have no idea what the actual quality of the game is going to be but by god am i gonna play it anyway because C'MON #i do think it looks like fun though! based on the op it looks like the villains might be turning people into monsters?#and the chaostones are from space or something WHY NOT #(also i was SO happy to see that there's a background that looks like our old friend the Wireworks and Explosion Factory)#(you made it in! can't wait for a character to dramatically explode in you ❤️)#(man i hope nijigao city is just full of toku landmarks)#(round up all the boys for a field trip to the local quarry surely nothing will go wrong there)

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ferret-propaganda · 7 months

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Happy Howard Moon's Jazz Club Night to all who celebrate.

#i'm sure he'll have a nice relaxing night in with lester corncrake and nothing at all will go wrong #the mighty boosh #howard moon

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lloydfrontera · 1 year

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tfw when you write an entire novel with two protagonists that spent the entire plot getting closer to each other, becoming best friends and eventually both of them deciding they would rather die than allow the other to not live a long, fulfilling life, their friendship carrying most of the emotional weight of the entire plot and the emotional climax being one of them sacrificing his life so the other can live and then the other crossing literal universes to find him, a tearful smile in his face as he confesses how much he missed him. which is the scene you wanted to write and show the most because, again, this is the pay off to the slowburn you've been writing in the entire novel and what everything has been building up to since the very first chapter. and then you end the novel by having them share a smile, finally confident they'll be able to have a happy future.

but you also just gotta have one of them marry offscreen because everyone knows you can't be happy if you're not in a het marriage with kids lmao it's whatever it's okay i'm fiNE-

#i talk a lot <3 #the greatest estate developer #lloyd frontera #this post was going to be so much more bitter this is me being nice akjshdkahdk #i just....... i'm sad alsjdsjkal #and i don't think i'm wrong to be. like i'm not disapointed bc i don't actually expected lloyd and javier to be together #i'm not that optimistic lmao #but i did have the hope tged would have no romance #because lloyd and javier were already doing so much in the emotional and relationship development front of the plot #that adding romance just feels. awkward. like an aside. an add-on that affects none of the plot and is just there to make sure #no one accidentally gets confused and think those two are in love #and guess what! most of the romance does happen in literal side stories! literally an add-on that does nothing for the plot! i hate it!#it's the heteronormativity and amatonormativity of it all :/#do i think it would've been cool for llojavi to be canon? absolutely! do i think it was necessary for the plot? nope!#they were already perfect the way they are! their friendship is the core of the entire plot and their relationship to each other #is what ultimately moves much of the plot in the latter half!#which is the way relationships should work in fiction! not just have them for the sake of having them!#lloyd didn't need a romantic subplot because the plot was already working perfectly without it!#also what's the point of having a character constantly think about what their idea of 'happy life' is if you're not going to challenge it #it's about the hero's journey of it all!!!#i have things to say dang it!#javier asrahan #tged

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side-of-honey · 1 year

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In case you were curious, the way I work on comics is by slowly accumulating brainrot over the span of several weeks and then expending it all in one rapidly deteriorating burst of motivation! :D

I tried experimenting with hair a little in this one so that it’s more of a mix of my style and omocat’s rather than just omocat’s? Idk, it looks both kind of weird but kind of better imo???

#problem: kel and aubrey in ls are very fun to write but we don't get to them for a long time #solution: F L A S H B A C K #they're both getting desperate at this point #so I'm sure nothing will go wrong!#Luck Swap #OMORI #omori au #omori Kel #omori Aubrey #omori Hero #omori Mari #omori Basil #omori Sunny

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ricoka · 4 months

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I see a lot of compassion for (fanfic) writers lately and I'm glad about it. I didn't wish it any other way. It takes a lot of time and a lot of research and practice. It's a lot of work, it should be honoured.

I still wish this compassion and understanding extended more towards (fan) artists as well.

People interact longer with written words and it's easier to genuinely connect with it for most people. And I often get the feeling that most people know by now as well that a lot of work goes into it. But I still don't always get the impression that people realise the same thing is true for art. You just end up looking at it for a few seconds. A few minutes if it really catches your eye, or several times if it speaks to you enough to turn it into your lock screen. But the interaction is so brief and fleeting in most cases. And I get the impression that as an artist you're not allowed to complain over not feeling valued. you're not allowed to air your grievances, or people will just block you and not reblog from you again because there's someone else, someone better, already around the corner.

#just contemplating because of the post i reblogged a few minutes ago #I'm not even sure right now if the fleeting connection is necessarily a bad thing #it's just the nature of it #it's not rewarding for a lot of people #it just is #this also brought up something i thought about earlier when i was doing some lurking in an art discord #where someone made major improvements in just a few months #it's not going to keep me from it #but i do sometimes wonder if some people are just made to make art and have a way easier time #am I doing something wrong? should i be doing something else?#though to be fair i struggled with basically every hobby i ever picked up #nothing seems to come naturally to me

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teamsasukes · 10 months

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listen i get where people are coming from when they say that nobody should have expected a radical overhaul of the shinobi system considering the series very squarely set up its main theme as not abandoning friends. that certainly was the setup. but i also think it would be inaccurate to say that the story as it evolved affirmed that refusing to abandon one's friends was the be-all and end-all fix for everything. i cannot emphasize this enough: it's not as though the prior generations we saw lacked devotion to their teammates. the problem was that the larger sociopolitical circumstances obstructed their ability to connect in one way or another. even naruto acknowledges at the land of iron that his and sasuke's positions made it impossible for them to reconcile. so for the series to do a 180 and assert that actually friendship was the solution all along (even though there have been no meaningful systemic changes, even though the source of these intergenerational conflicts has not been addressed) rings hollow. it's especially glaring that being violently beaten in a fight makes sasuke desert his quest for justice without any reservation -- therefore no ideological or political separation was bridged, sasuke was just made to forget what motivated him for the entire series' run. naruto and team 7 succeeding where their predecessors failed was not a function of anything they did differently, but mere narrative convenience.

#like. nearly every prominent relationship in this series is definitive proof that love is not enough!#itachi without a doubt loved sasuke and itachi hurt sasuke more immensely than anyone and itachi did it because of loyalty to the state #if that is how you love... your love is worth nothing #so yeah it just feels really disingenuous to say that the series was about the power of friendship all along #and people expecting anything else were watching the wrong series #when textually the power of friendship has ALWAYS proven insufficient #naruto #naruto meta #team 7 #and listen u could certainly argue that the friendship in previous gens was deficient because there was no attempt made #at understanding or compromise. and to really live by obito's nindo you had to prioritize each other over country ALWAYS #but the series didn't do that either. sasuke for all intents and purposes 'lost'#and he was integrated back into konoha by accepting the hitai-ate #nrt had a bunch of weird mixed messaging on that front in general. like hiruzen letting orochimaru go which proved disastrous for konoha #or hiruzen and danzo's whole thing lmao #but whether the uchiha massacre was right/necessary was also left ambiguous so i'm not sure how that's supposed to paint hiruzen

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wavesoutbeingtossed · 6 months

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Can I just talk about how much I love the wordplay of “Suburban Legends”???

The way that an urban legend is a story that’s been passed around so far and wide and often that it’s accepted as true (folklore, if you will) or at least believable or exciting enough to keep passing on from campfire to campfire.

And then in this song it’s suburban legends because the story’s been papered over, it’s become a cliche, a poor replica of the real thing. The (cool) urban legend of this hot, epic romance for the ages everyone would talk about forever has been replaced by the (all too familiar, devoid of authenticity) suburban legend of being toyed with and losing herself in a relationship that once again leads to heartache because they can’t be genuine with each other about what they actually want. It’s not a cool story; it’s pedestrian, it’s another blip in the radar of their young lives (just like the suburbs are the epitome of boring in pop culture, cookie-cutter and bland and forgettable and soulless, compared to the magic of the city where anything could happen and everyone wants to be in). It’s not an epic love story for the ages, they won’t be spoken of far and wide, they’re on the periphery of the real thing but never quite making it.

Her mind 🤌

#I LOVE WHEN SHE PLAYS WITH WORDS LIKE THIS #idk I know I’m not articulating this well #taylor swift #1989 tv #me thinking too hard about taylor lyrics #lyrics analysis #suburban legends #writing letters addressed to the fire #1989 (taylor's version)#I'm sure someone's going to come along and explain how I'm wrong #and this will be embarrassing #but for now let me have this lol #luckily I'm all alone in this corner of the internet!#also: my brain immediately went to hooking up with. a high school bf #like you think it’s going to last while you’re in it #but you’re nothing more that a footnote in a yearbook

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moonshine-nightlight · 2 years

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Nothing's Wrong with Dale: Part Eleven

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing's Wrong with Dale Chapter 11

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5] [Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten] Part Eleven [Part Twelve] [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two] [Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four] [Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] [Part Twenty-Seven] [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

You walk into the grand hall with your maid, who you wave off to go to the tables with the other servants while you head for the dais. With the tournament coming up in a couple days as the official start to the wedding festivities—the hunt being unofficial—more and more people are arriving in Northridge itself or the town nearby.

A majority of them were invited to at least one supper at the estate after their arrival. As one of the betrothed, and the only one present, that means you are seated next to Grandmother and introduced to any and all guests. Many of the ones who had arrived so far are neighbors or family of Northridge and so you try to fix them firmly in your mind as you’re likely to see them again.

It’s exhausting. Between so many new people and your worry over how Dale is faring on the hunt that you can’t seem to vanquish, you can’t wait for the hunt’s return.

Today you see yet another new face waiting for you. A dignified woman in a handsome black suit, seemingly alone you are glad to see, is listening to Grandmother speak with a smile that softens her stern figure. Grandmother starts beckoning you over as soon as she spots you. “Come, come, dear,” she says. “Let me introduce you to my daughter, Lady Breighton. Breighton, this is my new grandchild-to-be.”

“Pleased to meet you,” you say once close enough, curtsying, as your mind runs through what you remember of this aunt: unmarried and lives in Verlind. The one Dale remembered as disliking him before he went away.

Her eyes are sharp when you meet them and she gives you a polite bow in return. “You as well,” she replies, her voice low and confident, before her eyes return to her mother. “Speaking of, where is Father and the man of the hour?”

“Having a hunt, you know how those sorts are,” Grandmother waves her hand dismissively. “I hoped they would be back in time for supper tonight, but I suppose that was too much to expect.”

“I’ve certainly never understood the appeal of risking one’s life before getting married,” Lady Breighton says with some scorn, “except as a poorly done attempt to get out the wedding proper—if rather short-sighted to one’s other future prospects.”

You can’t tell if she’s joking for all Grandmother laughs. “Oh, hush. Sit down, sit down. It’s making my neck hurt, staring up at the two of you.”

You take your seat to her left, while her daughter sits on her right. You take additional care arranging your skirts to give yourself a few extra seconds before you must engage in conversation. The back of your neck prickles with the sensation someone is watching you as you do so. You look up to see Lady Breighton looking back at you, weighing you.

Grandmother gives no notice to this and simply continues, “It is lovely to be planning a wedding again, although each time I do forget how much is involved. We have not hosted since your brother’s nearly fifteen years ago.”

“I’m sure you have it well in hand, Mother,” Breighton says with a certain wry twist to her mouth. “As long as Dale isn’t making it a trial.”

Grandmother laughs. “Nonsense. You have always been too harsh on him,” she wags her finger at her daughter, but there’s no heat behind it, only amusement. “He is a growing lad and is as invested in his own wedding as he should be. The vigor of youth is to be encouraged, not stifled.” When Breighton looks as though she might object, Grandmother continues, “Do not think it has been so many years that I cannot recall how you were when younger.”

Breighton closes her mouth reluctantly.

“Besides, his fiance is a wonderful influence on him,” Grandmother continues, turning to you with a smile you don’t expect. “I always knew that all Dale needed was a few years abroad to work through some of that youthful fickleness and a competent partner to become the man he could always become.”

You blush at both her words and the renewed focus Breighton bestows upon you. As before, you feel she can see every inch of you. She appears skeptical, but not enough to speak any of her thoughts aloud at this time.

You feel an odd kinship with Breighton, after all if Dale hadn’t had his accident, you’d agree with her skepticism because she would have been right. Grandmother is too indulgent of Dale, has such a strong belief in his better nature, and you can’t help but find yourself on Breighton’s side of things. Besides, perhaps with the right experiences, he would have become a better man.

But he didn’t.

“You’re too kind, Grandmother,” you reply, trying to focus on her instead.

“I am nothing of the sort. I will have you know they used to say such things about me in the House of Law,” she says with a wicked smile that reminds you of Dale these days more than anyone else. “Never to my face though. Why one time, this particular Duke opposed one of my measures and—”

Her story is interrupted by a commotion at the other end of the hall, the doors opening rather dramatically to admit what you realize is the returning hunting party. Relief that they are back sweeps through you, a smile growing unbidden on your face because you’ve missed Dale, more than you thought you would.

Then you take in the general countenance of the people arriving. They don’t look frightened or somber or grieving, but they look worried, talking in quiet murmurs and glancing at the dais and then back to those who are still coming.

It’s a sobering sight and you frantically look for the source of tension. No one’s grim enough for a death, but someone must have been injured, someone—.

The group parts to reveal a bedraggled looking figure held up by another. Grandfather walks beside them, looking rather like he’s been rung out and left to dry wrinkled. He has some darker mud stains on his clothing for all he appears to walk uninjured. With nothing immediately distressing in his person, your eyes narrow on the injured, far muddier looking figure. They widen even as your nerves paradoxically steady.

Because the danger you’ve been anticipating has finally been realized.

You gasp as you take Dale in. He’s not just muddy, but covered in blood. The left side of his overcoat is stiff with it and he’s favoring his right side in general. No cane to be seen, just a heavy lean on Mr. Murray, who’s seemingly half carrying him.

“Greetings!” Dale calls out and his voice is strong, but with a strange wobble to it. “We have returned victorious!”

Grandmother gasps as Grandfather and Dale come closer and she can see something of their appearance. A man breaks off from the group to hurry up to the dais and reassure her while Grandfather keeps pace with Dale and his valet. You are able to understand over the muted roar in your ears that it’s one of her sons, who’s trying to explain that they’re fine, just a little worse for wear.

Carefully working your way up his body, you catalog a large gash on his left leg, multiple tears on his trousers—dark stains you honestly aren’t sure the origin of: mud or blood. His overcoat is missing an arm and his actual arm is hard to look at. Honestly, you can’t even distinguish what’s wrong with it, just that it's a bloody mess. At least no visible bones appear to be sticking out nor does it appear to be at an odd angle. You’re certain he must be bruised but there’s certainly no way to tell from here.

You follow in Grandmother’s wake in a mild daze as she stands up and makes her way around the table, asking, “What are you thinking! Dragging my injured boy hither and yon.”

Dale went limp after he called out for the rest of the journey across the floor, as if his initial outburst had used up his remaining energy. Now that he’s only a few feet away, he picks his head up, looking around blearily as if the sound of their voices is drawing him back into the moment. His gaze lands on you first and his whole face, bruised as it is, lights up. Your heart lurches in response: both at his clear delight in seeing you and at how it pulls on the bruises and cuts on his face in a manner that must be painful.

“We took down a majestic stag, hart of eleven in the least,” he crows, seemingly not concerned with the state he’s wound up in. “Uncle has it, I think.” He turns to blink at his uncle, sees his empty hands, and frowns. “No, he hasn’t got it. Mayhap the Marquess or Alexanderer.”

“Yes, my congratulations,” you find yourself saying automatically, no idea how he’s not mentioning his injury. You try to keep your voice cheerful to match his own, even though inside you’re caught in turmoil. Now that you’re closer, you find yourself having to fist your hands in your skirts not to touch him, check him over for yourself.

Nothing about his appearance screams ‘demon’ and he can’t have revealed himself because they would have chained him up or set him on fire, not dragged him back here. But he seems sloppier when ill and you’re not sure if longer time spent injured might affect his ability to conceal himself soon. It feels like you’re on a clock and you need to know how much time is left. “Is that how you ended up like this?”

“What? Pftt,” Dale shakes his head and then raises his banged up arm to brace it. “Shouldn’t have done that. No, no I—this happened after. There was a boar, a biiiiig boar.”

“And what? You wrestled it?” Grandmother’s sharp voice cuts into your conversation and you both turn to her. You don’t expect her to look so brittle as she stares at her grandson, nearly having lost his life for the second time in as many weeks after being away from home for years. Of course, she doesn’t know he already has lost his life.

You resolve never to tell her because seeing her face right now is enough.

“Grandmother…” any easy delight is gone from Dale’s face. “I’m alright, I give you my word. Looks far worse than it is. I need a bath and some bandaging, that’s all.”

“Oh, Dale.” Grandmother wraps him in a hug as well as she can with him still leaning on his valet and her being quite a bit shorter than him. Dale accepts the affection with start and before it goes on too long, she straightens up. “You need a doctor. Why did you bring him back here instead of fetching a physician to you? Should he even be standing up?”

“Sending someone, or even a bird, back here to fetch a doctor and then waiting for them to join us would have taken far longer simply coming home,” Grandfather says sternly, obviously defensive regarding both his decision and from the fact that Dale was harmed on the hunt he was hosting. There’s something else about him though, a shock factor that no one else seems to have, that makes you nervous.

“I’m fine,” Dale insists once more, reaching out as if to pat Grandmother’s shoulder, but she’s already moved out of reach to find the nearest physician.

You catch his hand before he hurts himself or Mr Murray. He stares at you in surprise, as if having forgotten you were there, before grinning. “Wait until you see the stag and the boar. A very impressive hunt, if I do say so. Such an invigorating time. Why, I feel alive in a manner I haven’t for years.”

“What have you given him?” you ask without thinking and rather more sharply than you intend to because Dale does not talk like this.

You don’t take it back.

“Whiskey,” Grandfather replies gruffly. “No harm in that.”

You would beg to disagree, but hold your tongue for now. “No wonder his balance is off,” you can’t help but murmur under your breath as you shift to accommodate the weight he’s already leaning on you while he continues to look around, perhaps for his hunted game.

“His balance was not the concern at the time,” Grandfather says with a scowl, accepting a wet cloth from a servant and reaching over to try to wipe at Dale’s face. This close you can see some attempt has already been made, but the scratch on his forehead must have reopened in transit. “He was in pain.”

To his credit, Dale barely seems to notice anything’s wrong at all at the moment. You haven’t seen this Dale truly drunk, he’s avoided anything besides wine at dinner since his illness, but you wonder exactly what effect it’s having on him considering what he is.

“How did you even manage to get him back here?” Grandmother asks sharply, back from whatever she was arranging and clearly still not ready to let go of her displeasure that they brought Dale back to the estate instead of sending a message for someone to come to the lodge. “Did you strap him to his horse?”

The silence that follows her question answers it.

Grandmother huffs with displeasure before she starts herding Dale and his valet over to a chair that’s been brought down from the dais. Mr. Murray helps Dale detach himself from his own person and into the chair. Since you haven’t let go of Dale’s arm, you help guide him and keep his focus on you, when he seems able to focus at all. Accepting the bowl of water and towel offered to him, his valet begins to try to clean Dale off.

You don’t look away from Dale, too on edge to let him out of your sight, but you overhear Grandfather and Uncle Wellington explaining to Grandmother and a doctor what happened. Evidently when he went to finish off a boar they’d hunted down, it’d gotten free of the hold some of the hounds had on it. Dale had ended up on top of the boar and the others hadn’t been able to do much besides keep it corralled, too worried about striking Dale instead of the boar. Dale had managed to finish it off with his dagger in the end, but not before getting rather banged up.

You can sense movement from the corner of your eye and you look over from where you’re kneeling next to the chair to find a middle-aged man leaning over Dale—likely the doctor. He doesn’t spare you a glance, running his eyes over Dale’s form, lips moving as he mutters to himself. Without saying a word of warning, he reaches out and pulls Dale’s injured arm from your grip.

Any lethargy Dale has been feeling must be burn away at the sudden touch, because he yanks his arm out of the other man’s grasp before you can blink. He pushes the doctor away with his left arm, a strong flat palmed blow to the man’s chest. “Do not touch me,” Dale hisses, looking balefully at the stunned man. His voice is dark and full of anger, “I have not given you permission to touch my person. Who are you?”

The man sputters, gone pale and drawn at Dale’s sudden fierce attitude. “I’m a doctor, let me look—”

Dale’s glare intense. “Another physician who doesn’t know anything. Presumptuous, foolish, self-important. I don’t need any of your help.” He practically spits that last word and you wish now more than ever you knew exactly what had happened between him and the previous doctor he scared the wits out of. Mostly you’re worried he’s going to do something to expose himself. In a way you’ve forgotten about since seeing Dale’s injuries for the first time, you’re suddenly all too aware of all the people around you, that you’re in the middle of the largest hall with practically everyone in Northridge here for supper.

The doctor takes a step back, frightened or pride-stung, and no one reproaches Dale regarding his venom. Grandmother doesn’t even twitch towards him, continuing to give orders instead, “Ms Adir, please set to making bandages if someone else is not already doing so. I believe we have not replenished our supply since the cat incident nor am I aware of where we are with our preparation for the tournament.”

You have–to mollify yourself when you thought of the tournament ahead while feeling impotent about the hunt. “I’ve special bandages ready,” you volunteer.

“What sort of bandages? Special how?” Grandmother asks, frown evident in her voice.

“Woven with silver and lightly treated with blessed honey,” you reply. When you had trouble sleeping the last few nights, you’d sewn quite a lot of yardage to occupy your hands until more ready for sleep, despite the waste of candles to see by. More than enough for Dale’s injuries now.

With the guest physician still looking cowed, Grandfather turns to Breighton. She nods. “I’m no doctor, but I’ve friends who are and they say those are the best.”

It’s enough of a confirmation for Grandmother and you send your maid off with instructions for where to find your supplies. Behind you, you can hear the doctor recover from some of his fright and begin to request his own supplies. You don’t comment until you hear him mention willowbark. “No willowbark,” you correct. “Lord Dale is allergic.”

“No, he’s not,” Grandfather says, confused enough you look up at him.

“Yes, he is,” you say, knowing that ‘allergy’ might have to do with his new nature and hoping that isn’t a well-known sign of possession. You try to forget that might be the case so your delivery of the information is as natural as possible. “He told me so himself only a short while ago.”

“He never was before,” Grandfather says and you don’t understand the accusation in his voice. The way he almost glares at you, rather than Dale. Surely if he suspected something was wrong with Dale, if he’d seen something of what Dale now is on this hunt, that would be where his suspicion would lie. Right?

“It’s possible he developed an allergy recently,” the doctor says, inadvertently coming to your rescue. “It’s no hardship, there are other treatments.”

“Right,” Grandfather says gruffly, before deflating. He rubs his face with his hand. “My apologies, it's been a long few hours.”

“Thank you, sana,” Dale says, patting your arm with his injured one. “I knew I could count on you.”

You’d rather he not have gotten hurt at all, but you can’t deny the warmth, the pride that fills you at his words. You stroke his hand in reply. “Of course.”

[Part Twelve]

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