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madfatty · 4 years ago

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the finn nelson agenda - an mmfd fic #27

Long time, no see. I come bearing gift. Consider this my woefully inadequate attempt to distract you for a few moments from the shit-show that is now.

The plan is for this to be one of eight or nine stories about Finn falling for Rae, as told by the people who watched it happened. The collection is tentatively titled, ‘Why Are You So Blind?” and this one is from Finn’s POV.

What I’ve learned is that I can’t write it in the order that it ought to be read, so they’ll go up as they’re finished (if they’re finished). This is probably third or fourth from the end, so for the time being, we’ll pretend it’s a stand alone.

My thanks to the most lovely and much missed @bitchy-broken for planting the seed and my dearest @slitherouter for listening to me read it in many of it’s various forms and for the words that inspired both me and the title

.. my secret agenda is actually just to sit in your room and show you my favorite songs while you explain different things you have on your wall or your desk to me

Things Finn Nelson says

(a thing that Shiri said. I mean, *GAH* right. I love her SO much.)

Ta very much to @late-to-the-sexy-party for her thoughts and enthusiasm. Big love and thanks to the wondrous @endemictoearth for giving it a twice-over and the benefit of her talent and experience. She made it infinitely better. Thank you, my gorgeous.

And finally, thank you dear reader, for giving this a go.

the finn nelson agenda

It’s one of those lazy, late summer days he’d spent all term daydreaming about, slouched in the back corner of some classroom, tapping out bass lines on his desk or scribbling band names and song lyrics all over his binder. Staring out the window while elaborate fantasies built of music, football and girls, all vividly drawn, played out against the white noise of his reality. He feels the waste of it; counting down the seconds to the end of the hour, the end of the day, the end of school.

None of that matters now. There are still weeks left of the holidays and each day is filled with even more promise now that Rae’s around. Days like today. While there are thousands of elsewheres he imagines himself being between nine and three during term, today Rutlands will do just fine.

All his mates are here, there’s tunes and booze and a sense of time being stretched out and suspended in the liquid amber of the golden afternoon. It’s almost perfect. The only thing missing is the girl. And fingers crossed, she’ll be here soon too, because Finn’s beginning to realise things are just better when she’s there.

Where was she though? He’s been a twitching mess the whole time they’ve been here, checking his watch every few seconds, never registering the time, but still feeling the drag of it. Not toward the end of something now, but the start.

Ever since the party, he’s tried to find time every day to get her on own, but it isn’t easy. She’s quickly become the centre around which they all revolve, so competition for her attention is huge. This means he spends a lot of his time waiting to share hers. He prowls an invisible periphery, ever watchful for his chance. They don’t come up nearly as often as he’d like so he’s had to get creative.

Now, depending on how late he gets in from a long day of almost being together, there’s a new nightly ritual he follows; home, a quick shower and something to eat, then he makes a mug of tea and a cosy nest and dials her number with shaking hands. The last of his preparations is pressing ‘play’ on the carefully curated backing tracking for their conversation while he listens nervously for her to pick up.

Even then, he has to share her with her family. The sniping and the bickering between her and her mum, the deep warm tones of a hesitant male voice, a rumble in the background.

He can hear the life she complains about going on behind her, crowded and noisy and messy; the chaos and the lack of privacy, he can’t help feel how much he wants to be in the middle of it.

What he’d really like is to show up at her door with a bag full of music and a couple of sneaky cans of lager. He’d happily listen to her mum bitch about the ladies she works with at the hospital and watch football with Karim or help out with the birds if it means that eventually, they can escape upstairs to her room, because even though Finn’s only really been to her house the once, (if you didn’t count the apology), he likes it there. Finn’s got a secret wish; to sit in her room, sharing his favourite songs while she talks about her books, and her posters and all those weird little toy things that cover her desk. He wants to find out about all of it. To know everything about her.

However, despite his best -obvious, desperate - efforts, she hasn’t taken any of the heavy hints he’s dropped to ask him over again, so he’s going to invite her ‘round to his. He’s going to ask her today because he wants so badly for her to come and fill his house with her smile and her smell and her stories and yeah, to make some stories of their own.

He’d tried again, last night at the pub. Just as they were all getting ready to leave, with his heart in his mouth - ‘cause that’s always where it is when Rae’s around, when it’s not in his eyes or on his sleeve, - he’d stuttered out an offer to collect her this morning. His plan was to get there super early so they could just hang out on their own. He’d been prepared for her ‘no’ but it didn’t stop the curl of disappointment when she gave it.

Sometimes he worries that that night at hers didn’t mean as much to Rae as it did (hell, still DOES) to him, that it was just a random kindness, not the revelation that he’d felt, and to her he was just a guy having a bad night that she’d taken pity on. Other times, he believes she can feel this thread between them too. A delicate thing but he thinks it’s getting stronger, can feel it getting tighter somewhere around his ribs. No longer nothing, but not quite the something he’s hoping for.

Finn doesn’t want to test that thread, in case he tugs too hard and it snaps. He can’t help feeling that he needs to do something though, because it doesn’t matter what Archie says about it, there’s this niggle inside him that says all it would take would be for Archie to finally decide that he really did want her, and with the crook of his finger, Rae would come running.

He’s separated himself slightly from the others, coiled up tight in the shade of a nearby tree, his back to the bark, the pinch and bite of it through his t-shirt not enough to distract him from his vigil.

Cigarette butts lie in an untidy circle around his feet. His ears are straining past the drone of the radio and the fat buzzing noise of insects, tuning out the prattle of the others for the first sign of her. Her name caught up in the pulse behind his eyes. Everything is so loud inside his head.

He’s about to risk asking Izzy for a third time if she’s sure Rae knew exactly where they’d be when Rae appears. The anxiety of her absence is replaced with the relief of her proximity. The physical response is exactly the same. The next breath he takes is easier than the one before.

He doesn’t care what it looks like. It’s not enough to be near her anymore; he can’t bear any distance between them. It makes him brave. Or crazy.

Without consultation, his body moves with deliberate intent. He turns the music up, up, and reaches for another can, trying to fill his belly with something other than butterflies, hoping that his counterfeit swagger hides the jelly of his knees. Finn lets himself fall – continue to fall, he’s been falling for a week, pushed from a plane without a parachute – to land beside to her.

He must have lost his mind. It’s the only way to explain his behaviour. He’s got her pinned to the ground from shoulder to ankle like some sort of lunatic but that’s not the insane part. No, the insane part is his brain trying to convince him that if he doesn’t grab hold of her hand like he so desperately wants to, she won’t notice that he has her pinned to the ground from shoulder to ankle like some sort of lunatic. For fuck’s sake, it’s screaming, don’t hold her hand because then she’ll know. Like that’s where all his subtlety would disappear. He holds fast to his wrist, pinning the would-be offending hand to his chest; a single idiotic attempt at self-restraint.

It’s all he can do to lie here, outwardly calm while inside he’s vibrating so hard his teeth are rattling, his heart bouncing so fiercely off his ribs any minute now he’ll come loose from the ground. His tongue lies thick and useless in his mouth, dry despite the beer.

He hopes his deafening silence reads like casual confidence to her.

The weight of the sun and the heat from the ground beneath him, simultaneously seeps in and rises up to meet in the middle of him. Yet neither burns him like the length of her body under the press of his arm and the cage of his legs. A sheen of sweat covers his body, caught between his skin and his clothes. It tickles along his hairline, behind his ears and slides down the sides of his neck.

Everything inside the moment is sharp and highly defined. He can feel each breath that fills her lungs. Everything outside of a three foot radius blurs in his field of vision. It’s coming in waves, all at once and he doesn’t know which bits to savour, which bits to focus on and what to put away for later. He has to keep sneaking looks at her just to make sure this is really happening. Rae on the other hand, has her face turned skyward, barely acknowledging his presence, unmoved by the miracle that’s changing his life.

He’s filling up with her. His head, his heart, his bones. Every nerve is exposed. It’s all stinging nettles and ants itching under his skin.

He couldn’t have stood if you paid him. Dizzy from the blood roaring in his ears before it raced south.

She hasn’t pushed him away.

What would she do, if he just stopped thinking and did what his body was screaming out to do; if he rolled over and covered her body with his own. What would she say? If he gave in to the impulse and kissed those maddening pink lips, lush and full, and coaxed her sharp acid tongue into his own mouth, to taste the sweetness he’s seen her gift to others?

What she must feel like under the long cotton sleeves of her shirt, and what might that do to him; finally touching her skin. He’s never fantasised about forearms before, or calves or even feet. Her pale wrist under his thick fingers, or the crook of her elbow beneath his lips. The curve of her shoulder, the tip of her ear, the back of her knee. To see and touch and memorize. To know if his hands have guessed the way of her correctly.

Lying here, so close to everything he longs for, his thoughts slide inevitably to those most recently taken up residence in his brain, a divine carnal loop he indulges in almost hourly, the heavy press of her breasts against him, the torment of that smug mouth around his cock, the taste of her cunt, should he ever be blessed enough to be invited.

He has to stop that line of thought before his body gives him away. Before he can’t help himself anymore and he takes hold of her hand and places it on his hardening cock – do you see now? This is what being near you does to me. This is me, all the time, thinking about the back of your neck and the length of your leg and what sort of knickers you’re wearing or if you’re wearing any knickers at all. Look at me Rae, I’m trying to tell you that I … that I’m a mess about you. My head and my sheets and my record collection. The smell of green apple makes me hard, costs my dad a fortune at the green grocers. I can’t sleep, can’t leave myself alone, imagining your hand down my pants, your tongue in my mouth, the sounds that you’d make with my fingers inside you. I… I… Even in his own head he can’t say the word. Even he knows it’s too soon, but… Like is not enough, although he does like her. Desire is a stupid overused word, a song lyric that rhymes with ‘fire’. Want. He definitely wants her.

Can you see, Rae?

He can’t tell which one of them is trembling.

She still hasn’t pushed him away.

She’s quiet. He doesn’t like it as much when she’s quiet; it makes him nervous. Everything about her makes him nervous but at least when she’s talking, he has some idea of what she’s thinking and right now he needs to know what’s going on in her head. So he asks.

Her answer makes him laugh. It’s not exactly what he was hoping for until she laughs too. It’s treacle over his jangled nerves. They take the same breath and he feels her relax beneath him, which is when his brain detonates.

With the shittest timing in the world, Chop’s hissing Kendo’s name.

Kendo’s a mate of Chop’s older brother Robbie and a wannabe hard man. He’s also a prize dickhead but that doesn’t stop Chop trying too hard to look cool in front of him, although Finn can see he’s shitting himself in case Kendo makes him look like a twat. Right now, Finn thinks Chop’s doing okay on his own on that score.

Rae stiffens. She sits up and Finn can’t help but follow, caught up as he is in her gravitational pull. All the ease from a few seconds before is gone. Everything that’s said in the next two minutes sounds like it’s being spoken underwater because Finn can’t focus on anything but the distance she’s trying to put between them without physically moving.

The damage is done by the time Kendo finally slithers off, dragging the corpse of the mood he’s killed behind him.

Finn’s still up in his head about how he’s going to get Rae to lay back down with him or if that moment’s gone for good, so he’s not really listening when Chloe asks her question. He says ‘yeah, course’ two seconds before his brain catches up with his mouth and just as he’s trying to scramble back from his offer, Rae’s telling them she can’t go. The ground drops out from under him and his heart is flailing, doing a Wile E. Coyote over his gut.

Wait, wait, a minute ago we were on our way to perfect. Fucking Chop. Fucking Kendo. Fucking fuck.

He’s reeling but before he can find a way to get them back to where they were, a shadow falls over them and Chloe’s voice, brittle and insistent.

“Rae, can I speak with you? Privately.”

Fucking Chloe.

For a moment hope soars because he can feel Rae’s reluctance to move but it’s only for a moment; she’s pulling away now and she’s taking all the warm and the hope with her. He sits there among the shattered bits of the beautiful bubble they’d been floating in, with his unasked question filling up his throat and his eyes closed because he can’t stand to watch her walk away.

#madfatty spouts off #mmfd fanfic #the finn nelson agenda #a part of the 'why are you so blind?' collection #if and when it eventuates #i made this #27 #i'll fix any fuckups tomorrow #now i gotta sleep

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noccalula-writes · 5 years ago

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What are your favorite games and franchises? Top 5?

OH BOY have I got feelings on this subject.

Please keep in mind - I’m a storyteller and a writer. I fucking /love/ a good story. I DM a DnD game and my biggest weakness is that I don’t often include enough combat because I am so much more interested in telling a story. So for me, there’s got to be an emotional investment for a game to really land. I also hyperfixate like a motherfucker so I often refuse to pick up new things purely because there’s not enough space in my head for them at the time, so I’m slow getting to things as they come out.

So, I’m first and foremost a survival horror bitch. I cut my teeth on Parasite Eve before I played any others - my mother scrimped and saved and fought her way through Wal-mart back in like 1998 to get me the original Playstation gaming console and Tekken 2 (which was my first PS game, I played it in an arcade near her barber shop as a child - Tomb Raider 2 was my second). The old Playstation discs at that time came with demos for different games, including Metal Gear Solid, which I replayed until I could have done it in my sleep because poverty meant I wasn’t likely to get another game anytime soon. I mention this because the Parasite Eve trailer used to give me nightmares but I was super, super hooked.

I am a huge Silent Hill fan. Huge. That is a tragedy I could write a whole ‘nother post about, because as excited as I am to finally get my hands on Death Stranding (again, poverty, so it’ll be another minute before we can get a PS4), we’ll never get another SH game again unless some major reconciliation happens with Kojima and Konami, which is unlikely (and also hard to hope for - I’m happy Kojima now has the creative freedom to go as balls to the wall as he wants).

I am an equally huge Resident Evil fan. I’ve always maintained that my first fandom was The X Files, but my wife pointed out a few nights ago that my RE love started around the same time in the late 90′s, so now it’s a chicken and egg kind of thing. Point being, it’s either The or One Of my longest lasting fandoms/interests. RE and Silent Hill get compared to one another a lot - RE7 did nothing to help that - but they really are apples and oranges to me. Fruit, sure, but two totally different tones and experiences.

I’ve been a huge Tomb Raider fan for forever - my first high school boyfriend was loaded and bought me Angel of Darkness to come play at his house and while it was def critically panned, I do recall enjoying it - so that’s been fun to get those games remade with updated graphics. I’ve only played the one but the others are def on The List.

So now that I’ve talked for an hour, my Top 5 fave games ever -

#1 - Resident Evil 3 I am beyond jazzed for this remake, and a lot of people in the 90′s complained about RE3′s lack of clear cut boss battles, but I don’t know what they’re talking about. The entire fucking game is a boss battle - Jill vs. Raccoon City, and of course, Nemesis, who used to give my mother nightmares and caused me to sleep with a leaf-stabber by my bed for years. Jill is far and away my favorite protagonist in RE; she’s got a resilience of the spirit that somehow isn’t conflated with naivety, which is uncommon in ‘nice’ female protags. She’s savvy but she’s still kind, and she’s committed as fuck to survival - not to mention, as zealotous a Chris and Jill shipper as I am, she and Carlos had hella chemistry and I’m excited to see where that goes (JD Pardo would have made a fuck of a Carlos Oliviera, btw). It was An Experience and it’s forever at my #1.

#2 - The Last of Us

There is no comparison for emotional weight in video games, as far as I’m concerned. SPOILERS if you don’t already know the ending (this game came out in what, 2014?) but to me one of the biggest thing in the game’s favor is that the protagonist made the wrong choice. He had an option to potentially eradicate the cordyceps fungus and maybe save the world, turn the tides back for humanity, and with the weight of the world in the balance, he chose to save Ellie instead. It was, on a global scale, the wrong choice - but it was the human choice. It was the thing that a dad who never properly grieved his dead daughter would do for the surrogate daughter he inherited by accident. As for Ellie, there is no other character quite like her in games, and she’s fucking quality LGBT representation, especially considering how little we see queer children in media. I still cry every time, we play this game twice a year like clockwork and every single time, I still cry.

#3 - Silent Hill 3

All of SH’s games will have a special place in my heart - and if you wanna talk shit about Downpour, I’ll meet you in the Denny’s parking lot at 11, you better square the fuck up because I will defend Murphy with fists - but 3 is the best, hands down. I felt like it did the best job of streamlining the series’ ... uhm... somewhat complicated lore into something more understandable. SPOILERS: The villains are horrific - the Missionaries strike fear into my heart every time I play, and Claudia eating a miscarried god fetus to become god herself? Fucked up on a level you rarely see. I suppose if you didn’t catch it in the last sentence - your protag Heather vomits up a fetal god late in the game. Yes, you read that right. The best thing about this game though? Heather. I could climb up my feminist soapbox and talk about Heather as a subversion to video game tropes all fucking day - she’s a nonsexualized teenage girl whose father is killed for her character development. She’s self-sufficient, tough but still vulnerable, and hard as nails in a fight. As I might have mentioned a time or six, she also voluntarily aborts a god because Fuck Your Plans, She’s Got Her Own.

#4 - Final Fantasy X

Listen. I don’t know how much of this is because of actually enjoying playing the game and how much of it is emotional attachment. As most of you who follow me know, my mother died when I was sixteen. When I was about fourteen, I dated a rich kid who used to bring his PS2 to our very not-rich house and play games for us to watch - the sort of neophyte version of Watching Guys Play Videogames, if you will, which is another rant for another time. He got a Gamecube specifically so I could play RE Zero and Hunter The Reckoning. He was a neckbeard but he was also desperate to keep me from ditching so he did the smart thing and plied my very poor ass with money and food. The #1 game in the watching roster, though, was FFX - and if you know anything about the game, you know how heavily spirituality features into the story. My mother, very caught up in a very Eastern Philosphy Meets Quantum Physics internal seeking about the nature of things, was hooked from the word Go. She used to sit and watch Trey play for hours - we all did, but having her join us and love it that much? Wonderful. Half my memories of this game are both of us crying - crying when Yuna dances to send the souls, crying when Yuna reveals she’s on a suicide mission, crying when she and Tidus fall in love anyway, crying when she sends her Aeons to die in the final fight, crying over ‘the fayts are waking up’, crying when the big reveal about Auron comes up, crying crying crying. My wife bought it in 2011 and I watched her play through it again and while it suffers from the same issue as all FF games - too much filler and weird battle scenarios - it was cathartic. I miss my mom.

#5 - Resident Evil 6

Eat my entire ass. You already knew this was coming. I will defend this game to my grave for the fact that we have complex, interesting narratives surrounding female characters who have actual personalities. Was it perfect? No. Did it take RE out of horror territory and move it more into action? Woefully, yes. Is this series deeply problematic for where it chooses to set down your mostly-white protags and have them kill their way through? Big time. Don’t gloss those facts. But it’s got emotional punch in spades and a few weird character breaks that ended up being kind of brilliant - Chris has been so resiliently relentless in his fight against bioterrorism that a major PTSD break was inevitable. Leon would of course risk life and limb to help Helena, even though she implicated herself in something terrible. The icing on the cake to me was a grown up Sherry Birkin, wide eyed and believing like hell in the fight she thought she was on the right side of and getting knocked down only to get back up. Ada’s entire side campaign was brilliant. I hate some of the control choices they made in this game - the running from the Haos scenes near the end of Chris and Piers’ campaign makes me want to eat my own fist - but so it goes with most RE games (until RE4, moving your protag was like driving a tank). Jake and Sherry are My Unsinkable Ship. There are at least six scenes across this game that never get easier to watch - when the bomb hits the city and the cut scene of the mass infections begin, I still get sick to my stomach - and that, to me, is the mark that this game struck a hell of a chord in terms of storytelling.

This was long.

#noccalula answers #this was fucking long #ask and ye shall receive #vidja games

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skysaved-a · 6 years ago

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somahn & feynren of clan lavellan

somahn ( from sominar , to dream , & sulahn , to sing ) gave birth to mislyn at a relatively young age . barely twenty , she had received her vallaslin dedicated to sylaise almost two years ago ; feynren was twenty two at the time . it was certainly a surprise , but not an entirely unwelcome one — the oldest of five siblings , the youngest only ten , somahn was no stranger to looking after children .

children with no parents ( unless specifically adopted ) were usually raised communally by the whole clan . somahn , however , took responsibility of a child’s individual needs . which one was falling behind in their teachings , which one was having nightmares , which one kept getting into fights . she had an innate ability to understand what someone was feeling , even if they didn’t understand themselves ; a particularly useful skill when dealing with troublesome children .

it was this same empathy that drove her to learn the art of healing ; she was not one of the clan’s primary healers , but learned enough to offer her assistance when it was needed . she followed as closely as she could to the vir atish’an — the way of peace . somahn doesn’t have magic , & doesn’t know how to efficiently wield any weapon . she knows the very basics of archery from years spent watching her husband , but wouldn’t ever pick up a bow of her own violation . she loathes violence , but is well aware it’s occasionally unavoidable , especially when dealing with hostile shemlen . she just would prefer to be kept far away from it when it occurs . she even avoided eating meat , when it was possible .

conversely , mislyn’s father feynren was a talented rogue , exceptionally gifted with a bow & arrow . he also played a large part in teaching younger elves — though he focused more on teaching them how to hunt , how to protect the clan , how to strike when it counts .

while mislyn takes very strongly after her mother in terms of physical appearance ( same hair , same eyes , same freckled face ) , she has her father’s temperament . like her , he was a man of impulse , actions over words , reserved in his emotions . mislyn doesn’t remember much of feynren , as she was just a few months shy of turning five when he was killed ; his hunting party ambushed by bandits . while the living memory of him hasn’t shaped her all that much , the knowledge of his murder by shemlen hands certainly did . they have few things left of him , & most of those are kept in a carefully maintained chest , a small center part of the lid carved to represent the same delicate lines of andruil’s vallaslin he had worn . it’s currently in somahn’s possession , back in the free marches , where mislyn thinks it belongs . but she isn’t left with nothing : a brief note written by him to somahn the day he died , an old leather hair tie she always wears , & a very simple cloak that she does not .

while she often wishes she did have a father , if only for somahn’s sake , mislyn was perfectly content in the care of her mother for the next handful of years . in her eyes , there was nothing somahn could not do . she recited stories in a way that made them come to life , she painted with skilled & delicate hands , she sang so beautifully the morning birds were jealous . mislyn had tried , for much of her life , to emulate that same vibrancy — & has fallen woefully short , in so far as she’s concerned . she lacked her mother’s graceful air , her open heart , her endless forgiveness .

after mislyn’s started displaying signs of magic , however , she spent more time with her keeper than with her mother . though somahn seemed very supportive of mislyn becoming first to the clan , it meant she was more isolated . she did not learn with the rest of the children , did not spend her days running after her mother while she looked for healing herbs in the woods . & the older she grew , the more distant they seemed to be ; mislyn hardly said goodbye when she left for the conclave .

somahn nearly leaves for skyhold , once she hears about haven , & only remains due to the slowly building tension with wycome . she sends letters to mislyn constantly , & while mislyn doesn’t always write back , she sends plenty of sketches : a waterfall in the emerald graves , the entrance to the well of sorrows , a single bit of green in the hissing wastes ; beautiful things that remind her of a mother she didn’t realize she’d miss quite so much .

#the focus is more on somahn than feynren for.... obvious reasons lmao #i . headcanon #i . mother make me a big grey cloud #like i said this needs major refining im not even sure it makes sense to anyone who isnt me lmao #i'll work on it !#but anyways.... a whole family of absolute legends

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keichanz · 6 years ago

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Out of Time

First off, let me just begin by sayING I AM SO INCREDIBLY HAPPY THIS IS FINALLY DONE YOU HAVE NO IDEA.

Secondly, I have several notes I want to make you aware of, however it’s going to get sort of lengthy because I have a lot to say, so you if you’d rather skip it and go straight to the story that’s fine. They’re more my thoughts than anything and nothing is required reading to understand the story.

You all oughta know that near the end of the story I became very lazy because I just wanted to finish the damn thing so if it seems rushed, that’s because it is. There are probably tons of errors - grammatical, spelling or otherwise - loose ends, loop holes, and plot points that I should have expounded on better, but I was just so happy to be done with it that I didn’t bother to go back, find any and fix them. Maybe someday I’ll go back and fine tune everything, but for now it’s gonna stay as is because frankly I’m sick of looking at it lmaoo.

DO YOU KNOW THIS FREAKING MONSTROSITY IS 39 GODDAMN PAGES. which is why i’m splitting it into two parts.

I, uh, sorta forgot that Kirara existed so she’s not anywhere in this fic lmao oops. So pretend she’s recovering from some injury at Kaede’s village or something.

The castle/stronghold Inuyasha and Kagome travel to is the castle that makes an appearance in the Band of Seven arc, where Bankotsu gets the Banryu back and slaughters all the humans living there. I am no expert on medieval Japanese castles, so everything mentioned about them is probably not accurate but again, I don’t care so whatevs lol.

Actually there’s probably a lot of things in this monstrosity that’s not accurate so just...idk pretend that everything is true and factual lol.

Oh I guess I should mention this takes place perhaps a year or so after the Band of Seven arc so I tried to make it as realistic as possible and added rotting bodies and the like so. Meh.

Throughout writing this I kept switching between Tessaiga and Tetsusaiga and ended up sticking with the latter because honestly to me it looks better and that’s what I’ve always used anyway. I also didn’t know whether to use English terms for demons or go with youkai, and decided to stick with the Japanese terms because I also like that one better haha.

Uh....okay so I guess it wasn’t that long, but still, I know some people don’t like to read author’s notes and just go straight to the story. I’ll probably edit this later when I think of something else I wanted to say but can’t think of right now.

Please forgive any inconsistencies regarding Inuyasha’s appearance; I’m so used to writing him as silver-haired and dog-eared that sometimes I’ll forget myself and describe his hanyou attributes instead of his human ones.

Anyway, enough of my ramblings and on with the story! Please, please, PLEASE enjoy this stupid oneshot that took over my life and caused me serious lack of sleep.

Read it on AO3 || Fanfiction.net

Part 2

“Take your shirt off. At this point it’s just a rag hanging off your body and we can’t leave that unwrapped.”

Kagome made a face, afraid that he was going to say that, but she didn’t protest because she knew he was right. So with a resigned sigh, Kagome attempted to pull off her wet-and-ruined-beyond-recognition shirt without moving her arm too much. But when it became apparent she couldn’t lift her arm much without gasping in pain and tears pricking her eyes, large hands gently brushed hers away and went about ripping the garment off of her with a few deft flicks of his wrist, the already torn fabric tearing easily under his strength despite it being damp.

She stared woefully at the bloodstained, torn, dirty and still damp shirt as he pulled it away, too exhausted mentally and physically to care that she was sitting topless in front of him with only her bra to preserve her modesty. It was just as well, she supposed; its purpose as a shirt had long ago been sacrificed to bandage the gash on her thigh and with it being as torn and filthy as it was she may as well have been running around topless anyway.

Wordlessly Kagome watched him rip off yet another section of the garment as a makeshift bandage, taking a moment to wrap what was left of it around Tetsusaiga for later use before kneeling before her and wrapping up the laceration on her arm. Kagome studied him quietly with tired but alert brown eyes. He was in just as bad a shape as she was, probably more so because of his deeply engrained instinct to protect her at all costs. Because of that he was covered in more cuts and bruises than she was, his hakama and suikan torn in several places, darkened with new and old blood, and still slightly damp from their plunge into the river hours earlier. She noted the angry downward slash of black brows over fierce violet eyes, his strong jaw clenched and his lips pinched into a tight line as he knotted the fabric over the worst of the cut to keep pressure on it.

She knew the sight of her – dirty, exhausted, and wounded – was something that he blamed himself for and she wished he wouldn’t. Their situation was neither of their faults, and she didn’t know how many times she’d told him it was just bad timing, that there wasn’t anything they could have done to prevent it. She knew he was worried, both for them and for those they sought, and the guilt in his eyes was plain to see every time he looked at her or whenever he cleaned one of her cuts.

After all, nobody could have predicted their friends would end up in mortal danger on the night of the new moon. Nobody could have guessed that the youkai that kidnapped them – masquerading as a human – would have a human army at his disposal, and they most certainly wouldn’t haven known they would be forcefully driven away from the stronghold that kept their friends by said human army, using bows, swords, and javelins. Inuyasha and Kagome had had no choice but to flee for their lives before the weapons did more the just graze their skin. Kagome had gotten stuck in the thigh on their bid for freedom and after that Inuyasha had swooped her up into his arms and ran.

It was only after the sounds of the men chasing them had disappeared perhaps an hour later that Inuyasha deemed it safe enough to finally stop and treat her wound and that had been the first time they used her shirt as a bandage. Since they hadn’t been able to grab anything before fleeing, Kagome’s bag with all her medical supplies and her bow and arrows were still at the camp and when they’d tentatively gone back to retrieve them, they’d found everything missing. It didn’t take a genius to figure out the army had ransacked their camp and taken their belongings with them.

It also hadn’t taken long to decide to go back and rescue their friends – not going back hadn’t even been an option – and of course Kagome had to argue with Inuyasha to accompany him since he’d been deadest on leaving her behind. It was only after she’d pointed out they were too far away from Kaede’s village that Inuyasha had begrudgingly given in, hating the fact that it made sense. It would only be wasting what little time they may have to rescue them to go all the way to the village then turn right back around and head toward what they thought to be the youkai’s stronghold.

A soft breeze filtered through the trees and Kagome, not for the first time, silently thanked the gods that it was a warm night. Her newest injury, the one Inuyasha had just bandaged, had been caused by another run-in of their quarry’s patrolling soldiers some twenty minutes ago and without Inuyasha’s enhanced hearing or smell, he’d been unable to detect their presence or the whizzing arrow’s path until it was too late. Kagome’s scream of pain had been Inuyasha’s only warning before a barrage of spears and arrows rained down on them and Inuyasha hadn’t even had time to think before he grabbed Kagome, dove into the trees to their left and ended up rolling down an incline into the river. Kagome barely had time to draw in a breath before Inuyasha had submerged them once again and urged her to swim along the bottom of the river away from their attackers.

Thankfully they’d managed to lose them and so now here they were, in the middle of the forest on the night of the new moon, still hours away from daybreak, both of them filthy, sore, exhausted and sporting cuts and bruises everywhere. They had no idea what condition their friends were in, if they were even still alive – although they both tried to avoid thinking about that – or if they could even survive the night with those damn soldiers on the prowl and actively looking for them with orders to no doubt eliminate. Kagome and Inuyasha were sure it was only sheer blind luck that they’d managed to escape with only minimal bruising and wounds thus far, and not for the first time cursed the fact that it was the new moon. Had Inuyasha been hanyou he’d be able to evade the warriors completely in the treetops, easily track down their friends, knock down anybody who got in his way and the five of them would be on their way back to Kaede’s village, safe, uninjured, and together again.

But it did them no good to dwell on the what if’s and could have been so Kagome focused on the here and now, studying Inuyasha’s face in the dark, barely able to make out his features but close enough to see the worry and pain he was trying to hide. He hadn’t gotten away unscathed either, Kagome recalled, and though she wanted to treat his wounds too, it would be a lost cause because she knew he wouldn’t let her, telling her they were just “scratches” and they’d be gone in a few hours, anyway. It was true, though that didn’t mean she had to like it.

Right at the moment, though, the regret in his eyes and face was prominent and before she could stop herself her hand rose and gently touched the cut that slashed through his right eyebrow, still oozing blood that trailed down his face. Her touch drew his eyes to hers and she tried to convey everything she wanted to say to him through her gaze, willing him to understand that it wasn’t his fault, that none of this was his burden to bear.

Kagome offered him a thin smile that bespoke of her exhaustion but it was genuine and she was gratified to see Inuyasha’s expression soften slightly. He sighed, closed his eyes and brought a hand up to capture hers, pressing her palm to his cheek and simply relishing in her touch.

They were silent, reveling in the knowledge that they were together, still alive, and however battered and bruised, were determined to find and rescue their companions.

Another zephyr whispered through the trees and Kagome shivered that time, her wet hair not at all helping her plight to remain relatively warm despite the nice weather. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by her companion and wordlessly Inuyasha straightened before shrugging out of his suikan. Kagome smiled but then it faded in confusion when instead of handing it to her, he dropped it to the ground and instead shed his kosode before dropping it over her shoulders and redonning his suikan. She was about to ask why his kosode instead of his firerat, but stopped when she noted the less than stellar condition of the robe. Since he was human the self-repairing properties of the garment were not in effect and with it riddled with holes and stained with blood, it wouldn’t do much to cover her.

Gratefully Kagome shoved her arms through the sleeves, still damp but uncaring and since it was large on her, she gathered the hem and knotted it at her waist. It gaped in the front and showed a slight amount of cleavage and the fabric of her bra, but she didn’t care since it more or less covered her up and she doubted Inuyasha gave it a second thought either. They were both too tired, too sore to be embarrassed and driven in their mission to rescue their friends for Kagome’s modesty to even be a footnote in their minds.

Inuyasha left the firerat hanging open and reached down to help Kagome to her feet. They both knew they had little time to stand around and regather their strength, however Inuyasha needed to take stock of his wench’s condition; she was so much more fragile than him, more prone to bruising and wounds and it fucking terrified him that she was here with him, being hunted by those damn warriors, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that, so the least he could do was make sure she was well taken care of. Or at least, as well taken care of as she could be given the circumstances.

“Doing okay?” he muttered, sweeping an unruly strand of damp hair behind her ear and not liking how pale she was.

Kagome gave him another smile and though her dark eyes had lost their usual brightness due to fatigue and pain, it was genuine. “Yes,” she answered simply and pressed a hand to his bare chest, over his heart. “You?”

The corner of his lip twitched up into a half-grin. “Keh,” he mumbled. “I’m tougher than you humans. I’ll live.”

“You are one of those humans right now,” Kagome softly reminded him, her smile fading but not disappearing. “I just…I know you’re stronger than me, and your skin probably is a little tougher than mine, but…Inuyasha, promise me you won’t be so reckless from now on. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been shielding me from the worst of it.” She leveled him with a knowing look, daring him to lie.

Inuyasha didn’t answer because she was right; his scored and bleeding back could attest to that and he simply stared at her, completely unapologetic.

His silence unsettled her and she must have seen the resolve in his eyes because her chocolate eyes grew wide and her hands clutched the open sides of his robe, her voice holding a hint of desperation as she pleaded, “Inuyasha, promise me.”

He didn’t know if it was their situation, the look in her eyes or his unwavering resolve to always protect her, but whatever the reason Inuyasha couldn’t stop himself from lifting his hands and gently cupping her face, her soft gasp of surprise reaching his ears. “My first priority will always be your safety, Kagome, and if that means taking a few measly arrows in your stead…” His meaning was clear as he trailed off, his dark eyes intense as he willed her to understand what he didn’t say.

If it meant Kagome would live to see another day, he would gladly lay his life down for hers.

By the way Kagome’s eyes glistened with the threat of tears, Inuyasha knew she’d gotten his message loud and clear. “Inuyasha—”

Inuyasha sighed and stalled any further protests by dropping an unexpected kiss to her forehead. “We don’t have time to argue about this, Kagome. Later, after we find and rescue the others and everyone is safe we can discuss my ‘recklessness’ all you want, but for right now we need to concentrate on staying hidden and taking down the bastard that took our friends. Alright?”

It was clear by the way she pursed her lips and pouted up at him that she wanted to continue the conversation, but she knew he was right, even if she didn’t want to admit it, and gave in with a nod and a small sigh. Still, she couldn’t help but saying, “Please, just…be more careful. For me.”

That was something he could do and his reply was a quiet hum of acquiescence coupled with another press of his lips to her forehead. “Deal, wench. Now let’s get moving; the longer we stay in one spot, the more likely it is they’ll find us.”

Kagome nodded again, appeased now that her beloved hanyou-turned-human would also think of his own life instead of just hers, and didn’t protest when he took her hand and tugged her deeper into the trees. By silent agreement they both kept a lookout for their pursuers while simultaneously taking stock of where exactly they were. Inuyasha wasn’t certain, but he suspected they were pretty far north and relayed as much to Kagome.

“North,” Kagome repeated with a thoughtful frown and grabbed Inuyasha’s hands as he helped her over a fallen tree. “North…wait—isn’t that where the Ox Tiger is?”

Inuyasha snapped his gaze to her and his brows dipped as he considered her words. “No, I think that was more northeast if I remember,” he mused, hooking her waist with an arm and bringing her down next to him. He stared over her shoulder at nothing, his expression contemplative, something tugging at the back of his mind insisting that he was missing something crucial here—

“The Band of Seven,” Inuyasha suddenly blurted at the same time Kagome said, “Mount Hakurei.”

Kagome’s eyes widened and Inuyasha clasped his hand urgently onto Kagome’s arms as they both realized the same thing. “But it was destroyed,” he reminded her with a small shake of his head. “There’s nothing left but big ass spikes and boulders.”

She seemed to deflate a little at that observation and she sighed, wrinkling her nose. “Oh yeah,” she mumbled. “I forgot.”

Inuyasha cursed as he thrust a hand through his hair in frustration, scowling off into the trees. He knew there was something else he was forgetting, something they were both missing. It was right there, in the back of his mind, on the tip of his tongue, taunting him with the knowledge that they would be that much closer to finding the others if he’d only remember…

“—a human army,” Kagome was saying but he was only listening with half an ear, “wouldn’t there have to be like…a castle, or something—”

Inuyasha whipped his head round so fast Kagome gave a soft gasp of alarm.

“What’s wro—”

“What did you say?” he demanded, his words urgent, gaze fixated on hers.

Kagome blinked and repeated what she’d just said while thinking aloud, “I said, he has a human army so wouldn’t there have to be some sort of castle or something—”

“The castle,” Inuyasha cut her off for a second time, his eyes widening as he once more seized Kagome’s arms in excitement. “The fucking castle, Kagome!”

Kagome opened her mouth, closed it, and gave him a puzzled look. “I don’t…what castle?”

He made a sound of impatience. “The castle where Banryu was kept!”

He was rewarded with another blank stare and Inuyasha scowled and was about to open his mouth to yell at her to use that damn brain of hers when she suddenly gasped and went stiff under his hands. Kagome’s eyes grew large to match his own as her hands came up to wrap around his wrists. “The feudal lord’s stronghold,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “That could—but isn’t it in ruins?” she asked, frowning again, not daring to hope. “After Bankotsu got the halberd back, he slaughtered the lord and all of the humans residing in it. No one’s been there since it happened.”

“But a youkai wouldn’t care about that,” Inuyasha insisted, growing more certain of his conclusion by the second. “Actually it’s damn near perfect for a youkai that likes his privacy; the foul stench of death and blood with the occasional dismembered body would drive away any lower level youkai sniffing around the area and I’m pretty sure no human would dare venture anywhere near it after what happened there.”

Unbidden tears filled Kagome’s eye and she gave a watery smile, squeezing his wrists. “Do you think—”

“Yeah,” he said and offered his own grin in return, feeling like they were finally getting somewhere for the first time since the entire event started. “That’s gotta be it. There’s nothing else in the region except for the temple Renkotsu took over and that’s burned to the ground. I doubt he’d care to cross the lake onto Hijiri Island, and the village where that damn Suikotsu stayed is too small to hold any interest for him. So that leaves the only structure large enough to house a human army and since he no doubt thinks himself as a high ranking youkai—”

Kagome launching herself at him with a choked laugh cut off the rest of Inuyasha’s sentence and he happily returned her embrace, the relief at finally having a lead on where their friends might be rushing through him like a temporary high and without even thinking it through Inuyasha leaned back, grasped Kagome’s chin to tilt her face upward and dipped down—

Unbidden the hairs on the back of Inuyasha’s neck stood on end and he barely had time to seize Kagome around the waist before spinning with her crushed to her chest and taking the arrow meant for her in his right shoulder. Kagome cried out in a mixture of alarm and dismay as Inuyasha grunted in pain, but there wasn’t any time to assess the damage. Amid Kagome’s fretting concerns asking if he was alright, he could hear the human soldiers closing in, making no effort to muffle their approach with their battle cries of victory and thundering charge through the trees toward them so gritting his teeth against the pain Inuyasha took off as fast as he could, half-dragging Kagome behind him as he dodged boulders, logs and ducked under low hanging branches.

Struggling to keep up with Inuyasha’s frantic pace, Kagome stumbled and grit her teeth as her ankle rolled painfully beneath her weight. Her left thigh throbbed as the gash there pulled and stretched with her movement and she felt the warmth of fresh blood as it reopened, staining the dirty bandage.

“Dammit, Kagome, keep up!” Inuyasha hollered behind him and looked over his shoulder past her into the trees behind them. Shit, their assailants were getting closer and they weren’t going fast enough!

“I’m—trying—” Kagome gasped and pushed herself to go faster, pumping her legs, her breath wheezing in and out of her lungs. “Inu—ahh!”

Abruptly Inuyasha stopped with a rough sound of frustration, but it was directed more at their situation than the young woman that collided against him with a grunt, struggling to catch her breath. He paid her no mind as he frantically looked around at their surroundings, desperately searching for something to hide behind, trees with low enough branches to climb, fuck, he didn’t care what it was but they needed to find some kind of cover, quickly, because Inuyasha knew to keep running meant a gruesome end and he’d kill himself before he ever let that happen to his Kagome.

C’mon, c’mon, where—

An arrow thudded into the thick tree right next to them and Kagome released a quiet cry of fright, crowding up against him. “Inuyasha—”

Fuck. Out of time.

With zero hesitation Inuyasha reached behind him to yank out the arrow still embedded into his shoulder, ignoring the burning pain that splintered across his back and arm. He tossed it aside carelessly and with an arm secured around her waist, Inuyasha dove behind the large tree where the arrow had landed, hoping the wide girth and cover of darkness would be enough to keep them hidden as he pressed back against the rough bark, drew Kagome between his knees and pressed her head into his chest.

“Don’t move,” he hissed in her ear just as a dozen soldiers burst from the trees behind them and the couple froze.

Kagome tried to make herself as small as possible against him, tucking her legs up, pressing into his chest and hunching her shoulders, holding her breath. He could feel her shaking against him and he tightened his hold around her, sucking in a quiet breath and pressing back tight into the tree as he closed his eyes, hoping, praying they wouldn’t think to look behind any trees. That’d be too obvious, right?

He clenched his jaw and buried his face in Kagome’s hair. Please…please let me keep her safe.

“What the fuck, Wakashi! You missed!”

“You gave away our position, you bloody idiot! Don’t shoot if you’re not absolutely certain you’ll hit!”

“At least I actually hit something! You couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn even if it was ten feet in front of you!”

“You son of a—”

“Would you three shut the fuck up?! Your foolish squabbling is loud enough to wake the dead—”

“Ah, stuff it, Yoshino, you didn’t even want to come in the first place.”

“That’s because I have better things to do than chase after some worthless half-breed and his whore.”

Kagome flinched and Inuyasha bit down on his lip hard to stifle the cry of outrage that welled up. He could hear them walking around as they bickered and insulted each other, thankfully not coming close enough to their hiding spot, but still, Inuyasha was getting anxious and his heart was thudding painfully in his chest. They were staying too long, lingering; why the fuck weren’t they moving on?

“If you four are done bitching and complaining like petty children,” came a much deeper voice and the clank of armor suggested the speaker was the head of the squadron, “then I suggest we move onward. The targets are obviously not here or we would have found them already. Let’s move out.”

“I saw them, Daisuke,” the man who’d shot the arrow insisted. “I know I did—the abomination was wearing red, right? What else is red in the middle of the fucking forest?”

“A giant bird?”

“A youkai?”

“Your wife?”

The last one elicited rowdy guffaws from the rest of the soldiers along with Wakashi’s indignant protest and even Inuyasha had to withhold a snort of amusement.

“Enough!” Daisuke bellowed and the men immediately silenced at his less than pleased tone. “I want all of you to branch out, now—Sosuke, you and Wakashi head west, Yoshino, Nobu, due east, and the rest of you continue north toward the stronghold. Master Yuudai warned us that despite his status as a lowly half-breed, he is smarter than the average youkai and could have figured out where his human companions are being held. You must prevent them from breeching the walls. Now move out, all of you.”

The warriors obeyed their commander without question, though there were a few grumbles and when footsteps approached their tree, Inuyasha stiffened as his blood ran cold. Kagome tensed and he knew she heard it, too.

“Are you daft, Wakashi? That is not west,” the presumed Sosuke spoke up, his voice thankfully not any closer than it was before.

“Can it, So, I needa get my arrow. They don’t exactly make ‘em like they use to, y’know.”

“Yeah, yeah, hurry it up, you bastard.”

“Fuck off, bloody arsehole.”

Closer and closer the footsteps drew near and Inuyasha knew he had to do something. Though the tree was wide and the night was dark, he couldn’t take even the miniscule of chances of him discovering them. But what could he do? God, there had to be something, anything he could do to distract him, divert their attention so they could sneak away—

Wakashi was just on the other side of the tree and Inuyasha didn’t give himself time to think. With a colorful mental curse and clenching his jaw so hard it ached, he swiftly jerked Tetsusaiga from his hip and prayed the cover of darkness wouldn’t give him away as he stretched his arm out and flung his sword as hard as he could in the opposite direction, away for their hiding spot.

Kagome sucked in a sharp breath and without missing a beat he clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound with a hissed warning in her ear to stay quiet.

Tetsusaiga clattered against several trees as it sailed through the air and on its descent to the ground, as Inuyasha had hoped, and it successfully drew Wakashi’s, and Sosuke’s attention as it fell to the ground somewhere beyond the shadows, a satisfactory distance away from them.

“What was that?” Sosuke said sharply and was already moving to investigate. “Fuck—I think it’s them! Forget your damn arrow, Waka, we can’t let them get away!”

“Goddamn—wait for me, you bloody arsehole!” Rabid footsteps followed after Sosuke into the trees and Inuyasha didn’t waste a second.

“Run, go!” he hissed and gave Kagome a shove as he scrambled to his feet, catching Kagome’s arm and heaving her upright when she stumbled. “Go!”

Kagome did as she was told, forcing her legs to support her weight as she rushed headlong into the darkness before her with Inuyasha on her heels. Blindly she reached back and when his hand closed around hers she released a soft sob of relief and then both of them were swatting away branches and stumbling their way through the forest, trying to put as much distance between them and their pursuers while they could. Inuyasha tried not to think about just how he’d granted them the opportunity to flee and even though he knew he’d get his sword back again, it was still hard to leave it behind, and it was stupid but he felt like he was betraying his Fang.

Forcefully he shoved those thoughts away to worry over at a later time; right now he needed all of his concentration and energy saving their asses as they struggled to run in the dark to what he hoped was north, toward this Yuudai bastard’s stronghold.

It was slow going; they weren’t going nearly as fast as Inuyasha wanted them to, but then again it was difficult to go fast when you couldn’t see where you were going. They stumbled, tripped, slipped and fell, but never stopped. Whenever Kagome went down, Inuyasha was there to heave her back up and when Inuyasha faltered, Kagome urged him back to his feet. It was tedious, and exhausting, and damn right frustrating, but they knew giving up was not an option.

They didn’t know how long they ran for but it felt like hours until they came to a small incline and Inuyasha urged Kagome to climb, only sparing enough breath to tell her to use the trees as leverage to hoist herself upward before demonstrating himself. Though her breath was coming in wheezes and she must have been on her last reserve of strength, Kagome followed without complaint, forcing her tired muscles to heave herself up using the limbs of trees and when she neared the top Inuyasha grabbed her hands and dragged her the rest of the way up.

Falling back against a nearby tree as Kagome collapsed against him, Inuyasha grunted and his legs abruptly gave out on him. Down he went, sliding to the ground and Kagome went with him, clutching the sides of his firerat as she shuddered and gasped for breath against him.

Automatically his arm went around her, keeping her cradled against his chest and for several minutes they did nothing but breathe, recovering from their frantic rush through the forest and as the adrenaline faded away, every little ache and pain made itself known with deep aches and twinges, muscles throbbing from hard use. Both of them were covered with welts and scratches from braches and they stung from the thin layer of sweat covering their skin.

Leaning his head back against tree, Inuyasha closed his eyes and winced, knowing they couldn’t stay here long; they needed adequate cover before they could truly rest, but for now they could at least catch their breath.

God, when was the last time he’d run like that, desperate, frantic to get away? Inuyasha was stunned to realize, after a brief journey through memory lane, that the last time had been as a pup fleeing from those bigger and stronger than him seeking an easy meal or wanted to kill him for sport. And he was willing to bet for Kagome this had been the first time she’d been running for her life, and Inuyasha vowed that it would also be the last.

And speaking off, Kagome was going limp against him, her breathing evening out and he knew she was seconds away from nodding off in exhaustion. He couldn’t let that happen, not until they had a safe place to rest.

Grimacing, not without a stab of guilt, Inuyasha nudged the young woman resting against him and when that didn’t work, he grabbed her shoulder and shook her back awake. “Kagome,” he rumbled, voice hoarse. She whined. “C’mon, you can’t sleep yet. We need to find a safe place first.”

Kagome groaned and shook her head and then winced when her body protested even that small movement. “Nooo,” she breathed, unable to muster the strength to even lift her head. “Tired.”

Inuyasha sighed and reached between them to grasp her shoulders, gently leaning her upright. “I know, I am too, but we can’t stay here. C’mon, we just need to get down the other side of this hill. I can see some rocks and what looks like a big ass hollowed out tree trunk that might work. It’s not that far and then after we’re safe, I promise you can rest. Alright?”

No, it was not alright. Instead Kagome huffed, gave a little whine of frustration, but with great reluctant somehow managed to muster up the strength to push herself upright on her own, using his chest as leverage. “I don’t like you right now,” she pouted and willed her legs to obey her silent commands to get up. They stubbornly refused to listen.

“I know.” With every ounce of strength he had left Inuyasha heaved himself to his feet, wincing as his muscles twinged in protest but he ignored it. “C’mon, wench,” he urged when she still hadn’t moved. “Get up.”

Kagome bit her lip and tried, but pain shot through her wounded thigh and she gasped. Clasping her hands over the gash that had started bleeding again through the already soaked-through bandage, she sounded near tears as she admitted, “Inuyasha, I don’t think I can.” Gritting her teeth against the pain she shot him a helpless look.

Inuyasha grimaced. As much as he wanted to assist her, he knew he wouldn’t be able to support both his weight and hers and he tried to make his voice gentle as he said, “Then scoot down on your ass if you have to, but we have to move, wench.” With that Inuyasha carefully picked his way down the slope, using limbs and trees to keep him from sliding too much until he was safely at the bottom. He looked back to find Kagome doing as he’d suggested, and though she didn’t look too happy about it, she was slowly sliding down on her bottom while at the same time trying to keep her skirt from revealing more than she’d bargained for. He grinned in amusement despite himself then shook his head and went to poke around the rocks and trunk a few feet away.

Immense relief swept through him when he discovered there was a little nook large enough for both of them to hide out in for at least an hour or so and after making sure no animal had sought shelter within, he came back around and found Kagome pale-faced and breathing heavily leaning against the rocks. He hated to make her move even an inch more, but it was necessary.

“A little further, wench,” he told her and she loudly groaned her displeasure before obeying and crawling the small distance where he stood. Inuyasha ducked inside before her and arranged himself so he was facing the opening with his knees bent. With the wood of the truck creating a ceiling of sorts as it jutted out and the rock waling them in it suited their purposes just fine.

Though he doubted she could truly see him in the dark, Kagome was peering at him from the low opening and he beckoned her forward with a wave of his hand. “C’mere,” he muttered and instantly she was crawling the rest of the way in, settling herself between his raised knees and collapsing against his chest with a long, drawn out sigh of relief. He gathered her into his arms as she stretched her leg out and Inuyasha gently probed her thigh, frowning when his fingers touched warm wetness. Shit, she was bleeding again and there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about it, not in this darkness and when they could barely move.

She must have known where his mind wandered off to because Kagome covered his hand where it lay on her thigh and gave it a soft squeeze. “S’okay,” she whispered, seconds from slipping into slumber. “It’ll stop.”

He didn’t say anything and prayed that she wasn’t losing too much blood or infection wasn’t setting in as he dragged the sleeve of his robe over her thighs and pressed it against the wound. She winced softly but otherwise didn’t protest. The injury he’d gotten from the arrow had already clotted, he was sure, so at least he didn’t have to worry about that on top of everything else. Threading their fingers together, Inuyasha swallowed the lump in his throat and pressed his lips to her temple.

“We can only stay for a bit,” he told her. “Just until we get back a little of our strength and we’re not dead on our feet. Get some rest and I’ll wake you in an hour or so, alright?”

Kagome sighed, gave a nearly imperceptible nod, but instead of instantly nodding off like he expected her to, she uttered after a slight hesitation, “…I’m sorry, Inuyasha.”

He cast a puzzled frown at her. “What for?”

Her guilt was obvious as she replied, “If I hadn’t stumbled, if—if I was running faster you wouldn’t have had to—”

“Stop it,” Inuyasha cut her off and tightened his arm around her. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, got it? I told you before, wench, you’re my first priority. Go. To. Sleep. We’ll talk more later.”

Of course she didn’t listen. Had he really expected anything else? “But…but it didn’t have to be Tetsusaiga! You could have used…I don’t know, my shoe or something.”

“Don’t be stupid, Kagome.

“Inuyasha.”

He growled, or at least his human vocal chords made the equivalent of one. “Throwing your shoe would have slowed you down even more, idiot. The forest floor ain’t exactly a grassy meadow.”

She paused and then sounded adorably contrite as she muttered, “Oh.”

Bringing a hand up to tiredly rub his eyes, Inuyasha heaved a sigh and said softly, with more patience than he thought he had, “It’s not like I don’t know where it’s going,” he assured, secretly pleased that she was as worried about his Fang as he was. “They took your bow, didn’t they? So it stands to reason they’ll probably take Tetsusaiga to the stronghold, too. I ain’t too worried. S’not like that Yuu-bastard can use it, and if it turns out a human stole it, I’ll just sniff ‘em out when I’m hanyou again and take it back. No problem.”

Kagome wrinkled her nose and still didn’t sound appeased. “I guess so.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop his lips from twitching upward. “Keh. I know so, wench. Now would you quit your worryin’ and get some rest? The more time you spend yakkin’, the less time you have to rest and the more tired you’ll be when we get movin’ again.”

In answer Kagome wiggled around to get more comfortable and when she started muttering to herself about how the hard ground made it hard for her to sleep, Inuyasha shook his head and stalled her useless squirming by abruptly lifting her up and shifting around to cross his legs before settling her back down into the cradle of his folded legs. She made a soft noise of appreciation and wrapped her arms around his waist beneath his robe, tucking her head under his chin, and then finally drifting off with a small sigh.

With Kagome wrapped safely in his arms, Inuyasha stayed awake for as long as he could, determined to keep watch and protect his wench, but eventually the lull of sleep was too difficult to fight anymore and with a quiet sigh he closed his eyes and succumbed.

When he woke up a little over an hour later, grateful for his deeply engrained survival instincts for allowing him to set an internal alarm clock of sorts, he was alert within a few seconds and the first thing Inuyasha noticed was that Kagome was awake as well. Surprising, but definitely welcome. Waking Kagome was never a pleasure since it always took two or three tries to rouse her and if she didn’t get enough sleep she was always crabby for the rest of the day.

Now he was just glad he didn’t have to spend time they didn’t have waking her up.

An ache in his neck and shoulders made itself known right then and Inuyasha winced, rolling his shoulders to reduce the stiffness and not for the first time cursing his weak human body for being prone to such aches. What a pain in the ass. And neck. And shoulders. And—

“Hey.”

Settling back against the hard stone, Inuyasha sighed and gave the woman in his lap his full attention. “Hey,” he said and belatedly realized that he could make out Kagome’s features a little better than before. It only served to remind him that time was not on their side. How many more hours until sunrise? Four? Three?

Kagome must have realized the same thing because he felt her tense as she whispered, “I can see you. I mean I could before, sort of, but now it’s…”

Inuyasha’s tone was grim. “Yeah.” He paused. “I’m surprised you’re already awake.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Well, it’s not from lack of trying,” Kagome admitted petulantly and Inuyasha could just make out the pout on her face. “I don’t know if it’s some kind of…deeply rooted survival instinct or something, but it’s like I’m trying to unconsciously distract myself from our less than pleasant situation, because even though I know I need to rest, my brain is like ‘let’s think about that really embarrassing thing you did five years ago that nobody probably even remembers and obsess over it and oh by the way, bugs. Bugs everywhere’ and how the hell am I supposed to sleep with that?”

Inuyasha coughed and turned his head to hide his grin, telling himself it really wouldn’t be a good idea to tell her how cute it was when she cursed because likely he’d received a death glare and threats of bodily harm for his troubles. Still, Inuyasha couldn’t help but liken her righteous indignation to that of a furious kitten.

And forget simple threats of bodily harm if he ever made mention of that; Kagome would inflict bodily harm on him, probably to very sensitive parts on his body, and Inuyasha promptly decided that he had a death wish because why the fuck did he suddenly feel like laughing?

Out of his peripheral he saw Kagome’s eyes narrow suspiciously at him and he fought to school his features. “Problem?” she asked and her tone of voice suggested he answer very carefully.

Clearing this throat, Inuyasha tamped viciously down on his amusement and managed to retain a neutral expression as he finally turned back to her and said, “Nope. So, five years ago, huh?”

Kagome stiffened and he wondered at the blush that stole across her cheeks. “Nothing. Drop it.”

Inuyasha did not drop it. “What was it?”

“What was what?” she asked innocently, pretending to survey the canopy of treetops above them.

“Don’t play dumb, wench.”

Kagome leveled a withering glare at him and growled, “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about, Inuyasha.”

Deciding that he’d probably provoked the furious kitten long enough, Inuyasha finally heeded her less than subtle warning to shut up or else. “I’ll get it out of you yet, wench. Just wait.”

Kagome loudly snorted her opinion of that and ignored Inuyasha’s chuckle.

Shaking his head, Inuyasha sighed and gave his wench a reprieve by asking, “How ya feeling?”

Kagome eyed him for a moment, debating, but when all he did was regard her quietly, she sighed and answered, “Like I can sleep for a week.”

He snorted. His sentiments exactly.

“I’m still sore all over but at least now I think I can stand without face-planting. You? How’s your shoulder?” Without waiting for an answer she slid her hand up his back and tenderly brushed her fingertips across his shoulder blade, her lips pursing in concern when she felt the puckered edges of the hole from the arrow, crusted with dried blood.

To her surprise he let her inspect the wound with her gentle touches for a bit before shrugging his shoulder, dislodging her hand and she obediently brought it back to her lap. “S’fine,” he rumbled. “Stopped bleeding a long time ago. How’s your leg?” He patted her thigh draped over his knee in an absentminded gesture.

Experimentally Kagome shifted her left and predictably her entire thigh protested the movement. She winced and spoke honestly, “Aside from the expected soreness from hard running, it still hurts but at least it stopped bleeding. Still, I’m worried about infection. If only I had some water…”

Inuyasha sighed and regretfully shook his head. “We can’t go actively looking for a water source but if we happen to come across a creek or something we can take advantage of it.” Though he didn’t show it he was just as worried; her wounds did need to be washed and treated before they worsened. “I’m sorry, Kagome. We don’t have—”

“The time, I know,” Kagome finished wearily. “I’m really beginning to hate that word. Dammit, if only they weren’t out looking for us—!”

“There’s no use griping about it now,” Inuyasha interrupted, slightly amused and wondering if she’d been hanging around him too much if she was swearing now. “Besides, even if we could wait around until morning and for me to change back, there’s no telling how Miroku, Sango and Shippou are faring. It’s best we get there as soon as possible.”

Too late he realized his mistake as Kagome sucked in a sharp breath and she tensed against him. “Shippou…”

Inuyasha grimaced and closed his eyes, feeling guilty and damning himself for opening his big damned mouth. “Kagome…” Helplessly he tucked her closer to his chest, wishing he knew what to do, what to say to make it all better.

“I know,” Kagome sniffed and relished the feeling of being in his arms, knowing she was the safest place on earth right now. “I just…I hope they’re okay.”

His sigh ruffled her bangs and she felt the warmth of his lips press against her forehead. “Me, too,” he rumbled and for the next minute the two of them simply sat there, taking advantage in this last bit of peace they weren’t likely to have again for a while.

Then Inuyasha sighed and Kagome knew what he was going to say. “We need to get going. We’ve already hung around here too long.”

“Slave driver,” Kagome said but crawled out of his lap and out of their cozy little niche.

“Keh.”

Inuyasha followed her out, ignoring the various aches and soreness of his muscles as he pushed to his feet and he took a moment to stretch, getting all of the kinks and knots out of his back and heaving a satisfied sigh as his back and neck gave several pops.

Kagome was glaring at him enviously and he couldn’t help himself. He grinned at her.

Apparently the dark had lessened enough for her to make out his features because she snorted before whirling around and stalking off, grumbling under her breath and he didn’t need to hear her to be able to guess what she was grumbling about.

Chuckling he took off after her, pleased to find that his short nap had rejuvenated his strength enough that he felt good about their oncoming mission. He still wasn’t 100% of course, and wouldn’t be until he had his demonic power back, but at least he didn’t feel like he had when Tokajin body slammed him into the ground. All six hundred fucking pounds of him.

Bastard.

They walked for perhaps twenty or so minutes when Inuyasha announced they were closer to the castle than he’d originally thought and then five minutes after that they were relieved to stumble upon a small fresh water stream. They wasted no time in washing out their injuries, using Inuyasha’s suikan to scrub off the dried blood and Kagome was gratified and relieved to find that both of her wounds weren’t infected. Not yet, anyway; there was still a chance but at least the risk had lessened.

They both took the opportunity to scrub off the dirt and grime, and although it was nothing like a real bath, Kagome still felt marginally better a few minutes later when they set off for the stronghold again.

“Do we have a plan?” Kagome asked half an hour later after they finally breeched the tree line and the stronghold where their friends were being kept loomed before them. She tilted her head as she stared at the once majestic castle, wondering how on earth they were going to get inside. She’d forgotten how big the place was and despite it being abandoned for a little over a year now, Kagome was surprised how well kept it looked.

Then again, the only place that was really destroyed was the front part where they battled the Band of Seven so it stood to reason that the rest of the stronghold would remain more or less in one piece.

“Nope,” Inuyasha answered, arms crossed as he gazed up at the sky. He wagered they had about two hours left until dawn, give or take, and Inuyasha wished it was even less time. Before they were using the cover of darkness the moonless night had provided for them in their bid to escape detection by Yuudai’s army, but now that they’d finally arrived at their destination being a hanyou again would sure as hell come in handy right about now.

Kagome nodded absently and chewed her bottom lip, contemplating, before finally giving up with a sigh and gazing at her companion with a hopeless look. “How in the world are we going to get in?”

“Servant’s quarters,” Inuyasha replied without missing a beat and Kagome blinked. Why the hell hadn’t she thought of that?

“They’ll be around the back,” he continued, grabbing her hand and leading her down the slight incline. “I don’t see any of the human warriors, so either the bastard’s arrogant enough that he thinks he doesn’t need the extra protection, or he sent the entire fucking army out looking for us. Damn fool doesn’t even realize how easy he’s making this,” he muttered to himself as he slid the last few feet to the bottom. Kagome gave a squeak as she glided after him and he caught her with an arm around the waist.

“Or,” Kagome said after she regained her bearings and swatted Inuyasha on the chest for that stunt, “his ‘army’ is significantly smaller than we thought.”

Inuyasha paused to consider that and then snorted in amusement. “Either way it makes things simpler. There might be some wandering around inside, though, so stay quiet and alert.”

Kagome rolled her eyes. “Duh.”

Ignoring her and staying low, gesturing for her to do the same, Inuyasha had no trouble finding a weakened section of the tall wooden barrier that surrounded the fortress, which wasn’t all that surprising. In its state of disrepair the entire thing was pretty much useless at this point, but Inuyasha doubted Yuudai chose the place for its sturdy foundations anyway.

After walking the perimeter and staying tight to the outer wall, he found the servant’s entrance in short order, his footsteps light as he navigated the deserted halls, his grip on Kagome’s hand firm, and as they passed through the empty kitchen Inuyasha slowed down and gestured for Kagome to watch her step. Most likely in their haste to flee the massacre Bankotsu had started, the servants had literally dropped everything before turning tail and he made sure to step over the suspicious dark stains on the floor and being careful to not accidently kick some cookware across the floor, thereby making a racket. He honestly couldn’t be sure if the erratically shaped stains on the floor were food or something else, though it didn’t make sense if it was the former. Wouldn’t any food have perished by now? Dried up, eaten by scavengers and rodents? Inuyasha didn’t want to think about it so he didn’t and instead concentrated on making it to the doors across the room.

He was glad Kagome was being extra cautious as well, stepping where he stepped and carefully avoiding the various cookware scattered all over the floor. She nearly stumbled once as she was stepping over a large stain of...something but a sharp twinge in her thigh made her fall short. Inuyasha reacted quickly, whirling around and catching her before she tumbled to the ground and gave away their location.

He glared at her; Kagome blushed guiltily and gestured to her wounded thigh. Inuyasha huffed, gave a short nod before helping her over whatever was on the floor. It was a relief when they finally made it to the double doors that led out into the large dining area, and although they hadn’t had any run-ins with any warriors yet, Inuyasha still couldn’t rule out there not being any wandering the halls as a lazy sort of backup.

Kagome must have realized the same thing because she didn’t try to pass him and push through the doors, but instead crouched next to him and awaited further instruction, however he knew she must have been eager as he to save their friends. They were so damn close, but they couldn’t afford to be reckless or thoughtless. Inuyasha hadn’t survived this long without being careful, and despite not being the most level-headed or thorough when it came to strategizing, he found that his straight-forward, uncomplicated methods usually worked pretty well, if not even better than a detail oriented, thought out plan.

And since they didn’t have the time to sit around and brainstorm out a plan, Inuyasha figured there was no time like the present to fucking wing it and hope for the best.

“Alright,” Inuyasha murmured as he cautiously peered around the edge of the fragmented doorway, missing Kagome’s contemplative look. “My guess is they’ll be in some sort of hold or dungeon, or at the least a guarded room – he’s a cocky bastard, but I don’t think even he would leave prisoners unguarded – so our best bet is to check out the rooms closest to here first.”

“Aren’t dungeons supposed to be underground, or something?” Kagome peeked over his shoulder and attempted to gaze down the hallway.

Inuyasha absentmindedly pushed her back, away from potential threats. “Typically, yeah, but this is a smaller than average sized castle so an underground keep wouldn’t be practical.”

Kagome gaped. “This is a small castle?” she asked incredulously.

Inuyasha frowned at her. “Have you seen where Sesshomaru lives?”

Kagome bilked and promptly closed her mouth. “Um, right.”

Rolling his eyes, Inuyasha looked back out into the hallway; no patrolling soldiers as of yet so it looked like luck was on their side. “Looks like we’re clear,” he said and inched forward. “Stay behind me and let’s make this quick. The sooner we’re outta here the—”

“Inuyasha, wait.”

He whipped his head around to stare at her, brows snapping low over his eyes as he scowled. “Whaddaya mean wait? We don’t have the—Kagome—”

Kagome took his hand, halting his protests. “Please, just…hear me out, okay?”

Violet eyes regarded her silently for a moment, confusion mixed with irritation, before he sighed and rolled his hand at her in the universal “get on with it” gesture.

Biting down on her lip as she deliberated on what to say, how to best approach this, Kagome took one look at the impatience clearly etched onto Inuyasha’s expression and sighed in defeat. There was no easy way to say this, so might as well get it over with and endure the inevitable blowup.

Locking gazes with him, Kagome sucked in a breath and said, “I think…we should split up.”

Telling him that she was suddenly deeply in love with Jaken would have had a lesser effect.

Kagome watched with growing trepidation as Inuyasha’s eyes grew were impossibly large, the color drained from his face, and his mouth opened and closed as he tried to absorb the complete and utter bullshit she just spouted to him.

Then finally, “You want to WHAT?!”

Kagome flinched and frantically waved her hands at him, wide eyes flicking to the doorway. “Shhh!”

“Wench, are you out of your goddamn mind?! Fuck no, we ain’t splitting up! What the fuck are you—we’re in the middle of dangerous enemy territory and you want to separate us?!”

Desperately hoping Inuyasha’s outburst hadn’t attracted unwanted attention, Kagome lunged forward and clamped a hand over his mouth, her expression urgent. “Inuyasha, please—!”

Releasing what Kagome would have described as a growl had he been in his hanyou form, Inuyasha grabbed her wrist and yanked her hand down. “Dammit, wench, how could you—I’m not gonna—we’re not—No!” He glowered at her and Kagome recognized that particular expression: End. Of. Discussion.

This time, however, she didn’t give in, determined to get her point across. “Inuyasha, please, listen to me! I wouldn’t bring it up if I didn’t think it was important!” Her eyes begged him, pleaded to let her explain before he shut her out completely.

Inuyasha clamped his mouth shut and glared at her in stony silence.

Kagome winced, knowing he wasn’t happy with her, but taking his silence as acquiesce – however reluctant it was – she took his hand in both of hers again and began, “Think about it, Inuyasha. If we split up we’d be able to cover more ground and find the others quickly. You said it yourself, right? We don’t have a lot of time and this is the most logical way to utilize what little time we do have.”

He clenched his jaw and turned his head, avoiding her earnest gaze.

Desperate, she tried again. “Inuyasha, I’m not saying this because I want to be away from you,” she said softly and was rewarded with a miniscule softening of his features. She leaned closer and tipped him a small smile, “I trusted you whole-heartedly back in the forest and you’ve gotten us this far. Can’t you trust me on this? Please?”

Inuyasha grimaced and closed his eyes. Dammit, why’d she have to go and use the trust card on him? Ducking his head, he opened his eyes and stared down at their hands, his larger one cradled within her soft palms and his heart clenched in his chest. He did trust her. With his life, but…god, what if something happened?

Feeling like she was finally getting to him, Kagome scooter closer and squeezed his hand. “Plus,” she continued softly. “This way it’ll also give you the opportunity to look for Tetsusaiga.”

Inuyasha’s eyes snapped wide and he jerked his head up to gawp at her. Clearly he hadn’t thought of that.

She smiled again. “Even if it’s not here, one of us is bound to come across Sango and the others at some point. And after you’re hanyou again, it’ll be easy to track down those samurai and get back your sword back. After all, no human is a match for the great, strong, brave hanyou Inuyasha.”

Inuyasha snorted and leveled her with a look that told her plainly that he knew what she was trying to do and he didn’t buy her innocent smile for a second. Shaking his head, Inuyasha grimaced and shifted his hand so he could thread his fingers through hers and hold on tightly. Dammit, what she said made a hell of a lot of sense and he’d be a fool if he didn’t seriously consider it. But still…

“Kagome…” His voice sounded tortured and Kagome knew this was a hard decision for him to simply accept, even if all the signs pointed to success.

Kagome gazed at him with gentle eyes, her smile a little sad. “I know,” she breathed, “But this isn’t about what we want, Inuyasha. It’s about what we need to do. And you know I’m right.”

Inuyasha gazed at her in silence a moment longer, his dark eyes troubled, but then he heaved a heavy sigh and Kagome knew she’d won. Without warning he pulled his hand from hers and yanked her into his arms, crushing her against his chest and she automatically returned his embrace, burying her face into his shoulder.

“I hate it when you do that,” he whispered in her ear and despite herself Kagome gave a soft laugh. “Fine, wench. We’ll split up, but you have to promise me you’ll be careful, alright? I mean it, you fucking run and start calling for me if there’s even the smallest chance of danger. I won’t be there to protect you and if you find them before me, you find somewhere to hide, quickly, until I find you guys. Understood?” He pulled back and grasped her shoulders tightly, his eyes intense as they bore into own. His jaw was clenched and his lips were a tight line, his fingers digging into her shoulders. His worry was evident, the terror that something would happen to her that he couldn’t prevent eating him inside and something warm blossomed in Kagome’s chest.

Stupidly she felt like crying as she raised her hands and circled his wrists with her fingers, not unlike hours ago when they first discovered their friends were being kept here. “I promise. You be careful too, okay?” She offered him a trembling smile. “I won’t be there to stop you from carrying out your stupid impulses.”

Inuyasha barked out a brief laugh and before he even knew what he was doing he leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss over her lips, once, twice, then pulled back not without a blush. He noted with some pleasure that Kagome’s was darker. “Keh. Just…” He trailed off, looking like he wanted to dive in again for a much deeper taste, but then much to Kagome’s disappointment he made a face and released her before abruptly standing and stepping out into the hallway.

He cast her one last glance. “Don’t die, wench,” he rasped and then stomped down the hallway, not particularly caring if he attracted some poor sod’s attention. He could use a good fight right about now.

“You, too,” she whispered, wanting to launch herself after him and beg him to go with her, but knowing she couldn’t. Sighing, she forced her gaze away from his retreating figure and stood up, clutching the doorframe as she leaned around to gaze down the opposite end of the hallway and completely missing how Inuyasha hesitated at the end of the corridor.

She had just gathered up the courage to step out into the hallway when she suddenly heard a lurid curse from the other end and then footsteps stomping back toward her.

Startled Kagome turned her head to find Inuyasha determinedly striding back toward her, jaw set, eyes locking in hers and her mouth parted in wonder.

“Inuyasha? What—”

Before she could finish Inuyasha grabbed her shoulders, shoved her back inside the dark room and spun her around to pin her against the wall before grasping her chin in his hand and crushing her mouth under his.

Kagome reacted instantly, melting against him with a whimper, digging her hands into his hair and returning his kiss with a heated fervor that could only originate from a long suppressed desire for this sort of intimacy and the thought made Inuyasha groan as he dropped his arms to circle her waist and haul her tight up against him. He plied her mouth open with his tongue, needing to taste her with a savage urgency that roared through his veins, his hunger for her desperate, endless.

Kagome moaned and he swallowed the sound. Arching her back she pressed into him, tilting her head, gasping as he plundered her mouth, sending heat spiraling through her body and then suddenly his hands were cupping her ass and he was lifting her up against him, urging her legs around his hips and Kagome complied without a second thought.

Inuyasha broke away, his breathing labored as he growled against her lips, “I swear to fucking god, wench, if something happens to you—”

Hands cupping the back of his neck Kagome tugged him back, claiming his mouth in another torrid kiss that bespoke of her own fears and concerns, nipping his bottom lip, sucking gently, and then drawing the tip of her along across the sensitive flesh. Inuyasha groaned and took over, bracing her against the wall as one hand came up to tangle in her hair and angle her head so he could assault her mouth once again.

They stood there for an unknown amount of time, clinging to each other, kissing over and over, some desperate and hard, while others were slow, lazy and maddeningly hot. Eventually a warning bell went off in Inuyasha’s mind and with great reluctance he finally pulled back, his breathing rough as he rested his forehead against hers.

“You come back to me, dammit,” he rasped, violet eyes boring into hers intensely and promising swift retribution if she did not heed his demand. God, he didn’t know what he’d do if…

Kagome huffed a breath that might have been a laugh and tipped him a small smile. “Only if you promise to come back to me,” she breathed and feathered another kiss across his lips.

Inuyasha grunted. “Deal, wench.” Allowing her to slide down his body and trying to ignore how good it felt, he stood there for a moment, savoring the feel of her against him, her taste on his lips and unable to deny himself one last taste, he dipped his head and gave her one last lingering kiss.

Fuck, it was so hard to leave her.

Greedily Kagome reveled in his kiss, pressing her hands flat against his chest, not wanting to be apart from him either, and before she could convince him to stay with a deeper kiss Inuyasha abruptly broke away and left without a single backward glance.

Kagome sighed and leaned against the wall to catch her breath and regroup her brain cells that Inuyasha had scattered with his thorough and passionate kisses. Her lips were swollen and tingling, and for a brief moment she allowed herself to remember the feeling of him pressed so heatedly against her. Good lord, but if that wasn’t incentive to come back unscathed…

Fighting against the urge to giggle, Kagome shook her head, braced herself and finally stepped out into the hallway, her footsteps light as she wandered down the corridor and not daring to look in Inuyasha’s direction for fear of screwing the plan and charging after him.

Per her word, Kagome was extra cautious as she wandered the halls, peeking around corners, keeping her footsteps light – she’d ditched her shoes once she realized it was difficult to be stealthy with them on and figured she can just go back for them later – and ghosting across rooms, keeping an eye and ear out for anything that would lead her toward their friends. Her heart always pounded whenever she rounded a corner, uncertain what she would encounter as her flight or fight response kicked in. But then every time an empty corridor would greet her and nobody would burst through the door and she’d heave a sigh of relief before the whole damn thing started all over again a few minutes later.

It was nerve-wracking, for sure, but she would take chancing the unknown any day over encountering a patrolling samurai.

Kagome climbed up a short flight of stairs and tried not to think of what Inuyasha was doing or how he was faring, wondering if he’d managed to find Tetsusaiga or not. Every time she passed a window she was reminded of him, the sky getting steadily lighter until Kagome suspected dawn was very soon, perhaps in the next half hour or so.

Be safe, Inuyasha, she thought and distracted as she was with thoughts about her hanyou, Kagome rounded the corner without checking first...and stopped dead when her eyes landed on the solitary samurai standing before a set of double doors.

Unsurprisingly he noticed her presence immediately and shifted his stance, turning to face her as he lifted his weapon. It looked like some kind of spear.

“Hey, you!” he barked and Kagome reacted without thinking.

“Please!” Kagome cried and ran toward the guard, who lost his scowl at her plea and blinked at her in confusion. “Please help me! I’m being chased by a terrible youkai and—and I’m lost, I’ve been wandering this place for hours trying to find somebody to help me!” Kagome skidded to a stop in front of him and reached up curl her fingers over the top of his chest plate, peering up at him with wide eyes. “Please, you’re the first person—man I’ve come across and I’m so scared!” She said the last part on an exaggerated sob and as she willed her eyes to tear up, Kagome mentally thanked her mother for being adamant that she signed up for the drama club in school a few years ago.

Thrown for a loop, the guard gaped down at her and it was clear he definitely hadn’t been expecting this. But, he did lower his weapon and didn’t look suspicious at her fabricated story so that was certainly a plus. But then his demeanor completely changed, going from puzzled to tough-guy within the span of a few seconds and Kagome could have sworn he just puffed his chest out a little.

“A youkai, you say? Where is it?” Drawing himself up to his astounding height of what Kagome guessed to be 5’9 – Kagome had to suppress a laugh because Inuyasha had him beat by about five inches – the samurai adapted a fierce look of determination and Kagome inwardly smiled.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Sucker, she thought. Aloud and acting every bit the damsel she said, “I—I don’t know,” she stammered and took a step closer to him, tilting her head up and peering up at him from under thick sooty lashes. “But I know I have nothing to fear when there’s such a big, strong warrior like you to protect me. Right?” She moved her hands to his shoulders and smiled demurely up at him and when she saw him flick his gaze down to her cleavage, framed by the loose collar of Inuyasha’s kosode, Kagome mentally cheered.

He made no attempt to hide the fact that he was blatantly staring at her chest and Kagome was suddenly very glad Inuyasha was not here to witness this; she had no doubt that if he had been this man’s remains would be splattered across the wall right now, despite Inuyasha only being a human.

“Uh...that’s right,” he finally said and managed to drag his eyes back to her face. Then he grinned lasciviously, seemingly forgetting there was evidently a youkai running around somewhere that he should probably take care of. “Yeah, don’t you worry, sweet thing,” he drawled arrogantly and Kagome barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “I’ll protect you. Just stay with me and you won’t hafta be afraid no more.” He looked down at her chest again, his interest glaringly obvious.

Trying not to cringe, Kagome’s smile turned sultry as she slid her hands down his armored chest to the waistband of his trousers. “Oh,” she cooed. “My hero. How can I ever...repay you?” Suggestively pressing herself against him Kagome bit down on her lip and tried to come off as shyly seductive while inwardly she was fighting back her gag reflex.

He actually licked his lips as his eyes greedily stared at her breasts and his spear hit the floor with a clatter as he released it to bring is hands up, tugging at the knot that secured the garment in place. “Well I have a few ideas,” he said and chuckled a little darkly as he plucked at the knot with one hand while the other dragged down the collar and exposed her bra.

Kagome shuddered in revulsion and hoped he thought it was from excitement. He didn’t falter from his task so he probably did. Telling herself this was necessary, that Miroku, Sango, and Shippou were probably just beyond those doors, Kagome slyly loosened the obi securing his pants, trying very, very hard to ignore how...excited he was.

Ew, ew, ew, ew! Bracing herself, flexing her fingers and trying not to hurl everywhere, Kagome bit her lip and purred, “I’m very sorry about this.”

The samurai blinked and gazed at her with a puzzled frown. “What?”

The poor man’s only warning was an innocent smile before mind-numbing, excruciating pain had him releasing a shrill screech that reached an octave Kagome would category as “window-shattering.” His face went bleach white, tears leaked from his eyes and Kagome jerked her hand from his pants just as he went to cup himself. It seemed he was choking for breath as he fell to his knees, mouth opening and closing soundlessly and his eyes were unseeing as he stared at nothing before promptly falling over onto his side and convulsing in agony.

Kagome winced, and although she sincerely hoped she hadn’t just destroyed his ability to father children someday, her sympathies went no further than that. He assisted in kidnapping her friends, after all; as far as she was concerned he had it coming.

Disregarding the softly keening man on the floor, Kagome stepped around him and wasn’t surprised to find the doors locked, but it was a locking mechanism she’d never seen before. It sort of reminded her of a modern lock in that it looked like it required a key of some sort, but it didn’t look very sturdy. Actually it looked relatively easy to break however that didn’t exactly bring any measure comfort because it meant, since they hadn’t already, her friends were somehow incapable of breaking down the door themselves and it sent a cold feeling of dread coursing through her.

Acting fast and with zero hesitation Kagome scooped up the discarded weapon, aimed the pointed end toward the locking device, and releasing a harsh battle cry Kagome promptly thrust the spear into the weak metal with as much force as she was able.

The weak metal gave, breaking apart and scattering onto the floor but Kagome didn’t take the time to relish in her victory. Clutching the spear in her hand, she tore open the doors and dashed inside, wielding the weapon before her and instinctively falling into a battle stance she’d seen Inuyasha take many times. Her expression was fierce, determined, ready and willing to fight for her friends’ lives.

Part 2

#out of time #oneshot #inuyasha #kagome #inukag #keizfanfiction #fanfiction #thank #FUCKING #GOD #THIS IS DONE #it was legit taking over my life #you have no idea

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adventuresinappalachia-blog · 6 years ago

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Adventures in Appalachia - Issue 1

Hello fellow Vault Dwellers! So Reclamation Day arrived and things have been a blur since, hence me getting to this a little late. So far, I’m really enjoying Fallout 76 so this first issue of Adventures in Appalachia will be mainly my first impressions.

Survival in Appalachia

I’ve never been a huge fan of survival mode, but the mechanics in this game are just right. They’re a constant challenge, but not anywhere near as much of an annoyance as I expected and since setting up my C.A.M.P I’ve found it a lot easier to deal with (more on this in a few moments). Diseases I haven’t really got a problem with either; cures seem rare enough to make it a challenging experience which is always a win.

My only real concern is the decay rate for weapons. Adhesive just seems too scarce to be having your weapon break every time you leave your camp (maybe I’m just unlucky and run into more things that need shooting?). Managing to counteract it with some perk cards for now till I find a better solution.

Appalachian Appeal

I’ll be honest, I’ve barely scratched the surface in terms of exploration, only venturing as far as Morgantown to the North, the AMS Testing Site to the South and Whitespring Resort to the East. Even within that area there are huge swathes of unseen territory. What I have seen has been spectacular (despite the limitations of the rather old television my Xbox One is hooked up to). Each of the areas I’ve seen has its own unique charm, yet none of them feel out of place in the Fallout world.

I did find, however, that the lack of NPCs makes the locations seem somewhat lifeless, but then again, it is 25 years after the apocalypse so I can completely understand. In the other games humanity has had hundreds of years to reestablish itself.

I’ve also taken plenty of screencaps, just need to figure out how to get them off the Xbox and onto here (any suggestions?).

Not-so-happy Camper

I gotta say, the C.A.M.P is frustrating. A 400 limit on storage, a ridiculously low budget and having to find plans to build anything of note (which seem rare as hell, am I just missing something?), have all compounded into making C.A.M.Ps possibly the most annoying experiences of the game. In Fallout 4 I was the type to spend hours decorating my settlements and player homes, it was a very entertaining pass-time. I get the fact its meant to be a small, mobile camp but I can’t even decorate a simple 2x3 house once I’ve built my defences, resources and power.

Questing

On a happier note, I’ve only managed to do a few chains so far but I’m pleasantly surprised how organic the quests feel even without having NPCs involved. The holotapes, a woefully underused feature in previous games, now have real relevance and provide us with our link to the ghosts left over from the time we spent in the Vault.

Adventure of the Day

Whitesprings Resort

Stumbled across this place entirely by accident and boy, there are a TON of ghouls here. So many that my trusty “Markman’s Vicious Pump-action Shotgun” broke from overuse. Unfortunately, my baseball bat had broken before my arrival so, in a brief lull between waves of angry reavers, I frantically knocked back any chem I could find in my inventory before hurling myself at them with my bare fists. Needless to say, auto-stim armour pieces are a godsend!

#fallout 76 #fallout #reclamation day #bethesda #oc #xbox one

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dustedmagazine · 6 years ago

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Punk’d History, Vol. II: Catamites and Junkies, Rockers and Runts

As a word and a set of behavioral possibilities, “punk” has always circulated with anxious, negative intensity. Since its entrance into the vernaculars of English, the word punk has acquired a wide semantic range, seemingly always dancing on the borders of excitement and abjection.

Contemporary mass culture seems to understand the term differently. There’s an established referent, with a sort of regalia and a standardized affect: mohawks, spiked leather jackets and Doc Martens; angry, snotty and at least a little bit fucked up (and likely a lot more than a little). There’s an oft-noted irony in that: a subculture so focused on anarchy (albeit a superficial, sloganeering form of it) and on rebelliousness (more often in symbolic, gestural forms, than in organized political action) acquires a compulsory style, a uniform. In the mass cultural imaginary, “punk” most often conjures the image of a UK82 band, and “a punk” most often looks and behaves like Wattie Buchan. (A future entry of Punk’d History will consider why that should be.)

As a sort of counter-measure, we might examine the term’s symbolic history. The list of meanings and examples below is woefully inadequate and partial—any number of meanings and especially significant iterations (in figures, songs and aesthetic manifestations) are missing.* That’s the point. In spite of our habits of language, punk doesn’t want to be contained. Punk is a kick in the teeth, and its myriad traces can be encountered in the innumerable fragments.

Punk, a prostitute: this oldest traceable usage enters the language in the late 16th century. Shakespeare provides an excellent example in Measure for Measure (1623): in Act V, Lucio observes of Mariana, “She may be a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife.” This suggests that in Elizabethan England there were only four thinkable conditions for women not in nunneries—but that’s a different history of containment. In any case, it’s interesting to note that English’s rendition of “punk” starts here, with sex work and its fraught relation to appetites. It gives word to a form of labor, and to desires that evade and exceed the policing of institutions, like marriage and the church.

So what do we do with this?

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It’s Dee Dee’s song, and he had first-hand experience hustling in Manhattan’s Loop. But Dee Dee doesn’t issue musical memoir: he gives us a character, a vet back from Nam, damaged and pissed. His come-on is a confrontational hyper-masculine dare. The desire moving through the song is complex: the need to fuck, which is economically driven (“trying to turn a trick”); the need to fuck, which is denied (“You’re the one they never pick”); the violent attempts to recuperate the queerness (“no more of your fairy stories,” “I’m no sissy”). The song de-mystifies any romantic notions of sex work, even as it dramatizes familiar anti-institutional tropes (the pyscho vet, the fugitive, the oppressive forces of Law and Capital). All of that begs the question of where we locate our more current notion of “punk” in relation to this deepest of historical senses for its proper referent.

Punk, a catamite: a related sexualized meaning, which is both more precise and more complex. It enters the language in the late 17th century, traceable to an anonymous broadside, “Womens Complaint to Venus” (1698): “The Beaus too… / At night make a punk / Of him that’s first drunk.” The poem was satiric, registering public worries about the increased visibility of queer sexual identity and practices in London. While the poem evinces unfortunate attitudes toward queerness, the stanza usefully points to the exclusively male sense of this usage, and its implication that the punk is made a bottom unintentionally or by force. A more recent, more specific extension of this usage is present in Alexander Berkman’s Prison Memoir of an Anarchist (1912): “A punk’s a boy that’ll…give himself to a man.” Berkman was friend and lover of Emma Goldman, and in 1892 he attempted the assassination of Henry Clay Frick; Berkman was caught and jailed in Pennsylvania Western Penitentiary, where he observed the prison’s extensive sexual economy, of willing partnerships, temporary relations of mutual benefit and rape. Punks in this sense occupy a range of positions, from consensual bottoms to victims of (frequently repeated) sexual assault. (This association with carceral power may have something to do with the usage of “punk” in modern American black culture, but that’s an even more complicated history.)

The political meaning of being “at the bottom” frequently get confused with being a bottom, and contemporary punk has participated in the confusion:

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Frank Discussion, front man for the Feederz and long-time practitioner of detournment, has repeatedly explained that the song’s discourse on submission isn’t meant to operate at the expense of queer sexualities—but the song’s easy appropriation of conventional ideas about marginal sexual practices seems way too easy. Of course, the Feederz aren’t the only punk and punk-related artists to present uncomfortably normative ideas about the politics of sexual submission, or about queer sexuality (I don’t really want to sully this essay by mentioning the Meatmen, but it seems necessary…). None of is meant to reduce punk’s attitudes toward queer sexualities as monolithically intolerant—that would be a stupid distortion. But the difficult, overlapping symbolic terrains of power, position and sex remain provoking.

Punk, a petty thug, a despicable person of low or no account: this usage seems a lot less problematic, and enters the language in the late 19th century. Hemingway used it, in “The Mother of a Queen” (1933): the story’s Anglo agent accuses his profligate matador client, “You give fifty pesos to that punk and then offer me twenty when you owe me six hundred. I wouldn’t take a nickel from you.” Thomas Pynchon used it, too, in V. (1963): Benny Profane observes of the Playboys, a gang from Spanish Harlem, “There was nothing so special about the gang, punks are punks.” It’s interesting that both of those High Literary references invoke the specter of another social hierarchy: class difference. The idea of the person of “low or no account” can be accounted for through accounting—through the metric of money, or the lack of it: who can turn up his nose at twenty pesos, and who needs them to survive? Whose lives are relegated to tenement apartments and grinding struggle?

So:

youtube

My aim is not to recruit the Tubes to punk—rather I want to foreground the lyrics’ engagement with “punk” as a sort of code for social class. In this usage, punk becomes a mobile quality, enacted by the lyric protagonist in his rich-kid malaise, which issues in a drug habit and the proposition that “the ghetto” and Pacific Heights are equally empty of value. In 1975, ahead of the international news media’s sudden and scandalous discovery of the Sex Pistols, the Tubes grafted “punk”—as a low-rent dalliance with cheap thrills and nasty influences—onto a glammed-up performance of exhausted excess: “Have to score when I get that rich white punk itch…” But in the Tubes’ rendition of punk, there’s always the parents’ chateau to retreat to.

The suggestion of suspicions about glam rock’s adequacy as a discourse of resistance is insightful, so far as it goes. Glam in California was burdened by any number of problematic relations to postmodern industrial obsessions with surface value. Spandex, big hair, gratuitous pelvic undulations—in LA, the symbols circulated anxiously from the Sunset Strip to the Valley. Up north, things got a little thicker:

youtube

“You low down punk,” indeed. The Nuns’ performance is feral, a species of glam, of goth rocked up with a punk edge. This version of “Suicide Child” was recorded the night they opened for the Sex Pistols at Winterland—the Pistols’ last show. The Nuns’ set that night included songs like “Smoking Heroin,” “Child Molester” and “Decadent Jew.” Despicable songs, all. But “Suicide Child” stands out for its intensity. One wonders about their invocation of California’s cultural geography: “You went away / Back to LA.” Is that a retreat? A rejection? A response to the Tubes cynical punk slumming? Band founders Jeff Olener and Alejandro Escovedo (who went on to play with the excellent Rank and File) met in a film class at a San Francisco community college. A middle-class Jew and a son of Mexican immigrants—neither had money to “waste time at every school in LA.”

By 1978, our current, dominant sense of “punk” had emerged, soaked in spit and covered in grime. Under the pressures exerted by class position and class struggle, punk’s petty thuggery has transformed into something else. Not a shallow guise of glamorous (but temporary) risk. But a sort of cultural armor. All of these valences of meaning remain, part of the resilience of that hardened surface and its livid, vivid way of being in the world.

*Throughout I am indebted to the researchers and writers of the Oxford English Dictionary for their extensive work on “punk,” and to the Rohrbach Library at Kutztown University of Pennsylvania.

Jonathan Shaw

#dustedmagazine #feature #punk history #jonathan shaw #punk #history #ramones #feederz #tubes #nuns

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scripttorture · 7 years ago

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1/2 Hi. I've got an enemy group who kidnaps and imprisons a spec ops type main character because they desperately want confidential information out of them, but the MC refuses to talk. This group knows torture is not very effective. They want to get it right, get the truth, and are capable and willing to donate lots of resources and time to convincing the main character to spill the beans. They have time, and the person is also much too valuable to maim, so I was wondering what combination of

2/2 techniques they might use to try and get truthful information out of them? I was thinking alternating between police style interrogations, general abuse and positive reinforcements. They use enemy allied spies posing as neutral/friendly individuals to give the main character a sympathetic ear, intending for the main character to accidentally let slip something of use. Would this work? What other options are there?

Well I think ifpossible you should be clear that torture does not work at all. ‘Not veryeffective’ can be taken to imply something might work some of the time. Andgiven the issue at hand I think it’s really important be clear.

I think the generalsituation you’ve outlined seems perfectly reasonable for this kind of story.It’s realistic. But I’m not sure itwould be the most effective possible strategy.

One of the big caveatshere is that actual scientific research on interrogation is woefully lacking.As a result I can’t say with certainty that one particularly thing we know can work is better than any otherstrategy that can work. The way I approach these sorts of questions is tryingto get as many ‘positive’ factors into the situation as reasonably possiblewhile minimising any ‘negative’ factors.

Any abuse is a negativefactor. It makes it less likely that they'll gain the character's trust in anyrespect. It serves as a reminder to the character that they are 'the enemy'. Itcould strengthen the character's resolve not to cooperate purely because theypissed them off.I'm also a little wary of the phrase 'police style interrogation', not becausethere's anything wrong with it or your suggestion necessarily but because mostpolice officers don't receive much training in interrogation. The reality inmost countries is that when it comes to interrogation police officers make itup as they go along. Sometimes they're lucky enough to have someone close tothem who knows how it works but often that isn't the case.That's a big part of why I think this blog is important: these guys are lookingto us to tell them what 'works' and unfortunately a lot of fiction tells themthat the answer is 'torture'.I think the idea of having a friendly/neutral person as a spy is a good one. Ifyou can I'd suggest having two or three. Most fiction tends to use another'prisoner' in this role and that's perfectly feasible. I'd suggest that adoctor might work as well. So- suggestions. Well to start with I'd have them look for forensic evidencecarefully even if the chances of finding something that will help are slim. If this character is wearing shoes, clothes etc when they catch the MC havethem take literally everything and clothe the character in a standard uniformof some kind. If there’s any possibility of evidence from that confirming orsupporting the information they get from the MC use that in the story. Types of soil, chemical residues, plantmatter, anything at all.

I realise that mightnot fit your story, it won’t fit every story. Some information may literallyonly exist in the character’s head. But if there is any way to use physical evidence as well I’d say do it.

Next I’d stronglysuggest having as few people as possible on the interrogation team in the roomwith the MC. Don’t have more than two people talking to the MC regularly, thepoint is that they’re building up a relationship with the MC. If there are toomany people that’ll make it more difficult to form a strong connection with anyone individual and it’ll reduce the amount of time he spends with eachindividual.

These people are goingto be spending a lot of time with theMC. Like forget 9-5 hours and having a family life outside. They’re going tospend hours each day every day just talking to the MC. They probably won’t evenspend most of it asking about what they want to know. They’ll be encouragingthe MC to talk about their beliefs their preferences their personal life-anything.

They probably won’talways go in together. And I think ‘sessions’ might be in the realm of 5 hoursdaily. It’s a lot of time and itprobably isn’t going to give obvious rewards or indeed anything quickly.

The rest of the team-the real work is in monitoring,recording, filing and cross referencing everything the MC says. An organisationwith this many resources will begetting information from other sources as well, people volunteeringinformation, paid informants, possibly undercover agents in the MC’sorganisation as well and of course hard evidence and seized materials.

Checking that what theMC says lines up with other things they know about this organisation is massively important and a lot of hardwork.

It’s essentially theirfact checking exercise. And if they’re serious about getting accurateinformation a lot of resources need to be there.

They need to have agood enough cross referencing system in place that they correctly identify whenthe MC has let something slip, asopposed to when they’re lying or deliberately trying to throw these people off.

If the character knowswhat’s going on deliberately lying at points is extremely likely. But thecharacter probably won’t be able to keep those lies perfectly consistent overmonths. The ‘bad guys’ need to be investing enough time, effort and people toanalyse and recognise the difference between lies, truth that was revealedaccidentally and genuine mistakes on the MC’s part (ie inaccurate informationthat the MC doesn’t know is inaccurate).

Depending on how youwant to write this I think making members of the analysis and monitoring teamcharacters could be a good idea. It could help show just how much time andeffort is going into every word the MC says. It’s a less overtly violent sideof the evil organisation but one that’s potentially just as creepy anddisturbing- these people are basically professional stalkers.

I think you shoulddefinitely be prepared to make the interrogator/s fully fledged characters. They’regoing to be spending a lot of time with the MC and if you’re not intending toskip over those months they’re going to be the people the MC interacts withmost. They’ll be doing everything they can to strike up a friendly, respectfulrelationship with the MC.

It sounds like a stupiddetail but many real life cases have missed this- the interrogators must speak the same language as the MC fluently.

The interrogatorsshould also have invested time in understanding the MC’s politics, culture andreligion. If something is core to the MC and can be researched/read about theinterrogators should do the reading.

The only other thing Ican think of is a memory-aid which may or may not be helpful in your story.

The interrogators getthe MC to tell their story of events backwards. This is something that getsused on witnesses as well as suspects. Essentially it’s difficult to tell astory backwards and inconsistencies become more obvious when comparing theforward and backward versions.

That doesn’tnecessarily mean it catches lies. The errors could be genuine mistakes. But itgives an idea of what is accurate and consistent in the person’s memory. Ifthey’ve made something up they’ll probably get a lot more details wrong.

From the MC’s side Ithink it’s important to remember that vanishingly few people refuse to talk.The MC could refuse to say anything they judge as ‘useful’ but that’s not thesame thing. Most people can’t sit quiet during conversations for weeks on end.

The chances are the MCis going to engage with these interrogatorsto some degree. They’re going to get sucked in to ‘harmless’ conversationsabout sports or art or tv shows. Those conversations help build a relationshipthe interrogator can later try to use to get information.

The chances are that inthe long term the MC is also going to let someinformation slip out. It might not be valuable or what the bad guys wantthough. But it’s difficult to keep all genuine personal information under wrapsfor months on end when you talk to someone every day.

Broad responses aregoing to depend a lot on your MC’s personality. I think frustration and boredomwill probably be major problems: you’ve taken someone used to being active andreduced their world to a box and their social circle to may be 4 people.

It’s going to take anemotional toll, even if it isn’t nearly so high or damaging as if they were insolitary confinement. That can also be used to encourage a strongerrelationship with the interrogators or the spies.

Interrogation isn’tvery effective and whether it ‘works’ or not is dependent on a lot ofvariables. Even with all that time and effort on the bad guys’ part you could still realistically have the characternot give them the information they really want.

The longer he’s therethe more likely he is to want to givethem that information and the more likely he is to have forgotten it.

A lot depends on thecharacters themselves and how you write this. If you want the MC to give themthe information then I’d suggest strong, positive relationships with theinterrogators and/or spies, having the MC held prisoner for longer than a year(anything up to 4 sounds reasonable) and an MC with fewer strong emotional tiesto the ‘cause’.

If you want the MC notto give them the information then I’d suggest a shorter imprisonment, 2-6months perhaps, a distrustful relationship with the spies, interrogators thatmade mistakes (like shouting or verbally abusing the MC) and an MC with strongemotional ties to the cause, which can include friends/family in the cause.

I hope that helps. :)

Disclaimer

#tw torture #interrogation #effective interrogation #intelligence gathering #informants #Anonymous

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veiltray63-blog · 5 years ago

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Mock Draft Monday: Eagles pick potential Jason Peters replacement

There are 87 days until the 2019 NFL Draft begins on Thursday, April 25. We’re going to kill some time until then with our weekly Mock Draft Monday series. You can also check out BGN’s latest mock draft roundup.

Last week, SB Nation’s Dan Kadar had the Philadelphia Eagles taking an offensive tackle at pick No. 25. This week, Kadar has the Birds taking a different offensive tackle:

25. Philadelphia Eagles: Andre Dillard, OT, Washington State: Dillard did well for himself at the Senior Bowl, an event that isn’t always kind to offensive linemen who get forced into constant one-on-one positions in practice. Dillard helped himself not only with his play, but by weighing in at 310 pounds. That should erase any questions about his size as a pro. Bookends of Dillard and Lane Johnson would give the Eagles arguably the most athletic tandem of offensive tackles in the NFL.

BGN’s Michael Kist, who attended Senior Bowl practices, said Dillard had a “very good week” down in Mobile. Former NFL scout Daniel Jeremiah actually has Dillard as his No. 12 rated prospect:

Dillard has an athletic frame for the position and he’s a very easy mover. In pass protection, he explodes out of his stance and plays with tremendous knee bend, patience and balance. He shoots his hands in tight and can redirect with very little effort. When opponents get into his chest, he is quick to re-work his hands and regain leverage. In the run game, he is more of a finesse, wall-off player than a people-mover. He has the athleticism to work up to the second level and I believe he’ll be effective on outside pulls. Overall, Dillard is a pure, pass-protecting left tackle. Yes, he needs to get stronger and more physical, but in a passing league, what he does best is highly coveted.

Here’s a more detailed scouting report from BGN’s Benjamin Solak, via The Draft Network:

PROS: Very quick mover with active feet. Has excellent recovery quickness. Carries his weight naturally and can uncoil his hips to generate power, though it’s infrequent on tape. Explosiveness out of stance on running assignments is clear. Works great angles to the second level and regularly gets hips situated to create rushing lanes. Agility enough for all zone responsibilities, though lack of power limits ability here. Proactive in pass protection with hands, especially when approaching stunts and twists. Grip strength, when hands are correctly placed, impresses. Can sustain reps with grip, active footwork, and constant resetting of angles as the rush develops.

CONS: Lacks power and anchor in a bad way, and as such, pass protection is generally a mess. Wants to keep the entire pass protection rep at the edge of his length, locking out elbows and screening with quick feet instead of engaging upper body to dictate where the rusher goes. Hand location is accordingly wildly inconsistent (often wide, catch instead of punch), and has a tendency to pop and screen in pass protection instead of using length grip and control.

As a result of hand technique and lack of functional power, is woefully susceptible to power. Bull rushes regularly walk him back into lap of quarterback. Full extension technique results in massive forward lean and hinging at the hips, which leaves him highly vulnerable to the push-pull. Vertical set technique typical of Washington State can weaken his explosiveness out of his stance and limit his depth in his pass set, forcing him to open the door to beat speed rushers to the corner. Vertical set and tendency to play with lean also leads to excessive widening of his base, which caps his ability to react to quickness; as such, can lose to stutter steps and feints that force him to widen.

I’ll repeat what I’ve said many times by now: the Eagles have had success in recent years because they’ve heavily invested in the trenches. I’m all for them continuing to make the lines strong.

The guess here is that Jason Peters will be back in 2019, as hard as that might be for some to believe. The 37-year-old actually didn’t miss a single start last year but he obviously did have to leave a number of games early as he played through quadriceps and biceps injuries.

While Peters might be able to still get the job done in the short-term, the Eagles need a more reliable long-term option behind him. Halapoulivaati Vaitai is better suited to be a swing tackle than a full-time starter ... and he’s also a free agent after 2019. Dillard could take over for Peters on the left side in 2020.

Poll

Do you want the Eagles to draft Andre Dillard at No. 25?

52%

Yes

(814 votes)

47%

(749 votes)

1563 votes total Vote Now

Source: https://www.bleedinggreennation.com/2019/1/28/18200490/2019-nfl-mock-draft-eagles-pick-potential-jason-peters-replacement-andre-dillard-washington-state-ot

#read more #see more #check it out #interesting #learn more

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immuskaan · 6 years ago

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Best Samsung smartwatch: our top choices for Tizen wearables in 2019

Digging into the whole range of Samsung wearables

Samsung is one of the very best smartwatch makers on the planet competing against the greatest devices on the market including the Apple Watch 4 and Fitbit Versa. The company has been making smartwatches since 2013 when it introduced the square-faced and (by today's standard) woefully lacking Samsung Galaxy Gear. We've seen various iterations of its wristwear over those last five years, and the company has since come into its own with its latest few wearables.

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Below we're going to talk you through the very best Samsung smartwatches that you can buy right now, which includes the likes of the Samsung Galaxy Watch and the Gear series from a couple of years ago. We'll also mention the Samsung fitness trackers the company has created. Note that they're all ranked in terms of functionality, so we take into account what you can do with each watch, its design, the price and much more when curating this ranking. You should also note that we have yet to properly try the Samsung Galaxy Watch Active for our full review process, and the same goes for the new Galaxy Fit series of activity bands. We expect those wearables to feature in this list very soon. Not committed to Samsung? Try our best smartwatch list Don't have much to spend? Try best cheap smartwatches Prefer a band around your wrist? You'll like best fitness trackers Have an iPhone? We have a guide for the best smartwatches for iPhone Don't think Tizen is right? Try best Wear OS watches 1. Samsung Galaxy Watch The sporty Samsung watch gains some style

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OS: Tizen OS | Compatibility: Android, iOS | Display: 1.2" or 1.3" 360 x 360 Super AMOLED | Processor: Dual-core 1.15GHz | Band sizes: 22mm or 20mm | Onboard storage: 4GB | Battery duration: 4 days on 46mm / less on 42mm | Charging method: Wireless | IP rating: 50m | Connectivity: Wi-Fi, Bluetooth (+)Impressive battery life (+)Useful rotating bezel (-)Annoying charger (-)Bixby isn't great The very best Samsung smartwatch we've tried is the Galaxy Watch. We've yet to fully get our Samsung Galaxy Watch Active review underway, but that device is going to have a tough time competing with the full-featured Galaxy Watch.

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This is undeniably Samsung's most well-designed smartwatch. It comes in two variants, which are quite dramatically different. If you're looking for the largest watch, you'll want the 46mm version that comes with a bright 1.3-inch display. Then there's also the smaller (yet thicker) 42mm variant. Both watches feature a rotating bezel that allows you to easily navigate around all of the features the smartwatch offers. It's a feature you won't get on any other smartwatch at the moment, and it works so well on the Galaxy Watch that it's one of its biggest selling points. Both feature Samsung Pay, GPS, swim tracking and a lot more. This watch will work as both a fitness device as well as a premium looking timepiece. We've tested the larger version of the watch more than the smaller one, and we've found it lasted for around four days with average usage. If you're certain you want a watch that sports Tizen software, your best choice right now is the Galaxy Watch. Read the full Samsung Galaxy Watch review 2. Samsung Gear Sport Cheaper (but lesser) than the Galaxy Watch

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Processor: Dual-core 1GHz |

Band sizes: 22mm |

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(+)Sleek design (+)Effective software (-)Limited exercise tracking (-)GPS can be erratic On paper, the Samsung Gear Sport doesn't sound all that different to the Galaxy Watch but if you were to compare the two watches you'll notice a lot of differences. The company smoothed out a lot of the problems with the Gear Sport, but you may be fine with them considering how discounted the price of the Gear Sport now is.

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A lot of what you get on the newer generation is here alongside the latest in Tizen software, so you've got access to all of the apps that you'll get on the Samsung Galaxy Watch. The screen on the watch is large and easy to navigate around. The watch can track your location when you're running, and you can upload music to your watch and listen to it through Bluetooth headphones; overall there are lots to love here. If there's a big downside, it's that the overall visual design isn't as slickly implemented. All of that said - it's still a good-looking watch that you may want to have on your wrist if you're after a high-spec device but you don't want to spend lots of money. Read the full Samsung Gear Sport review 3. Samsung Gear S3 Tough to find for a good price

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(+)Animated always-on display (+)Intuitive interface (-)very large on the wrist (-)A few years old The Gear S3 isn't far off the Gear Sport either, but the watch is a touch older making it a lot harder to recommend. If you can find the Gear S3 for a lot less than the Gear Sport it may be worth getting that instead, but in our searches around for price we've struggled to find it for a suitable amount. Instead, you'll be better off buying either the Galaxy Watch or Gear Sport with a bit of extra money or checking out our full best cheap smartwatch guide for a look at the best wearables you can get right now. Read the full Samsung Gear S3 review Any other Samsung smartwatches? You may still be able to find the Samsung Gear S2 or even the original Gear, but we wouldn't recommend buying these in 2019. Instead, look to the watches at the top of this page as these older devices are unlikely to be updated in the future and may soon become obsolete. Unless you find an absolutely incredible deal, we think it's worthwhile spending extra on the above or considering a watch that doesn't run Tizen software. Best Samsung fitness trackers 1. Samsung Gear Fit 2 Pro The best Samsung fitness tracker

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(+)Great design (+)Offline Spotify support (-)Clumsy setup (-)Still quite expensive Samsung's Gear Fit 2 Pro is one of the best-looking fitness trackers with an impactful, bright and clear 1.5-inch Super AMOLED screen that wraps around the device. There aren't many fitness trackers on the market that look this good. It's comfortable to wear when you're working out, and it comes with a couple of features that make it better than its older and cheaper sibling, the Gear Fit 2. Perhaps the most important is the fact you can have offline Spotify playback on the tracker. That allows you to sync playlists to your wristwear, connect up some Bluetooth headphones and head out without your phone when you're exercising. That's especially useful as the tracker itself comes with GPS built-in as well as all of the other fitness features you'd expect like exercise tracking, and a heart rate monitor too.

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It's also slightly more durable than the Gear Fit 2 with military-grade protection that should make it even more likely to survive what you put it through. That exact protection is MIL-STD-810G, and it may be a reason you want it more. The exact upgrades of the Pro aren't as exciting as some would have hoped, but considering the price is similar between these two devices we'd recommend going for the newer and more accomplished tracker. Read the full Samsung Gear Fit 2 Pro review 2. Samsung Gear Fit 2 A supposedly cheaper option CHECK AMAZON INDIA

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(+)Great design (+)Impressive value (-)No native alarm (-)Doesn't feature offline Spotify This is much more of what we've said above, but it's just missing a couple of those extra features and comes for a little bit less. It's older too, so it may be Samsung gives up with updating the software for the Gear Fit 2 quicker than it will for the Pro. That said, we don't know for certain that'll be the case yet.

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Overall, if you don't want Spotify playback or a more durable design you may find the Gear Fit 2 is a better option for your next fitness tracker. That's especially the case if you find it for the right price, but quite often we've weirdly found the Gear Fit 2 Pro is now cheaper than Samsung's newer tracker. Read the full Samsung Gear Fit 2 review READ MORE:

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sterisladrian · 8 years ago

Text

A (somewhat) brief tribute to Lloyd Alexander

Today would have been the 93rd birthday of Lloyd Alexander.

He died in 2007, at which time I was doing... well, presumably what any 13 year old does. Angsting, complaining about how horribly unfair my life was (it wasn’t), and generally ignoring the rest of the world.

So I somehow missed the passing of the man who built the steady background of my childhood.

I don’t remember how old I was when I first came across the work of Lloyd Alexander. Probably in mid-elementary school, after I had transferred. If that library is still there today, I could walk to the spot where his books were housed. A for Alexander. Top shelf.

I won’t go through my reading history. At this point, it all starts to blur together, given the number of times I checked out, read and re-read, his books. The Chronicles of Prydain, mostly, but others, too: Time Cat and The Arkadians were particular favorites. Lloyd Alexander was a reliable name on the cover, a place where I knew I’d find solace and adventure.

The Chronicles of Prydain is perhaps the classic example of the bildungsroman -- Taran, Assistant Pig Keeper is forged, through trial by fire and ice, into a hero. Or, sort of.

Hero is a loose term in the works of Alexander, because it’s not merely reserved for Taran. Taran is the protagonist, the boy-who-will-be-king, sure. But he’s often unheroic, and the companions he travels with step up to take on the burden of the good fight equally, if not more, than Taran himself. Alexander conveys the quiet heroism of secondary characters without reservation, implicitly and explicitly:

“Long ago I yearned to be a hero without knowing, in truth, what a hero was. Now, perhaps, I understand it a little better. A grower of turnips or a shaper of clay, a Commot farmer or a king--every man is a hero if he strives more for others than for himself alone. Once you told me that the seeking counts more than the finding. So, too, must the striving count more than the gain.”

Heroism in Alexander is not about making it to the top or accomplishing mighty things. It’s about unselfish action -- it’s about pain and sacrifice and doing things the hard way every time, not because it’s enjoyable or glorious, but because it might make things better.

And sometimes, he willingly acknowledges, things will get worse despite your efforts. But Lloyd Alexander’s work was nothing if not relentlessly affirming:

"Most of us are called on to perform tasks far beyond what we can do. Our capabilities seldom match our aspirations, and we are often woefully unprepared. To this extent, we are all Assistant Pig-Keepers at heart."

Life is hard, and most of us aren’t prepared for its challenges. But a lack of preparedness doesn’t equate to an inability to emerge triumphant. Taran starts as an Assistant Pig Keeper -- to some extent, that is what he will always be. But he is also a leader, and a wanderer, and a friend, and a hero, not despite but because of his humble beginnings. He is always a work-in-progress, incomplete but capable.

Alexander, too, gave me Eilonwy -- brash, opinionated, argumentative Eilonwy. Who was also affirming, relentless, and intelligent. She, too, had places to go, a journey that was often separate than Taran’s. And she was capable of being both fearless and feminine, an adventurer and a ruler. There is much of her in the women I write today. There is much of her in me, and I often wish there were more.

The writing of Lloyd Alexander taught me so many lessons, the breadth of which would be impossible to name. That there is humor to be found in dark times. That friends are invaluable to your development, but that solitary reflection can also forge you. That the right ending is not always the happy one.

In times like these, where I find myself searching for answers five times as often as I find them, I return to the works of Lloyd Alexander for their quiet wisdom and gentle humor. So, though I somehow missed his passing so many years ago, I feel compelled to honor his work today and acknowledge its impact.

One final quote:

“I think imagination is at the heart of everything we do. Scientific discoveries couldn't have happened without imagination. Art, music, and literature couldn't exist without imagination. And so anything that strengthens imagination, and reading certainly does that, can help us for the rest of our lives.”

#lloyd alexander #hello leah's mundane thoughts

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pneumasthesia · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 13

A. The basement

Second Act – Perception: Part 4

“The fifth guest that we haven’t accounted for is in the basement” I claim, not fully sure of my answer.

“Yeah, that makes sense. I haven’t been in the basement because I thought it’d be all gross and grimy” says the young man. Does he really think that I wouldn’t clean the basement? I’ll have him know that I have that place spick and span.

“How do you know this?” says the older man, “have you seen this person in the basement.”

I shouldn’t lie here. If we go to the basement and there’s actually no one there, I’d be beheaded on the spot. Well, probably not, but something bad would certainly happen.

“No. I haven’t seen this person” I muster up my courage to speak, “but I know that they were in the Professor’s office when the gun went off and then went into the dumbwaiter directly to the basement.”

“You still haven’t told us why you know this” says the middle-aged woman, clearly beginning to suspect me of my lack of proper explanations for most of my claims.

“I was in the servant’s quarters directly downstairs during all these events” I say, not lying here, but definitely twisting the truth, “I heard the voice of someone not present here above me before the gunshot and then I heard the sound of a particularly heavy load being transferred down the dumbwaiter all the way to the basement.”

“Hmm? I was there with you, but I didn’t hear that” says the young man with clear confusion. Just shut up already and stop ruining this.

“I guess you can hear better than I can because you’re blind” exclaims the young man. Oh, thank you so much, my partner-in-crime.

“Well then, I suppose we should go to the basement to see this mysterious seventh person” says the middle-aged woman, with what seems like excitement in her voice.

“Very well then” I say, still frightened about what will happen if we don’t find anyone there.

“You go first, ‘Pet’” commands the older man.

“Why me?” I question.

“This is your idea, so if the person we find down there is a rabid murderer, then you will get what you deserve for leading us to them” he says completely matter-of-factly.

“Shouldn’t there be someone leading the way for the blind man, you know, so I don’t trip and fall and break my skull open or something” I plead.

“You’ve seemed plenty capable so far to us” says the middle-aged woman, “and besides, you’ve been the housekeeper for this place for a while, don’t tell me you had someone to hold your hand every time you went up and down stairs yourself before.”

Well of course I didn’t. Ugh, I don’t usually like being pitied, but it would’ve been pretty nice right now.

“I’ll hold your hand” says the young man, “don’t worry, I’ll protect from the spooky darkness in that basement!” I don’t even know what darkness is so thanks for nothing, idiot.

He grabs ahold of my hand far too tightly and begins to walk quickly out of the office, dragging me along with him. The young girl follows us close behind.

The young man pulls me to the entrance to the basement right next to the stairs that connect the first and second floor in a few moments. I notice that the older members of our little band of suspects are missing. We wait around for a bit by the entrance. The young man taps his foot, whether out of impatience or nervousness, I cannot tell.

After a few interminable moments, the older man and middle-aged woman both come down the staircase, speaking about something I can’t quite make out.

“Are we ready now?” I ask, more to myself than anyone else.

Everyone agrees, well everyone except the hypothetical mysterious person in the basement does, and then we head down.

We step slowly, down into the gloom. I can feel my nose picking up the scent of mildew and dust more clearly than before. I usually only come down here in order to clean, so now I feel the pavlovian desire to take out a mop and broom. But no, I’m here to find a killer. I’m not quite a detective right now, but I’m certainly no longer a housekeeper.

In the shadows, I notice something: heavy breathing, creaking floorboards, the rustling of clothes. I doubt anyone present can see them yet, but I can feel the presence of this fifth guest.

I instinctually take a deep breath, preparing myself for the worst. I make the last step off the staircase, placing my foot on the floor of the basement at last. There is a moment of silence. The presence that I felt in this basement does not make a single movement. There is nothing but the beating of my heart, and then …

Shrieeeeeeeeeek!!!

A Dance in the Arms of a Lover

Shrieee-

“Shhh! Be quiet, woman! Do you want all the other guests to hear?” chides the Professor.

“I’m sorry, Professor, your tongue just felt so good” I manage to say through heavy breaths.

“Oh, well, well, well. I knew I still had it in me” boasts the Professor, “you’re not bad yourself, given your age.”

“What, do you normally go for woman younger than you?” I question flirtatiously, “I suppose you’d get plenty of attention, being a big-shot intellectual and all that.”

The Professor looks away from me before saying “yes, of course I do. Well, that’s enough playing around. I have work that must be done. Now get your clothes back on, woman.”

I acquiesce to his demands. Such a shame, I should have come here earlier, then I might have been able to spend more time with him. I get to see so woefully little of … what was his name again? Oh, I must have forgotten. How silly of me, I’ve even forgotten my lover’s name now.

“You will stay right here until the night is done” commands the Professor, “I have business to attend to until late tonight. When that is over…” he leans in close to my face, “we will finish what we started here.”

“Of course” I whisper, “you’ll give me a good, long examination, won’t you, Professor?”

“Yes, I will, but I am going to have sex with you first” he says, as charmingly tactless as ever. “You are certain about your condition, right?”

Ah, yes, my condition. I came to see the good Professor here a few months ago to receive consultation about my memory loss. Most therapists had told me that it was an incurable illness that I could only take pills for and learn to deal with, but I couldn’t accept that. The renegade, eccentric, handsome psychologist who lives deep in the words would surely be able to help me, is what I thought, but when I came to see him, he began to almost diagnose me instantly with this made-up seeming illness. What was it called again? “Neurosapia”? Something like that. I should have probably told him that I didn’t have anything of the sort, but I couldn’t bear to no longer be able to see him, so I kept the charade going and now I’m here in a house with a bunch of actual crazies. I should probably just leave here as soon as I can. No sex is worth having to deal with this nonsense.

“I’m certain. Whenever I think about people, I can’t remember their names or faces, only how they make me feel when I’m around them” I say. Of course that’s just because I have a failing short-term memory, but an eccentric like the Professor would never admit to that.

“I’ll have to question you more thoroughly later” he says, probably intending that to be an innuendo, “but I have a strong suspicion that you have a case of Kinesthenic Pneumasthesia. One where your empathic sense of personal identification has been mixed with your own sense of touch and movement.”

Sure, seems as good an explanation as any. If my condition can’t be cured, I might as well believe that it’s not an illness but actually some kind of psychic power, why not.

The Professor begins to button up his shirt, fumbling with them due to his permanently shaking fingers. I help him out, closing each clasp one by one as sensually as I can manage, which must be quite a bit, since the Professor looks away from me in that adorably shy way that he does when we’re alone. He acts like he doesn’t enjoy it, but he always has that slight smile on the corners of his lips.

Suddenly, the Professor’s smile completely vanishes. A wave a panic washes over his features as he stares straight at the entrance to the office. Did he forget to lock the door when we were doing this? Oh, no right, that practically might as well not be there, it’s so easy to bypass.

I can barely process what is happening when the door slams open. An imposing figure strides into the room. Their very presence makes my heart twist up into a knot as the blood seems to drain from my veins. This man, this woman, this … I can’t remember much about them, except that they scared the living daylights out of me by just walking up.

“This is what you’ve been doing up here” says the imposing figure, “instead of helping your patients, instead of doing anything that a real psychologist should do, you’re in your office having a tryst with some cheap floozy!” If I weren’t quaking with fear right now, I’d be offended.

“No, no, no … it’s not what it looks-“ begins the Professor.

“I don’t care what it is. The point is that you clearly don’t respect your position. You have no right to be a scientist” shouts the frightening intruder, “wait, is this person a patient of yours?”

“Huh, you mean her?” says the Professor hesitantly. This is where you tell the scary person that I’m not just a patient, but your lover. “Yes, she’s a patient. There’s nothing going on between us” he finally says. I am leaving this godforsaken shack in the woods as soon as I can.

The shouting intruder becomes even more enraged at this statement. They whisper, with a cold anger, “you’ve been sleeping with your patients, using them as objects for your own satisfaction. Is that all you think about? Your career, your ego, your stupid fucking desires, you don’t think about anyone but yourself.”

The Professor’s defiant resolve shatters, beginning to quiver against my body even more than I am. The angered patient moves closer to his face, looming over the two of us, larger than life. They grasp the Professor’s chin and pulls his head up to face theirs and then speak with a firm, unshakeable resolve, “I will kill you. No matter what, I will make sure that you never exploit the suffering of someone in need ever again.”

The Professor’s quivering ceases. He simply stares right at the face of his professed future murderer with unfocused eyes, as if his soul has left his body. The soon-to-be-killer takes their hand off the Professor’s chin, allowing his head to flop down, limp and lifeless. They turn towards the door to office and say “I will be back to claim your life soon, unless you are willing to repent and expose your true nature to everyone present here, and the whole world. If I cannot take your life, I will at least take your career.”

They open the door and walk away. The very air of the room seems to become lighter as soon as they leave, though the heavy weight of death still lingers. I struggle to gasp a new breath, now realizing that I hadn’t taken a single one since that individual entered the room and cling tightly to the Professor’s side

I look to the Professor. He has begun to breathe again, though his entire body is rocked by a panic greater than I’ve ever seen on him, greater than I’ve ever seen on anyone. He pushes me off of him and runs out of the room. I try to call after him, but my voice catches in my throat. I don’t want to be left alone, not in here, not when there is a killer on the loose. If that maniac can’t find the Professor, I might be their next victim.

I huddle up in the furthest corner of the Professor’s office, trying as hard as I can to disappear. Why did this have to happen to me? I just wanted to get some help. Then I just wanted to have some fun. Maybe I found the wrong person to get either from, but I don’t deserve to be chased after by a psychopathic killer!

Finally, the door to the office opens. I brace myself, expecting a knife to pierce my flesh any moment. Eventually I open my eyes. It’s the Professor. He’s back, and with a gun. He’s breathing even more heavily than before, his hands shaking wildly as he grasps the gun. Eventually he notices me. I can see him jerk the gun towards me as his finger begins to reflexively squeeze the trigger. I feel my life begin the flash before my eyes, but before I can properly prepare myself for death, he recognizes who I am and points the gun away from me.

A worried look comes upon the Professor’s panicked face. Now that he’s remembered that I am here, he must be pondering how best to protect me. I’ll be safe, I’m sure of it since he’s with me.

“Get in the dumbwaiter!” he nearly screams.

“What? If we split up, how are you going to protect me?” I cry.

“You’ll just get in the way if you’re here. Go to the basement and run away! I need to take out that monster myself!” he says, all the bravery that those words should hold choked by his fright.

“No, no, I can’t! If they find me they’ll-“ I plead.

The door opens again. It opens slowly, quietly. My mind stops thinking, every synapse of my brain focused on the singular sound of the office door creaking open.

A figure emerges from the gap in the door. They take a single step into the room. I never saw their face, or much of anything about them, because as soon as they entered the room..

Bang

The Professor fires his gun. I have no idea what it hit, and I don’t care. Now that someone has actually attacked with the intent to kill another person, this situation has become more dangerous than I can stand.

I rush for the dumbwaiter. The Professor stares at the door, shellshocked. The figure that had entered the room just moments before is already gone. All I hear now is the sound of hasty footsteps leaving down the hallway.

I turn to the Professor one last time, looking for some sort of reassurance that something will be alright. Instead, he just stares forward, seemingly unaware of the existence of anyone. I grab the gun from his limp hands. If he’s not going to protect me then I’ll have to do it myself, somehow. I push my fat behind into the dumbwaiter compartment, glad for the first time in my life that I’m so short and push the down button on the dumbwaiter controls twice. The door to the dumbwaiter closes, leaving me in darkness as I descend. Leaving my fears behind, hopefully.

01:55:11

“Your fears will never leave you. Whether you face them, or run from them, they will always be a part of you.”

“…… I know that.”

“So you have to accept them. You have to accept that your past and your present are equally important to who you are.”

“I am the same person that I was in my past, that never changed.”

“But you do not live in the past. Your present and your past are linked, but you must recognize that you do have a present.”

“I don’t have the right to a present.”

“Everyone does, even you.”

“What if I don’t want one?”

“Then you deserve it all the more. Do that you can remember, remember and suffer.”

“Are you a therapist, or some sort of vengeful spirit?”

“I am a therapist. That means that I will be whatever you need in the moment. If you need someone to judge you for what you’ve done, then I will be that person.”

“Do you enjoy this? Punishing me?”

“Yes. And I hate that about myself. But just because I find catharsis from this doesn’t mean it isn’t for your sake as well.”

“What will this accomplish, in the end?”

“I will understand you. No, we will understand you, because I don’t think you understand yourself either.”

“And what then?”

“Then we live our lives, finally knowing why this had to happen.”

“…Alright. What should I do next?”

“Tell me who killed the Professor.”

“!?”

“Say it. With your own mouth. Tell me who you are. Tell me who the murderer right in front of me is.”

“I-I-I don’t know!!! My mind’s a mess and I can’t think straight and I can’t remember! It’s all just so-“

“I don’t care if you get it right now. You will see every last ugly bit of the truth soon. Tell me. Tell me who you think did this. Then I’ll show you the inside of your putrid skull, every last murderous inch of that mind of yours. You will look into it, and you will see yourself for who you are. Now tell me! Who are you? Who killed my teacher?”

>Pick one:

A. The Person with Color based Pneumasthesia

B. The Person with Sound based Pneumasthesia

C. The Person with Number based Pneumasthesia

D. The Person with Tarot Card based Pneumasthesia

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