#also experimenting with a new kind of gold shading

[zarla-s]

edit: OH I SEE HOW IT IS TUMBLR YOU HID THIS UNTIL IT POSTED TWICE >:| well whatever i’ll have to figure out which one to keep

Today is the 30TH anniversary of Star Control 2: The Ur-Quan Masters! You’ve probably seen me post about StarCon2... a lot... suffice it to say it’s important to me, haha. It was a huge influence on me as a kid! Even today bits of it still show up in stuff I make, like the Orz’s influence on the goopmonster thing/IDF in Handplates, the starmap in the background of some comics, people wearing a StarCon2 shirt, or the bright green of Quasispace for dimensional movement. I just love this game so much! I wanted to do something cool for the anniversary, so I figured hey, why not a big group shot of everyone all together! AND BOY IT TOOK LONG ENOUGH I improvised for a few of the races lower torsos since we never see them in-game, haha.

I love this game so much!!! And you can play it for free RIGHT NOW!!! YOU SHOULD DO IT!!!

[patreon]

[animeomegas]

The Quest for a Second Life - Part 6 - 50 Shades of Audacity (2)

KAKASHI x ALPHA!READER

Summary: An office scandal, the start of your gold digging arc, and a mysterious house in the countryside... It still annoyed you that you had to have a job, but honestly, it could have been worse. This was kind of exciting! GN!Dom!Alpha!Reader x Multiple

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: N-sfw content, workplace violations, vague discussion of canon specific suicide, playful smacking, playful physical restraint. All alphas have dicks, fyi.

A/N: Hey! We're rapidly reaching the end of this story now! Only one more chapter before the epilogue, crazy! Time has flown. Happy holidays to everyone, especially @omeganronpa who is working so hard, hopefully a break is coming soon 😖 Not much porn in this one, as I'm saving it for the finale. Enjoy~

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Epilogue

Going for a Sunday drive was always a nice way to spend a morning. Well, it wasn’t Sunday and technically you weren’t driving, but the point still stood.

You had your nose basically glued to the window as the unfamiliar city sights bled into an equally unfamiliar, but timeless countryside. Fields, animals, trees, they all rushed past, familiar and new in the same breath. You were pleasantly surprised that this erotica world city didn’t have suburbs; who knew you just had to die to benefit from good city planning?

Kakashi’s fancy car was growing on you too, with its heated seats and spacious leg room, and you couldn’t deny that it was also having an impact on how much you were enjoying this drive. It even had six cupholders. Six. Kakashi didn’t even have that many friends in total, but even having the choice to have six beverages felt like a luxury experience.

Kakashi was also in his fancy car, of course, but he was considerably less interested in the view, and more interested in the paperwork he’d brought along. What a boring place to put one’s attention; you needed to rectify that immediately.

“If you could pick one of your dogs to magically learn English, who would you pick?” His pen not even slowing for a moment, Kakashi answered with no hesitation.

“Anyone but Pakkun.”

Hmm, maybe a harder question would work?

“What’s 472 + 9012?”

“9484.”

Something shocking perhaps?

“Does your pubic hair also defy gravity?”

“No comment.”

Oh, something weird would surely get his attention!

“If I were a worm, would you still love me?”

“No.”

You huffed, sinking down into your heated seat. He hadn’t even paused in the paperwork, so your plan had thoroughly failed. You wondered why Kakashi, a man you’d seen climb out of a window to avoid a work meeting once, was now diligently completing paperwork when he had a good excuse not to. Whatever, he’d probably already procrastinated on it enough that Iruka had threatened him into finishing it. No one ignored direct instructions from Iruka, even though he wasn’t technically high up enough to give instructions at all.

You sighed, turning back to the window to keep yourself amused, acknowledging that you’d lost the battle for Kakashi’s attention to his paperwork. Maybe it was the effect of the car journey, or maybe you were just sappy, but you quickly found yourself reminiscing.

Two weeks ago, you never would have imagined being here with him like this. It was almost difficult to wrap your head around how much your relationship had changed in such a short amount of time, how comfortable you’d both become with each other. Kakashi still took his role as ‘professional nuisance’ seriously of course, revelling in winding you up as what seemed like his main past time and hobby.

He was also still late to meetings, refused to do work, skipped lunch if you didn’t bring it to him… Okay, so maybe not that much had changed. But hey, you kissed frequently now, that was new! And your name was also currently the hottest topic in every break room at work.

That very first day after the tryst in Kakashi’s office had to have been your favourite in terms of gossip shockwaves. It had turned out that Kakashi did have another spare shirt for you to wear home after both your shirt and his first spare had been ruined, and the next morning, groggy and tired, you grabbed it to wear to work without thinking about what you were doing.

You had known that there was gossip about you and Kakashi leaving work together, but apparently the security guard’s version of events, that you had both come back to work together after hours, you without a shirt, and then locked yourself in his office, was in hot debate. Many refused to believe that terminal bachelor Kakashi Hatake would ever sleep with his secretary. ‘Something out of a bad porn book’, you had heard multiple times. How ironic.

So, when you walked in late, wearing Kakashi’s shirt, you corroborated the security guard’s story and confirmed the rumours all at once.

The break room fell silent the second you walked in, even though it had been filled with loud debate moments before. Everyone turned to look at you. Have you ever lifted a rock and had all the bugs underneath it suddenly freeze? It felt like that.

“Good morning,” you said, shooting everyone a hesitant smile. “Sorry I’m a bit late today.”

You watched as everyone’s eyes flickered from your face, down to your shirt, and then up to your face again. The room was uncomfortably silent.

Suddenly Asuma cheered, and chaos descended on the room. Not everyone seemed as thrilled as Asuma though. Kurenai only sighed and passed Asuma a handful of cash. Anko did the same, but with significantly more swearing and threats towards his delicate parts.

(You would find out later that Asuma had seen the security footage of your interview and had proceeded to make many, many bets that you and Kakashi would be fucking within a week. Because of Kakashi’s ‘no dating’ reputation, you were sure he had raked in a significant amount.)

Iruka’s face went bright red, and he sputtered for a moment before turning around and pretending to organise the mug cupboard. He did not succeed in hiding the small bit of blood now dripping from his nose.

In contrast to Iruka’s not so subtle hiding, Gai came right up to you and thumped you on the back, shouting about youth.

Yamato only stared at you, his already large eyes wider than normal. You weren’t sure what emotion he was embodying, but it was certainly creepy.

Maybe it was best if you just went to your desk?

Just as you turned to leave, Gai had one more final thing to say.

“I hope your love blossoms with intensity!” he said, giving you a thumbs up.

Why did that feel like he was giving you permission to fuck Kakashi?

People did slowly get used to the idea that you and Kakashi were something more than coworkers. It helped that you had lunch together most days, which gave people a chance to get used to seeing you together.

On days where your schedules didn’t align for lunch though, you made a point to grab dinner together. Your favourite by far had been dinner at his penthouse flat. Not only was that the night where you’d first called Kakashi your boyfriend, but it was also the first time you were introduced to his dogs.

It felt strange to be walking through a block of flats that was so fancy. The lobby had looked like something from a 5-star hotel, and you had had to show your ID before the front desk would let you upstairs, even though Kakashi had informed them that you’d be coming. Security reasons, they had said. You wondered what other high-profile people lived here.

Kakashi had the penthouse flat, so his was the only one on the top floor. You exited the lift and were immediately confronted with his front door. It wasn’t quite as big as the door in the library you had chosen his story from, but it was still an impressive size.

If you were being honest, it was a little intimidating.

The intimidation factor was shattered as soon as you knocked on the door however, because the second your fist made contact with the wood, a cacophony of barking sounded from the other side.

“Yes, yes, I’m going, you can stop barking.” You could faintly hear Kakashi’s voice through the door. “Bisuke! Get off there!”

The barking still continued.

“Sit, sit. All of you sit! I mean it, or you won’t be getting any treats today.”

Slowly, the barking and the sound of claws clacking ceased, and suddenly the door was pulled open. Standing there, in all his homey glory, was Kakashi.

You were used to seeing him exclusively dressed in suits, but he was wearing lounge clothes. Lounge clothes! Uptight, always ready for a fancy restaurant Kakashi, was wearing a grey tracksuit, with a long-sleeved top in dark blue, and fluffy slippers.

A smile grew on your face; perhaps you were biased, but these suited him a lot more. They still looked expensive, but they were just so much cosier than his normal get up. It made you want to hug him. You resisted for a moment before remembering what world you were in and what the point of this whole second life thing was, and then your resistance crumbled into nothing.

You threw yourself at him for a hug.

“Oof.” Kakashi floundered in surprise for a moment, but when you didn’t let go, he tentatively patted you on the back. You giggled and squeezed him harder, burying your face into his neck.

There were no scent patches! He wasn’t wearing scent patches! Giddy, you took a deep breath of his scent, letting it fill and sit in your lungs. Yes, he smelt utterly delicious.

Kakashi put his hands on your upper arms and gently tugged you away from him. His face was bright red. You could almost see steam coming out of his ears. You laughed at him but decided to show mercy and not tease him over his obvious bashfulness. You instead turned your attention to his dogs.

They were all sitting together to your right, tails wagging furiously. You could tell that if they had been any less well trained, they’d have been jumping all over you.

You opened your bag and pulled out a little something that you’d brought to make sure they liked you. When the dogs caught sight of the McDonald’s bag, their excitement obviously got too much to contain, because they all ran over to your feet, a couple jumping up at you, a couple barking, all looking eager to get their hands on the carroty goodness.

Kakashi, although you could tell he was amused, stepped in to corral his little gremlins. God, he was such a dog dad.

You had received copious wet kisses that day, mostly from the dogs, but also from a sappy Kakashi who had seemed utterly thrilled that you and his dogs got along.

You had had to make and study flash cards to remember all his dogs’ names, but Kakashi’s genuine smile as he watched you interact with them made it all worth it.

You had also met Charlie, Kakashi’s personal chef that evening.

The presence of his personal chef didn’t surprise you. What surprised you was when said chef made dinner for the dogs and then immediately left, leaving Kakashi to cook for you and him. It was exactly that abrupt, and you had laughed until you cried. Of course, he hired a personal chef just for his dogs. He spoilt them rotten.

You were sceptical as to how much skill he would have in the kitchen, but he produced a delicious meal with little trouble. It made you warm that Kakashi was so enthusiastic about cooking dinner you.

Cooking wasn’t the only way he was spoiling you though; he seemed incredibly willing to flash his cash for you, much to your delight.

“Have you considered a top hat?” you asked, picking up the worst top hat you’d ever seen and holding it up as a suggestion. Kakashi gave you a flat look. “What? If this Autumn Company Party thing is so important, you need to make an impression, and this hat would certainly make an impression!”

“I don’t want to make the kind of impression that has my board of directors attempting to oust me from the company.” He took the hat and placed it back on the rack.

“Fine.” You rolled your eyes. “If you didn’t want my fashion advice, why did you even bring me along to pick your outfit? I could have just waited in the car.”

The attendant that was serving you walked back into the room with a selection of ties based on Kakashi’s preferences. He laid them out on the stool for him to peruse. He had already witnessed a great deal of your banter, but if he was surprised by it, then he was too professional to let that show.

“You’re my personal assistant.”

You flicked the tie he was currently wearing up into his face. “That doesn’t mean I need to watch you pick out ties, asshole.”

Kakashi flicked you on the forehead in turn, rolling his eyes as he always did. “No, I mean that you’ll have to attend the party with me, and I figured you would need a new outfit. As you said, it’s important to make an impression, especially as this will be your debut of sorts.”

You snorted, pulling at one of the price tags of a nearby shirt. “Not in here, thanks. Just reading these numbers is making my bank account cry, I can’t imagine what buying them would do to it.”

Kakashi watched you for a moment, before he stuck his hand into his pocket. Out came his wallet.

‘James? Is what I think is happening, actually happening?’

‘I believe you are about to reach a major milestone in your goal to become a ‘gold digger’, human. My soul is warmed by your success, may it be prosperous and eternal.’

‘Thanks, James, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.’

Just as you predicted, Kakashi slipped his card out from his wallet and handed it to you. “Buy whatever you need, I can’t have my assistant looking shabby now, can I?”

You could imagine this scene in other stories, stories where you weren’t the lead. The MC would decline, either out of bashfulness or a sense of pride. Kakashi would probably then insist, and maybe MC would feel obliged to agree, but they would slip outside and purchase the outfit from a cheaper shop down the road to make a point. And then Kakashi would swoon because MC is ‘not like other alphas’.

You were the lead in this story though, so you took the card immediately, grinning from ear to ear.

“Fuck yes,” you said under your breath. Kakashi snorted, but he looked amused, not offended, by the way you were treating his money. “I’m going to dress up like royalty.”

You scurried off into your preferred section of the shop, Kakashi’s card clutched tightly in your grasp. You eagerly rifled through the racks. At several moments, you got the feeling that you were being watched, but whenever you looked back, Kakashi was fully focused on shopping. Maybe you were imagining it?

The Autumn Company Party had been coming up a lot. It was clearly the climax of the plot, but unlike Itachi’s story, you weren’t really sure what the plot was. James had no idea what would be happening at the party either, just that something would happen, and whatever that something was, it was heavily influenced by your actions. You had originally been apprehensive, but you figured that for a porn story, it couldn’t be anything too bad, so you focused on your excitement about attending such a fancy work party. You’d bet the hors d’oeuvres were going to change your life.

(You were confident because you had been the one in charge of choosing the catering company and the menu. Your job was pretty fun at times, even if your true career calling was independently wealthy.)

In between the planning for the party, your physical relationship with Kakashi had also developed over the last fortnight.

“You’re needy tonight,” you teased, curling your fingers just right. Kakashi shivered.

“On the contrary, you need to shut up.”

You tutted, “That wasn’t your best work.”

“Forgive me; I’m a little preoccupied.” You took that as an invitation to press at his prostate as hard as you could. Kakashi face screwed up in pleasure, and he made no more comments.

“Wow, who knew that you had an off switch this whole time? If I’d had known this little bundle of nerves had such an effect, my interview would have gone very differently.”

“The more time I spend with you, the less I’m surprised that you were single when we met.”

“Asshole.”

That had been during his first visit to your flat. You had the strange impression that he felt more comfortable in your home than his own, for some reason. Regardless, that night was the first time you’d gone all the way.

“Are you ready?” you asked, kissing on his collar bones to distract yourself from his tight warmth, and how much you really wanted to move.

“I was ready ten minutes ago. I’m not going to break the second you put any pressure on me, or in me, as it were.” Kakashi purposely clenched around you causing you to hiss. “Get on with it.”

You pulled away and narrowed your eyes at him. He only raised an eyebrow in response. Fine, if he wanted it rough, you’d give it to him rough.

…

“Fuck, I’m tired,” you said, flopping back onto the bed, exhausted. Kakashi looked much the same, panting hard from exertion.  

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” he replied.

“…”

“…”

“Second round in the shower?”

“Obviously.”

Now that had been a fun night. Your activities didn’t stay exclusively in the bedroom though. You had quickly found that not only did Kakashi like it when you took control in social situations, like ordering for him at restaurants, he also liked it when you lightly teased him in public.

Nothing too extreme, of course, as there was a chance that such a thing would literally end up in the news if you were caught, but you had both made a game of seeing how many dirty messages you could hide in the other’s paperwork. You were winning, although the scores were close.

You were so glad that Kakashi’s morning meeting was being held in one of the rooms made entirely of glass. It meant that, although you weren’t in the meeting, you still had a prime view to Kakashi’s reaction when he inevitably found the note you had hidden in his folder.

You watched as Kakashi continued his speech to the board of directors, reaching for his folder to check something.

Oh, there, he was opening his folder!

The cover flipped open and Kakashi froze for only a moment, before he continued like nothing had happened.

You were impressed by his ability to keep his cool, you had to admit, but you still noticed the way his hand shook ever so slightly, as he snuck the note out of the folder and into his pocket without anyone noticing.

When the meeting finished, Kakashi walked straight back over to you, dropping the note in question on your desk.

“You’re incorrigible.” There was the slightest pink to his cheeks.

“So, you don’t want a rimjob?”

Kakashi gave you one of his signature flat looks, although the pink tinge ruined it somewhat, and wordlessly walked into his office, leaving you fruitlessly supressing your cackles.

To sum it up, you really liked him, and it was clear that he really liked you. You had seen his home, met his dogs, eaten his food, and seen flashes of the complexity bubbling just below Kakashi’s purposefully distant exterior.

In a moment of surprising seriousness, Gai had vigorously shaken your hand yesterday and told you that he’d never seen Kakashi as light and happy as he’d been these last few weeks. It was nice to hear.

You still didn’t like the fact that you had to work, but again, the job could have been a lot worse, and you were playing the long game. Technically, you were working right now, but Kakashi had asked you to accompany him on a mini road trip into the surrounding countryside. The days where Kakashi took you with him out of the office were your favourite, but today something was off. You had tired to write off Kakashi’s out of character behaviour as him just having an off day, but there was something about it that was really putting you on edge.

It was like he was trying to distract himself with the paperwork. You wondered if this meant his backstory reveal was coming up. Itachi had started behaving strangely when his worries about you rejecting him for his past were about to make themselves known. Maybe Kakashi’s backstory had something to do with where you were going.

Apparently, you were going to visit a house. Kakashi had mentioned that one of his properties (one of them, pfft, rich kid) required some maintenance. According to him, the roof had been damaged in a storm a few weeks earlier, and he needed to prepare the house for the builders to carry out repairs. Kakashi had described your tasks as mainly including clearing space for scaffolding, cleaning and packing away the breakables in the main rooms, and plugging in the fridge so the builders could store their lunches and have milk for beverages.

They didn’t seem like the kind of tasks that would cause a significant amount of stress. If he was doing things like packing away valuables and plugging in the fridge, it was probably a place he lived, rather than a rental or something. Maybe it was a summer home? You supposed that Kakashi was a very private person, so maybe he was on edge at the thought of having a load of strangers in his house without supervision.

Hmm, that sounded too simple for this universe though. You were due a backstory exposition scene, and maybe you spent too much time reading erotica, but this felt like it had ‘tragic backstory incoming’ written all over it.

“So, this place we’re going… is it a summer home? Oh! Or a summer estate? Is it a mansion? Does it have a pool, and can I use it?”

Kakashi didn’t take the obvious banter bait, he just kept his head down and continued signing documents, providing a short, factual answer.

“It’s none of those things, nor does it have a pool.”

“Aww.” You tried to play up your sadness with a pout. “I was excited.”

“Doesn’t your complex have a swimming pool?”

“I mean, yeah, technically, but this would be a private swimming pool, that’s way better.”

Kakashi chuckled, but his heart didn’t seem in it. You put a hand on his knee and squeezed. He looked surprised for a moment, before his face melted into something softer. He took the hand in his and gave it a squeeze in return.

“If it makes you feel better, the property does have a habitat for racing pigeons.”

“Wha—Really?!”

“No.”

“…”

“…”

“I hate you so much.”

…

As the car turned off the main road, you pressed your face back against the window to ooh and ahh at the sights. The road was less maintained and significantly bumpier, but you didn’t let the risk of a concussion stop you from your sightseeing.

There were bushes and flowers and pretty trees lining each edge of the road, and one more turn had you going down what looked like a private road, or dare you say it, a driveway. At this point, you were kind of expecting a mansion, no matter what Kakashi said. What other homes had long private roads? Unless it was some kind of farmhouse? You couldn’t imagine Kakashi owning a farm, but his name did mean scarecrow, so perhaps he’d purchased it as a joke? Did rich people buy property for jokes?

As the car slowly turned one last time, the house in question crept into view. It was neither a farmhouse nor a summer estate. No, it was a traditional, single story, Japanese minka house, set amongst a beautiful and equally traditional garden, framed by beautiful trees, all of which were orange and red and practically screamed Autumn.

The house was large, but not excessively so. At a glance, you would assume it had three to four bedrooms. The roof was sloped and covered in worn shingles, stretching out to shelter the sprawling engawa. Wood and stone materials were used heavily in the walls and decorations, and lamps hung from both sides of the front door. It was beautiful.

You were out of the car the second it stopped.

Now that you were walking up to it, you could see the stone pathways, the koi pond, the sliding glass door at the side, and the shutters on the windows. It was a minka house, but it had clearly been modernised.

You heard the sound of two car doors opening and closing and figured that Kakashi and his chauffeur had joined you in front of the house.

“This is completely gorgeous! I’ve never seen a modernised minka house before. If it’s not a summer home, what is it for?” There was no response, so you turned, breaking eye contact with the beautiful house to search for him. “Kakashi?”

He was standing a few paces behind you, just staring at the house in silence.

“Kakashi—”

“Let’s get everything out of the car,” he mumbled, cutting you off and turning away from the house.

“Kakashi—”

“There isn’t that much; we could probably carry it all in in one trip.”

His tone made it clear that he wasn’t interested in answering your question. You trusted that the narrative would push you into finding out what was wrong when the time was right, so for now, you broke the trance the house had on you, and helped to unpack the boot.

The supplies in the boot took the form of cleaning products, empty boxes, and a few bags of groceries and kitchen supplies. Between the three of you, it was light work, and soon everything was resting on the engawa, ready to be moved inside.

Having other duties to attend to, the chauffeur took his leave once everything was out of the car, leaving you and Kakashi standing in front of the house, side by side. You awkwardly waited for him to unlock the door, but he didn’t seem interested in moving.

You cleared your throat, “Um, should we go in?”

Kakashi jolted like a doll suddenly coming to life and fished the key out of his pocket. He unlocked it, and the door swung open, creaking all the while.

“WD-40 who? This house doesn’t know her.”

He sighed, “Just go inside.”

“Alright, spoil sport.”

Kakashi held open the door and you went inside, slipping off your shoes in the entrance.

Inside, the house was… confusing.

Your eyes darted left and right, trying to understand what you were looking at. It was traditional but modernised with new appliances, not strange considering the outside of the house, but it looked distinctly like it had been modernised at least two decades ago. It was immaculately tidy, not single object out of place, and yet the entire thing was covered in a thick layer of dust. To make things more confusing, it looked lived it, personal, with clutter and photos, but it had an overwhelming air of abandonment.

As you said, it was confusing. Vibe check thoroughly failed.

“It’s… nice?” you said, hoping you could force your voice into something sincere. “Traditional modern vintage? Troderage? Vinadern? Whatever it is, it’s interesting, and I—”

Kakashi cut you off by placing a finger on your lips. He looked amused and exasperated all at the same time. You went cross eyed trying to look at the offending finger, which only seemed to amuse him more.

“You don’t have to find something nice to say, I’m aware that it’s seen better days.”

You went to bite his finger, so he tugged it away, leaving you to snap unsatisfyingly at empty air “Hey, I’m not lying! I like it, it has potential! And potential is the more important thing for a property in my opinion. Like, sure, you could buy one of those awful modern renovated homes with no personality, but if I wanted to live in a white monastery, I’d just—”

Kakashi took one of the masks he’d brought and pressed it over your mouth and then stretched the elastic over your ears to keep it in place, effectively cutting you off once again.

“You know I can still talk through these, right?” you asked, voice slightly muffled, but still clearly understandable. He passed you a dusting cloth and a bottle of unidentified cleaning spray.

“Just… clean. I’ll carry the boxes through and start packing, okay?”

“You’re not the boss of— Oh.” That’s right, he was literally our boss. Good job this was a porn world, because you had a feeling that real world HR wouldn’t approve.

You were rewarded with another one of his eyes smiles as he snapped his own mask into place. “Chop chop, dear assistant of mine.”

Ugh, fine, whatever. Kakashi went back out to the engawa, and you decided to start by dusting the mantel place. If you dusted the photos and ornaments first, which practically covered the mantel place, Kakashi could get started with packing them up.

You started at the left end and grabbed the first picture. Confusingly, it had been laying face down. You hesitated, wondering if it was something Kakashi explicitly didn’t want you to see. You felt drawn to it though. Was that just you being nosy, or was this some kind of hint from your porn logic overlords? Was it moral for you to look when—Too late you already grabbed it and flipped it over.

Philosophising took too long.

It was a photo of two people, obviously a father and son, sitting in the garden you’d just walked through. The sun was shining, and both people were covered in mud, clearly having just finished some gardening. It was a sweet picture, but more importantly you recognised the two people from your google searches.

It was a photo of a young Kakashi and his father. This was his—

A hand tugged the photo out of your hand. Kakashi.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think—”

“It’s fine.” His voice was short, but at least he didn’t sound angry.

“This was your family home, wasn’t it?” you asked softly.

Kakashi sighed, turning away from you to put the photo in one of the boxes. “In a way. Although I haven’t lived here since I was four.”

You put a comforting hand on his shoulder, wondering if this was where you were going to find out about Kakashi’s angst. The death of his father had definitely made an impact on him, but you had a suspicion that there was something more to his angst than that.

Kakashi looked as tightly coiled as a spring, though. You decided to wait until he was more relaxed before you tried coaxing his backstory out of him. Some cleaning would get his mind off things.

“Let’s start with the dusting!” you said, artificially injecting some chipperness into the conversation. You saw Kakashi’s shoulders lift as you stopped prying into his backstory. “You should be careful though.” Hook.

Kakashi looked confused. “What? Why?” Line.

“Because we won’t be able to tell if it gets in your hair, old man.” And Sinker.

Kakashi scowled and threw a dusting cloth at your face.

…

Kakashi warmed up again as you worked. It seemed to help him, having a job to focus on, and of course, you were doing your best to keep his spirits high as well.

And honestly, all the cleaning and mood management was well worth it to see his baby pictures! He didn’t have parents to show you, so you were taking it into your own hands. You avoided bringing attention to any that also contained his father, but there was still plenty to work with.

You squealed, pulling a photo of a tiny, grumpy Kakashi holding a freshly caught fish off the wall to dust. “Look how cute you were! You know how to fish? I’ll be honest, I didn’t imagine that as one of your skills.”

“Will you stop—” Kakashi said, plucking the picture from your hands and hanging back on the wall. “Do you have to put effort into being so nosy, or is it a natural born talent?”

“Completely natural.” You grinned and grabbed the photo back, giving it a quick dust and then putting it in the box of valuables, cooing all the while.

Kakashi rolled his eyes, but you could see the pink dusting his ears.

“Hey, here’s a question.”

“Can’t you just dust?”

“Why was the outside of the house so immaculate, when the inside looks like it hasn’t been touched in a decade?” you asked, taping up one box and grabbing another empty one.

“I hire a groundskeeper for the outside, but I personally clean the inside.”

Your face spoke for itself as you looked around the room, still half-covered in dust. Kakashi sheepishly rubbed the back of his head. “I haven’t done it for a couple of years, I admit.”

You laughed, grabbing the next photo to dust. It was another one of just Kakashi, although this time he was sitting behind a dog-shaped birthday cake, scowling at the camera.

“Did you ever smile?” you asked, holding up the photo. “Even now you don’t seem much better at it, always stone faced or rolling your eyes, do I have to teach you?”

You slid the photo under your arm so that your hands were free to push up Kakashi’s cheeks into a faux smile. You managed to hold his cheeks in a forced smile for a second, before Kakashi smacked your hands away, scowling. You sent him a cheeky grin, but he only yanked the photo out from under your arm and bent down to pack it away in a box.

What you did next, could hardly be held against you. You mean, it was right there, in all its glory: Kakashi’s toned but ample butt.

You pinched it.

Kakashi jumped before immediately standing and whirling around to face you. Your grin froze on your face as you noticed something intense flashing in his eyes, the kind of intense that promised revenge.

Oh, fuck.

You broke into a desperate run away from Kakashi, but he immediately gave chase. You ran around the coffee table and into the kitchen, thunderous footsteps sounding behind you. Your heart pounded and some hysterical giggles escaped as you ran through the second door in the kitchen, grateful that it wasn’t a dead end.

“Stop running and accept your fate!” Kakashi called from somewhere behind you.

“You’ll never take me alive!”

You ended up back in the living room, but you managed to catch Kakashi in a stalemate, with you standing behind the couch, and him standing in front of it. Every time he darted around one way, you went the other. You both stared at each other, watching for even the slightest hint of movement.

“If you give up now, I promise the punishment won’t be so bad,” Kakashi said with an unfairly attractive lilt.

“If you think I’m going to give in, then you’re as senile as the grey hair suggests, old man.” To further make your point, you gave him the middle finger. You weren’t really sure how this was going to end, because he would inevitably catch you, even if only because you arrived in his car, but you weren’t a quitter and you certainly didn’t surrender!

Kakashi chuckled, and then in a second, his whole body shot forward and the man leapt over the sofa towards you. You shrieked and continued running. Adrenaline pumping, you automatically ran towards the front door.

Unfortunately, all it took was one moment of weakness. There, in the doorway, you suddenly realised that you weren’t wearing shoes. You hesitated for only a moment, but that was all it took for Kakashi to catch up with you.

“Hidden technique: One Thousand Years of Death!”

There, in the doorway of Kakashi’s childhood home, you let out an ungodly screech as Kakashi’s fingers jabbed you in a place that you really didn’t want to be jabbed.

Your back arched and your butt cheeks clenched.

“You bastard!” you screamed, turning around to smack Kakashi’s chest. He was dying laughing, happily taking your smacks. “That wasn’t funny!”

“It was very funny,” Kakashi disagreed, moving backwards to dodge your smacks. “Although maybe not for the local wildlife; I think they might be traumatised after that screech.”

You huffed, gingerly rubbing your backside as you followed him back into the living room. “You know, you are completely and utterly— Woah!”

Midsentence, because this world was ridiculous, you slipped on a section of wet floor that you were 100% sure you had already dried. There was a split second of relief where Kakashi managed to catch you, before he also slipped on the floor, and both of you went crashing to the ground.

Kakashi hit the ground first, laying on his back, and you quickly followed, landing on top of him. Kakashi let out an oof noise as you knocked the air from his lungs.

It was the exact same thing as had happened with Itachi, except you were the one on top this time. Porn logic was just running out of ideas you thought, bitter at having been tripped on a wet floor that you had already dried.

‘Careful human,’ James interjected. ‘You do not wish you issue a challenge to porn logic, because in my experience, it does not take kindly to such things.’

‘Wait, really? What happens if I issue porn logic a challenge?’

‘The last alpha who did that… well, let’s just say that I doubt their penis was ever the same again.’

You loved porn logic. Porn logic had zero faults and you wanted to kiss it on the mouth, marry it even. It was just perfect in every way.

‘Good save, human.’

‘Thanks, James.’

“Are you going to get off me or are you just going to continue staring into space?” Kakashi’s voice jolted you from your conversation with James and you bashfully cleared your throat.

“Right, yes, of course, but I am going to use your tits as leverage to stand, just saying.”

Kakashi rolled his eyes, which seemed to be his go to response when he was in your presence but didn’t protest your grabbing at his chest.

You put your hands down and gave his chest a little squeeze, ooh, nice and squishy. You were about to push off him and into a standing position, when you felt something that wasn’t so nice and squishy.

In the inside pocket of his jacket was something hard, almost like a small book. Honestly, it wouldn’t have been notable at all if Kakashi hadn’t reacted. You would have assumed it to be some kind of paperwork or light reading, but Kakashi froze, and you’d seen more innocent expressions on kids caught with their hands in cookie jars.

“What’s that?”

“Paperwork.” Kakashi answered far too quickly for you to believe him for even a second.

“Well, if it’s only paperwork, then you won’t mind me having a look.” You grabbed the book out of his pocket, dodging his attempts to stop you. Your weight on top of him was keeping him pinned nicely, and moments later you had the book held triumphantly above your head.

“Now, let’s see,” you hummed, giving the book a look. It was a small yellow book, with large writing ‘Icha Icha’ over the top. The 18+ logo on the front was a damning piece of evidence. This was a porn book. How hilariously ironic.

“I can explain—”

“Kakashi!” you said, in a faux scandalised voice.

“I read it for the story!”

You hummed, considering his story, like a judge. Kakashi stared up at you, trying his best to be the picture of pure innocence, pleading with you to end the interrogation.

Obviously, you had no choice but to push things further.

“Well, I can understand that!” you said, chipper as ever.

Kakashi blinked, “You can? I mean, you can. Great, so if you could just give it back—"

“If the story is as good as you say it is, then I would love to give it a look!” Any hope that had started to bloom on Kakashi’s face died as soon as he registered your words. He tried to sit up, presumably to wrestle the book from you, but you used a knee to hold his chest to the ground. “Now, now, you wouldn’t be so cruel as to deprive me from such a great story, would you? If it’s good enough for you to be carrying around at work, it must be something special.”

Kakashi made another swipe for the book, but you simply held it above his reach. “I hate you. I hate you so much.”

“No, you don’t! Now, let’s see…” You flicked to a random page. “This page looks like a good place to start.” You cleared your throat. When it became obvious that you were about to do a dramatic reading, Kakashi groaned.

“You’re ridiculous, completely ridiculous. I should sue you for assault and theft.”

You ignored him, scanning the page. A feral grin blossomed on your face; it was perfect.

“Elisabeth grinned down at Makoto, hunger and lust warring for dominance in her eyes, reflecting the real life battle that Makoto had just lost. Makoto wondered what it would be like to have her mouth on his—” you gasped, clutching imaginary pearls. “Oh my, Kakashi, what are you reading?”

“I’m reporting you to HR.”

“Oh? And this” -you shifted your hips against his, watching as Kakashi hissed at the pressure on his rapidly rising cock- “is going to end up in the report too, I presume?”

Kakashi had no comment to make, but his rosy cheeks spoke loud and clear. You took that as an invitation to carry on reading. You skipped a few paragraphs to get to the really juicy bits.

“Elisabeth wrapped her hands around Makoto’s neck in a gentle mockery of a collar. Makoto bit his lip, overwhelmed by the imagery. He wanted her to own him, mind, body, and soul. But first, he needed his punishment. A punishment? How exciting! Do you remember what punishment Elisabeth is going to give to Makoto, Kakashi?” You rolled your hips again, delighting in the pleasured grunt you forced from him. Kakashi shook his head as a negative to your question, something you didn’t believe for one moment; the book was clearly well loved and had been read many times before.

You leant down over his pink face and gave him a chaste kiss. You saw his arms move and for a moment you assumed that he was going for the book, but he merely settled his arms on your hips before pushing his crotch up into yours. You hummed and kissed him again. He was such a brat.

“Makoto was forced to kneel at her feet. It was with eagerness that he anticipated the crack of her whips against his skin. He had been bad, he knew that, so he accepted his punishment with grace and also a raging boner. Ah, I see what you’re into. And just when I didn’t think you could be more cliché, the CEO is into BDSM.”

“And how many porn books are you reading to know that it’s cliché?”

“Change the subject all you want; you were the one caught with your proverbial trousers down.” Kakashi rolled his eyes. He seemed to have recovered from the minor embarrassment, because the light dusting of pink didn’t get any worse. You guessed it took more than that to embarrass someone who apparently caried porn around in their pocket of their work clothes. “Okay, okay, one more and then we can keep cleaning.”

You flipped through the book, trying for find the right scene to end it on. Hmm… Maybe you should let porn logic choose? It would probably know exactly what page to pick. You closed your eyes.

‘Porn logic, choose the page that will get the best reaction from Kakashi please!’

You flicked through the pages until you felt the overwhelming urge to stop, at which point you clamped your thumb down. You had landed on page 154.

To your immediate confusion, it didn’t look like it had any porn on it at all. It looked like it was just a sappy conversation between Elizabeth and Makoto. You debated picking another one, but after James’ warning about pissing off the porn logic, you decided to just trust it.

“Elisabeth, there’s something I’ve been wanting to say to you for a while, something important,” you read out loud. Kakashi let out a strangled noise as he realised what page you were on. His lightly pink face quickly deepened into an impressive red. Oh. So that’s how this was going to go.

“Fine, you win, can I have my book back now because—”

“What is it, Makoto? What could be so important that you called me here at this time?”

Kakashi whined, pressing his hands to his face. You had never seen him act like this before. You watched, fascinated, as you continued to read.

“Elisabeth… With all my heart, deeply and truly, I love you.”

Those final words were enough for Kakashi, because he easily broke out of your hold, knocking you off of him and onto the living room floor. Now free, he turned over onto his front and buried his face into his arms. You could almost see the steam coming out of his ears.

It was as unexpected as it was adorable. You hoped this wonderful omega never stopped surprising you in the best way.

“Aww, Kakashi, I’m sorry,” you cooed, rubbing his back. “It’s okay to be a sap at heart, I won’t tell anyone! I want to keep this cute side of you to myself.”

Kakashi took a shaky breath before pushing himself into a sitting position. He was still bright red. “You are…”

“Are…?”

Kakashi gave you one of his eye smiles, reached out with a hand, and firmly flicked you on the forehead. “Annoying.”

It was such a weak attempt to restart the banter on a equal standing that you couldn’t hold your laughter in.

“You’re so pathetic,” you laughed, clutching at your stomach. “I love it.”

“So are you,” Kakashi said, pouting.

“I know, that’s why we’re perfect together!”

Slowly, Kakashi started to laugh too, joining your hysteria on the living room floor of his childhood home. You were leaning on each other, just completely lost in a weird joke that only you two could understand.

What a team you made. You really liked Kakashi. Honestly, you could say that you loved him at this point. He was just so fun to be around, fun to tease, fun to bite, everything. Being around him made you feel alive, and having money for everything you could ever need was only adding to how relaxed you had been feeling the whole time in this dimension.

You could see a very happy life here. You didn’t know if it was fortunate or unfortunate that you saw an equally happy life with Itachi. Your laughter petered out as you considered the impossible choice you were going to have to make.

The knowledge that no other person would ever enter this universe if you didn’t stay only made you feel guiltier. Was it worse to leave Kakashi alone forever, but with his money and friends, or leave Itachi with the possibility of another great love, but an equal possibility of being forced to settle with some awful person who just happened to die early and choose him?

You sighed, trying to put such heavy thoughts out of your mind for now.

Kakashi was watching you, a soft look on his face. His mask had slipped off at some point during the chase, so you could see his face unhindered. He was just watching you in silence.

You reached out a hand to cup his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am,” he said, still staring at you like you were the centre of his world. “It’s just… it’s been a long time since there was laughter in this house.”

“I bet.” You smiled sadly and pressed a kiss to his forehead. His backstory was so sad that whenever you thought about it for too long, it hurt your heart. It had been easier to read at first, when he had just been some nebulous, kind of dickish, person on a Wikipedia page, but now he was Kakashi, your Kakashi… It hurt to imagine him suffering.

His father had committed suicide when he was only four, and then Kakashi had been raised by custodians, forced into business from a ridiculously early age, and then been betrayed by those who were supposed to look after him as soon as he came of age.

“Kakashi? Can I ask you a question?”

“You? Of course. Always.”

“Do you…” You struggled for a moment, thinking about how best to phrase the question. “Do you enjoy your work? Do you like business? Because from what I understand, you didn’t really get much of a choice.”

Kakashi seemed baffled that you would ask such a question. His mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“I… like my job,” he said, entirely unconvincingly.

“What do you like about it?”

He didn’t answer. That didn’t surprise you.

“Did you ever get a chance to follow your own dreams?”

Kakashi blinked at you, looking lost. He swallowed heavily. You rubbed your thumb on his cheek to try and comfort him. You understood that for someone who had never been given a choice, your question might have been quite jarring.

“What are your dreams, Kakashi?”

He stared at you and shook his head, still silent.

“You don’t know?” You pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “It’s never too late to make dreams, Kakashi, remember that.”

“If you say so,” he said, trying and failing to keep a light-hearted tone. “We need to keep cleaning, you know, we’re burning daylight.”

You allowed the heavy-handed topic change to slid by without acknowledgment. “You’re right, come on, let’s get up. You’re buying me dinner tonight, by the way, as thanks for all this cleaning.”

He rolled his eyes, standing. “Fine, but I’m picking the restaurant, and I want it delivered.”

“Sounds good to me!”

…

You yawned, gratefully climbing into bed. This MC had invested in expensive sheets, and honestly you loved them for it. There was no better way to end a tiring workday than climbing into bed.

You couldn’t wait to either reject society and run off into the woods with Itachi or have a full-time profession as Kakashi’s eccentric trophy spouse. Work sucked.

You closed your eyes, and just as you were starting to drift off, your phone started to ring. Ugh.

You forced yourself awake. Your fake family and friends hadn’t even been invented yet, and you were already being bothered. You squinted at the caller ID. Oh, it was Kakashi. That was weird; he wasn’t a phone call person.

You answered the phone. “Hello? Kakashi? Is everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m sorry for calling you.” His voice sounded strange. It was softer than usual, like his head was off in the clouds.

“That’s okay.” You waited for an explanation of his call, but none came. “Did you need something?”

“Yes, I… I was thinking about the Autumn Company Party and I…”

“Yes?”

“Do you think…” He stopped talking again. Something was off.

“Kakashi, you’re freaking me out. Please tell me what’s wrong?”

There was a pause. “Nothing, I’m sorry, I’m fine. Goodnight.”

“Kakashi—” You couldn’t get any more words out before he hung up the phone.

You sat there in bed, staring down at your call log, confused.

What on Earth had that been about?

Next chapter

[rowanthestrange]

The Master And Margarita Jacket

(Matthew Sweet’s Doctor Who version…but with a frisson of Bulgakov’s)

It’s done! With every bit of unphotographical glittery metallic paint that I can’t capture on camera even if my iphone skills weren’t rubbish.

@spoonietimelordy, @rearranging-deck-chairs, @bearinabandana and everyone else who Did The Reading of that one ‘I Am The Master’ novel but I’ve forgotten to tag because i’m so sleep deprived i can’t think any more but hopefully other people will, assemble!

Detailed closeups and explanations (with some spoilers) below:

Starting front top right side (face on). -Margarita herself, biting a mushroom. A more Cockatoo beak than Macaw, with red face instead of white, to make what exactly she is more mysterious. -The Master Who logo here is just gold, any shading didn’t look right when it was so thin.

Front top right pocket. Purple, of course.

-Next section down are these three. The ‘Never Stop Growing’ patch is my second favourite patch of the bunch. So many Master Themes, and plot relevant. -Then the little ‘Best Buds’ with the heart in the middle. I was inordinately proud of that idea. (Buds, budding, bigenerated vibe). -And then ‘Obscene Lotus’. That’s mentioned early in the book, and while it’s just described as a big purplish lotus, there’s so much sexual charging in that scene that, well, you gotta.

Me, reusing the ‘budding’ pun in a different capacity? It’s more likely than you think.

-The cover of the Penguin Clothbound Classic version of the original The Master And Margarita, that took multiple days to complete and so much agony. -The patch is a blank one that I bought, then painted the design to look like one of those stamps people sometimes put in books. Painted the border the same colour, then tea-stained it to look like old paper. Certainly in real life the colour comes out nicely. I couldn’t find his autograph (and sadly there’s an unrelated artist with the same name lol) but he got his doctorate in Wilkie Collins so I just looked up examples of that guy’s writing and tried to give it a bit of that vibe. Hopefully it’s the thought that counts. But hey, if anyone ever meets him and gets me a signature sample I can just redo it.

General mushroom patch - I like the fire kind of vibe and the looming.

To the other side!

So. You’re asking what’s with the daisy theme. Fair. So Margarita is also another name for a daisy in some languages. I choose to lean into that because it’s also the widely known symbol of Three - with that scene where he talks to Jo and recounts how a hermit living on a mountain helped dispel his depression by getting him to focus on the beauty of the flower (“and it was the most daisiest daisy”). Given that Three is essentially a character in the book, this felt like the vibe we’re going for. It’s perennial. It also is a healer of bruises and wounds, how can that not be relevant meta wise too to the Master’s new companion, hm? And okay yes, Mikhail does say he’s not a botanist, but if you can think of another way to get that message across other than botanical illustration page…

I like the patch because lightbulb, idea, full of mushrooms etc.

-‘I Am The Master’ being the name of the book the story is contained in, plus Fun With Identity. -Next the one bit of Real Art that I attempted to copy in glittery acrylics - Magritte’s ‘The Treachery Of Images’ or more commonly known ‘Ceci n’est pas une pipe’. The story not only of the Master’s experiences recently, but the story’s themes of hallucinations and deceptions; as well as being the symbol of Russian!Brigadier. -This patch is great isn’t it? A play on the Master’s apparent alcoholism or Russian blending in as you prefer, and of course, The Lighthouse of Martin!Doctor fame.

-Mikhail’s guitar for playing Brown Sugar and other ominous inference songs. -The formula triangle of Love, Food, and Music (I couldn’t think of a self-evident way to show his approach to food - Russian dumplings are, well, not exactly distinct). On its side so the glittery pink triangle points in a certain direction because he’s escaped places and I can do ominous inferences too Sweet. -Maybe controversial? There is a failed love story component in here though, that I just couldn’t leave unmarked. The Doctor, K’vo, and Jo all have their parts to play in that.

Now for the arms:

Here’s the right-side looking-on arm. -I repainted this mushroom patch to be the orange and green of K’vo’s. -You’ve already seen the long image of it above, so here’s just a snippet closeup of the motif that goes along both arms. Daisies linked in a chain with the words ‘daisiest daisy’ (if you wonder why everything’s outlined by the way, a) i like the style, and b) it makes glitter infinitely more legible and clearer to see if there’s a dark matt border around it breaking it up, especially with something as variable coloured as denim). There’s the sunflower in the middle because Margarita loves her sunflower seeds.

This is the other arm. Margarita holding a margarita in a margarita. What’s more to add? I used my shittest white (mixed with my fabric medium as everything else has been at every step) rather than @yesokayiknow’s excellent suggestion of Liquitex, which has saved me everywhere else, including those light patches. But here shitty kids basics acrylic is translucent enough to do some excellent work pretending to be glass and ice. The parrot patch has been altered to make the beak entirely black and her face red instead of macaw white, to keep her species ambiguous as literary theme demands.

To the back!

This Master Who logo is bigger, so it has the Master’s purple highlights like bruising.

Here is a small UNIT patch I modified to be a Russian one, globe focused on their continent (roughly). Sweet just translated the word ‘unit’ for Russian!Brigadier’s group, and the text is the re-cyrilliced version of that.

Skipping to the bottom…

Here referencing O’s collection of Doctor Information, Sweet adding to that with having distinct scrapbooks. ‘Manuscripts Don’t Burn’ is a line from Bulgakov’s The Master And Margarita (spoken by Satan in fact, mhmm) and became something of a rallying cry for oppressed Russian artists. I have ‘Author Unknown’ for the obvious meta with his and the Doctor’s memories, and likewise, the fact that flames are clearly present and burning lets the viewer come to whatever conclusion they like. #133 was chosen for the simple fact that in my copy of Bulgakov’s novel, and the one depicted on the front of the jacket, it is page 133 which starts the chapter The Hero Enters, where we meet The Master who has renounced all other names (who is very much, as Interference notes, the Doctor). They are glitter paint titles done on Hemline repair patches, black, brown, white, and navy blue. I know anything too painty on that area of the back will risk a lot of wear, and these are easily replaced when necessary (if still hours of lettering).

To the left most side…

This was the most expensive patch I bought, £12. But worth it. The mushroom stalk is silk.

Here I depicted in silhouette the scene of the Master climbing up to the Doctor on the giant mushroom. I chose silhouette so as not to draw the eye too much. I also added some 2ply black-black glitter cotton as part of his climbing equipment, attached on by some silver stitches for the…things I can’t remember the name of. It gives it a bit more 3D effect, but also keeps the thread close enough it shouldn’t pull on anything.

And at its base we have a reference to Mikhail’s chosen middle name. I chose to believe it’s relevant, Sweet’s too deep into this for it not to be. This is a cover I edited to highlight the namesake who actually travelled Russia and collected the tales of this book, and indeed, it does include the story of Koschei The Deathless. I edited the robe to be red instead of its original yellow, and added the quintessential Time Lord collar. But I think it’s perfectly passable. This is iron on transfer paper (dark) onto a very light grey polycotton to turn it into a patch. It…*cough* hasn’t had its edges finished or strictly been attached yet, but that’s a bit of handwork I can do as and when.

So finally back up to the middle

I’ve expanded out @spoonlesss-artbook fantastic angel-winged Margarita’s Master art. The Redbubble bag was only that big as it was (hemmed with bostik fabric glue like a true pro and attached as a panel) so it cut off a little, and it didn’t go the whole way anyway, so now we get some endings of the feathers, some all the way up to the arm of the jacket. I tried to blend it into the fire, one creature of both. And trying to get a multidimensional feel, boundary breaking. And again, very glittery irl so plays very well with the fire theme. It was fun when it came to colour-matching particularly the blue wing at the top, because the glitter gives it a bit of a sheen. I blunted it with a few careful washes of black so it still sparkles but is the right colour in most angles.

The Redbubble edit cuts @spoonietimelordy’s signature, so I copied it from the original and moved it over to the left side in some sparkly silver. Also internet doxxing my real life self on the bottom of the back as my own signature.

Doesn’t look like the sort of thing that would take weeks when you see it all together, but I’m really happy with it. I’m so grateful for everyone who’s shown their brilliant art to me and shared posts about painting all these years, cus it allowed me to absorb stuff and let me come out of the gate swinging! It feels thoroughly addictive. Even if I only know ‘use tiny brush’ for almost everything and glitter metallic is great for hiding sins. (And a ‘Ha!’ in the face of my mother keeping me away from it my whole life because of mess - I never got even a single speck on any clothes that wasn’t this jacket. I could’ve been doing this for years rather than just picking up a brush at the age of thirty-damn-one. But at least I’ve got it now).

And thanks to Matthew Sweet for feeding the worms in my brain too.

[casualaruanienjoyer]

Hi beautiful person

Can I have a little scenerio with my girl Sasha? It can be with Connie or Niccolo. Idk :P

Lots of love hun 💓

Hello there!! Thank you for sending in a request, it makes me very happy to be able to come up with fun lil stories for you all🥺

Niccosasha: they meet under interesting circumstances, with Niccolo being stuck on Paradis and tasked with cooking for the corps and military. He's asked to teach them about Marleyan cuisine and he presents them with plates upon plates of exotic delicacies.

Niccolo is not happy about his situation, disliking the island 'devils' at first, however as he spends more and more time cooking for them he realizes that they are also just humans. Just like every other Marleyan he's met.

He never would have thought he'd fall in love with one said devil. From the moment he first saw Sasha devour his food like a wild animal, he's been fascinated with her. He's never seen such an inelegant woman before, completely lacking any type of etiquette. And she would eat everything he cooked. There's no gentleness in the way she devours food.

One day he asks Sasha if she wants to try some new recipes he put together. He'd like to experiment with Paradis condiments and cuisine. But he also wants to spend this time with her, alone. He wants to see if his food can get new emotions to surface, and what kind of faces Sasha would make. He likes to mentally record what food makes her the happiest.

"Niccolo!! This is delicioouuuss!!" She sobs, stuffing her face with more roast pork and veggies. "If I died now I would be a happy woman!!"

He can't help but laugh. "Don't say that! You can't possibly die before dessert, not when I spent so much time making it!"

Sasha's all ears, and she uses her finger to scoop up the last bit of gravy off her plate. So unrefined.

Niccolo brings out a silver plate covered with a dome, and when he places it on the table and lifts the cover, there's a pyramid of eclairs underneath. Gold, glowing and glazed in chocolate. They are small and cute.

There must be a dozen of them, and even Niccolo himself can't believe how nice they came out.

"This... this is BEAUTIFUL" Sasha cries, happy tears streaming down her face. She grabs an eclair in each hand and starts eating.

Niccolo takes in her every expression, the big smile whenever she starts an eclair and the furrowing in her brows whenever she finishes it. He's never seen a person be so affected by food before. Sasha's not eating because she is hungry, she eats because it makes her feel happy, safe. It's her comfort and no one else can take it away from her.

"Say, you should have some too" Sasha mutters, pointing at the last eclair on the plate. Her face is a mess and she has chocolate on her nose. So unsophisticated.

"Ah, thank you. I guess I will" and he brings it up to his lips, biting into it. But just as he's about to break half away Sasha hastily leans over the table and bites the other half of it. Their lips brush against eachother and their eyes meet. Sasha looks determined and Niccolo's face immediately flushes a deep shade of red.

She falls back in her seat, munching, arms crossed.

"I didn't say you can have a whole eclair" Sasha licks some sweet cream off her finger. "You have some chocolate on your nose by the way"

Now he's the inelegant one.

[love-and-monsters]

The Warlord and his Lady pt. 7

M dragonkin X F human, 16,180 words

I’m making up for the last chapter being slightly shorter by making this chapter almost DOUBLE THE LENGTH. This wasn’t really intentional, but I couldn’t find a good stopping place so it kind of just kept going... Hope it’s not too long for you all! Also, we’re approaching the endgame now... only a few chapters to go...

Content warning: Discussions and use of poison, character injury

(Ch. 1) (Ch. 2) (Ch. 3) (Ch. 4) (Ch. 5) (Ch. 6)

The ballroom is strikingly pretty, with domed gold ceilings and elaborate enameled patterns on the walls, but all I can think about is how much I don’t want to be here.

I’m not supposed to be here. Well, I am, but not really. It’s an open ball, meaning there’s no need for a formal invitation to attend. Everyone from the surrounding area is free to attend. But the fact is that I am not the sort of person who typically attends balls, nor am I the sort of person who generally likes balls. Attending a formal event where the main activities are standing around and dancing isn’t the most fun for someone whose body is actively giving all the time.

Attending is something I’ve been more or less press-ganged into doing. I can understand why- the ball is being held to celebrate the new warlord, and it’s sort of an insult to avoid attendance. But just because I understand it doesn’t mean I have to like it.

I watch the rest of the people in the ballroom idly dance and chat. People will occasionally strike up conversations with me, but they never last long. There are even people who ask me to dance, though I always turn them down. I don’t want to risk collapsing on the dance floor.

After some time of idly watching other people dance, talk, and generally have a better time than me, I slip out of the ballroom. My back and legs are starting to throb and I want to take another look at the medicine I’m carrying with me. I’ve been experimenting with mixing a few different painkillers together, which has been working better than expected, but it also makes me more tired. I’m debating whether or not to take an awakening mixture along with it when my legs start trembling.

It’s not something I’m unused to- sudden bouts of muscle weakness are common with my condition, and I haven’t come up with anything to fix that yet. Unfortunately, I’m too far from the ballroom to hurry back to the seats in there. Ah well. There’s no one out here, so no one is going to see me awkwardly sink to the floor and dirty my nicest dress.

I press my back against the wall and pluck at my bag with trembling fingers. The weakness will pass- I might as well take the time to take my medicine. I swallow the bitter medicine and pop a piece of sugar in my mouth to take the edge off. As the candy melts on my tongue, I tilt my head back to rest against the wall and close my eyes.

There’s silence for a few moments, a silence that is abruptly broken by someone clearing their throat. My eyes snap back open. “Excuse me,” the throat-clearer continues. “Is everything all right?”

I don’t recognize the face of the man in front of me, but I certainly recognize his tail. He’s the only draconid I’ve ever met in my entire life, possibly the only one that’s ever even been in the town. Our new warlord, Rastek.

He’s wearing formal wear, a red and gold vest over a white shirt, his hair done in a fancy braid that curls up at the back of his head. His eyes are a striking shade of gold in the warm half-light trickling in from the ballroom.

“Yes. I just needed to sit for a bit. I’ll be all right.” To prove my words, I shove myself to my feet. My knees tremble, but you can’t see it under my dress.

“There are plenty of places to sit in the ballroom,” Rastek says.

“I needed a break,” I say. “I’ve never been to one of these before. It can be a little overwhelming.”

To my surprise, his face breaks into a smile. “Ah. I’ve been to several and I’m afraid I don’t see much of the point to it. There’s only so long I can dance and talk politics before it becomes tiresome.” He gives me a sly look. “I’m afraid that’s why I’m out here. After seven or eight balls, you start looking for excuses to avoid them.”

“I suppose I figured you were holding them because you enjoyed them,” I say. It hadn’t really occurred to me that he wouldn’t like them either.

“They’re politically beneficial, and there’s nothing to endear you to your people like holding a fancy party with a bunch of free food. But they’re not quite my idea of a good time.”

One of my legs picks that moment to give out. I stumble, but catch myself on the wall before I can really fall. I’ve had a lot of practice catching myself. Rastek looks alarmed, though, his hands half extending as if to catch me.

“Are you all right? I’m certain there are some quieter rooms nearby if you need to lie down.”

“I promise, it’s nothing. I just need…” I rummage through my bag and pull out a vial of strengthening solution. I’ll feel it in the morning, but it’s better than collapsing in front of our new warlord. The concoction tastes foul going down. The energy seeps from my stomach into my limbs within a few moments.

Rastek watches me take it and a flicker of realization crosses his face. “I know you,” he says.

I pause. “You do?”

“Yes, a couple of people mentioned you. You’re this town’s herbalist, yes? They said you nearly always had a bag with all kinds of concoctions in it on your person.”

I give a barely humorous laugh. “It’s not just because of my trade. I’ve got a medical condition. That’s what got me into herbalism in the first place- it was far cheaper and easier to create the medicines I need myself than to seek out other sources.”

Rastek’s expression falls a little. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not a concern of yours,” I say as gently as I can manage. “Just the way things are.”

Rastek nods. “I also heard that you have particular skill with… concoctions other than medicine.”

I hesitate. Warlords usually don’t bother to involve themselves in local crimes- they station guards at the towns for the worst of crimes and mostly allow for the people to take care of things otherwise. But it’s still not the greatest idea to go telling people willy nilly. “Is that what you’ve heard?” I say in the most neutral tone possible.

He smiles faintly. “From a few different people. They seemed quite pleased by your skills.” When I don’t respond, he laughs gently. “I’m not going to arrest you.”

“Forgive my suspicion, but you saying that you’re not going to arrest me doesn’t mean that you’re not actually going to arrest me,” I say. Rastek lowers his head in a slight nod.

“I understand. Let me explain myself, first.” He leans in a little, turning so his back is to the doorway. He’s large enough that the motion completely obscures me from the view of the ballroom. “You’re aware of my position as a warlord.”

“Of course.”

“I control sections of the eastern border. A border that has recently been threatened. My soldiers are skilled, but… well, skill can only do so much to hold back overwhelming force. I’ve petitioned others for aid, but there’s been some hesitancy in providing it- I’m new, after all, and my failure might mean more prestige for others. I’m looking for something that might ensure my victory.”

“That’s why you’re coming to me,” I say. Rastek nods. He could still be looking to arrest me, but it seems unlikely he’d be making up a story and attending to it personally just to get me.

“You seem to have some skills. I thought we could have a partnership,” he says.

I hesitate. This is a big opportunity. Working for a warlord means pay, good pay. Better than I can make as an herbalist. It means access to people of a higher educational background. Maybe people who can understand my condition. Maybe people who can help me. But if I go into this and screw up, or don’t get him the results he wants… well, he seems like a nice guy, but getting on the wrong side of a warlord is generally not considered a great strategy for a long and healthy life.

“Can I ask why you picked me in particular?” I ask, keeping my tone as neutral as possible. “I’m sure there are people more skilled than I am, and there are certainly people more educated.”

Rastek looked amused. “I don’t know if pointing out that you’re underqualified is the best move when someone offers you a job.”

“I want to make sure that we’re on the same page with this,” I say. “And if there’s a specific reason you’re wanting me, then I’d like to know it.”

He looks pleased, so I feel I’ve done something right. “There is a reason. The talk around here is that you’re quite creative with your methods. Better at creating more effective solutions. Stronger ones. Most poisoners focus on single targets- useful for assassinations, but less useful for an army. I’m hoping that your creativity will help us come up with a solution that makes it highly effective in large doses. And perhaps make something that’s more useful for combat- quicker acting, more disorienting, all of that.”

He’s not wrong. I experiment constantly, changing the herbs and ratios that I use. I’m mostly experimenting for medicinal reasons- I want to make something that’s more effective in treating my condition. But medicine isn’t so far from poison, and I can use the results of even unsuccessful experiments to create new and interesting poisons.

“I could do that,” I say slowly. My mind’s already reaching for possible combinations, ways to increase potency over smaller batch sizes. “I mean, I think. I can at least try.”

Rastek smiles. “Thank you.” His smile fades a little. “Are you feeling all right?”

“Yes,” I say, although I’m starting to think I should sit back down, no matter how disrespectful that might be to a warlord. One of my legs has started to shake, even with the effects of the strengthening solution. I reach back to steady myself against the wall.

“You’re looking unsteady,” Rastek says. He stretches out an arm, not quite touching me, but offering the support. “Is it your condition?”

“Yes, but it’s nothing serious. I just need to sit for a few minutes. I’ll be fine.” I rarely get embarrassed about my condition, but looking like this in front of Rastek is bothering me. I don’t want him to think of me as weak.

Rastek glances down the hall. “Can you walk for a little ways? Just down the hall. I can give you support if you need it.”

“Yes, I can walk.” Rastek offers his arm and I cling to it with both hands, leaning my weight against him. Despite that, he’s steady as a rock. Being this close to him means I can feel the way his muscles shift under my grip and the warmth of his body. It’s surprisingly soothing.

Rastek guides me down the hall and past several doors before abruptly stopping. “I think this is it…” He retrieves a key from his pocket and unlocks the door with the hand not supporting me.

The room beyond the door is dim. Rastek illuminates it with a wave of his hand and a spark of magic. It looks like a small sitting room, with a few plush seats and a small tea table in the center of them.

He guides me into the room and I settle in the nearest seat. It’s almost ridiculously comfortable. “There we are,” he says. “You can rest in here.”

I glance at him. “Why do you have a key?”

He pauses and his cheeks go very slightly pink. “It was suggested to me that I might want a private place to retire to that is not my room. Lest there be rumors.” His gaze roves the room before falling on a particularly shadowed corner. “The idea seems to be that I would be able to claim this room is for political discussions instead of…” He waves his hand vaguely in the corner of the room. I have to squint to make it out, but then it strikes me. There’s a bed nestled into a nook, barely visible from the door. Certainly more discreet than the lavish bedchamber they presumably gave him as an honored politician.

“Oh,” I say, letting my tone show that I’m understanding his implication. The flush of color spreads, though, creeping toward his forehead and ears.

“That isn’t what this is, of course,” he adds hastily. “I just thought you would like a private place to recover. I wasn’t intending to proposition you.”

If I was I more sensitive person, I might be offended, seeing how quickly he backpedaled. But I’m just pleased he’s not intending to try anything with me. “It’s fine. I’m grateful for your generosity.”

He nods his head, settling in a chair across from mine. “No trouble at all. I was glad to be of some assistance to you.” He glances toward the now-closed door of the room and adds, in more of an undertone, “I was rather getting tired of the ball, anyway.”

“It’s definitely quieter in here,” I agree. There is only the very faint sounds of music and people’s voices through the door. Silence falls over the room and I take the opportunity to glance at Rastek. He sits slightly forward in his chair to avoid squishing the base of his tail, the majority of which is curled across his lap.

We sit together in silence for some time. My body starts to grow stiff and sore as the aftereffects of the weakness set in- one of my legs is throbbing in a way that lets me know it will be a pain to walk on it the next day. Rastek glances at a watch tucked in his uniform. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” I say. “You don’t have to sit with me. I don’t want to keep you if there are important things to handle at the ball.”

Rastek’s nose wrinkled just the tiniest amount. “No. Nothing terribly important. I did my requisite few dances and spoke to those I needed to.” He gave me a sympathetic look. “You said this was your first one, didn’t you? A shame that you’re not feeling well.”

“I was struggling to enjoy myself anyway. It’s hard for me to dance.”

“You’re not missing all that much,” Rastek says.

“I don’t know. A lot of people tell me it’s quite nice.”

Rastek turns his gaze so he’s looking directly at me. His gold eyes glimmer, reflecting the dim lights of the room. “Perhaps. I’ll admit, it might be nicer when you have someone worth dancing with.” He tilts his head to one side, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “But I’m afraid I haven’t met anyone like that yet.”

The world dissolves into swirls, like a paintbrush dipped in water. I try to blink, but my eyes won’t open- or maybe they won’t close. It’s hard to tell. I focus all my attention on them, forcing them as closed as possible, then flinging them open as hard as I can.

My eyes fly open with a surprising amount of force. My entire body jerks with it, and I realize that I’m panting. My heart’s thundering in my chest.

The thaumatist, who has been leaning over me with his hands hovering over my chest, sits back. “There she is,” he says calmly.

Rastek makes a soft, wounded noise. I turn my head to see where he is. He’s slumped over, less than an inch from resting his weight on the flimsy fabric of the tent. One of his hands is partially covering his face, but I can see some of his expression. He looks exhausted and sad.

The thaumatist settles his hands on his knees. “It wasn’t all that bad this time. Though I am glad you got me. Emotional distress makes these things more likely to happen.”

“What happened?” I ask. I try to push myself upright, but my arms don’t want to cooperate. “Did I slip again?”

The thaumatist looks at Rastek like he’s waiting for Rastek to speak, but when he says nothing, the thaumatist begins. “Yes. Your slipping was relatively minor this time.” The thaumatist hesitates for a moment before he speaks again. “There seemed to be conflicting magical forces at play.”

“Which means what?” I ask. I half expect Rastek to demand answers, but he doesn’t say anything. He barely looks at me.

“It could mean your soul is tethering itself more firmly to your body,” the thaumatist says. Rastek actually looks up at that. “Or it could mean magical interference from somewhere that your soul was attempting to resist.”

Rastek actually speaks. “Which is more likely?” His voice sounds a little rusty. I wonder if he was crying.

The thaumatist shakes his head. “Difficult to say. The magical conflict itself makes it hard to discern anything clearly.”

Rastek nodded once. “Hm.”

His silence was unsettling, but moreso was his expression. He looked blank, almost dazed.

The thaumatist cleared his throat. “I can stay nearby, if that would be beneficial- if it happens again and I am able to sense the magic at work from the beginning, that might help me distinguish exactly what is happening.”

Rastek doesn’t say anything. The thaumatist looks at me in askance, but I don’t know what to say to him. “I- I-” I look back at Rastek, silently pleading for him to respond. He barely glances at me, then focuses his eyes on the thaumatist.

“Stay nearby. Just outside, if you will.” Rastek’s voice sounds steadier now, though there’s still that rusty edge to his voice. The thaumatist nods, stands, dusts himself off, and heads out of the tent. Rastek slumps back down, supporting himself with one arm. He looked moments from falling against the tent wall and bringing the whole thing down on top of us.

We sit in silence for a while. Rastek doesn’t look like he wants to talk. He just gazes emptily into space. I can’t read his expression at all. It looks completely blank.

In lieu of speaking, I run the dream over in my mind. It feels like a memory- it’s not as faded and distant as most dreams are after I wake up. If it was a memory, then it must have been the day Rastek and I met. I certainly felt more comfortable in my own skin there. It makes me realize how constant the sense of alienation has been since I woke up here. I never feel like I know what I’m doing.

I’d agreed to work with him in the dream. And, apparently, I’d been poisoning people before that, if what memory Rastek said was true. Was I just an indiscriminate poisoner? What does that say about the person I was? The person that I am now? What does that say about Rastek, if he fell in love with a person like that? He seemed to be kind before- now I feel like I’m looking at everything he’s done or said in a different light.

A part of me wants to ask Rastek about this. I want to have some explanation, something to reassure me that I’m not as bad of a person as I think I am. But I don’t know if I can trust him. I’m worried he’ll lie to me.

More than that, I’m worried that he won’t. That it will be worse than what I’m thinking.

Rastek shifts suddenly, knocking against the tent wall and causing the whole thing to wobble. I look over at him. He’s moving his hand to cover his face again, but he’s not fast enough. I see the wet tear tracks running along his cheeks.

I speak before I can stop myself. “Rastek?”

He shuffles, turning partially away from me so he can cover his face more easily. He takes in a breath, but it catches and comes out sort of wet.

I’m not sure what to say. Rastek makes another soft noise, like he’s barely resisting sobbing, and my chest squeezes. “I, um,” I try again. “Are you… um.” I don’t want to ask if he’s okay, because that seems like a stupid question. But I can’t think of anything else to say. Eventually, I give up on words and just lean over to hold him.

Rastek doesn’t move to hold me back, but he also doesn’t try to move away, which I take as a good sign. He makes another quiet, wet-sounding sob. I pat his back. It’s a little awkward. But I don’t feel like I should let go.

It takes some time, but eventually, Rastek sniffs and moves away from me. He’s not covering his face anymore, so when he leans back, I can see that his eyes are red and puffy. “Was it, um. Bad, this time?” I say in reference to the slipping.

He looks confused for a moment before processing it. “It was not as bad as it could have been.” His voice scrapes his throat, raw and rough. It wavers, right on the edge of cracking. “You’re all right now, which is what matters.”

I put a hand on his arm. “Rastek.”

“It’s growing quite tiring, watching you nearly die over and over,” he says, his voice soft and tremulous.

“I’m sorry,” I say, since I can’t think of anything else. Rastek doesn’t say anything. He stares absently toward the wall of the tent. A part of me wants to comfort him. He looks so miserable, so pained. But another part wants him to comfort me. I want to be angry at him, that he kept things from me, but I can’t bear to yell at him when he’s in this state. I want him to tell me everything he knows, get all the information I can, and I also want to forget all of this every happened so we can go back to the way things were before.

My chest heaves with a soft sob. A couple of tears dribble pathetically down my cheeks. There’s a moment of silence, where I half-hope that Rastek didn’t hear me. Then he digs a handkerchief out of his pocket and hands it to me. I blot awkwardly at my face.

“If,” Rastek begins quietly, “you do not want me to be here with you, I do understand. I can arrange for someone else to-”

“That’s not going to make things better,” I say. Rastek falls silent. I take another moment to clean my face and collect my thoughts. “It’s not like anyone else understands the situation anyway. Even if I wanted to leave, I’m kind of stuck with you.”

Rastek stays silent. Maybe it’s a testament to how well I’m getting to know him, or maybe it’s just a sign that my memories are returning, but I can tell that it’s a wounded silence. “I don’t want to be mad at you,” I say. “You’ve been good to me, and I know it’s not your fault that things are like this. I just… I want to know why you didn’t tell me sooner.”

“When could I have told you?” Rastek asks. His voice is soft, surprisingly gentle. “I didn’t want to risk upsetting you and making you sicker. I planned to discuss it with you eventually. It wasn’t something I was deliberately trying to keep from you. There was just never a time that felt right.”

The worst part is, what he’s saying makes sense. I understand why he didn’t want to tell me. If I was in his place, I probably wouldn’t have wanted to talk about it either. And yet, I can’t help feeling hurt and angry that something so big was kept from me. It doesn’t make sense to be angry with him, but I want to be angry anyway. I want to do something that gets the emotions churning in my chest out so that someone else has to deal with them.

“We met because I was a poisoner,” I say. My voice sounds steady, if a little disconnected. Rastek stares at me in naked surprise.

“Yes,” he says after a moment. “We did.”

I take a moment to force the words out of my mouth. “I’ve killed people, then. Or at least, sold stuff that people used to kill other people.”

Rastek opens his mouth, jaw shifting as he scrambles for something to say. “You haven’t killed anyone. You’re not responsible for what people used your poisons for. It’s like what I said yesterday, about the weaponry. A weaponsmith who makes a sword is not responsible for the people the weapon kills-”

“It’s not the same,” I say. “Swords are practical tools- you can use them as a guard or to hunt animals. Poisons are just for killing.”

“People used your wares for hunting,” Rastek said. “For protection from wild animals. And yes, some of them were used to kill, but you were careful. Always to people who needed that.”

“Who would need that?” I mumble.

“You gave an undetectable poison to a young woman to poison her parents. It saved her younger sibling from being abused and sold to a man as his wife. Another man, you sold him a poison to kill his abusive wife and allowed him to gain her money along with his freedom. And you created a rather clever poison solution to protect a family from magic-empowered creatures that stalked their small farm.” Rastek affectionately cups his hand along my face, fingertips tickling my skin. “You were not evil or indiscriminate. You were clever and skilled and you used both medicine and poison as tools. Yes, you are formidable, and I’m certain that your poisons have been used to kill people. But you are not a killer.” He shifts his hand so he’s stroking it through my hair. “Sometimes, the best way to protect people is to stop the things that are hurting them. It can be painful to take on that kind of power. We both need to hurt and kill to protect things we care about. But it does not make us evil. It’s just the way of the world. There’s no shame in doing what you need to in order to survive.”

I close my eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. “I- I just don’t want to hurt people.”

“I know. I don’t want to hurt people either.” Rastek took a deep breath of his own. “But I would. To protect you or any of the people under my command. That’s why we’re not evil. We don’t hurt to hurt. We only do it to protect.”

My jaw trembles as I open my mouth. “I don’t want to hurt people.” It takes considerable effort to get the next words out. “I don’t even know if I could do it to protect someone. Not even…” I can’t manage to get the words to rise to my throat. I hope he understands what I mean, though. Not even you.

Rastek is silent for a moment. His hand falls away from my face to rest on my upper arm, where he delivers a gentle squeeze.

“That’s all right. I’m not going to ask you to.” His hand moves away completely. Without that little touch, I feel a little disconnected. Like the few inches of air between us have suddenly become solid steel. “If you no longer want to make poisons, that’s fine. I won’t put pressure on you to do so. We may have met due to your skills with poisons, but it is not the reason I love you.”

He says those words, that I love you so easily. Like it’s something he never doubted. Like it could never be in doubt, no matter how much I feel like a different person who replaced his wife. It’s a weighty feeling, but also startlingly pleasant. Reassuring.

Perhaps it’s cruel of me, but despite knowing both his and my past, I can’t think of him as a monster. Not someone who promised to care for me, to even love me, despite my memory loss. Even if he’d shown no remorse, I don’t know if I would have been able to hate him for it. The love he offers me is too overwhelming not to accept.

“We, ah. We met at that ball in my town,” I say hesitantly. Rastek stares at me, his expression one of barely-constrained hope. Like he’s trying not to get himself too excited for something that might not be real. “I was sick, so I went outside the actual ballroom and that’s where we met. You took me to a private room to rest and we talked… We never danced, though, even if we were at a ball.” The memory gets distinctly fuzzy after that. I have to focus to even grasp any of it. “We stayed there half the night. Even though you were supposed to go conclude the ball.”

The guardedness of Rastek’s expression has melted away, leaving nothing but naked delight and disbelief behind. “You- you remember.”

“It just came back to me when I was sleeping. It’s jus that snippet, nothing else, though.”

Rastek lunges forward and I’m pressed into the expanse of his chest. His breathing shudders with emotion. The hug is about as tight as he can manage while still being mindful of my physical health. “You remember,” he murmurs. His arms shift and he pulls away to stare intently at me while he clutches my hands. “Tell me what you remember.”

I fumble for a moment, stumbling to pull up details I can give to him. “It was at a ball, one for your… inauguration, or something? You were introducing yourself as the warlord and I had to come, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to. I stepped outside because I was sick and then you came up to me and we talked. You recognized me and then… you took me to a room to sit down for a bit.” I grin at the memory. “It was a room they’d given you in case you found someone you liked, I think.”

“Well,” Rastek says, his smile never wavering on his face, “I did find someone, didn’t I?”

“You seemed very eager to convince me it wasn’t like that when we were in the room together,” I tease. Rastek chuckles, eyes gleaming with fondness.

“It wasn’t like that, at the time! I was trying to make sure you were comfortable.”

“My memory gets kind of fuzzy after we go into the private room,” I say. “Did we talk for a while?”

“Most of the night, if I remember correctly,” Rastek says. He grins in a way I can only describe as sheepish. “I believe I had to be fetched to preside over the closing ceremonies.”

“Seriously?” I ask, genuinely surprised. Rastek laughs.

“What can I say? You were quite fascinating. Though I suppose I should have been more careful about us being spotted when we went in there. I think not being in my bedroom helped prevent the rumors from spreading, but a couple politicians did make some comments the next day about warlords having impressive, ah. Stamina.”

I burst out laughing, even snorting a little. Rastek grins back. “No- no way! Oh my god, they actually said that?”

Something tells me Rastek was expecting this reaction, because he looks pleased with himself. “In so many words, yes. It was mortifying at the time, but you’re right- it is very funny now.” His expression shifts then, getting even more smug. “And, well, they weren’t exactly wrong…”

I practically double over, wheezing. One of Rastek’s hands hovers next to me, ready to support me if I need anything, but otherwise not impeding me. When I slow my laughter enough to straighten back up, I see nothing but fondness in his eyes. “One good thing about losing your memories- I can tell you my old jokes and you still think they’re hilarious.”

“You’ve told me that one before?”

“To the extent that you’ve asked me to stop bringing it up, yes,” Rastek says. “I suppose losing your memories gets my counter rest to zero, though. I could see how quickly I can get you to ban me from telling it again, though.”

“No,” I chuckle. “We will not be doing that.” Rastek grins back at me, eyes gleaming, and my heart flutters.

“As much as I would love to stay here with you,” Rastek says, glancing toward the tent flap to assess the sun’s progress in the sky, “I do have some work to attend to.”

I can feel my face fall, but I do my best not to show my disappointment too much. “Right. I get it.”

“I’ll be back as soon as I can be,” Rastek says. He takes one of my hands in his and rests his other hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get you something to eat, first, so you can take your medicine.”

Despite not having eaten a lot over the past day, my appetite is still pretty small. But I don’t think Rastek will let me squirm out of it, so I nod and brace my weight against him to stand. “Yes, I’ll- Oof.” My vision swims for a moment and Rastek’s touch vanishes as surely as if he’s pulled his hands away. I wobble, suddenly untethered, and reach out for him. Unfortunately, my vision is swirling into just an array of colors and I can’t find him. Distantly, as if through a thick sheet of plexiglass, I can hear Rastek calling for the thaumatist.

My vision gradually returns to clarity, like slowly adjusting the focus on a camera. I’m still standing, though I’m also leaning my weight pretty heavily against Rastek. One of my hands is fisted around the fabric of his shirt so hard that my knuckles have gone pale.

“Hm,” the thaumatist says. He looks almost fascinated, which is more disturbing than him being completely emotionless. He’s definitely leaning closer to me than I’d like. “Well. That is interesting.”

Rastek huffs impatiently. “Please. If you’re ever going to use the phrase ‘that’s interesting’ again, then at least do the courtesy of also explaining what you find so interesting without me having to ask.”

The thaumatist looks unperturbed, despite Rastek’s tone. “Your wife is being assaulted through magic.”

There’s a moment of silence. Rastek takes a deep breath in and lets it back out. The next word that comes out of his mouth is said in the most chilling tone I’ve heard from him. “How?”

The thaumatist continues to look mildly interested, at best. “Whoever is doing it seems to be trying to throw her soul out of her body once more. However, the protective spells on her are dampening its influence. It actually seems to be having the opposite effect- her soul, in response, is tethering itself tighter to her body.”

“That’s why I remembered something,” I say. The thaumatist doesn’t look surprised by this announcement.

“Yes, returning memories would be a likely side effect. However. I would not suggest allowing this to continue. The magic is not hurting her right now, but allowing the attacks to continue increases the chances that something will go wrong.”

“I wasn’t going to suggest that we allow the attacks to continue. Even if they do seem to be helping with her memory,” Rastek says. “Can you trace the magic?”

“Perhaps, if it’s not otherwise designed to block me.” The thaumatist lifts his hands away from me, moving them through the air like he was tracing lines I couldn’t see. “Ah. They’ve got a bit of a sensor on this spell. The instant they sense me trying to trace it, they’ll-”

Something happens. It’s like my vision gets sharper or a weight eases off of my chest. I release tension I wasn’t even aware I was holding along with a big sigh.

“Yes. They ceased the magic to avoid me tracing it.” The thaumatist drops his hands.

Rastek purses his lips. “Did you get anything from it at all?”

The thaumatist tilts his head to one side, eyes distant. “Yes. The signature was stronger than I was expecting.”

Again, Rastek has to prod him to get him to say anything else. “Which means?”

“The magic user must be closer by than I thought,” the thaumatist says. “I was rather working under the assumption they were casting from a safe base some distance away from us. It makes the most sense, since that would make it harder to trace the magic. But this signature would seem to indicate that they are significantly closer.”

“How close?” Rastek asks. His shoulders are set, tense, and his teeth are gritted. He leans forward to the thaumatist. “As close as the enemy camp?”

“Possibly,” the thaumatist said, seeming completely unintimidated by a warlord leaning into his personal space. “I would certainly say it’s fairly likely- tracing the distance through magic signature is hardly an exact science, especially considering how fast it was dropped, but I would say it had a much stronger signature than I would assume it would have even coming from the nearest town. And given that our encampment and the enemy’s encampment are the only two settlements of people out here…”

“It is possible it could be a rogue agent who’s stalking nearby as well,” Rastek says. “I’ll send some soldiers to do a sweep nearby. At the very least, even if we don’t find them, it should send them packing, at least temporarily. If we don’t see any signs of anyone, then perhaps it’s time to show our enemies a little more aggression.”

He bares his teeth as he talks, a strange, strained smile pulling at his face. A worm of worry crawls its way into my stomach. “Rastek, don’t be too hasty. We need to be at least a little cautious.”

“I’m being as cautious as I can be, considering the person who nearly killed you might be right under our noses.” He looks at the thaumatist. “Do you think you could sense them? Track them using magic, somehow, if you know their magical signature?”

The thaumatist looks unimpressed. “I’m hardly a bloodhound.”

“But can you?” Rastek presses.

“Possibly. I offer no guarantees.”

Rastek nods. “Come with me, then. We’ll gather some soldiers and head out.” He turns toward the entrance of the tent.

“Rastek!” The cry bursts out of me, without even thinking about it. He stops, looking back at me. “Let me come with you.”

His expression drops into a solid mask of disapproval. “No.”

“I’m not staying here by myself. And do you really want me hanging out here at camp when the thaumatist is off with you? What if something happens again?”

Alarm darts across Rastek’s face before he shuts it down again. “That’s a fair point,” he says after a moment. “You’ll ride with me, then.” He turns his gaze to the thaumatist. “Stay here with her while I gather some people to come with us. If anything happens, you know how to alert me.”

“Of course,” the thaumatist says, though he doesn’t seem particularly concerned. Rastek steps toward the doorway, then pauses and hurries back over to me.

“Take your medicine and rest while I’m out. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” One of his hands cups the back of my head and he leans in for a quick kiss on my forehead. My skin tingles pleasantly under the tickle of his warm breath against my skin. Rastek straightens up and hurries out of the tent.

The thaumatist almost instantly closes his eyes and sits in the sort of cross-legged position that I associate with meditating. The air around him seems to be faintly charged with a feeling similar to, though not the same as, static electricity. It makes my brain go slightly fuzzy.

The tent flap shifts and a familiar face pokes through. I stare, surprised. “Ethan?”

It’s the servant boy from the kitchen, the one I’d spoken to a couple of times. He flushes furiously, pink spreading up to the tips of his ears. “My lady, you, uh. Remember my name?”

“Of course,” I say, before realizing that it might be strange for me to do so. “I thought you would have stayed back. I didn’t realize you were coming with us.”

Ethan’s face goes even redder, and he ducks his head so I can’t quite see his expression. I assume it’s rather bashful. “Y-yes, well. They indicated they could use another cook at the encampment and I thought it might be some more experience and anyway, I was the only cook who could really go, so I thought- yeah.” He drops the tray of food he’s carrying in front of me. The thaumatist shifts in his meditation, opening his eyes slightly. A strange expression flickers over his face- like he’s trying to get his eyes to focus on something right in front of his face. Ethan ducks in a quick bow and scrambles out the tent flap.

“Everything all right?” I ask the thaumatist. I can’t even tell if he can hear me. After a moment, his eyes close again. A moment later, he takes a piece of toast from the tray and starts chewing on it without opening his eyes.

That seems to be all the answer I’m going to get. I content myself with thinking that, if there really was something wrong, he would not be casually munching on toast. I take my own breakfast, then my meds. Rastek’s still not back. I occupy myself by flipping through a few of the books. The idea of handling poisons still unsettles me, but it’s also interesting to see how thorough my notes are. At least I seemed to put a lot of time and effort into the whole making poisons thing.

The tent flap rustles and I look up in time to see Rastek stepping through. The thaumatist opens his eyes and rises to his feet. “We’re almost ready to go. Your horse is already prepared,” Rastek tells him. The thaumatist nods once, then heads out, leaving me and Rastek alone together.

His expression softens when he turns to me. “How are you doing?”

Admittedly, the medicine I just took is making me both sleepy and nauseated, but I don’t want to say that in case he decides not to let me come. “I’m all right. Is everything ready?”

“Nearly. You’ll need to get on your riding gear.” Rastek pulls some sturdy-looking clothes out of a bag and helps me put them on. “You’ll be riding behind me the whole time. It might take a while to round the whole of camp, but we’re not going to be able to take any breaks.”

Hm. I hadn’t considered the no-breaks idea. I’m not entirely sure I can manage riding for an extended period of time without one. My legs hurt just thinking of it. But I have a weird, bad feeling, and that’s more pressing than the concern about an aching back and rear. “Sure. That’s fine.”

Rastek seems mildly surprised by my acquiescence, but he just nods. “Good. Then we’ll be off.”

We exit the tent together, with Rastek slightly in front of me. He leads me toward the edge of camp, where there’s a semicircle of soldiers waiting for us. A couple of them are dressed in armor that covers all of their bodies, and I do mean all of it. They remind me of knights, though the face shielding seems to be flatter than I remember knight helmets being. The others are wearing less armor, but their faces are still at least partially concealed by masks.

It’s a weird choice, considering that, at least from what I saw, none of the soldiers riding out into battle were wearing any sort of masks. Doesn’t that make it harder to ride? Or at least to see where you’re going? I consider the idea that they’re used to prevent inhaling the dust kicked up by the horse’s hooves, but then, no one else on horseback has been wearing them.

Rastek must sense my confusion, or at least see it on my face, because he takes a moment to pretend to adjust his horse’s tack in order to speak to me. “We’re tracking magic users. Standard practice is to hide your face.”

“But not us,” I say, not questioning, just a little uncertain.

“We’re working under the assumption that they already know us,” Rastek says. “Anyone around here likely knows of me already- and if they’re the people who attacked you, they must know your face because they’ve already used magic on you.”

I grimace. “You’d think people would be more cautious about showing their faces at all, if a magic user could kill or hurt you based on knowing that alone.”

Rastek shrugs. “Maybe. But magic users that powerful are quite uncommon. Magic attacks are rare, at least distanced ones that require the knowledge of what someone looks like.”

“So I’m just massively unlucky,” I grouse.

“Something like that,” Rastek says. “I could get you a mask, if that would make you feel more comfortable.”

“If they already know me, I’m not going to bother,” I say. “Does this mean that the person is someone we know? Or could they just have seen a portrait of us and gone off that?”

“Portraits don’t work super well- they’re not always completely accurate, and that can interfere with the spell. Don’t ask me how exactly that works, but it always works best if the caster has seen what the person actually looks like, not the way another artist saw them.”

“Then that means the person knows us? Or at least me?”

“It could mean that,” Rastek says. “But more likely they saw us in passing, at a ball or something.” The horse shifts impatiently and Rastek straightens. “I would suggest asking the thaumatist about this if you want to know more. I was never all that good at the specific mechanics of magic.”

We settle in on the horse together. Rastek makes a signal with his hand and we start off at a steady, quick pace. The thaumatist rides next to us, looking incongruous between all the soldiers. Even his horse doesn’t seem to suit him- I keep feeling like he should be riding a ghostly pale horse instead of a sturdy brown thoroughbred. The horse we’re riding suits Rastek, though- steady, reliable, and strong. I can feel its muscles shifting as it runs.

The riding isn’t that different from any other time before- interesting to start with, then boring, then gradually painful. The saddle we’re in at least seems to be designed differently than the other ones I’ve ridden in. I’m no horse tack expert, but even I can tell it’s slightly wider and more padded than the other soldier’s saddles. That helps, if only a little bit.

We move through forests for a little while, then the trees thin and we hit fields. Every now and then, we’ll have a momentary stop while the thaumatist guides his horse in circles, looking at something the rest of us can’t see. But by midday, we haven’t found whatever it is we’re looking for, and I can’t tell if we’re actually any closer to doing so.

By afternoon, I’m starting to become genuinely concerned that I’m going to fall off the horse. My legs have crept past the ‘sore’ part of muscle tiredness and moved into the ‘generally kind of numb’ part. On one hand. Less painful. On the other. More difficult to ride a horse when everything from the waist down feels tinglingly dead. Rastek helps by keeping one of his hands on the reins and the other on my waist, gripping at my clothes. Whenever I slip sideways, he straightens me back out. I’m certain he can tell that I’m losing my balance more often now than when we started out, but he hasn’t made any comment on it. I don’t complain either- I asked to come on this trip and I knew it would be difficult, so I’m not going to whine about it.

The thaumatist abruptly pulls to a stop, tugging on his horse’s reins. His gaze snaps toward the west, perpendicular to the direction we’re riding. He’s still for so long that I start to wonder if there’s something wrong with him. The soldiers we’re riding with close ranks, drawing in a tighter circle around us.

“What is it?” Rastek calls out. His voice seems uncomfortably loud now that the clatter of horse hooves is mostly silent.

The thaumatist speaks, his voice barely carrying. “Something… is impinging on my senses.”

A couple of the soldiers shift nervously. Rastek ignores it. “Is it what we’re looking for?”

“Maybe. It’s communication magic. Which could be what we’re looking for. It could also be completely benign.” The thaumatist looks at Rastek, completely unconcerned and neutral. “Do you advise us to follow?”

Rastek hesitates for a couple of moments. The hand at my waist tightens. “We may as well check it out,” he says. “If it’s something innocuous, then we’ll just continue on our way.”

The thaumatist nods and spurs his horse in the direction he was looking in. We set off at a quicker pace, almost a canter (at least, I think that’s what it is- I’m not practiced with horse terms.)

When it happens, it happens so quickly, I almost miss it. One second, we’re loping across the plains, the tall grass waving around us. And then there was someone abruptly bolting away in front of us. The thaumatist’s horse rears with a shrill whinny. It takes me a moment to realize the fleeing person must have been lying down in the grass, trying to go unnoticed, before they realized we were going to trample them if they didn’t move. Their sudden appearance works to their advantage- the horses spooked and, while we were trying to get them back under control, the person was making headway through the grass.

Rastek yanks on his horse’s reins, forcing it into submission. With a single kick, he spurs it forward, charging after the person’s rapidly-retreating back. I hunker down in the saddle and cling on with all my might.

The person ahead of us must be using magic to run faster, because they’re almost managing to outpace us, even though we’re on a horse. They’re bent forward, almost parallel to the ground, trampling the tall grass in their way so thoroughly that it leaves a trail for us to follow. I

I can’t tell what they’re trying to do- even with their magical might, they’re not going to be able to outrun over us forever. We’re gaining on them steadily. It would make sense of they were trying to get back between the trees, since the terrain would slow the horses down enough that they could get solidly ahead and hide somewhere. But they’re instead moving deeper into the grasslands, heading away from the trees. Maybe they’re just trying to get further away from the encampment. Or maybe they’re looking for-

“Cut them off before they get to the Ley line!” Rastek bellows over his shoulder. A couple of the riders behind us break away, apparently trying to get around our target, but they’re going barely faster than us- I can’t tell if they can go fast enough to make it. Rastek’s not sure either, because he directs his next order to the thaumatist. “Choke the Ley line off!”

“Impossible, from this distance.” The thaumatist’s voice still sounds relaxed, despite him yelling from the back of a horse. “Physical restraint would be the most reliable course of action.”

Rastek growls. I can feel it rumble through his chest. “Hold on,” he tosses over his shoulder at me. He kicks his heels and the horse jolts forward, sprinting at full tilt. I cling to Rastek and grit my teeth so the wild bouncing doesn’t make me bite my tongue off.

We gain more on the running figure. The horse’s hooves are nearly touching the trail of the cloak that blocks their face from view. Rastek wraps the reins around one of his fists and draws his sword. The blade glints in the sunlight as he draws it down toward the figure, just within swinging distance.

It happens within a second. The figure, without braking stride, twists and something catches the sunlight for just a second. Rastek jerks and slumps sideways in the saddle with a loud cry. The horse whinnies, almost a scream, and veers away from the figure. I sway, clinging to Rastek- it’s fortunate that he’s strapped into the saddle, because I wouldn’t have been able to hold him up all by myself. There are shouts of confusion from behind me and the glimpse I catch of the other soldiers shows that some of them are breaking off, heading our way. The confusion is all the figure needs. They sprint several more yards away and there’s a pop of displaced air as they vanish.

“No,” Rastek groans, fumbling to straighten himself up. A wave of relief washes over me- he’s not dead, not even unconscious. He’s at least somewhat okay. “Fuck… dammit.”

“Hold on, hold on,” I say, making eye contact with the closest soldier. “Someone’s here to help.”

The soldier takes the reins and places a steadying hand on Rastek’s shoulder. “Sir, status report. Where were you hurt?”

“Ugh,” Rastek groans. His teeth are clenched, his breath coming in shallow little pants. I can feel the rigid tension through every line in his body. “They hit me with a throwing knife, I think.” He straightens up a little more and curls his hand away from where it’s cradling his side.

There’s immediately red. Streaming red, soaking through his clothes. It looks like the knife just barely missed his armor, burying into the lower left part of his abdomen. “It hurts, but I believe it’s just a flesh wound.”

“Can you make it back to camp?” the soldier asks. The other soldiers and the thaumatist stand in a loose circle around us. The thaumatist urges his horse closer.

“I’ve no great skill in healing,” he says, whispery and unconcerned. “But I could stem the blood for long enough that you could make it back to the camp where you can have proper medical care.”

“Yes,” Rastek says. I can hear that he’s gritting his teeth. “Do that.”

The thaumatist pulls his horse even with us, the soldier on Rastek’s other side breaking away to join the others. There’s a faint electric feeling in the air and the thaumatist’s had shoots out. He touches Rastek’s side for just a second, then pulls back, easing his horse away. Rastek huffs out a long breath, almost a wheeze.

“We should return to camp quickly,” the thaumatist says. “It won’t hold for more than a couple of hours,” Without waiting for a response, he turns his horse back toward the camp and kicks it into a quick trot.

Rastek doesn’t immediately follow. He shifts a little in his saddle, letting out a couple harsh breaths. I reach up to tentatively place a hand on his back. “Are you sure you’re okay to be riding back now? The thaumatist could maybe send a message or something instead, to get a healer out here.”

“No,” Rastek grunts. “It’ll take too long. And it’s not a bad wound.”

“You got stabbed,” I point out.

“I’ve had worse,” Rastek says. That does not make me feel any better. “It hardly hit anything important,” he continues, like there are any parts of him that are unimportant. But he’s already kicking his horse into higher gear, despite the short, tight breaths he’s taking every time his wound is jostled. I just settle into the motion of riding, trying to at least keep an eye on Rastek.

We do make it a solid amount of the way back to camp. In fact, we get close enough to be able to see the shapes of tents and people on the horizon. But the horse suddenly shifts beneath us, gait faltering in uncertainty. I struggle to grab onto something, but before I can even steady myself, I feel Rastek slip sideways in the saddle. The horse gives a shrill, frightened whinny, and my attention is abruptly split between trying to drag it to a stop and trying to stop Rastek from falling. I don’t manage either- Rastek falls sideways, still strapped into the saddle so he’s literally dangling from the horse, his head brushing the ground while the horse whinnies and starts picking up like it’s going to run. I put all my attention toward the reins, tugging on them as hard as I can.

The horse pulls to a stop just as the other soldiers fall in next to me. One of them grabs the reins while another hops off their horse to unstrap Rastek. A third tries to pull me off the horse to lead me away, but I shoo them away and scramble back to Rastek’s side.

Rastek groans and struggles to sit up as soon as he’s unbuckled from the saddle. One of the soldiers pushes him back so he’s lying on the ground. “Get a healer,” they snap and I hear the sound of hoofbeats headed away at top speed. I don’t turn to see who’s going. I just struggle closer to Rastek, forcing my way through the throng of concerned soldiers. They part pretty easily for me.

“Rastek!” I say. He blinks, focusing on me. There’s a fine sheen of sweat over his forehead, his hair slicking down to his skin. A flush sits high on his cheekbones, at contrast to the pallor of the rest of his face. His eyes focus on me, but their usual golden sharpness is lost- he looks a little foggy. A quick glance at the wound shows me that whatever the thaumatist did to stop it from bleeding has failed or worn off or something- there’s a fresh, steady trickle of blood staining his clothes once more.

“’M all right,” he murmurs. His voice sounds lost, like he’s out of it. “Just- just fell.”

I tap his face gently, but firmly, trying to draw his attention. He focuses on me after a couple of tries. “Talk to me. Stay awake, okay?” He did it for me. I have to do it for him now. And no one seems keen on taking me away, so perhaps this is a regular occurrence.

           “Hmm,” he grunts. His eyes close, then flutter open again. There’s definitely a concerted effort on his part to look at me. I’ll take it, rewarding him by brushing some of the hair out of his face and clearing some of the sweat away.

“What are you feeling?” I ask. His wound is still bleeding, but his reaction seems incongruent with dying from blood loss. People who have blood loss are often cold and very pale- he’s warm and sweaty, more like he has a fever. The knife did hit his guts. If it nicked something important and there’s bile or waste pouring into his bloodstream- I don’t know how to fix that. I don’t know if that can be fixed.

No. There’s magic here. There’s medicine of some sort. There must be a way to fix him. I can’t think like he’s already gone.

Rastek takes in a breath. It rattles a little in a terrifying way. “F-fuck it hurts.”

“I know, I know,” I say, smoothing his hair back again. His eyes drifted mostly shut before he forced them open again. “Keep talking to me. What does it feel like exactly?”

“Burning,” he says. His breath comes in another trembling rasp. “Like something’s burning under my skin.”

It’s not the most helpful description. I don’t know what that means for him- it could mean something important got perforated, or it could mean some kind of infection setting in and I don’t know how to fix it.

Racing footsteps behind me alert me to the approach of a couple of soldiers and a healer. The healer drops to her knees as soon as she’s within reach of Rastek. She pushes me out of the way, not cruelly, but with blunt efficiency. Rastek makes a pained noise, but I’m not sure if he’s reacting to me being shoved or the healer pressing her hands against his side.

“What happened?” she asks, all business. One of the other soldiers fills her in. I change positions so I’m next to Rastek’s head, busying myself by stroking his hair and murmuring soothingly to him.

The healer pokes at him for a few moments, probing. Rastek twitches and grunts when she touches the wound, but I can see his gaze getting less focused. He’s fading, clearly exhausted. The healer binds his wound and directs the other soldiers to pick Rastek up on a makeshift stretcher. I rise to go with them and my legs buckle.

One of the soldiers grabs me before I hit the ground. “My lady?” she says. “Perhaps you should lie down-”

“No,” I snarl. I’m tired, so it’s not the most vicious sound I’ve ever made, but it does give the soldier pause. “I’m going with him.”

She hesitates, exchanging glances with the other soldiers. I can see their respect for my position warring with their obvious fear of what Rastek will do if anything happens to his wife. “Allow me to escort you, then,” she says after a few moments. I nod. I’m not sure I could make it wherever they’re taking Rastek without help.

As it turns out, they’re taking him to a large tent in the middle of the camp. I can hear whispers and gasps from soldiers as they see us walking through. I ignore them, keeping my eyes fixed on Rastek. His tail dangles off the stretcher and I can see it flex ever now and then. It’s reassuring. It means he’s not dead.

Once we’re in the tent, the healer sets up a section blocked off from the rest of the tent by curtains. I’m forced off to one side, almost pressed up against the curtain barrier as a few other healers come in and start fussing around him. I’m in the way- I know I am. But I can’t bring myself to leave. If something happens to him- if something happens-

No one tries to get me to leave, but no one speaks to me either. They’re all focused on Rastek. I wait, twisting my hands together, my heart in my throat. It’s the only thing I can do.

I don’t know how long it takes exactly, but after a while, the bustling of healers slows. A few of them clean up their tools and hurry off to work on other soldiers. I get a good look at Rastek for the first time since they’ve started working on him.

They’ve stripped off his armor and shirt, leaving his chest completely bare. It would probably be hot, but his sickly paleness and labored breathing really take way from that. His side has been thoroughly bandaged, but I can see lines of red tracing up his side, moving out in a starburst pattern from the wound. It reminds me of an infection.

“We examined the wound,” one of the healers says, turning to me. I startle a little- they’ve been ignoring me for so long I started to forget they could even see me. “The wound is not deep, and it managed to avoid his organs. It required stitches, but the cut itself is not dangerous. On its own, it would take a while to heal, but it would certainly be survivable.”

I can sense the weight of something unsaid behind her words. “There’s something else wrong.”

The healer looks a little uncomfortable. “We were hoping for your assistance with this, my lady.”

I’m really hoping my face doesn’t show how worried that request makes me. “I’m not a healer. What would you need my assistance with?”

She seems a little confused, but she explains regardless. “The knife he was stabbed with was poisoned. It’s the only explanation for why he’s gotten so sick so quickly. We were hoping for your assistance in determining what the poison is and what antidotes might be effective.”

It feels like the world drops out from under my feet. I can hear my breath whistling in my chest, coming too fast and too shallow. “I- I can craft poisons, but curing them is not really my area of expertise…” My voice sounds weak, even to my ears.

“Your husband said you had some training in medicine,” the healer says. She’s looking a little suspicious, but I don’t care. “Even if you cannot craft the antidote yourself, just being able to narrow the list of possible poisons would be a great help.”

Rastek stirs a little, head turning toward me. I can see his eyes focusing on me. His gaze is a little bleary, but I can read his expression. “I would like to speak to my husband for a moment,” I say, putting my focus into sounding like I know what I’m doing. “Alone.”

The healer hesitates, then dips her head and leaves, swishing the curtains closed behind her. I turn to Rastek.

He looks worn. Tired. There are shadows under his eyes and his breathing is heavy. A sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead. If he wasn’t already lying down, he would look like he was about to collapse.

The urge to bust into tears hits me, strong and sudden. I fight it back. Rastek needs me. I can’t break down now.

“They said you’ve been poisoned,” I say. My voice is remarkably steady. Rastek dips his head. Even the effort of nodding seems to exhaust him.

“I would assume,” he says. “I had hoped it wasn’t the case, but…” His lips curl. “It’s unfortunate.”

“Unfortunate?” The word bursts out of me louder and harsher than I expect. The thing I said about my voice being steady? Gone. The word quivers like a leaf in a storm. Rastek looks almost frightened for a moment, and I clamp down on my emotions as hard as I can before speaking again. “We might be a little beyond unfortunate. Rastek, I don’t know what to do.”

He grimaces, licking his lips. Despite the fine sheen over the rest of his face, his lips are rather dry and cracked looking. “You don’t do anything. Go back to the tent. I’ll tell them you’re too close to work on this or something. It’ll emotionally effect you badly enough to make you sick.”

“That’s not what I mean,” I say. “Rastek. You’re dying.”

“Maybe not,” he says. “There are good healers here, and draconids are resilient. If they can keep me alive until the poisons works out of my system, then-”

“And if they can’t? You look awful already. You don’t even know what kind of poison it is. What if it’s always fatal?”

“Then I suppose I die,” Rastek says. There’s barely any emotion in his voice. I can’t tell if he’s genuinely unbothered or if he’s just too tired to emote. “I told you already, I won’t let anything happen to you, even if I-”

“I don’t care what happens to me! What about what happens to you?” I whisper-yell. Rastek sighs and gives me a mournful look.

“The healers will do their best to help, and I will do my best to stay alive. But right now, there’s nothing you can do.” He reaches out and I step forward to let his fingers interlace with mine. His hands are clammy and his fingers actually feel weak against mine. It’s so strange and scary to feel just how exhausted he is. I can’t help him the way he helped me. Again, that feeling of incredible uselessness washes over me. I can’t do anything. I can’t help him. I’m going to sit here and watch the person who cares most about me in this world die. Because I can’t do jack shit to stop it, even though I should be able to. Even though people expect me to.

Unless… I can help. I have to be able to help. I can’t leave Rastek here to die. I have to help. No matter what.

I turn, sliding my hand from Rastek’s, and whisk open the curtains around his bed. One of the nearby healers looks up at me as I step out. I swallow the anxiety swelling in my throat. “I can help,” I say. “But I’ll need time to research. Let me stop by my tent first to gather some of my belongings and then I can begin.”

“Wait,” Rastek says from behind me, his voice pitching with alarm. “You don’t have to-”

I look over my shoulder at him, mustering the most reassuring smile I can. “Please. Let me help you.” His brows draw together, but before he can say anything, he sags back and lets out a few wheezing coughs. He shivers, despite the warmth in the tent. I turn back to the healer. “It might take some time. But I will manage it.”

“Of course, my lady. I’ll have someone accompany you to the tent,” she says. A guard materializes at my side. I give them a nod of acknowledgement and cast one more look over my shoulder at Rastek. He’s gazing after me, brows furrowed.

“It’s okay,” I mouth back at him. “I will make sure you’re all right.”

As soon as we step outside the tent, the thaumatist appears out of nowhere. He doesn’t say anything, but he does fall into step beside me as I walk. After a few moments of silence, where he doesn’t seem to be preparing to say anything, I speak. “Rastek was poisoned.”

The thaumatist nods. “Yes. I overheard.” He turns his gaze to me, thoughtful and assessing. “I also overheard that you were planning on helping.”

I glance at the guard. They don’t look like they’re paying attention, but I still don’t want to be too open about my memory loss. “Yes. He’s my husband. Of course I’m going to help.”            The thaumatist nods and falls into silence. I can still feel his assessing eyes on me, even when I’m not looking. It unnerves me.

When we arrive at the tent, the guard stops to wait outside for me. The thaumatist does not. Instead, he ducks into the tent right on my heels without waiting to be invited.

“I assume you want to talk about something,” I say as he glances around.

“I am here if you wish to talk about something,” he says. “I thought you might. Given that you’re volunteering to help unpoison your husband. With precious little knowledge about how poisons work.”

“I have some memories back,” I mutter, retrieving a few books from my stash. “And I’ve got all of my old notes. I have to be able to figure something out.”

“There is no guarantee you will be able to do that,” the thaumatist says. “And working off of incorrect or incomplete memories may not allow you to create the antidote. It may only poison him worse.”

I stack my books and turn to glare at him. “Are you here to stop me, then? Because I’m not just going to sit here. I can’t.”

The thaumatist shrugged. “In truth, I don’t really care if you save him or not. He’s a good employer. But someone of my skill could find employment anywhere I desire.” His voice is perfectly flat, like he’s saying something everyone already knows instead of bragging. “But you are, strictly speaking, my client currently. I am supposed to be ensuring your health. Which is why I would like you to exhibit caution.”

I narrow my eyes at him. If he doesn’t care about Rastek, why the hell would he care about me? Then again, he’s definitely proven himself to be strange. “You can’t possibly be interested in my just because I’m your client.”

The thaumatist shrugs, making his robe shift on his shoulders. “You are an interesting case. I’d like further opportunity to study the spell on you and its general effects. Which I cannot do if you are dead. Or comatose.”            That gives me pause. “And are either of those things likely to happen?”

“It is a possibility, depending on how strong the spell is and how determined you are to retrieve your old memories. If it has some form of failsafe, trying to regain your memories all at once could become quite damaging to your mental state.”

My eyes narrow further. “You didn’t mention that before.”

“No,” the thaumatist says. “Because you were recovering them slowly enough that it wasn’t a concern. But now you are going to deliberately attempt to recover at least some of your memories, which is much more dangerous. Especially considering your fragile physical condition.”

“Then you are going to stop me,” I say. The thaumatist shakes his head.

“I have no real intention of stopping you. Only of warning you of what might happen. Attempting to recover your memories may damage you. Possibly severely enough that you will not survive.”

“I don’t care,” I say. “And I don’t particularly appreciate you only warning me because I’d make a really neat subject for you.”

“That is not the only reason,” the thaumatist says with the barest hint of irritation in his voice. “If you die and Rastek survives, I would not put it past him to throw me in prison for failing to save you. If he does not kill me.”

“You couldn’t magic your way out of that situation?”

“Possibly. But draconids are known for their perseverance and I would prefer not to be hunted for the rest of my life.” The thaumatist crosses his arms over his chest. “Concern for me or yourself does not seem to be changing your opinion.”

I shift the stack of books in my arms, grimacing at their weight. “I don’t care about me if it means I can save Rastek. And, sorry to be rude, but I don’t really care about you, either. He’s been caring for me all this time. I need to do something to try and save him.”

“He’s been caring for you because he wants to,” the thaumatist says. “You’re not obligated to repay him.”

“No,” I agree. “But I want to.”

“You’re an idiot,” the thaumatist observes with the same casual air of someone commenting on a particularly brightly colored shirt.

“Whatever. You’re free to stop me,” I say, only because I’m fairly confident he won’t. sure enough, he sighs, but makes no moves to stop me as I head back toward the tent entrance.

He doesn’t try to stop me, but he does trail after me like a shadow as we head toward my work area. I don’t try to shoo him off. The more the merrier, right? Anyway, at least if I do manage to kill myself, there will be someone in the tent with me to drag my corpse back to Rastek. Or, at the risk of being too optimistic, maybe he’ll even save my life.

Once I’ve tucked myself away in my little work-tent, the first order of business is to find out exactly what Rastek’s been poisoned with. Unfortunately, diagnosing a poison is more difficult than I initially assumed. Several of them list symptoms that I’m not sure how to test, like determining if there’s ‘degradation to the stomach lining’ or ‘mild damage to the kidneys.’ A lot of different poisons also have similar symptoms, so differentiating them isn’t easy. And finally, several poisons are touted for only really being identifiable postmortem. I don’t have the luxury of waiting for that point. I need to identify the poison before it kills him.

The only bright spot is that, when I look through the book I wrote, there’s a section categorizing poisons based on their delivery methods. I can eliminate a decent swathe of poisons that need to be ingested to take effect, as well as several others that have weirdly specific ways of being administered (the weirdest being ‘direct spinal injection’). Several others I can eliminate based on their kill window. A lot of the more potent ones are powerful enough that we would have been dragging his corpse back to camp if he’d been hit with them. There are also several that don’t show symptoms until hours to days after the injection, which also eliminates them.

Even after taking down several swathes of possible poisons from the list, there are still over a hundred that it could possibly be. I comb through the list, going over each one in as fine detail as I can manage. Sometimes, there’s a major symptom missing that lets me strike it, like a certain poison always causing a severe rash all over the body within an hour of its introduction. But more often than not, the poison ends up getting shuffled over to my ‘possibility’ list, which gets more depressing to look at the longer it grows.

Even after looking into the details of each poison, the list of possibilities is still over fifty different poisons long. And my head is killing me. It pounds like someone is striking my temple with a hammer in rhythm, my eyes watering. My stomach turns and I drop my head into my hands, blocking out the flickering light of the room. It helps a little.

“You’re pushing the barriers of the magic,” the thaumatist says. His voice is a little distant, like I’m hearing it from the other end of a tunnel. “I would recommend taking a rest.”

I growl from beneath my hands. “I can’t take a break. Rastek is dying. I just need a few seconds.” My head throbs harder and I feel the blood drain from my face as my mouth goes dry. My stomach clenches and I manage to get my mouth over a cup before I spit up a mouthful of bile.

“I did warn that pushing the magic would have some physical effects,” the thuamatist says. I don’t notice him getting closer, but there’s suddenly a hand on my back. My headache recedes and my vision focuses. “I would advise taking a break. I can stabilize you, but the magic is not going to hold forever.”

“It doesn’t need to hold forever,” I say. “It just needs to hold until I figure this out.” The overall pain of my head has gone down, but every now and then, there will be a massive spike of pain that makes my vision go gray and fuzzy. I want to lie down. I want to bury myself in my pillows and hide until this pain goes away. But I can’t. Rastek is suffering so much worse than I am right now, and he’ll die if I don’t do anything.

Despite the throbbing in my head and my dizziness, I fumble for my book and force it open. It takes a few moments for my eyes to properly focus, and even longer for my brain to make the letters on the page into words. But I don’t stop. I can’t stop. If I stop, he dies.

If I can’t figure out what kind of poison it is specifically, maybe I can combine some antidotes to cover my bases. I flip through the books, trying to locate some sort of comprehensive list of antidotes. There’s nothing comprehensive, and the list of poisons with the bright red marker of ‘no antidote known’ makes my stomach twist even worse. My vision blurs as I flip through the pages until the swirling words all blend together. I blink hurriedly, but my vision refuses to clear.

“You’ve been in here for a long time.” That’s Rastek’s voice. My head snaps up, surprise and relief burning in my chest. His name tries to rise to my lips, but it sputters before it gets there. Instead, a smile pulls at the corners of my mouth, like my body is moving on its own.

I speak then, my mouth moving on its own accord. “It’s only been a few hours.” As I speak, I register the room and feel rather surprised. I’m not in my tent anymore. I’m in a small stone room.

Even the surprise I feel is weird- there’s no physical reaction from my body. I can feel my heart thumping steady as ever in my chest and there’s no startled swoop of my stomach. My body moves on its own, like I’m locked into a full-body mechanical suit that’s being remotely controlled.

Oh, of course I can’t control anything. I’m not actually here. This is a memory.

“I’ve been trying to concoct a proper antidote to this poison. The issue is that when the body tries to purge it, it causes massive damage to the liver and kidneys, so trying to speed up how quickly the body gets rid of it is actually more dangerous. If I can find out some way to protect the liver as the poison is expelled- or maybe some way to neutralize it altogether-”

“Darling,” Rastek says. His voice is honeyed with affection as he steps closer. “You’ve been in here all day.”

“I haven’t figured anything out yet,” I admit. “There are some medicines that might be able to help the liver and kidneys, but nothing that’s strong enough to protect it entirely.”

“Speaking of medicine,” Rastek says in a prodding tone, “you need to take yours.”

“I took it,” I say. “It’s fine.” I step back from the book and stretch. My legs throb and both my knees and my spine crack. Rastek winces at the sound. “I’m not hurt, my joints are just a little stiff,” I mollify him.

“It’s not good for you to stand here all day,” he says. He steps closer and presses a kiss to my head. He smells like armor polish. “And perhaps I’m rather missing my wife.”

I massage my head. There’s a tension gathering around the base of my neck and back of my head that’s prepared to graduate into full-blown pain. “This is important.”

I’m not saying it’s not,” Rastek says. His voice is almost pouty, a tone I’ve never heard from him before. It’s adorable. “What I am saying is that, when I asked you to take this job, I didn’t expect you to commit every waking moment to it. You are allowed to have a life outside of it.”

“I do,” I say, but my voice lacks conviction.

“Nor did I expect you to sacrifice your health for it,” Rastek continues, his voice growing more pointedly concerned. “When was the last time you ate? Or rested?”

“This morning,” I say. “I’m hardly starving. And this antidote could save lives. I think it’s worth a little bit of discomfort.”

“You’re not obligated to cure every poison in the world,” Rastek says. “That’s not even what I hired you to do.” One of his hands rests on my back, running up and down along my spine. “What’s bothering you? You’re not this driven unless something’s eating at your mind.”

“Mrgh,” I mumble and don’t elaborate. Rastek gives me a few more moments, waiting patiently. Then he grasps my waist and hefts my up, prompting me to give an undignified squawk. “Rastek!”

“You were ignoring me,” Rastek says. “I was out of alternate options.” He shifts me like he’s preparing to throw me over his shoulder. “Now, I suggest you tell me what’s bothering you before I decide that you’re too tired to keep working and haul you upstairs-”

“Put me down! I’m fine! You can’t just drag me around whenever you want!”

Rastek’s voice is deeply amused as he answers. “As a matter of fact, I can. You’re quite light.” He sways me lightly, like I’m a particularly grouchy little cat that he’s captured. “Darling. Tell me what’s bothering you. Or I am going to bring you upstairs and sit in our room with you until you fall asleep. Which, given your state, shouldn’t be more than a few minutes, really.”

“Put me down first,” I say. Rastek considers the proposal, then lowers me to the ground. I groan. “I’ve been trying to cure this poison. I want to have antidotes on hand for a lot of the poisons I use. But this one’s proving tricky to figure out.”

“Hm,” Rastek says. He leans over to look at my notes. “No success so far, though?”

“Not that I can tell. I’ve gone over a few results, but it’s hard to make the antidote less dangerous than the poison. If I can find a way to make the liver more efficient while also stopping the damage it accumulates, I can do it, but I’ve gone over like five different ways of doing it and none of them seem to be right. This one is the closest,” I continue, stabbing a finger at the third example, “but that one causes a buildup of a different waste product that can cause death anyway, so I don’t think it’s working.”

“Darling,” Rastek says gently. “Perhaps it can’t be cured and you’re stressing yourself out over nothing.”

“All poisons can be cured.” I massage a hand over my head. “It’s just a matter of finding out what’s going to do it.” I squint at the page. My vision is blurring a little. “Maybe… Maybe if I find out a way to block the poison from receptors entirely? That might work? Unless that starts blocking too much and then the receptors can’t get what they need, which means-”

“You’re exhausted,” Rastek says, gently cutting me off. “Don’t try to hide it. I can see it. You’ve been at this for hours and you need to rest. Not curing this specific poison is not going to be the end of the world.”

I grimace, but flip the book closed. “Yes, I know. Fine. I’ll go.”

“Good,” Rastek says. “Come on. There are some flowers blooming in the garden that I think you would love.”

My vision blurs over and doesn’t clear. It takes me a few moments to realize that the memory has faded, and even longer to realize that my vision is still blurred because tears have flooded my eyes.

It takes me even longer to realize that there’s a hand on my back. Someone is speaking quietly, their voice gentle but insistent. “If you can hear me, please attempt to put your hand in mine.” There’s a hand in front of me, hovering steadily. It takes me two shots, but I manage to get my hand in there.

“Good.” There’s a feeling like static electricity. My eyes water even more, forcing a few tears out. “Talk to me, when you’re able.”

“Uh.” My mouth feels weirdly numb, but the more I move it, the more I’m able to form words. “I think I just had another memory.”

“Indeed.” It finally registers in my mind that I’m talking to the thaumatist. He gives my hand a slight squeeze before dropping it. “The magic is getting weaker, I believe. Your soul is starting to settle more firmly in your body.” The thaumatist gives me a look I can’t quite read. “Tell me. Your other life. You mentioned having a sister at one point, yes? Rastek mentioned it to me.”

“Yes,” I say, not sure where he’s going with this.

“What is her name?” The thaumatist’s voice is light, but something about both the tone and the question makes my stomach do an unsettled flip.

“It’s-” I stop. My sister’s name. I should know this, obviously. It’s my sister. I’ve known her since she was born. So why can’t I remember it at all?

My mind scrambles, clawing through names, but the uncertainty only makes it worse. My heart pounds in my chest. “It’s… it’s…” A couple of names float to me, but I can’t tell if they’re right or not. My stomach rolls. “I think it’s… Eryn?”

“It may be,” the thaumatist says. “But as far as I can recall, that is the name of your sister here.”

My mouth feels dry. I lick my lips and try again. “It’s… Corrinne.”

“Again. The name of one of your sisters here.” The thaumatist’s voice shifts ever so slightly, taking on just a bit of pity. “As you recall more of your time here, your other memories are fading. And the more you take on this task of trying to heal Rastek, the more likely it is that you will regain memories.”

“So I’m going to forget everything in my old life?” I ask.

“Not everything. There will probably still be little bits and pieces that you can put together. But a large amount of it will fade. Names of people, places, details.” The thaumatist gives me an assessing look. “The two sets of memories can’t exist at the same time. One will always overwrite the other.”

“The more I try to save Rastek, the more I’ll forget about my old life,” I say. “My choices are either forget everything in my old life or let Rastek die.”

“That assumes your old memories are going to be enough to formulate a cure. They may not be,” the thaumatist says.

I grit my teeth. He’s right. Even sifting through my memories, there’s nothing that conclusively points to an antidote. There might not be anything at all.

But if I give up, what am I giving up for? Some hazy memories of a life that I don’t even have anymore? I need to try. I need to do whatever I can to save him. No matter how slim the possibility is. In for a penny, in for a pound, as they say.

“In the memory, I was trying to find an antidote,” I say, “but I wasn’t finding anything.” I close my eyes, scrunching my face up with the effort to remember. “We were talking about trying to keep a patient alive even though their liver was failing, because the poison would make their liver worse the more they tried to clear it from the body.” My head throbs. I ignore it. “I think… that’s kind of like what Rastek has now. Maybe that’s where the memory came from.”

“What antidote did you find?” the thaumatist asks.

“That’s the issue. I didn’t find anything,” I say. “No matter what I tried, the poison was still killing the patient. If you let it stay in the body, then it gradually damages everything until the patient gets so sick they die. If you try to get it to filter out faster, it damages the liver and kidneys until the patient gets so sick they die anyway.”

“I’m afraid all this stuff is a bit over my head,” the thaumatist says.

“You don’t need to say anything, I’m just talking out loud to try and figure this out,” I say. “There’s got to be a way we can balance this. There’s always a solution. There has to be.” My head throbs even worse and my vision starts to blur.

“The magic is surging again,” the thaumatist warns. “Your soul is-”

“Fuck that.” I grit my teeth. My vision blurs alarmingly, but it doesn’t fade away. “Not right now. I have other shit to do.”

Slowly, my vision slides back into focus. My head throbs, but I squint through it. The thaumatist stares at me. I can’t read his expression, but I think he’s surprised. Or maybe a little horrified. “That… was not something I was aware could happen. Fascinating.”

“You can study it later! We just need to make sure they his liver and kidneys don’t give up while we’re getting rid of the poison. If only we had dialysis, that would make this all so much easier!”

“I am afraid I’m failing to understand what you’re talking about,” the thaumatist says.

“That’s fine, just let me think. I don’t think we can do a dialysis equivalent, so we’ll have to do something that prevents the poison from hurting his body. Or at least something that stops his liver and kidneys from collapsing completely. Gotta help them limp to the finish line and fix them later.” My head’s still pounding, though it feels strange now. More like I can feel my blood pulsing through my temples than any pain. There’s a tingling behind my eyes and in my fingers. Something is prodding at the edge of my memory, not concrete, but almost there. It gives me a rush of confidence. I know how to do this.

“The medicine that I use is designed to strengthen my muscles to make them stand up against the degradation that’s constantly wearing them down. If I can remake another medicine that does something similar for his liver and kidneys, maybe that can work…” My voice trails off into mumbles. The thaumatist watches me, but thankfully doesn’t say anything else. Every now and then, when my vision starts top blur severely and my head swims, he lifts his hand and there’s a tingle of magic in the air. Whatever he’s doing seems to be keeping the worst of the magic at bay- every time he waves his hand, my vision refocuses and I get a little rush of energy.

I move through my supplies with a practiced ease. It’s weird- the less I think about it, the easier it is to do. My body moves almost without conscious input from my mind. I pull herbs off the shelves, letting instinct guide my actions. My brain buzzes with energy. I’m going to save him. I can do it.

The entire process takes hours. My legs ache and tremble, my head pounds with a continuous pain, and my brain feels like someone’s run it through a wringer. I feel awful. But I have something that I think will work.

There’s a pretty big part of me that realizes this isn’t a good idea- I’m testing this on my husband, who’s injured and weak, and it’s an antidote I’ve made mostly on instinct. But I don’t have much other choice. And, despite the anxiety of my head, my gut is calm. There’s some innate part of me, deeper than any other part, that knows I’m right. This will work. I would bet my life on it.

I would bet Rastek’s life on it. That’s more important.

“We need to take this to him,” I say.

“I can take it,” the guard, who’s been half asleep the entire time, says. “My lady, you should get some rest.” He honestly looks pleased just to be of some use, but I shake my head.

“I have to give it to him.” I have to be with him when he takes it. I have to see if it works. And, really, I have to be there if it fails. I can’t just give it to him and hide away if he dies. “You can come with me. But I need to be there.”

The guard looks unsettled, but he nods. The thaumatist gives a slight bow to me. “Go to your husband. I will join you later, to ensure the magic in you is still stable. But you will be all right for now.” He waves a hand at me. “Go.”

I gather my antidote and run.

The running doesn’t last very long. I end up walking back to the medical tent, and not very quickly at that. The guard follows my footsteps silently, eyes glued to me.

The tent is quieter when we arrive. Rastek has been moved, shuffled to a more secluded area and surrounded by a curtain. One of the doctors looks over at me when I enter.

“He’s resting. One of the servants stopped by to bring him some dinner,” she says. “They’re trying to get him to eat, though I’m uncertain how receptive he is.”

I lift the bottle in my hand. “I’ll dismiss them. He needs to drink this and rest. I’ll keep an eye on him.” The doctor nods and turns back to another patient on a bed. The guard following me stops at a gesture from me, allowing me to step behind the curtain without him following me.

Rastek’s area is bigger than before, allowing space for a bed and a few other people to stand around him. He’s breathing, though shallowly. Bending over him is another person, their back to me. My brain stutters for a moment before I realize that the person is familiar to me.

“Ethan?” He snaps his head up toward me, eyes wide. And that’s when I see that he’s holding a flask of something dark and viscous.

Ch. 8 here

[pies-database]

HYPERIA [She/they/it]

Name(s): The Fearless, The Exodus, Adeline

Nickname(s): Perry

Likes: Forgery, psychology, birds, soldering, making stained glass art, Flirtatious behaviour, cheekiness, yellows, greens, mellow shades of colours, independence, exploring new tastes and places, learning, chutney, instrumentals, orchestras, poetry

Dislikes: being restricted, being uncertain, sea urchins, jelly fish, the quiet, baths, "Quiet days", beach holidays, being unactive, not having a reading list, maximalism, anything too minimalist.

Personality: An active thrill seeker, Adeline was known that she would be something truly confident from a young age. She goes to clubs, woos people (of all genders) as much as they woo her. She almost handles flirting like a sport, not anything genuine but an art she has down to a science.

However, when she finds an anchor, she unwittingly lets it completely stump her. She has bad days and months were she may become reliant on an ideal and however it presents itself. If this is challenged, she will dig her feet. She has to come to terms on her own, which she usually does.

She doesn't mind pain and has a relatively high pain tolerance, but the sight of a wound can make her queasy. This just makes her very fidgety, but she can still deal with first aid, its just a lot less enthusiastic.

Abilities: Can sense and alter the nature of a person's existence and experience. As she hasn't been around for long, she isn't very accurate and finds it rather difficult, but she is learning. This usually represents itself as spheres of various kinds, colours and vibrancies. Only she can see those Shrimp Colours that make it all come together.

Also higher resistance to heat and bacteria.

Abnormal physical features: Abnormally pale skin, her eyes and hair look like gold, she has small wings in place of ears.

Backstory: She was always the rambunctious sort, always going out of her way to find a cheap thrill. As a teen this presented as always chasing the high of the start of a relationship of any sort. The feeling of so many new possibilities and potential connections. But she never felt comfortable enough to settle with a friend group or a partner.

As she got older, finished college, started applying to jobs, as her world changed in massive ways every few months, she allowed herself to hold onto this "new" partner she'd had for a year. He kept her anchored, he would always let her know when a job opportunity was too far, or if a house was not roomy enough for when they would have kids, or that it was ridiculous to completely rule out having kids because "feelings change" and he wanted a bloodline.

He kept her anchored, but her sister would always be there to be the wind in her sails. And, funnily enough, she would keep dropping the weirdest questions about her partner. Why was that trip to that dormant volcano refused? Well, because I'm stupid, didn't realise how dangerous it was. Silly mistake, right?

And her sister kept prodding, until she dragged Adeline out by her ankles to go on a night out with the sister's friends. And they proper shat on her boyfriend. It was only then Adeline actually listened, and realised she should keep an eye out for his behaviours. She started documenting "Weird" stuff he'd say and posting it anonymously to online forums. Everyone was just telling her to break up with him.

So after her longest relationship of 4 years, she decided to go through. Her sister would wait outside in her car, willing to let Adeline stay in her house in Staines until she could get on her feet again. The breakup went relatively well, and Adeline walked out with the weirdest feeling of freedom mixed with directionless floating.

She walked out of the house, away from all her history and forging equipment, and felt lighter for the first time in years. she went to the car, and let herself move on.

But, that's when she started seeing the lights.

Funnily enough, ending a relationship, loveless or not, that had been going on for almost a decade tended to cause symptoms such as depression. She laid on her sister's couch for hours, eating what was laid in front of her and then napping. But those lights.

They were little spheric things, with no core. Like a very, very bright firefly. And they had a kind of lure to them, one that called for her to stand up and follow.

And one day, after staring at them for a few months, she decided to follow. She only had her PJs on, but couldn't be bothered to change. It wasn't a particularly hot or chilly night, so she would be fine in what she was wearing with some flats thrown on her feet.

She followed it onto the weird island that had heaps of local legends stirring within, she had seen the rumours that the serial murderers that stirred the small community actually lived there, but the police refused to go in. There had been limited reports of death from within that area, so she did just cross the bridge.

She didn't actually meet anyone when she went in, the plant led her to a small pond and submerged itself. And once more, bracing against the cold, she followed.

When she eventually made contact, she felt warm, like molten lava nestled into her very bones. It wasn't painful; it felt right.

And she came out different. Then, and only then, did she run into two strangers, lingering behind a warehouse. They had been watching (well, one was watching and relaying it to the other guy, who was blind) the entire time, and were just as confused. However, they did have some answers, starting with the fact she had probably just died. And she would probably have to withdraw from society now.

And Adeline, thinking these two people clearly had some sort of idea of what happened, quickly ran home with newfound energy, left a note for her sister, changed clothes, and planned her new name, her new identity.

Enter stage left, Hyperia.

Current residency: near Sawyer's warehouse.

ASKS: OPEN.

[taylortruther]

When folklore was announced Taylor said the songs are fiction and yet, when you listen to it, it's pretty clear how much it's based on her own emotions/experiences. I'm sure it was freeing for Taylor to fictionalize her emotions to process them and also voice her issues in her relationship without having the whole world knowing.

I always thought hoax was partly inspired by Joe mostly based on vibes. It's so heartbreaking and devastating and I refuse to believe it's not inspired by a romantic love.

Taylor released the cardigan demo and I heard "living in a gold age, sneak into my bird cage / laughing like a damn fool, breaking every damn rule" and then I knew cardigan was about Joe (because the cage imagery & bad boy imagery were used so much for him). So he messed up, and she forgave him and it's very romantic and almost the kind of second-chance romance Taylor loves so much.

So cardigan and hoax are about him and it's in an album full of forlorn songs and hoax has so many parallels to other songs that don't feel like a coincidence.

"Don't want no other shade of blue, but you" -> "I'm with you even if it makes me blue" -> "if your cascade ocean waves blue come" -> renegade. The entire concept of Joe struggling with the depression and Taylor saying again and again that she will stay, even if it hurts her, if only he lets her. "your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in"

"You knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score?" -> "you did a number on me but, honestly, baby, who's counting?" -> "no more keeping score" -> "cat and mouse for a month or two or three" -> "I can't talk to you when you're like this / staring at the city like I'm not your favorite city" -> "you can't talk to me when I'm like this / daring you to leave me just so I could try and scare you" they go back and forth with their arguing, he gets cold, she gets mad at him, they give each other silent treatments. But hoax was right in the moment so that "keeping score" phrase is more painful.

"My broken drum, you have beaten my heart" -> "deep blue but you painted me golden" -> "a red rose grew up out of ice frozen ground" -> "do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life?" Hoax is a song about devotion, it's about loving someone despite the pain and I think this line is a reminder to the both of them that he loved her, he was good to her, so why can't he calm down and be good to her once again?

"You know I left a part of back in New york" -> "back and forth from New York"

"All of my heroes die all alone" -> "you know the hero died, so what's the movie for?" -> "you know the greatest films of all time were never made"

Besides of the parallels, the line "you knew it still hurts underneath my scars from when they pulled me apart, but what you did was just as dark" is so devastating. He knew what she's been through and how bad it was, so why would he go and do something that's just as devastating? Why would he betray her like others have?

Now with the breakup and what you said

"and then we got so many songs about wanting to flee, hoping someone understood she couldn't control all aspects of her life (peace), and wanting this person to open up to her and be all in with her (renegade.) "

I look at so many songs differently. When "Is it enough" was it a plea? Was she asking "I know my life is very difficult for you but my love is a fire, is it good enough to make you stay?" Is Lavender Haze a reminder that he could handle her life, that he handled things very well before?

i wish i had anything thoughtful to add, but i don't, because you expressed this all so well. thank you for taking the time and also for devastating me in the process 🫡

[kobedivision]

The day was unusually warm, the kind that called for a cold drink and a moment of respite under the shade. Ren Nakashima, known to the world as "Vox," found himself at a local park, guitar in hand, casually strumming tunes that blended seamlessly with the laughter of children and the distant bark of dogs. It was his birthday, and for once, he was not Vox the musician, but Ren the man, enjoying a day without the weight of fame on his shoulders.

As he played, a familiar figure approached. A courier, with a package tucked underarm and a clipboard in hand. Ren signed for the package, a puzzled look crossing his face. It wasn't often that deliveries found him here, in the open air where music felt most free.

The package was an elegant box, and the musician opened it to see what was inside. As he did, his eyes grew wide:

Inside lay a star, but not just any star. It was... a Hollywood Walk of Fame star with "VOX" etched boldly at the top. It was more than a gift; it was a symbol, an acknowledgment from those who knew the man behind the music. Accompanying the star were notes, each a birthday wish from the members of '86', the band that had shared stages and spotlights with him:

"Happy Birthday, 'Pretty Boy'. You like your gift? Congrats! Your famous, even on the fucking seas now! You better be grateful!"

- Meari "Bloody 'Fucking' Mary" Miracle

"Yeah, what Meari said! Happy birthday and all that shit. And also, tell that drummer to get off his ass and answer my fucking texts about our date! And tell him he better respond soon!"

- Lady Dragon

"Happy Birthday, Ren. Looking forward to seeing you on tour again soon. Let's have another guitar battle at our next concert!"

- Rising Zan

"Nakashima, happy birthday."

- Ren

"Happy birthday, Ren-kun! Make sure you enjoy it! You're only 21 once!"

- Jo Yumiko, a.k.a. "Mad Scientist"

"Happy Birthday, Ren-san. Be sure to enjoy it, okay? If you don't I'll get really sad… but that wouldn't be so bad."

- Homer Kojima, your faithful servant in pain ♡

"Ren-san, a very happy birthday to you. For your contributions to music (and after weeks-long discussion with multiple music industries and the Hollywood Chamber of Commerce), I managed to convince them to award you your own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame."

"Though you didn't start the same time as 86, you have quickly skyrocketed to stardom, something most people couldn't even fathom doing. And for that, you deserve this. However, do not rest on your laurels. Continue to shoot higher and higher to greater achievements. Me and the rest of the music world look forward to seeing what you come up with next. Again, I wish you a happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it well."

- Kaoru Yamashiro, Manager of 86

Ren couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief, lighting grazing his hand over the star, yep, it was real alright, there was no mistaking it. He couldn’t fucking believe it, his name on a Hollywood Star, the ultimate symbol of how far he had come from being some pretty face who would play his guitar at various cafes and bars to now a rockstar legend in his own right, the one thing he wanted more than anything as a kid was now in his hands, quite literally and yet it still didn’t feel real.

He immediately thought about his dad, the man who had the ability to take anything into his hands and turned it into gold, days spent with him and various other people in the studio watching art being made and the two of them nodding their heads and singing along to a hot new song his dad’s client had put out, such a simple time, before his mom took a knife to his throat. He was his inspiration, the reason why he pursued music in the first place and his motivation for when he got turned down again and again and again.

It’s not easy trying to get your music career off the ground while raising two kids and Ren was not ashamed to admit that he had his fair share of breakdowns, what artist didn’t? It came with the experience but he kept going, every time he thought about giving up, he swore he could hear his father telling to “Keep marching on, superstar.” so he kept climbing because he could not fail, he would not fail, it wasn’t just about him, Ayano and Ryōhei, his siblings, the only family he had left, they didn’t deserve to struggle and fight to survive, they’ve already been through so much, Ren had promised them that he’ll give them the life they deserved after he buried his parents.

All of that pain, all of that suffering, all the screaming, crying, pleading those people did, grating on his ears and nerves shut up shUT UP, the constant struggle and hard work, it all payed off now the moment his eyes landed on this star. Of course, he was extremely grateful for the people he met along the way that helped him, Kai Quinlan for taking a chance on him and helped him refined his style, Meari Miracle, Kaoru Yamashiro, and 86 for showing him the ropes and boosting his popularity with all the collaborations they’ve done together, his dear manager who he loves to call “Uncle”, despite his gruff and rough exterior, Ren truly saw him as a father figure and was thankful for keeping him grounded whenever “Vox” got a little too into his ego, and of course, he could never forget his own band, Osiris, chaotic as they were, he couldn’t ask for a better band to share the spoils of rewards fame gifted them with (he snickered at the message Iris left, he and the rest of the band will never let their dear drummer let it down).

He decided to cut his time at the park short and packed up his guitar and his star and started to head home for a quick pit stop, he knows for sure that Max and Kaiji (well, mainly Kaiji, he’ll have to explain what a Hollywood Star is and what it means to Max) will lose their shit once he tells them about this and really, he couldn’t have make it as far without them too so this was just as much their victory as it is his.

Thank you for the gift!

[tianalova]

I ❤️ SUFJAN STEVENS.

Seriously, I discovered this man in 2021. I vividly remember listening to Death with Dignity, at night, laying in my bed, in the dark, with just my earphones in. I was 13, and i was then listening to music on Youtube. The algorithm randomly added that song in my mix, and it was the slowed and reverb version of it LOLL

I’ve never thought i’d listen to this kind of music (i used to listen to only agressive pop and all that kind of stuff), but this album opener blew my mind. I fell in love with the song within the first few guitalin? (i think) arpeggios. I thought « how is it possible to make something this beautiful ?? and i’m not even 10secs in. »

I didn’t really understood the lyrics at first, as English isn’t my native language, but his voice really activated some part of my brain. It tickled it and i fell in love with Sufjan’s voice : i have never heard a voice like this before !! so breathy, beautiful and « lived in ». I mean. He has lived a lot of things lol

the piano part in the song made me almost cry.

and don’t even get me started on the last part of the song. The vocals. The instruments. so much emotion conveyed without any lyrics. The little chord progression (i hope that you know which one i’m referring to) that made the whole thing feel so mesmerizing. The last few notes of the sliding guitar? i think… idk what instrument that is. I cannot explain with words how i was feeling. and all of that in slowed and reverb LOLLL it made me so emotional. I wasn’t even able to process the whole thing. Too much happening for me. and the song ended. it was a whole experience.

And then i listenend to carrie and lowell. No shade in the shadow of the cross always gets me. John my beloved too. my three favorite songs ever. Maybe i’ll write a whole new post for them.

illinois : a whole different thing. I was like bro that man can do anything.

the greatest gift : carrie and lowell but the unreleased and the remixes. The demos really make me emotional all the time. We can hear sufjans voice so clearly

age of adz : the first time i listened to it i think i despised it LOLLLL. but now it’s my FAVORITE album ever. Who is able to make a 25 min long song this good?? and there are no boring parts in Impossible soul. Man this guy is a genius. I want to be well is my favorite ; sufjan conveys the feeling of being sick so well?? the little high-pitched electronic sounds really sound like nervous disease

michigan : i just have one thing to say : so pretty

bangers.

the ascension : never thought i’d like electronic pop music but i do now !!! he does everything so well. I particularly love this album bc his voice sometimes gets really loud and strong (on landslide, make me an offer i cannot refuse or tell me you love me, for example)

A beginners mind : wowowowowowowow this blew my mind. If « magic » was an album it would be this one.

reflections : i love these piano pieces !!! the same for the decalogue

planetarium : this album grew on me a lot. I love Jupiter, and also the end of Neptune. I love watching sufjan performing mercury on Youtube. But the spoken part at the end of Earth freaks me out. i ended up crying 😭😭😭 they were so scary.

Aporia : original!!! i like it

Carrie and lowell live : i’m gonna have to make a whole new post for this one too

Silver and gold : man how is Sufjan able to make a christmas album with 58 songs, when he already made Songs for Christmas ?😭 he is so prolific. i love justice delivers its death. maybe one of the realest songs i’ve ever heard in my short life lol. And christmas unicorn being right after that heart wrenching song is so hilarious. I AM THE BIGGEST CHRISTMAS UNICORN FAN !!!!

All delighted people : one of his best works. I’m gonna make a post for this one too

The BQE and RUN RABBIT RUN : BEAUTIGUL ARRANGEMENTS

songs for christmas : love the vibe : jesus, banjo and piano and pretty synthesizers and organ

man i am writing too much

The Avalanche : illinoise but another one. with 742947 versions of the same song (and i Love Sufjan for that)

a sun came : make some bangers and add some talking tracks in the middle. and don’t forget satans saxophone

enjoy your rabbit : LFJELEURIE PPPROFFRRRRRRRR ZZZAAZZ PAAAGREE BRRRWSWOOOOOOOOOOO MEEEEP MEEEEPPPPP BAAWWWW PKSSSKKSKSKS SSSSS EZZZZHHHHH

seven swans : take seven swans but make them Christian and add guitar and banjo. and don’t forget the American references. And don’t run, because He will chase you cause he is the Lord.

and i’m ending this with Javelin

The first album drop i have ever witnessed in my life.

man i will make another another another post for this one too

and he has so many singles

you can tell i got tired writing this LOLLLL i stopped being serious and i don’t even know if someone is going to read all of that but if someone does, thank you lol

but i am forever full of respect and love and i’m so grateful for Sufjan’s music, and for Sufjan himself. I hope he will heal completely from GBS. praying for him!!

[033h]

lol super late but I got tagged by @chiveburger to do my 2022 top skincare, makeup, and fragrances!! tbh I don’t try new products super often with the exception of lip products but I love to overshare so ty for tagging <3

The ordinary 100% plant derived hemi-squalane - I don’t do much for skincare these days tbh, I have dry/sensitive skin plus eczema so I pretty much just use an oil and cetaphil if I’m lazy. I recently started going through this one I bought a while ago and it’s hydrating enough without feeling as greasy as a lot of oils.

Paula’s choice lip and body balm - I tried sooo many lip balms before finding this and it’s the only one ive used for 5+ years!! I used to use the nuxe reve de miel but the scent irritated my lips. This one is scentless and equally hydrating, and the container lasts me months even though I use it every day. If they ever stopped making it I think I would cry…

Sierra bravo deodorant in white vetiver and cedarwood - ok not skincare but I love this deodorant soo much. Don’t get me wrong I hate the military vibe but I ran out of my smith deodorant and randomly found this one for $3 on sale at uo. The scent is kind of piney kind of old spice vibes but not as strong-smelling and it’s gel-like, so it doesn’t crumble or leave marks.

Skin aqua UV essence tone up sunscreen - I’ve used Japanese sunscreens for a few years bcus they don’t feel like anything on, have high spf, and they’re affordable. I used to use the biore aqua rich, in comparison this one might leave a cast if you have darker skin since it’s not as sheer, but I think the biore one contained alcohol and irritated my skin a bit.

3CE soft matte lipstick in chill move - I never really bought pink lipsticks until this year since I have an orange/yellow undertone. I love 3CE because even their cool shades are suited to warm undertones. It’s a nice mauvy pink that doesn’t make me look dead and it’s not drying for a matte.

3CE syrup layering tint in alive pink - same as the lipstick, this pink is so cute and the formula is really comfortable. It’s somewhere between a gloss and a stain but it’s not drying like a lot of stains and not as thick as a gloss. This shade isn’t super opaque but it layers nicely and leaves my lips feeling moisturized.

Canmake colorful nails n31 lovely shower - my mom and I have always been nail polish hoarders like I’m talking salon quantities of nail polish so I’ve tried a lot... this formula is really smooth and dries quickly, and the color is soo gorgeous! it’s a fine, pearlescent glitter that looks barbie pink and reflects a gold peachy color. It also does not chip! The bottle is a little small but I think I’ll actually use all of it. I found it randomly in a jbeauty shop in SF and am going to try some of the non-glitter colors soon! 

Glossier pro tip liner - pretty much the only makeup I wear consistently is eyeliner. I almost always use felt tips but this brush doesn’t split and isn’t floppy/rectangular (like the brush cap ones). It does dry out but it lasts me the same as the stila one (~4 months) and is super thin and precise, I wish they made it in brown! 

Maison margiela replica sailing day - I just started getting into fragrances this year and out of this sample set and the boy smells one, this is the only one I really liked. It’s very gender neutral and doesn’t have any oppressively perfumey/cologney heaviness to it, and no sweetness which I hate. It’s aquatic and fresh, basically just like clean salt water.

Ok thats all this was fun even tho I feel like I don’t experiment w my products much!! I tag @macadamianutmilk​ @milfmushroomforager @tierras @lovergirl @sheis and @ieg, if you want to!

[oldtvlover]

So, tonight a minor shocker with Face of Evil, again from 1996 - and Hallmark!! Cast: Tracey Gold - Darcy Palmer Perry King - Russell Polk Shawnee Smith - Jeanelle Polk Don Harvey - Quinn Harris Mireille Enros - Brianne Dwyer and many more Story: In Face of Evil, Darcy Palmer (Tracey Golds) is a good-looking, blonde psychopath who can charm any man (it seems) into helping her – including the cop cabdriver in the final scene who is about to let her out of her handcuffs. In the course of the story, she takes on different identities (probably many, it is hinted, before the story begins), and erases the lives of those she devours. Her whole life is a tissue of lies and a closet full of corpses – as we get in Malicious (1996) and many such variations. Much of Face of Evil has a telemovie blandness of execution, but director Mary Lambert (whose career since early Madonna videos and Siesta in 1987 is intriguing from many angles) has some good gesture/action/visual-business scenes to work with. Such as the prologue, where Darcy tempts a cat to eat a bird she is feeding (much to the moral distress of a nearby little girl!). And especially the elaborate passage where she breaks into the University’s administration offices (an anti-heroine trait: she can get in anywhere – somewhat Hitchockian, à la Marnie [1964]), replaces a woman’s eye-drop liquid with acid, and then waits around the next day outside the building to reassure herself of the success of her plan – “It probably ate straight through to her brain!”, as she chirps to her (again morally horrified) classmates back in the dorm, watching the gruesome news on TV. Note, by the way, how absolutely bland/pretty and uninteresting the character of Darby’s friend Jeanelle (Shawnee Smith) is, always moping about her somewhat sleazy Dad (Perry King: perfect casting) who has neither time nor affection for her … Smith, by the way, has subsequently shown up in many horror movies of the Saw/Grudge variety, as well as the TV series Secret Life of the American Teenager (2008-2013). While on the matter of credits, let us also note the trajectory of writer Gregory Goodell, who has directed a bunch of telemovie thillers, as well as the horror movie Human Experiments (1980), and also wrote a guide to independent production. One of the distinctive and intriguing elements of Face of Evil is the role played by art. At the start, about to marry some hick named Quinn (Don Harvey), Darcy claims to be giving up her interest in painting. He tries to persuade her not to do this. That night, when she clears out, she takes her paintings (including “his” one, a gift to him, cut right out of its frame) with her. At University, inspired by the heavenly vision of art class, she works her wiles to switch her enrolment. Eventually, Jeanelle’s Dad will help Darby get her first exhibition. And not only is her art the explicit confession in surrealist-expressionist canvases of her actual criminal deeds – like stuffing a dead girl in her suitcase! – it also furnishes her with a kind of Nietzschean life-motto (shades of Rope [1948]): the artist must be free, with no restraining limits. Indeed, whenever Darcy psychotically cracks, it is precisely because someone, in her mind, threatens to curtail her artistic freedom. One of the most basic structures bequeathed to the modern thriller by Hitchcock and (before him) Patricia Highsmith in Strangers on a Train (novel 1950, film 1951) is the plot trope of “the fortuitously encountered stranger who enacts your most secret wish”. Face of Evil, adopting the evil gal pal template of Single White Female (1992) and other contemporary 1990s thrillers, takes this in an odd and highly perverse direction, which is in some sense also a scrambled reworking of the “Mom really did it” displacement-logic of Psycho (1960). In Darcy’s romancing of Jeanelle’s Dad, she does not merely take her BFF’s place as the beloved daughter – she does what the daughter longs to do but cannot: make love to him! And then, just to top it off, Darcy more-or-less throws exactly this wish-come-true in Jeanelle’s face. This logic also works, on a lesser but more humorous level, with the character of Quinn – whom Darcy rudely jilts, but who then comes after her, until he is trapped in a rolled-up car window and (discreetly) stabbed to death by her. Back at the point of his post-jilt rage, he informs his super-religious parents that he will return to the bar to once again take up boozing – the very bar “where I met Darcy”! © Adrian Martin June 2012 (taken from here now) Thoughts: Well, a normal looking woman is trying to lure a cat to kill a bird which she feeds. She gets interrupted by a young girl - and her fiance, Quinn, who introduces she as Darcy Palmer. She plays the perfect role until she has enough and flees from him - with their wedding rings and her own pictures (and one of his). At an airport where she meets Brianne, who starts college soon, both women just talk until Brianne goes to the restrooms and Darcy kills her, taking her identity and suitcase (with the body in it). At the college, and also earlier, she meets her new roommate, Jeanelle and they befriend quickly - until she sees Jeanelle's Dad, Russell (King with a ponytail first). In Darcy seems to grow a plan and she also switches her courses from music to art, her profession. Never mind, she sugarcoats Russell more and more as he likes art as well and she slowly begins to replace Jeanelle. Yet Jeanelle sees some holes in Darcy's story which changes anytime and she begins to research and phone to get the needed information. Darcy, meanwhile, has reached her goal and Russell has opened an exhibition for her - and she sleeps with him. Jeanelle has found out that Darcy is not even Darcy and so both women fight but Russell comes to the rescue of his daughter after finally realizing what is going on. The police arrests the woman who might weasel her way out, again.

Can be found on Youtube if I remember correctly. Enjoy!

[mcgnagallsarmy]

Spuffy style Reading Challenge - #11: Monthly Key Word Reading Challenge

1st month - Last, Kingdom, Girl, Dark, When, Winter, Light, Window:

The Girl Who Courted Death by OffYourBird [NC-17]

Due to a misfortune of genetics, Buffy is never Called as a Slayer. Instead, she grows up in L.A. with a different set of challenges and trials, unaware of the supernatural world. That is, until a chance encounter with the Slayer of Slayers changes her life—and everything afterward—forever.

2nd month - Midnight, Never, Into, Sun, Love, Good, Spell, Search:

Midnight in Rome by Dusty [R]

It'll take more than death and a fiery apocalypse to keep them apart now.

3rd month - End, Fall, Loud, Queen, Woods, Nine, Beautiful, Crown:

Till the End of the World by slaymesoftly [R]

A short future fic, in which circumstances have kept Buffy and Spike apart for many years, but as the world slips into decline, he seeks her out.

4th month - Race, Now, Chose, While, Stop, Burn, Red, One:

Let it Burn! by Axell [Adult Only]

Her eyes followed the blood. Summers blood. She counted the drops. Ten. Then it stopped. If Dawn dies, I’m through. I don’t want to live in a world if these are the choices. Slowly, her head rose up. Their eyes met. Green and amber. A look passed between them then a nod. Her own voice echoed into her mind. I’m counting on you. To avenge her. Us. He made a promise. Until dusk will swallow them all.

5th month - Thorn, Catch, Black, Under, City, Cloud, Sing, Legacy:

Catch by Holly [PG]

Someone asked him once how long it had taken, falling into sync with her.

6th month - Sea, You, Hate, Perfect, Shade, Until, Beach, Little:

Future Perfect by Sigyn [R]

“I only show the truth,” the creature said. “The truth of the future. How you feel about it is all your own.” “What future?” Buffy demanded. “What are you talking about?” The demon smiled. “You’ll see soon enough.”

7th month - Star, Next, Infinity, Iron, Word, People, Rise, Clear:

Angel's People Skills by lex_hex [G]

Willow endeavors to teach Angel how to people. This is thwarted when Angel discovers Buffy and Spike have registered at Bed, Bath & Beyond.

8th month - Breath, Case, Hundred, Day, Happy, Language, Stay, Lie:

Midnight Chicken and Other Recipes Worth Living For (A Slayer's Guide to Moving Forward and Being Happy) by talesofstories [PG-13]

Spike is back in Buffy's life, and now they get to build a life together, a life that can be whatever they want it to be.

9th month - Bright, Here, Out, Life, Strange, Rule, Story, Salt:

Letting It Out by MaggieLaFey [G]

After the events of A Trip to the Store and Turning the Tables, Buffy is FINALLY ready for the Three Magic Words... or at least, she wants to be. If you haven't read the other two, just know that Buffy and Spike have been together for a while and have had intense (but fun!) experiences of the bedroom kind.

10th month - House, Bone, Haunt, Body, Blood, Witch, Murder, Mystery:

I Fought the World for Your Hand (Give My New Body a Chance) by williamthebloodied [NC-17]

On a scale of 1-10, Buffy’s idea for her Halloween costume this year probably fell on a precarious 5. It could be great, doing everything she hoped and more for both she and Spike. On the other hand, it could easily fall down the wrong side of the slippery slope into majorly bad, rehashing things best left demolished in the past. Also, recycling ideas was not the best look. But, if it worked the way she envisioned, with a hope and a prayer…it would eclipse that concern. or Buffy dresses up in 1870s fashion for Halloween and a whole lot of love ensues.

11th month - Many, Boy, River, Fever, Down, Gold, Jade, Hill:

Down the Road I Go by Megan_Tam [NC-17]

A Slayer. A vampire. A 1959 DeSoto. Spike kidnaps Buffy and heads back to Brazil in a misguided attempt to appease Drusilla. What starts out as revenge turns into an experience neither will forget. If they don't kill each other first.

12th month - Still, Cabin, Cafe, Night, Lake, By, Holiday, Fire:

Melting Fire by Freecat [R]

Set right after Dead Things. The night after, all he wants is talk. The night after, there’s nothing she wants less than talking. And suddenly they find themselves in another dimension; one that Buffy can’t leave. There’s only one way to get her out. A way with consequences.

[critcast]

Lexori “Lex” Zynari

Name: Lexori “Lex” Zynari

Age: 25

Class: Bard

Race: Tiefling (Pink-skinned)

Occupation: Traveling Minstrel, Storyteller, and Occasional Adventurer

Physical Appearance

Skin Tone: A soft, pastel pink that gives her an almost ethereal appearance.

Hair: A cascade of silvery-white hair that falls in loose waves down to her lower back. She often adorns it with small flowers or jeweled hairpins.

Eyes: Large, expressive eyes of a deep violet hue, which seem to sparkle with mischief and warmth.

Horns: Curved, smooth, brownish horns that rise elegantly from her forehead and sweep back over her head, blending into her hair. They have a faint shimmer to them, almost like pearl.

Height: 5'7"

Build: Slender and graceful, with an athletic frame that hints at her agility and endurance.

Clothing: Lexori prefers flowing garments that allow for movement, often in shades of violet, blue, and gold. She is rarely seen without her lute, which she carries strapped to her back. Her outfits are a mix of practical and decorative, with plenty of hidden pockets and embroidered details that reflect her artistic flair.

Personality

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Sense of Humor: Lexori has a sharp wit and loves to make others laugh, often using humor as a way to cope with her past. She enjoys playful banter and has a knack for turning any situation into something amusing, even in the face of danger.

Empathy: Despite her jovial nature, Lexori is deeply empathetic and sensitive to the pain of others. She can’t stand to see anyone suffer and will go out of her way to help those in need, often putting herself at risk in the process.

Resilience: Her tragic past has left her with an unshakable resilience. She’s the kind of person who, no matter how many times she’s knocked down, will always get back up with a smile and a joke.

Fun-Loving: Lexori lives for the thrill of adventure and the joy of new experiences. She’s always the first to suggest a daring plan or a night of revelry, and she has a talent for drawing others into her enthusiasm.

Backstory

Lexori’s life began in the shadow of tragedy. Born into a small tiefling community on the outskirts of a human city, she was an outcast from the start. Her unique pink skin made her even more of a target for the fear and prejudice that plagued her people. When she was just a child, a band of zealots, driven by superstition and hatred, attacked her village. Lexori’s parents died defending her, leaving her alone in a world that had shown her little kindness.

She was taken in by a traveling troupe of performers who found her wandering the ruins of her home. They raised her as one of their own, teaching her the arts of music, storytelling, and performance. Under their care, Lexori discovered her natural talents as a bard, using music and humor as a way to heal her own wounds and bring light to others.

Despite her painful past, Lexori refuses to let it define her. She has embraced her chaotic good nature, seeing herself as a force for positive change in a world that often seems dark and cruel. She travels from town to town, using her performances to uplift spirits, challenge authority, and inspire others to stand up for what’s right. Though she often hides her deeper feelings behind a smile, those who get to know her see the depth of her compassion and the strength that lies beneath her playful exterior.

Lexori’s ultimate goal is to build a world where no one else has to suffer the way she did. She dreams of a future where people of all races can live in harmony, and she’s willing to fight – and laugh – her way towards that ideal.

Additional Notes

Weapon of Choice: Lexori’s primary “weapon” is her lute, which she uses to cast her spells and inspire allies. However, she’s also proficient with a rapier, which she wields with surprising skill when the situation demands.

Quirks: Lexori has a habit of humming to herself when she’s deep in thought, and she collects small trinkets from her travels, each with a story attached.

Flaws: Her tendency to act on impulse can sometimes get her into trouble, and her refusal to dwell on her own pain can occasionally lead to her suppressing her feelings until they become overwhelming.

The Zealots and Their Beliefs

The band of zealots that attacked Lexori's village were part of a radical, fanatical religious sect known as the Order of the Purifying Flame. This order had long held a deep-seated hatred for all things they deemed "unnatural" or "corrupt." To them, tieflings were the very embodiment of such corruption, born of infernal heritage and marked by the telltale signs of their fiendish ancestry-horns, tails, and skin of unnatural hues.

The Order believed that tieflings were the spawn of devils, cursed by the sins of their ancestors, and that their very existence was a blight upon the world. They saw themselves as the righteous agents of divine retribution, tasked with the holy duty of purging the world of these so-called hellspawn. The Order interpreted natural disasters, plagues, and other misfortunes as signs of divine displeasure, blaming the presence of tieflings for attracting such calamities.

The leader of this particular group of zealots was a man named Inquisitor Hargrave, a fervent and charismatic figure who preached that the only way to cleanse the land of evil was through the total eradication of tieflings and other "abominations." Hargrave's own family had been wiped out by a plague years before, and he became convinced that tieflings were responsible. This personal vendetta drove him to ever-greater acts of cruelty, as he sought to "purify" the world in the most brutal ways imaginable.

The Attack on Lexori's Village

Lexori's village, known as Cindervale, was a small, secluded settlement that had existed in relative peace for years. The tieflings of Cindervale were a close-knit community, doing their best to live quietly on the outskirts of society, away from the prejudices and fears of the larger world. Despite their efforts to stay hidden, rumors of their existence reached the ears of the Order of the Purifying Flame. Driven by their fanatical beliefs, Inquisitor Hargrave and his followers descended upon the village without warning. The attack was swift and merciless. The zealots set fire to the homes of the tieflings, burning them alive where they slept. Those who tried to escape were met with blades and arrows. Hargrave himself led the charge, spouting rhetoric about cleansing the land and delivering divine justice as he cut down innocent men, women, and children.

Lexori's parents, Damaris and Liora Zynari, were among the leaders of the village. They had always been protective of their daughter, aware of the dangers that came with being a tiefling in a world that feared them. When the attack began, they fought desperately to protect their home and their people. Damaris wielded his magic with the ferocity of a cornered beast, while Liora, a skilled swordswoman, cut down zealots left and right.

But the numbers were against them. Damaris and Liora knew they couldn't hold out forever. They managed to hide Lexori in the basement of their home, urging her to stay quiet and stay hidden, no matter what happened. With tears in her eyes, Lexori watched through a small crack in the floorboards as her parents made their final stand.

The last thing she saw before everything went dark was her parents being overwhelmed by the zealots, their blood soaking the earth that had once been their sanctuary.

Aftermath

The Order of the Purifying Flame left no survivors in Cindervale-or so they thought. Lexori emerged from her hiding place hours later, her village reduced to smoldering ruins. She was alone, the only survivor of the massacre.

The experience left Lexori with deep scars, both physical and emotional. She wandered for days, numb with grief and shock, until the traveling troupe of performers found her. They took her in, giving her a new home and a new purpose. But the memories of that night never left her, and they continue to fuel her desire to fight against the kind of hatred and fanaticism that destroyed her home.

Lexori's Motivation

Lexori's encounter with the Order of the Purifying Flame instilled in her a powerful resolve to prevent such atrocities from happening to others. She harbors a deep-seated hatred for those who use religion or ideology as an excuse to commit acts of cruelty and violence. Although she hides her pain behind her humor and music, she is always vigilant, always ready to stand up against tyranny and oppression wherever she finds it.

While she has not encountered the Order since that fateful night, the thought of them and particularly Inquisitor Hargrave-haunts her dreams. Lexori knows that one day, she may have to face the man who led the attack on her village. Until then, she channels her energy into bringing light and hope to others, determined to be a beacon of kindness and courage in a world that too often gives in to fear and hate.

[thegreenrabbit]

What A Shame

Gawain came to a stop. The noises of the busy dock, the chatter of the group, the lapping waves – all went quiet to him. The Rolling Thunder. The words hung over him, their meticulously painted letters of gold glinting in the brilliant sunlight of mid-morning. They look just as fresh and new as they had been over ten years ago, the first and last time he had seen the ship where these words proudly displayed.

He placed a hand on the yellow-tinted wall. Bright red blood, fresh, stained his hands, and stained the wall with a smear as he sauntered forward – no, not he, but the thing that moved his limbs and spoke with his voice and smiled with his lips –

There was only a moment of denial, that perhaps this was a different ship, a different crew. He swatted that thought away quickly. That would serve no purpose, it was better to expect exactly what happened when they stepped onto the deck. A scarred roegadyn man with kind eyes – more weathered, more scarred, and more grey in the hair than the last time, but still the same Captain.

And there she was.

His grip tightened. The old blood and the new blood mixed as the wrist he held on to tugged and tugged trying to escape. The blood made his hand slippery, and they almost managed to slip through his grasp – but it was all for show, the darkness feeding on the brief moment of hope, laughing – his grip was not compromised, his strength was unyielding –

She was taller now, taller than him, years apart and years at sea changing much, but also nothing at all. Gawain took a step to the back of the group, looking out at the water that gently rocked ships. Or perhaps it was the ports that bobbed in the water, the ship beneath his feet being the truth of the perspective.

They still did not know it was not him. It smiled, it spoke, it worried with them. How could they not know it was not him? But it used his words, it used his face, it used his memories. It sounded and said all the things he would, it moved just like he did. Why would they think it was not him?

Was it him?

She still fought with an axe, but refined with time and experience, not the kind of fighting brought from desperation as each night was filled with unrest and fear of who would be following them in the morning. Surprisingly, somehow, she kept her accent despite Captain Syhrkoel’s best attempt with his words thick with Limsan style.

It was like waking up over and over again, but the nightmare was what was real. His own self would fade and it would be him, hand in pockets, slipping into a heavy crowd to follow the target, the one whose hope was brittle, because that was what was the best to break. It would be him that reached out a hand, ask if they had dropped something, ask if they needed help, offer to bring them home, it would be him that smiled and laughed and listened to their worries. It would be him that would be helping them. And then he would wake up, wake up as they started screaming, and he would realize it had not been him, it was the darkness, and it was killing them.

What were the odds? So many years later, continents and seas apart from where they had started or where they had ever thought they would go. He watched behind his shaded lens as she laughed and joked and grew worried about the missing crewmates and dangerous enemies that he was here to help uncover and fight.

The wrench of flesh and bone being torn apart, the scream of agony, and most importantly the moment of expectation – expecting to attack the darkness, to land a solid strike, to aid his allies – snuffed out and stolen greedily as Geth landed in a heap of blood and panic – as he held the sundered arm in his own hand. His grip was unyielding. Was there any darkness? Was it just him? Was it him?

Gawain stood, Geth to his left and Draza to his right. He did not look at Geth, did not look at the space where the arm should be, but could feel the sensation, the memory of muscles working, hear flesh snapping. Instead he glanced at Draza, and all he could think was, what a shame, to possibly be reunited with her long lost hero, only to have it be Gawain.

[roomchailimited]

Discovering the Diversity of North America: From Beaches to Mountains

North America, a continent renowned for its geographical and cultural diversity, offers an unparalleled array of natural wonders. From the sun-kissed beaches of California to the snow-capped peaks of the Rockies, this land is a treasure trove of experiences waiting to be discovered. For travelers from Bangladesh and around the world, North America promises an adventure like no other, where every turn reveals a new facet of its beauty.

The Pacific Coast: Beaches and Beyond

Starting on the western edge of the continent, the Pacific Coastline is a stunning stretch of sandy beaches, rugged cliffs, and verdant forests. California’s famous beaches, such as Santa Monica and Malibu, offer the quintessential sun-and-surf experience. Here, the Pacific Ocean’s waves attract surfers from across the globe, while the coastal towns provide a laid-back, vibrant atmosphere. Moving north, the Oregon Coast’s dramatic cliffs and secluded beaches offer a more serene, nature-focused escape. The iconic Pacific Coast Highway, winding along the shore, is one of the most scenic drives in the world, providing breathtaking views at every turn.

The Majestic Rocky Mountains

Heading inland, the Rockies rise majestically, stretching from Canada down through the United States. This vast mountain range is a paradise for outdoor enthusiasts. In Canada, Banff and Jasper National Parks offer pristine wilderness, with crystal-clear lakes, dense forests, and towering peaks. In the United States, Colorado’s Rocky Mountain National Park is renowned for its hiking trails and stunning vistas. Winter sports enthusiasts flock to the Rockies’ many ski resorts, such as Aspen and Whistler, which are famed for their world-class facilities and powdery snow.

The Great Plains: Endless Horizons

Between the Rockies and the Appalachian Mountains lie the Great Plains, an expansive region of rolling prairies and wide-open skies. This area, often overlooked by travelers, offers a unique kind of beauty. The Badlands in South Dakota, with their striking rock formations, and the vast grasslands of Kansas provide a glimpse into the heartland of North America. The Great Plains are also rich in history, home to numerous Native American tribes and historical sites that tell the story of the continent’s early inhabitants.

The Appalachian Mountains and the Atlantic Coast

Moving eastward, the Appalachian Mountains offer a different kind of mountain experience. Known for their lush forests and scenic trails, the Appalachians are particularly stunning in the fall when the foliage turns vibrant shades of red, orange, and gold. The Blue Ridge Parkway, a scenic highway that runs through the Appalachians, is a must-visit for any road trip enthusiast. Beyond the mountains, the Atlantic coastline boasts charming seaside towns, historic cities like Boston and Charleston, and beautiful beaches from Maine to Florida.

The Gulf Coast: A Blend of Cultures

The Gulf Coast, from Texas to Florida, offers a unique blend of American and Latin cultures, evident in its cuisine, music, and festivals. Cities like New Orleans, with its famous Mardi Gras celebrations, and Miami, with its vibrant nightlife and Cuban influence, showcase this cultural melting pot. The beaches here, such as those in the Florida Panhandle, are known for their white sands and emerald waters, providing perfect spots for relaxation and water sports.

Alaska: The Last Frontier

Finally, no exploration of North America would be complete without mentioning Alaska, often referred to as the Last Frontier. This vast, untamed wilderness is home to some of the most spectacular natural scenery on earth. From the towering peaks of Denali National Park to the glacier-carved coastlines of the Inside Passage, Alaska offers adventure at its most raw and exhilarating. Wildlife enthusiasts can spot bears, moose, and whales in their natural habitats, while the Northern Lights provide a mesmerizing display in the winter skies.

In conclusion, North America’s diversity, from its sunlit beaches to its rugged mountains, makes it a dream destination for travelers seeking a rich tapestry of experiences. Whether you’re looking to surf the Pacific waves, hike the Rocky trails, or explore the cultural heartlands, this continent has something for everyone. Embark on your North American adventure with Roomchai Limited, ensuring a seamless, personalized, and unforgettable journey through this land of wonders.

[bliss0709]

Dazzling Diamonds: From Iconic Engagements to AR Jewelry

In today’s dynamic realm of jewelries, technology is extending its influence over the identification and procurement of our valuable possessions. Spanning from one’s loose diamonds to augmented reality jewelry, these advancements are adding to the seemingly endless fun and ease in choosing and buying one’s ideal jewel.

The Pink Diamond Ring from Ben Affleck

As earlier as the green diamond, Benn Affleck had offered a marriage proposal to JLo with the other extraordinary ring, pink diamond. This ring is among the most popular JLo rings as it features a beautiful pink diamond that quickly became a fan favorite and a jewelry hallmark. Apparently the pink diamond ring is among the favorite accessory that Bench has gifted her and it holds much value in JLo’s life.

Experience Rings Like Never Before

Using Augmented Reality Ring technology, customers are allowed to try rings before they have to put down their money to buy them online. To illustrate the utilisation of the augmented reality ring app or feature, shoppers can get a feel of the various styles, sizes, and designs of an augmented reality ring with respect to their fingers. This innovation assists the buyers in the purchase decision by giving a good view of how the definite ring will look like once it is placed in daily use in the case of an augmented reality ring.

Choosing and Customizing Your Perfect Gemstone

Why Choose Yellow Canary Diamond Rings?

Rings of yellow canary diamond are some of the most beautiful and special items that can be purchased in the jewelry shops. With yellow canary diamonds rings, not only does one get the message in terms of happiness and optimism but is treated to the sort of view that guarantees envy. Another advantage of the given ring is that it has a yellow color which contrasting with the white setting and brings some kind of confusion to the partner. Here are a few reasons why yellow canary diamond rings are a great choice:

Uniqueness: Yellow canary diamonds are rarer than the usual white diamonds, thus, ensuring that it gives a different feel compared to the others.

Versatility: This vibrant shade of yellow, actually enhances many of the metals; white gold, platinum, yellow and rose gold included.

Symbolism: The bright yellow hue bring sjoyn and positivity making yellow canary diamond rings a true representation of a happy and positive outlook for the future.

Conclusion

As predicted and expected with the rapid evolution of technology, the way through which consumers make their choices with regards jewelry has also been revolutionized. The new inovatations of augmented reality jewelry and the choices that come with the ability to buy individual diamonds are already paving the way. Not only are these novelties more entertaining, but they also help you to make wiser and niche decisions.

From engagement ring to a colorful addition to jewelry box yellow canary diamond will surely make every occasion light up with sparkle. Let’s dive into the world of yellow canary diamond, and find out more about this wonder of the jewelry world.

Finally let’s talk about her Jennifer Lopez engagement rings! JLo, has been a lucky woman, or rather, a lucky bride to be, to receive some of the most stunning engagement rings in celebrity history. The Jenifer Lopez engagement rings Indeed as seen in the above different rings vary from rare colored diamonds, to different classic cuts, this rings mirror Jenifer’s style and the love stories that accompany engagements. Whether people like her music, films or dressing style, one cannot ignore that fact that JLo rings are symbol of sophistication and passion.