#minor magic tricks from her mama | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

keichanz · 5 years ago

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Like Magic

hmm self control? don’t know her *fucks off to the land of unfinished WIPs*

so, i started this oneshot a while ago, forgot about it, then decided to dig through my WIP folder to maybe work on something else besides YRM for a while because I needed a small break from it. found this again, immediately dove in and welp here we are haha. I had a lot of run writing it and I hope you guys enjoy it :) it’s 32 pages jesuS CHRI

real quick, if Souji appears smarter than the average 2 year old boy it’s because i legit don’t know how to portray children since i know virtually nothing about them, so just pretend that half-demon children are slightly more advanced than human kids in this fic mkay? kthx. :)

oh and also when reading Inuyasha’s little light show for Souji, think about this video.

@fantastiqueparfait @morikothehalfangel @cammysansstuff @heyy-ahriii @tsukinohimeusagi @eternalnight8806-3 @mamabearcat @hinezumi @sssuperbartola @doginabirdcage @ideasthatbuildcities @armor-emblem

oh and @meggz0rz.....remember a while ago when i first started this oneshot you mentioned that i should make Inuyasha do Joker’s pencil trick on Kouga?

well...you’re gonna get a kick outta the ending ahahahah.

enjoy, lovelies~

Kagome’s head was positively throbbing and she was pretty sure it had more to do with the very distraught, screaming child in her arms than the fresh cut on her forehead that was still bleeding.

The flashing lights and loud engines of the emergency vehicles combined with the tow truck’s back-up alarm as it prepared to haul her totaled car away definitely wasn’t helping matters, and she was damn positive all the noise wasn’t helping her baby’s current temperament, either. With his ears pinned flat against his head to no doubt muffle the noise, his face red and scrunched up into a consistent howl with tears running unchecked down his flushed cheeks, her precious Souji had been inconsolable ever since she pulled him from her wrecked car.

At first she’d thought he was hurt somewhere and so she’d frantically searched him over as he cried, ignoring the witnesses that rushed over and asked if she was alright, but she’d only been able to marginally relax upon discovering he’d only suffered a few minor scrapes and bruises. She’d taken most of the damage, with a gash on her forehead, severe bruising on her side and diagonally across her torso form the seat belt, and her right ankle was aching something fierce, but she’d gladly take all that and more if it meant her baby boy was spared.

The accident had happened nearly an hour ago, Kagome was tired, sore, worn out, and Souji was proving rather thoroughly that he was perfectly fine by showing the entire neighborhood that he had quite the set of lungs on him.

Which really was quite unfortunate since it was, y’know, one o’clock in the morning and no doubt people were trying to sleep. Key word: trying. Kagome was pretty confident the entire damn neighborhood was awake now because of her son’s consistent shrieking, and she sent another mental apology to them.

She’d tried everything to get him to calm; singing his favorite lullaby, settling him in his mercifully undamaged car seat to rock him back to sleep, talking to him, walking around with him in her arms—absolutely nothing was working. Some of the kind spectators and even police officers had tried offering food and a young mother had even provided a sippy cup of chocolate milk, but Souji was having none of it. Kagome cursed herself for leaving her phone at home since usually putting on his favorite cartoon worked like a charm, but this was supposed to be just a quick drive to get him to fall asleep; taking her phone hadn’t seemed necessary.

He refused to let anyone come near her to treat her wounds, and he wouldn’t let anyone take him from her either. He became aggressive and nearly hysterical whenever an officer or EMT tried to take him, and she was sporting several scratches from where his claws had dug into her shoulders and arms. His screeching was the worst when that happened and it wasn’t long before they stopped trying altogether. Probably because with every attempt, whoever it was walked away with teeth marks or scratches somewhere on their body and Kagome had lost count of how many times she’d apologized.

To be honest, however, she couldn’t say she was very surprised. Ever since she’d left his father, Souji had been extremely protective of her, and even though he was only two years old, he let it be known if they were out in public that no one was allowed to touch her. He started growling whenever someone got too close, even bared his teeth on a couple occasions, and more than once she’d had to stop him from physically swiping with his claws.

Kagome understood his behavior. She knew why he was acting like this, and while most of the time it was endearing, sometimes it…well, wasn’t, and she wanted to go back in time and punch her ex-boyfriend in his stupid face for what he did. It was his fault her sweet little Souji was like this, and while completely understandable, it was still utterly frustrating and difficult to deal with, especially during times like this so Mama could get some relief.

“Oh, baby,” Kagome cooed for what seemed like the thousandth time, bouncing her son in her arms as she walked aimlessly around a little ways away from all the action of the police cars, ambulances, and curious spectators. Souji continued to wail at the top of his little lungs and she sighed, closing her eyes as she rubbed his back and tried to ignore the pounding in her head. Her arms were aching from holding him for so long, she had a limp from her sore ankle, and his slight weight agitated the fresh bruises on her body.

Ignoring the looks directed her way from the police, medics, and street residents alike, Kagome limped her way back over to the flimsy plastic chair someone had provided from somewhere and gratefully sank down. She grimaced when her sore chest and side protested, but she endured it as Souji burrowed against her, clinging to her shirt and digging his tiny claws in as he sobbed into her neck, his little body shaking, his sobs breaking her heart.

She kissed him between his little ears, feeling completely helpless. She knew he was scared and this was just his way of telling her that, but still, she wished she could do something. She wished she had the ability to make him understand he was safe, she was here, and nothing would ever harm him as long as she was around.

“Shh, baby, shh,” Kagome soothed, resting her head against his own and heaving another sigh as she stared tiredly at the ruckus surrounding her.

The man that had ran the stop sign and slammed into her had long ago been detained and was, last she knew, passed out in the back of a police cruiser. If she recalled, he had sustained little to no injury and that just freaking figured, didn’t it. It was always the drunk assholes that suffered the least, and the victims ended up with most of the damage.

Police tape was cordoning off the scene of the accident, and her car was in the process of being secured to the back of the tow truck along with the truck that had totaled her little sedan. Most of the spectators had returned to their homes, either too tired, or leaving because the excitement had passed. Police milled about, taking statements of witnesses or those who claimed they saw what happened, and the medics just sort of wandered around since their only patient was unapproachable. She felt a little guilty since she was keeping them from doing their job so they could pack up and go home, but it was fleeting because she had no energy to care anymore.

She just wanted to go home because maybe then Souji would finally calm down once he realized he was in safe, familiar surroundings, and a long, hot bath sounded positively divine right now. Thank god she worked from home so she didn’t have to worry about that in the morning, and though she doubted she’d be able to sleep in – a thing of the past when she became a mother – she would at least be able to sneak in a couple naps when Souji slept.

Souji paused in his howling to suck in a few unsteady breaths before continuing his distraught sobbing, mercifully at a slightly lower volume this time, and Kagome sighed as she rubbed his back, thinking that she would just have to let him cry it out. What else could she do?

When Inuyasha arrived on scene, he was greeted with the familiar sight of flashing red and blue lights, ambulances, and a tow truck with two very banged up vehicles hitched to the bed. It was your typical accident scene, nothing at all he hadn’t seen before, and when he spotted several of his colleagues seemingly just standing around doing shit all, he wondered why the hell he’d been called in if medics were already here.

He’d been planning on spending the night watching bad movies and eating slightly burnt pizza since he still hadn’t fixed his oven, but then he’d gotten the call to report to an accident not far from his apartment and those plans sailed right out the window. If it had been anyone other than Kaede that had called he would have flat out ignored them and carried on. But if it was his boss that was calling, he knew it had to be serious, so he hadn’t bothered to ask questions before giving his affirmative and suiting up.

Now, however, as he approached the yellow police tape and cut the engine on his Ford, he had a very good idea as to why his services were required. His ears flicked from beneath his ballcap and when he opened the door, the racket get even louder, confirming his suspicious. Oh yeah—that was one seriously ticked off kid.

He sighed and retrieved his medical bag from the backseat along with another smaller drawstring bag before ducking beneath the tape and heading toward a waving Kaede. He took a moment to glance around, instantly pinpointing where the racket was coming from, and his eyebrows rose into his bangs. Jesus, the kid couldn’t be more than two years old, and the mother looked pretty banged up. What the hell? Why hadn’t she been treated yet?

When he reached Kaede, she didn’t bother with pleasantries and launched right into an explanation. That’s what he liked about her; she never beat around the bush and didn’t like to waste time with small talk, much like himself. Probably why she was the only one he could tolerate to be around for more than five minutes at a time.

“Two patients, one child aged one to two years, one female, appears to be in her lower twenties,” Kaede started, relaying what he already knew, but it was standard procedure so he didn’t stop her. ��Baby appears to be unharmed—”

“You don’t say,” Inuyasha muttered under his breath but Kaede ignored him.

“—both from observation and continued reassurances from mom. Mom has sustained several contusions along the torso and left side, possible whiplash and bruised ribs, possible sprained ankle, and possible concussion—”

“Possible?” Inuyasha repeated with a perplexed frown. “Why is nothing confir—”

Kaede leveled a glare at him and he wisely shut up.

“Nothing life threatening,” she continued, shifting her gaze toward the two patients in question and Inuyasha watched as some of her professionalism slipped, face softening into a concerned frown. “However, because we are unable to get close enough to perform an accurate assessment of both of them, injuries for both are as yet undetermined, so nothing concrete is confirmed.”

This just kept getting weirder and weirder. “Why the hell can’t anyone get close? It’s a woman and baby. Hardly any threat.”

At this, Kaede actually sighed and looked directly at him, her one gray eye intense and serious.

“The child is not fully human, Inuyasha,” she revealed and his eyes widened. “Any attempt to get close or take him away results in the babe physically lashing out in an endeavor to, I suspect, protect his mother. Unusual behavior for a child so young, and the mother refuses to have him sedated, which I can’t blame her.”

Inuyasha sucked in a breath and shifted his gaze over to the mother and child, amber eyes zeroing in on the infant bawling against his mother’s chest.

“You said…not fully human,” he murmured and flicked a glance at his superior.

Kaede nodded.

“How…?”

“She managed to relate some information before the child started getting aggressive,” she supplied. “I called you, Inuyasha, not only because of your skills with children—”

He snorted at that because really?

“—but because I thought perhaps out of anyone, you might be able to get close enough to treat both of them without the child deeming you as a threat. It’s a long shot, I realize, but at this point I’m willing to try anything.”

Inuyasha took note of the exhaustion in her eyes and posture and he couldn’t keep the corner of his lips from twitching upward.

“How long has he been screaming?”

“One hour and thirteen minutes,” one of his colleagues groaned from behind her and Kaede sighed again as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Fine,” Inuyasha finally said and then cocked a brow at her. “I’ll do what I can, but he’s probably only howling because he’s scared, Kaede, not because he’s hurt. No doubt he smells his mother’s blood and senses her pain, and combined with the shock of experiencing something he doesn’t understand and all the different scents around, it’s unlikely he’ll let me examine him.”

The look Kaede sent him was very dry and suggested that this was reason number two as to why she’d called him. He shrugged and simply raised his brows as if to say “what?”

“Just do something,” the same colleague pleaded and there was a general murmur of concurrence of that statement from the people still present, three of which were police officers.

Shaking his head, Inuyasha nonetheless did as he was bade, however before approaching he took a minute to appraise his tiny patient and his mother. He still couldn’t get over that the kid was in fact a half-demon like himself since they were such a rarity now a days, but he didn’t allow himself to think on it for too long. The kid was trying his level best to burrow inside his mother’s shirt - a shirt, he noticed, with numerous tears in it no doubt caused by wee claws - and she looked…well, she looked like hell.

Unsurprising, considering she’d just been in a goddamn accident, but still she looked about ready to collapse and before Inuyasha even realized it he was moving forward, absently slipping his hand inside the smaller bag he’d grabbed to set his tentative plan in motion.

“Sou, you’re gonna rip Mama’s shirt if you keep doing that,” Kagome murmured and once again gently stopped him from trying to crawl inside it. “I don’t feel like flashing everybody here if that’s okay with you.”

Souji screeched his protest and Kagome winced, fearing that after this she’d be partially deaf. Sure he’d had his tantrums before, but never like this. She hadn’t even known his voice could reach that pitch, and if it hurt her ears, she couldn’t even imagine what it was doing to his. Then again, he did keep them pinned down most of the time, and he was upset enough where he was ignoring all her attempts to calm him down, so perhaps he wasn’t even aware of it.

“Shh, Sou, it’s okay, Mama’s here,” she soothed for the nth time, kissing his forehead and rocking him in her arms, or as much as she could while sitting. “Mama’s got you, you’re safe, it’s alright…”

Her baby boy continued to cry, obvious, and Kagome’s heart broke a little more. God, she hated this, hated that she couldn’t figure out what he needed, hated that her son was so upset he was having trouble breathing, and she hated how useless she was. She felt like the world’s worst mother and tears pricked her eyes, but she stubbornly held them back. Now was not the time for that. She needed to be strong for her baby, she needed to be there for him. And no doubt he would smell her tears and become even more upset and she really wanted to avoid that.

Feeling helpless, Kagome started humming his favorite lullaby under her breathe as she rubbed his ears, but paused when she glanced up and saw the approaching figure. She sighed and shook her head in a wordless plea for him to keep his distance, vaguely registering that this was someone new she hadn’t seen before, with a lean build, broad shoulders, and long silver hair that hung over his shoulder in a loose ponytail. It didn’t matter, though; man or woman, human or demon, Souji always reacted the same and made it clear that they were not to be touched. She was positive this time would be no different.

As predicated, Souji started growling when he registered the new, unfamiliar scent that was drawing ever closer and when he was close enough Kagome opened her mouth to warn him. But then to her surprise, instead of getting too close and immediately trying to cajole Souji into compliance, the man stopped a few feet away and slowly lowered himself into a crouch before them.

Kagome blinked. Eyes the color of whiskey regarded her steadily before his head dipped in a slight nod and bemused, she returned it. His gaze flicked to the child in her lap and he seemed to be waiting for something, not moving, his posture relaxed, expression giving nothing away. If Kagome had bothered to look up at that moment she would have seen nearly everyone present was watching them but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the admittedly very attractive man in front of her who, she belatedly realized, must be an EMT judging by his attire.

Souji’s growling steadily grew in volume until, when the scent did not move away like anticipated, he spun around in Kagome’s arms and snarled at the newcomer, his little face screwed up and baring mini fangs. The man was unfazed, calm in the face of her infant son’s righteous fury and since he wasn’t in the vicinity of tiny claws, Souji merely continued to glare at him.

Though not exactly a very good tradeoff for his constant howling, the reprieve was nonetheless welcomed and Kagome was sure she was not the only one giving a soft sigh of relief.

Evidently having been waiting for Souji’s attention, the man braced one knee on the ground, propped his elbow on his opposite thigh, and then did something that Kagome’s exhausted brain was having a very difficult time processing.

He brought his hand up, reached into his uniform shirt pocket, and…brought out a…glowing red ball of light?

The results were instantaneous and so confounded by how the hell he did that, Kagome didn’t realize until a solid ten seconds later that Souji had gone quiet. His growls had stopped, he wasn’t snarling, and he wasn’t attempting to lash out of the man. Utterly captivated, his blue eyes were fixated on the red light grasped between the EMT’s clawed fingertips and Kagome could only gape at him in astonishment. Part of her was actually a little insulted that it had been that easy to gain his attention, but the much larger part of her was just plain glad he’d stopped screaming.

Satisfied he’d gained the pup’s undivided attention, Inuyasha resisted the urge to grin in amusement as he started “tossing” the red light back and forth from one hand to the other, those blue eyes following every move. Relieved his plan seemed to be working, he put on a little show for his two-person audience, making the light disappear and reappear, and he’d be lying it he said the look on the kid’s face was completely endearing.

So was the woman’s for that matter, but that was something to dwell on later.

Alright, on to part two now. Allowing one side of his mouth to quirk up into a half-grin, Inuyasha brought his hand to his mouth and pretended to swallow the red light before splaying out his hands, showing it was gone. The kid made a sound of confusion and blinked. Flicking a brief glance at the pup’s mom, Inuyasha lifted his hand and removed his hat, revealing the twin ears atop his head.

She gasped but he didn’t look at her again as he flicked his ear a few times for effect, tilted his head, and gave a few solid taps to his temple as if to empty his ears of water. He lifted his other hand to his ear and the red light reappeared between his fingers, as if he’d plucked it from his ear. The kid’s face lit up in delight and he caught the soft giggle of the woman before him.

Inuyasha dared to inch a little closer and when the child did not react, his eyes zeroed in on his hands, he edged closer until he was kneeling right in front of him. He never paused in his little magic trick, tossing the light and catching it again in his fingers, changing it up at times by putting the light in his fist and then opening it only to reveal it had vanished. He “ate” it a few more times, only for it to reappear on some random point on his body, and it wasn’t until the fear in the pup’s scent had significantly decreased that Inuyasha decided to take it a little further.

The next time he pretended to swallow the light, instead of plucking it off of his body, Inuyasha very slowly reached forward and grasped it out of thin air beside the pup’s head. He actually giggled that time and Inuyasha released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, giving a quiet chuckle as he caught the gaze of the woman behind the child.

She was smiling at him, big brown eyes bright, and he detected a trace amount of salt as she mouthed, “Thank you.”

Inuyasha swallowed thickly and felt his face grow a little warm as he nodded once, his stupid heart doing stupid little palpitation in his chest, and he returned his attention to the task at hand. The light appeared once again and he was surprised when the kid actually reached for it and amused, but grateful, Inuyasha held still and waited until little fingers curled around his own.

It disappeared and Inuyasha held his hands out as he rumbled, “Where’d it go?”

The pup blinked at him and pointed to his ear. Inuyasha obliged and reached for an ear not unlike his own, gasping softly when the light reappeared in his fingers.

“Found it,” he said and received a happy giggle before tiny hands went to grab it again. It vanished, and he plucked it from under the babe’s chin this time.

Delighted, great blue eyes swung around to regard his mother with a big grin and Kagome couldn’t help but release a choked laugh and lean forward to kiss his forehead. God, she couldn’t thank this wonderful, beautiful man enough.

Inuyasha blew on his fingers and the light vanished. The toddler laughed and pointed to his nose. The older half-demon chuckled and plucked it off the tiny nose that time before boldly reaching for a small hand and placing the magic light onto the chubby little palm.

He held his hands up and said, “Throw it at me, bud.”

Blue eyes blinked at him but the Souji grinned and he waved his entire arm in an approximation of a toss.

“Whoa,” Inuyasha exaggerated, rearing back onto his heels and pretending as if the throw had a lot of force behind it. The kid laughed and bounced in his mother’s lap, utterly delighted. He held out his hand again and the silver-haired medical technician put the red light onto the small hand.

Immediately Souji smashed his hand against his mouth and Inuyasha gasped in faux outrage.

“Did you eat it?” he asked and was rewarded with joyful baby giggles. “Well then, I guess I have no choice but to…”

With a crooked grin, Inuyasha darted his hand out, tickled the pup’s round little tummy, and as the sound of his laughter rang into the night, he withdrew his hand with the magic red light grasped between his fingers.

Souji made the most adorable little “o” face and put both of his small hands over his belly, blue eyes wide as he stared down at it in astonishment. Then he whipped his head around to stare up at his mother in wide-eyed wonder and Kagome couldn’t help but laugh.

The toddler turned his attention back to the EMT in time to watch him put the red light in one pocket of his uniform slacks, only to bring it right back out of the opposite pocket with his other hand. He did this several more times, much to Souji’s giggling pleasure, before one hand up to his mouth and blowing on his fingers.

As he predicted, the kid gasped and started looking around, as if he would find the vanishing light floating about in the air somewhere. Flicking a glance at the woman behind the pup, Inuyasha wasn’t expecting to find her already staring at him, her eyes soft, her smile small but warm and totally grateful. The urge that slammed into him then was so strong and abrupt Inuyasha didn’t even think to fight it, his lips quirked upward slightly as he reached toward her.

Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he heard her soft gasp as he brushed his claws against her cheek, snapped his fingers beside her ear, then withdrew his hand with the red light glowing anew between clawed digits.

Absurdly Kagome felt her face heat in a soft blush even as a delighted smile blossomed across her face. In her lap Souji made a questioning noise and suddenly started squirming around until he was facing her. He pushed to his feet, balancing on her thighs, and Kagome’s hands automatically went to his waist to steady him as his hands reached for her ear and started inspecting it, his face utterly bemused as little sounds of confusion escaped him.

Inuyasha chuckled at the sight and figuring that was enough tricks for now since he still needed to examine his mom’s injuries – that cut on her forehead was especially concerning – he pocketed the fake fingertips and sat back to watch the two for a minute. Despite how clearly exhausted she looked, her patience was evidently limitless as she allowed her son to poke and prod around her head.

But then when he caught himself on her shoulders as he teetered a little on her lap, she gasped and then hissed through her teeth as her face scrunched up in involuntary reaction to the pain. Souji froze as his eyes went wide and as if he felt her pain as clearly as she did, his eyes started tearing up and he whimpered, his little hands fisting in her shirt.

Inuyasha’s eyes widened and they flew to Kagome’s. She was staring at him too, her eyes just as wide, and they knew if they didn’t do something fast Souji was going to go into another screaming fit.

Fuck. Fuck. Wracking his brain, Inuyasha darted his eyes to the pup, who was sitting on her lap now and putting even more tears in her shirt with his claws as he tugged at the fabric. Kagome grunted as she shifted him on her lap to alleviate his weight against her bruised flesh and Inuyasha went with the first idea that popped into his brain.

As Souji’s whimpering became louder, he flashed his eyes to Kagome and urgently mouthed, “Name?”

“Souji,” she immediately whispered back and started rocking her son in an attempt to stall his hysterics, wincing when his claws scratched at her skin through her shirt.

“Souji,” Inuyasha repeated aloud and much to his surprise the pup actually went quiet and turned around to stare at him, most likely perplexed as to how this stranger knew his name.

Encouraged, Inuyasha tried to appear as unintimidating as possible as he continued, “You know your mama is hurting, right? Do you want her to feel better?”

Souji blinked those great blue eyes at him and then nodded, his bottom lip trembling as more fat tears leaked from his eyes and another whine echoed in his throat.

Inuyasha nodded in what he hoped was in a reassuring fashion and cajoled, “Okay, champ, that’s good. Now listen up, I know how to make her feel better. I can treat your mom’s hurts and take the pain away, but in order to do that, I need you to let go of her and come to me, alright? Your mom needs help, and I want to give it to her. You understand?”

There was no way to tell if Souji did indeed understand what he was saying or if he didn’t as Inuyasha watched him, heart in his throat. The young half-demon frowned at him as if he was digesting the words, turning them over in his head, but at least he wasn’t on the verge of another break down which, in Inuyasha’s book, was a success.

Biting his lip, Souji turned his gaze to his mother and stared wide-eyed up at her, uncertainty and a smidgen of fright in those clear blue depths of his. Kagome’s heart ached and she smiled down at him, ignoring the ache in her side and shoulders as she gathered her baby boy closer and kissed him between his ears.

“It’s okay, baby,” she told him gently, rubbing one of his ears and then kissing his pudgy little cheek. “You can trust him, okay? He’s going to help me feel all better and take away all my hurts. Remember when Mama took care of you when you were sick last month? He’s gonna do the same thing, Sou.”

Souji blinked, furrowed his brow, then glanced back at the older half-demon, still a little uncertain. Could this stranger really make his Mama feel better? He remembered when his tummy hurt a while ago and Mama took care of him and made him some soup and crackers and rubbed his ears to make him feel better. This man would do the same?

The pup was still struggling a little on whether or not to trust him so Inuyasha gave him a little nudge in the right direction, slyly slipping his hand back into his pocket.

“You can trust me, squirt,” he rumbled and withdrew his hand to reveal his fingers alight with a familiar red glow. “I have magic fingers, remember? I promise I’ll make her feel better.”

The kid’s eyes grew wide once again as his gaze zeroed on in the clawed fingers. That’s right; he was magic! Then that meant he could make Mama feel better if he had magic hands. Right?

He looked at his mama again and when all she did was smile down at him with a little nod of encouragement, Souji made up his mind. His mama would never lie to him and he did want her to feel better. And besides…this man was different than the other people who tried to take him away from her.

He smelled like him, so he had to be good. Right?

Nodding and giving a little sniffle, Souji finally nodded back and slowly crawled off his mother’s lap. Relieved, Kagome helped him down, keeping her hands beneath his arms in case he slipped and when his tiny socked feet finally hit the cold pavement, she took a moment to rub his ear and run a hand through his hair, so very proud of her little boy.

“There’s my big boy,” she said softly, contrary to her thoughts.

Sniffling again, Souji wrinkled his nose and turned toward the other half-demon, hesitating before taking small steps over to him.

Breathing a sigh of relief and exchanging a quick thankful look with Kagome, Inuyasha offered a crooked grin at the kid and gestured him a little closer. Even though he was a half-demon like himself, he’d still feel better, and no doubt so would his mother, if he performed a brief exam just in case.

“Atta boy,” Inuyasha praised when the kid stopped in front of him and he reached up to ruffle his hair. The twin ears, just a shade lighter than the black hair, flicked in response and then he was rewarded with a soft, watery giggle.

“Thanks for trusting me, Souji,” he went on and reached down to tug his medical bag closer. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions first before I treat your mom?”

Souji wrinkled his nose and looked back at his mother as if wanting her approval. Kagome nodded and gestured that it was alright, so the little half-demon sighed and turned back toward the older male before giving a nod.

Inuyasha had to smile a little at that. “Thanks, bud. I’ll be quick. I’m gonna use this”—he held up a standard stethoscope—”so I can listen to your lungs and see if there’s anything wrong. That okay?”

Souji nodded again. He recognized that weird smelling thing whenever Mama took him to the get-better man.

“It’s gonna be a little cold,” he warned and with swift movements, Inuyasha placed the eartips into his ears before lifting up the hem of his shirt a little and pressing the diaphragm against the pup’s small chest. Souji squirmed a little at the cold steel but nonetheless stood there and allowed him to listen to his lungs.

“Everything sounds good,” Inuyasha announced a few minutes later and caught Kagome’s gaze over his patient’s shoulder. She was looking at him like he was her hero, eyes bright, the biggest, most grateful smile on her face and he could practically hear the sincerity in the two words as she mouthed to him, “Thank you.”

Inuyasha’s face softened even as a lump developed in his throat and he nodded once.

Putting the stethoscope back into his bag, the silver-haired medic started gently inspecting his arms and legs for scrapes or bruises as he asked, “Do you hurt anywhere? Your head? Ears? Feet?”

Souji wordlessly shook his head and bit his lip, unable to stop from wriggling beneath the older half-demon’s professional touch. He didn’t like people touching him, but he had to be a good boy so Mama could feel better. This was all for Mama, because he had to protect her, right?

“Do you feel sick? Does your stomach hurt?” Another negative. “Do you feel dizzy? Like you can’t see straight?” Souji once more shook his head, his young face open and honest.

Satisfied, Inuyasha nodded and pulled his hands away. “Good. Now, I have one last question.”

Souji cocked his head and blinked.

Inuyasha grinned. “Are you hungry?”

At that, Souji visibly perked up, ears swiveling forward, eyes going wide, and he put his hands over his tummy as if just now realizing he was indeed hungry.

The older half-demon took that as a yes and he chuckled a little then gestured him forward a little. Souji inched a little closer and Inuyasha placed his hand on the kid’s back as he directed his gaze over to a slightly confused, but smiling Kaede.

“See that woman over there, the short one with gray hair?” he asked and pointed across the way toward his boss. Souji stared blankly for a moment and then nodded. “She’s got some snacks for you along with some juice if you’re thirsty. Don’t worry, you can trust Kaede. She’s my friend and she’s also here to take care of your mom, alright?”

Souji was clearly hesitate though, despite the quiet rumbling in his tummy, and his ears flattened as he looked uncertainly between the nice man that smelled like him and the old lady he was pointing too before finally settling his gaze on his mom, needing a little guidance.

And even though her head was pounding, her side was aching, and her shoulder was burning, Kagome managed a warm smile for her little boy. Though it was slightly strained – something that Inuyasha did not fail to notice – it was completely genuine.

“It’s alright, Sou,” she encouraged, sounding tired but nonetheless sincere. “Go ahead. I know it’s late and you aren’t allowed snacks this time of night, but just this once is okay. Bring me back some juice, yeah?” She winked at him and was finally rewarded with her son’s brilliant smile.

Excited at the prospect of a snack so late at night, Souji nodded and with one last glance at Inuyasha, who quirked him an encouraging grin, he brushed by and headed toward the old woman, confident that the man would take care of his mama like he said he would. After all, he smelled like him and his ears were the same as his so he couldn’t be a bad person.

Kaede, already knowing what her half-demon subordinate was up to, gestured to one of the EMTs still lingering to fetch the bag of snacks she kept in her car for just this purpose. She knew it had been the right decision to call him in. Despite his constant gripes about being bad with children, he always proved himself wrong whenever it came to calming down a child and it was a sight she never got tired of. She was certain that the little boy being a half-demon like the EMT was definitely in his favor as well.

It was merely a bonus, she supposed with a sly little smile, that the boy’s mother was single and attractive to boot.

Chuckling to herself, Kaede thanked the young medic that handed over her bag full of treats and sweets and then told him, along with the rest of them still milling about, to either head back to the station and wait for another call. She was fairly certain Inuyasha could take things from here, and sneaking a glance over toward the two adults as the boy finally approached with wide blue eyes and cute little ears, she smiled.

Yes, she thought, kneeling down to Souji’s height with a warm smile. Calling Inuyasha in had been a very good idea.

Two pairs of eyes, one caramel colored and the other a rich honey hue, watched him toddle away, matching looks of relief on both of their faces. When the two-year-old reached the woman Inuyasha had pointed out to him, they both looked at one another and the smile she gave him had Inuyasha’s heart doing double time in his chest as his stomach did not so unpleasant flip-flops.

“I know I sound like a broken record at this point,” she began, her eyes suspiciously bright, “but I honestly can’t thank you enough. For your little show, stopping his crying, and looking him over even though he’s half-demon. So just…thank you.”

Inuyasha felt his cheeks warm and he shrugged, trying to play it off as he picked his hat off the ground and shoved it back on his head.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, although he couldn’t stop the little curl to his mouth a he picked up his bag and scooted a bit closer to her. “Just doing my job.”

“So calming down hysterical and terrified toddlers with magic tricks is in your job description?” Kagome teased and she was a little caught off guard by the slightly roguish grin the medic sent her.

“Keh. It worked, didn’t it?” he asked, not exactly sure where this confidence was coming from but not about to squander it. Not with the way she was smiling at him with a little blush on her cheeks and looking absolutely beautiful.

Inuyasha paused. Here she was, shirt nearly in tatters because of her son’s claws, hair a disheveled mess, face a little pale, bags under her eyes, and dried blood on her forehead from a cut and he thought she was beautiful.

Fuck. He was done for.

“I can’t argue with that,” she said, drawing him out of his musings and he focused his attention back on her. “I have to admit, even I was a little captivated. It was a neat trick.”

She giggled and good god could she get any fucking cuter.

“Oh good, because the real reason I do that particular trick is to reel in pretty mom’s with blue-eyed half-demon sons,” Inuyasha shamelessly flirted because fuck it, he was already one toe in dangerous waters he’d only ever attempted to swim in once before; why not just dunk his whole fucking body in in one go and get it over with because at this rate she’d have him on his knees before the night was over.

Crouching next to her now, Inuyasha watched in proud amusement as her pale face turned a deep, becoming shade of scarlet as those dark eyes widened with delighted realization. The corners of her lips twitched upward and she bit her lip, ducking her head a little shyly, but not once did she take her gaze off of his.

Yup. Totally, absolutely, wonderfully done for.

His eyes softened and he murmured, “What’s your name?”

“Kagome,” she replied right away, so trusting, so goddamn beautiful and god fuck she was pretty.

“Kagome,” he repeated and slid his arms beneath her body. She gasped and her arms automatically went around his neck. “I’m Inuyasha.”

Without preamble he stood with her in his arms, his medical bag slung over his shoulder even though he wouldn’t need it, and ignoring the knowing look he just knew his boss was casting him right now, he strode over to the idle ambulance with the open back doors and hopped inside.

“Better light and more convenient,” he explained as he carefully set her on the stretcher. “Plus it’s got better equipment and medical supplies than my bag does. And I think Kaede mentioned something about a possible sprained ankle?”

Kagome’s expression cleared and she nodded, flexing said ankle as if to test it and she winced at the twinge of pain that shot through it.

Silently the handsome golden-eyed medic started poking around the limited space of the vehicle, collecting the supplies required to treat her injuries and managing to find some painkillers along with bottle of water while rummaging about.

“I’m gonna start with that cut on your forehead since head injuries are top priority,” he announced and sank down on the cushioned seat provided for the medics before reaching over and tugging the gurney closer to him.

“Then if you’re alright with it, I’ll examine any contusions, determine if you have any fractured or bruised ribs, and take a look at your shoulder and ankle.”

Kagome gasped a little and curled her hands around the railing beneath her knees. He chuckled and gave the bed one final tug until her knees were between his spread legs. Perhaps the position was a little scandalous, but he needed a good look at that cut to determine if it needed stitches or not after he cleaned it.

“Sorry,” he murmured and received a smile in response. “I probably should have asked this before, but better late than never. Are you dizzy or lightheaded at all? Nauseas? Ringing in your ears? Any disorientation or confusion?”

Kagome took a moment to do a mental inspection of her body, but besides the general feeling of exhaustion and soreness, she otherwise felt fine and told him as much.

Relieved, Inuyasha offered her the painkillers and water for the no doubt pounding headache she had and she gratefully knocked them back with a swig of water. While she did that, he ripped open an alcohol swap and debated on whether or not to use gloves, but decided against it. His claws would just slice the latex, anyway.

He waited until his patient had had her fill of the cool refreshing liquid before muttering a word of warning for the sting and carefully started cleaning the cut on her forehead. Kagome hissed and flinched a little at the anticipated sting, but remained still so he could treat it with minimal difficulty, breathing deeply as she fisted her hands around the cold steel of the railing beneath her.

Inuyasha saw the strain on her face and his ears flattened against his head, feeling guilty, but knowing it was necessary. The more he cleaned it, though, the more apparent it became that she probably wasn’t going to need stitches so at least that was a bit of good news he was more than happy to share. This had no doubt already been the night from hell for her and he didn’t want to make it even worse.

“Good news is,” he said and used a fresh cotton swap to dab some antiseptic on it, “you don’t need stitches. It’s minor and should fully heal in a week or so.”

Kagome sighed, relieved. “And the bad news?”

Inuyasha’s mouth quirked. “It’ll probably leave a bit of a scar, but hey. It’ll look pretty badass, in my opinion. A battle scar.”

Kagome blinked and then snorted a laugh at that. “Something to tell the grandkids about?”

“Yeah, but lie and say you got it fighting a dragon.”

She outright laughed at that and Inuyasha grinned, thoroughly proud of himself. At least he seemed to have distracted her from any pain she might be feeling.

Then her laughter slowly turned into a groan as she wrapped an arm around her middle and bent over a little, however she was still smiling while shaking her head.

Grimacing, feeling a little guilty for indirectly being the cause of her pain, Inuyasha snatched a gauze pad and the medical tape, hoping she hadn’t fractured any ribs and they were merely bruised.

“You alright?” he asked once she straightened up, her face once again pale with lines of pain bracketing her mouth and eyes.

“Yeah,” she answered a little breathlessly and winced as she rubbed her chest, where the seat belt had dug into her skin when she’d been thrown forward. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he immediately said and reached up to brush her bangs away. “My fault for making you laugh. Can you breathe okay? One to ten, how bad is the pain?”

While he carefully went about applying the bandage to her cut, Kagome closed her eyes and thought about his question, trying to rate the amount of pain she was in. Probably not counting her head and ankle, she ranked it to be about a seven or so.

“Maybe a seven,” she answered honestly, knowing it wouldn’t be a very good idea to lie about that sort of information. “It hurts to breathe a little, but only a dull ache. Probably from when I got thrown forward against the seat belt.”

“Thing probably saved your life,” Inuyasha told her, keeping his eyes focused on the task of securing the bandage. Satisfied, he dropped his gaze back to hers, a slight frown furrowing his brow, and Kagome gasped a little at the intensity in his eyes.

“I’m glad you were wearing it,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, and butterflies rioted in her stomach as he brushed his knuckles against her skin, just below the fresh bandage he’d just applied.

Swallowing, Kagome said a little breathlessly, “Me, too,” and she watched with a little thrill as his gaze dropped to her mouth.

Kagome’s breath sped up a little and she licked her lips. Inuyasha’s gaze grew heavy-lidded and the growl that leaked past his lips did very pleasant things to her insides. But just as she was about to say screw it and lean forward, Inuyasha’s expression suddenly cleared, he grimaced, and leaned back, turning his head with a light flush on his cheeks.

Hoping the disappointment didn’t show on her face, Kagome sighed and ducked her head, biting down on her lip. Well, that had been dumb, and she felt a little foolish now. What had she been thinking, leaning in like that and hoping…

“I need to check if you have any fractured ribs,” Inuyasha stated in a voice huskier than he would have liked and he cleared his throat. Though he was still blushing a little, he didn’t look away from her eyes as he continued, “If that’s alright with you, anyway. I’ll understand if you’d rather I didn’t and if that’s the case, I can go get Kaede and she can do it.”

Kagome blinked as she tried to understand what he meant by that, but then realization dawned and her eyes winded a little, her flush deepening at the thought of where his hands would be on her. But Inuyasha was a professional and she trusted him. Besides, Kaede was keeping Souji occupied, and she didn’t want her son to see the extent of the damage on her body.

Clearing her throat, Kagome managed a wan smile and responded, “No, it’s…okay. Go ahead, Inuyasha. I trust you.”

Inuyasha’s eyes widened at that and his ears perked straight up beneath his hat. Something warm and wonderful bloomed in his chest and the corners of his mouth quirked up slightly, those three simple words meaning more to him than she could ever know.

“Thanks,” he murmured as without being told, Kagome lifted her shirt to expose her belly and ribs while still keeping her modestly covered. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”

Kagome smiled wordlessly and he leveled a quick grin at her before getting to work.

The first thing Kagome noticed was that his hands were warm and calloused, not at all unpleasant against her skin, and she almost missed it when he told her to take a deep breath because she was so focused on his touch. Inuyasha frowned, then withdrew one hand to take his hat off, dropping it to the ground before replacing it on her ribs and repeating his request for her to take a deep breath.

She did, her eyes trained on those adorable ears of his so much like her son’s, only a lovely sterling instead of black, and she winced a little when her chest protested the action. Inuyasha was still frowning as he moved his hands up and down her ribs and she breathed deep once more without being told. Again her sore body protested the movement, but it was bearable.

“Well,” he said after a moment and removed his hands from her, trying very hard not to think about how soft and smooth her skin had been. “I don’t think you have any cracked ribs, but there’s some definite bruising. I can’t tell for sure without an x-ray, and I’m assuming since you weren’t immediately whisked away to one when the ambulance got here that a hospital is out of the question.”

Kagome grimaced, but nodded. “With the way Souji was acting, it would have been a very bad idea. It probably would have just made the situation even worse.”

Inuyasha sighed and nodded as he raked his claws through his bangs. “You’re probably right. I do recommend it, though. Preferably as soon as you’re able.”

Kagome nodded in understanding. “Of course. Just…not tonight.” She smiled a little apologetically and he had to return it with his own lopsided grin.

“Nah,” he murmured, eyes soft. “I get it. As long as you can breathe fine, then there’s no urgency.” He nodded to her shoulder then. “Let me see?”

Wordlessly Kagome tugged the collar of her shirt over enough so the skin of her left shoulder was visible. Her eyes widened because this was the first she’d seen of the extent of the damage. No doubt caused from the seat belt, the wound was an angry, bright red stretch of skin that extended down to the top of her breast where the color changed to an array of yellow and purple. A few places had scabbed over where there had been open scrapes, and all in all in looked very painful. No wonder it had hurt so much when Souji had caught himself on her shoulders.

Inuyasha whistled low, drawing her attention, and she watched as he grimaced and very, very gingerly brushed his thumb over the bruised skin.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured and Kagome blinked at the unexpected endearment but it seemed as if he hadn’t even realized what he’d called her, his eyes focused on her shoulder. “That thing really did a number on you.”

Kagome sighed and gave a tired, wry smile. “A small price to pay if it means I’m still here.”

His eyes flashed to hers and for the second time Kagome’s breath caught in her throat, her heart stalling, warmth blooming in her stomach, in her chest. Her lips parted and for the second time that gloriously honeyed gaze dropped to her mouth, making the blood rush in her veins as more butterflies took off in her belly. Inuyasha was the one to lean in this time, his hand sliding from her shoulder along her arm, claws gently grazing her skin and feeling her shiver beneath his touch.

He growled, Kagome sighed—and then a familiar and very unwelcome scent reached his nose right then and Inuyasha forced himself to lean away with a short growl of irritation, ears pinned against his head. Kagome blinked at him, confused and unable to hide the flash of hurt in her eyes as she sat back. Inuyasha cursed and opened his mouth to explain—

“Mama!”

Gasping, face dark red, Kagome spun around, and then groaned when her sore body protested, arm going around her middle as she muttered, “S-Sou?”

Sighing, Inuyasha leveled an annoyed glare at the old woman that stood before the open ambulance doors, one eyebrow lifted and a knowing little smirk on her face while Souji clambered up into the vehicle to be with his mother.

Recovering quickly, though with a strained smile, Kagome nonetheless accepted her son’s weight in her lap when he crawled onto it and shoved a juice box under her nose. She smothered him in kisses and hugs before taking the offered beverage and setting it aside for now, not particularly in the mood for some juice despite having asked him to bring her one.

While Inuyasha sighed and studiously ignored his boss still watching him with that damn smirk, he hunted down an ace bandage for her ankle since there wasn’t much that could be done for her side or shoulder except let them heal on their own.

“Thank you,” Kagome said and a quick glance revealed she was addressing Kaede with a grateful smile. “For watching him so Inuyasha can treat my injuries without a fussy toddler to distract him. I hope he wasn’t too much trouble and behaved himself.”

Smiling warmly at the young woman, Kaede shook her head and said, “Oh, not at all, my dear. Your boy was perfectly behaved and he was very pleasant company. I did my best to distract him for as long as I could, but I suppose his concern for mom came back after his third mini bag of animal crackers because he ran over here before I could stop him.”

“Three bags?” Kagome repeated with a little smile and poked her son’s belly. Souji giggled and tried to shove her hand away. “You little piggy.”

“No!” Souji protested through his giggles and shook his head with a grin.

Despite his initial irritation at having been interrupted, Inuyasha had to smile a little at the sight. Kid was cute; he had to admit that, at least to himself.

“Thanks, boss,” Inuyasha said loudly, drawing the old woman’s attention. “I got it from here. Can you take care of the paperwork for me? I still need to wrap Kagome’s ankle and take care of a few things.”

Kaede raised an eyebrow and that damned knowing smile was back, but thankfully she said nothing and simply nodded.

“Of course, Inuyasha,” she said, trying not to laugh. “You can have the next few days off too, since you came tonight despite having just ended your shift.”

Inuyasha narrowed his eyes at her. “Sure,” he said slowly, knowing she was up to something, but not sure what.

Her one gray eye twinkled as she smiled at him then turned her gaze toward the mother and child, her expression softening.

“Kagome, was it?” she asked and said woman nodded. “My name is Kaede, dear. While usually I would say it has been a pleasure, I’m sure this night has been anything but for you, hm?”

Kagome sighed and smiled wryly, the exhaustion evident in her eyes and the lines on her pale face. Absently she ran a hand through Souji’s hair, who had settled down and was cuddled up against her chest, the long and eventful night finally catching up with him as a big yawn escaped his mouth.

Kaede’s heart went out to the poor girl and her child and she was glad she had Inuyasha to help her through such a hellish night. He was a good man with a good head on his shoulders; she knew she was in good hands and would be well taken care of.

“Make sure to get plenty of rest, dear,” she told her and Kagome nodded with a grateful smile. “You too, Souji, though it seems you’re already half way there.”

Blinking at the old woman drowsily, Souji grunted then burrowed his head into his mother’s good shoulder, his arms going around her neck with a gusty sigh.

Kaede chuckled and with one last glance at the clearly impatient half-demon that was still pegging her with an annoyed glare, she turned and headed back to wrap things up with the police. Kagome and Souji were in good hands; she wasn’t worried.

Shaking his head and grumbling under his breath, Inuyasha turned toward Kagome and discovered that Souji had more or less passed out in her lap, his breaths deep and even. Kagome was smiling gently down at him, all the love in her eyes as she kissed his head and rocked him slowly back and forth, stroking his hair and back like a loving mother would to her child.

Inuyasha’s heart melted and he suddenly wanted very, very badly to be a part of their cozy little duo.

But then reality slammed into him hard and he ducked his head to hide his grimace, ears flattening against his head as he fiddled with the rolled up ace bandage in his hand. What the hell was wrong with him—she’d literally just met him an hour prior, and he doubted dating was anywhere close on her mind on such on a shitty night. Plus, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t even thought of this before, making him inwardly curse himself for his earlier attempt to kiss her, there was also the very real possibility that she was unavailable. Hell, she had a fucking kid; the father could be waiting at home for her, though if that was the case he wasn’t sure why the guy wasn’t here by now. Wouldn’t she have contacted him?

Beneath his hat, his ears perked just a little. Then again, she hadn’t mentioned anything about the kid’s old man, and maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he could have sworn she’d leaned in earlier like she wanted to kiss him before he foolishly pulled away, so…maybe not?

He flicked a hopeful glance at mother and child, took in the tiny ears on top of Souji’s head, and the hopes promptly came crashing back down. Souji was a half-demon, which meant the father was a full demon.

Why go for half when she could have full.

Inuyasha bit back a groan and dragged a hand down his face. Dammit, he was reading too far into this. She was his patient, for god’s sake, he had no right to—

“Inuyasha?”

Startled out of his thoughts by the soft inquisitive voice, Inuyasha jerked his head up and his gaze collided with dark, beautiful depths filled with concern, delicate eyebrows dipped down into a small frown.

“Hey,” she said, offering a little smile. “Are you okay? I lost you for a second there.”

Inuyasha blinked at her choice of words and the instinctive response of “You’ll never lose me, Kagome” was right on the tip of his tongue but then he remembered himself and shook his head. Fucking hell.

“Yeah, uh, no,” he said, frowning at his own words and tried again. “I’m fine, Kagome. Sorry. Didn’t mean to space out on ya.”

Her smile broadened. “No need to be sorry. It’s been a weird night, huh?” She chuckled a little and Inuyasha couldn’t help but level a crooked grin at her.

“Yeah,” he agreed then held up the forgotten ace bandage in his hand. “Which ankle is bothering you? I’ll check it out and wrap up so you can finally call it a night and head home.”

“That sounds heavenly,” Kagome said with a sigh and lifted her right foot. “This one. Please tell me it’s not broken.”

Inuyasha only tossed her a wry grin before very carefully pulling off her slip-on shoe and cradling her bare foot in his hands. She winced a little when he turned it over as he inspected and she shook her head at his muttered apologies.

“Can you pin point the pain for me?” he asked and leaned forward to tenderly touch her fingertips to the soft part of her ankle, just a little above the bone. There was some mild swelling and she could still flex her ankle slightly, but not without pain.

“You’re in luck,” Inuyasha said after a minute and shifted forward to prop her foot on his knee while he prepared to wrap bandage around it. “Looks like it’s just a mild sprain, but you should still keep your weight off of it as much as you can.”

Kagome laughed dryly and at his inquisitive look, she raised her brows and remarked, “It’s hard to stay off your feet when you’re a single mother with a hyper-active two-year-old.”

Despite himself Inuyasha felt the hope bloom warm and wonderful in his chest again and he really hoped the excitement didn’t show on his face. She was single. She was single. The dad wasn’t in the picture, fuck yes!

Wow, you fucking idiot, can you be any more insensitive? To hide the shameful blush that colored his face, Inuyasha ducked his head and focused on wrapping her ankle. For all he knew, something tragic could have happened and she might still be recovering. Jumping to conclusions would not only be foolish, but inconsiderate to her as well, and he needed to stay in her good graces if he ever wanted to have a chance with her.

And he wanted. God, did he ever.

“Is there anyone that would be willing to stay with you for a while? Friends? Family?” Inuyasha only flicked her a brief glance before turning his gaze back to his task, not wanting to make the wrap too tight or uncomfortable.

Kagome wrinkled her nose and adjusted Souji in her arms, wincing when her shoulder protested the movement.

“Mama and Gramps are both retired and don’t have the energy to chase after a toddler like they used to, and my brother is away at college. And the only friend I really have is…well, he’s not really…a good candidate for babysitting.”

Inuyasha paused to quirk a brow up at her, a wordless inquiry.

Kagome sighed and her voice was dry. “Let’s just say that Miroku is more interested in the baby making process than actually raising one.”

The silver-haired medic snorted and continued his work, passing under the arch of her foot and around her ankle one last time before gently securing the end via the strong Velcro attached to it.

“How’s that?” he asked, sitting back and inspecting his handiwork. “Not too tight?”

Flexing her foot a bit, Kagome smiled and nodded in approval. “Feels perfect. You’re really good at that; I remember whenever I hurt my ankle when I still lived at home Mama always made it too tight or too loose so I had to fix it myself.”

Inuyasha shrugged off the compliment, though inwardly his ego was inflating to twice its normal size.

“It’s my job,” he remarked and started putting everything back where he’d found it. “Be a pretty shitty EMT if I couldn’t do something I was specifically trained for.”

A soft laugh reached his ears. “I suppose you’re right.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence, and since the driver for this damn thing was still nowhere in sight, Inuyasha decided to give voice to a curiosity that refused to leave him alone and really, really hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

“So, uh,” he began, frowning down at the plastic bin of bandages in his hand as he tried to think of how to phrase it without sounding like an opportunistic asshole. He slid the bin back home to its proper place in one of the cabinets and tried to make himself look busy, avoiding her curious gaze.

“Pup’s father. Is he, uh, is he still around? Why isn’t he here?”

As soon as the words left his mouth Inuyasha wanted to slam his head against the nearest hard surface. Smooth, asshole. Real smooth.

Too busy beating himself up, he missed the little smile that curled Kagome’s mouth as she watched him. Honestly she’d been waiting for him to ask that question. She’d purposely hinted earlier that she was unattached by saying she was a single mother and he hadn’t seemed to really take the bait, so she was glad he took the initiative this time and asked. She’d thought about dropping another hint, but didn’t want to seem too desperate.

“Do you remember how Souji was acting earlier?” she asked by way of reply. “Growling, sort of aggressive and wouldn’t let anyone come near me?”

Not expecting that, Inuyasha turned toward her, the confusion evident on his face. But then he frowned and nodded, prompting Kagome to continue.

“Last year his father and I got into a screaming match that got out of hand and he punched me in the face. Souji saw it happen. I left him and ever since that day Souji has been extremely protective of me and he’s very distrustful of strangers, especially men.”

She looked down at the slumbering boy in her arms and her expression softened, her smile turning sad as she kissed his little brow.

“My fierce little warrior,” Kagome murmured, smoothing back his hair before glancing back at the handsome medic. Inuyasha was frowning at her but she could see the concern in his eyes with a hint of anger simmering just beneath the surface and she had to smile. He was angry because of what had happened to her, even though it had happened a year ago, and she thought that was incredibly sweet.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Inuyasha said, his voice a low rumble and his gaze intense, sincere as he stared into her eyes. “I’m sorry Souji has such a shitty sperm donor, and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to deck the son of a bitch myself for hitting you. Women are meant to be protected. Cherished…loved. Never hurt.”

Kagome didn’t know what to say to that so she said nothing, eyes locked on his and heart in her throat.

Another moment of silence passed as the two of them simply gazed at one another, the air between them charged, heavy with something both of them didn’t quite understand, but then Inuyasha sighed and racked a hand through his hair, shaking his head. Kagome blushed and cleared her throat, dropping her gaze to watch her son’s face, relaxed in sleep.

“So you’re telling me a full demon punched you in the face and he didn’t knock you the fuck out?” Inuyasha quite tactlessly asked, a puzzled frown creasing his brow.

“I saw it coming and managed to dodge at the last second so he only glanced my cheek and temple,” Kagome readily answered, grateful for the subject change if only to calm the rabid beating of her heart. “I smacked my head against the kitchen counter as I went down and I was dizzy for a few minutes, but it passed and I was able to grab Sou and get the hell out of there. I haven’t seen him since.”

“So you have full custody,” Inuyasha assumed.

Kagome nodded and heaved another sigh. “Yes. But even if I didn’t and it was shared, I still wouldn’t see hide nor hair of him.”

Inuyasha’s eyebrows rose at that. “You mean the asshole has no interest in his own son?”

Kagome closed her eyes and the smile that curled her lips was so incredibly sad Inuyasha had to fight against the urge to take her into his arms.

“Souji is the reason why we were arguing that day,” she explained, eyes fluttering open to regard her baby boy the way only a loving mother ever could. “When I told Kouga that I was pregnant, he told me to get rid of it. He didn’t want a half-breed to be related to him in any way, shape, or form, regardless if it was his own offspring or not. I didn’t, of course, and our relationship deteriorated after that. I know I should have left him that day, but part of me hoped…”

She trailed off with a sigh and idly ran a hand through Souji’s dark hair. The toddler stirred slightly and grunted softly in his sleep, but settled down soon after, going still with a quiet sigh. Kagome kissed his head, so overcome with love for her brave, beautiful little boy.

“At the risk of sounding completely selfish and maybe even a bit like an asshole,” Inuyasha began, drawing Kagome’s gaze back to him and he stubbornly refused to look away despite his face heating.

“I’m…sorta glad it happened. I mean not that he punched you of course, I would never—because you’re here now and—ah, fuck.”

Groaning, Inuyasha dropped his head in his hands and willed himself to just fucking turn into a ghost so he could phase into the goddamn ground or some shit but then the sound of soft laughter reached his ears and he dared at a glance at his beautiful patient. Judging by the hand over her mouth, she’d tried to stifle her mirth and failed but even if she’d succeeded, the amusement in her eyes would have tipped him off easily and despite himself Inuyasha felt himself grinning in return.

“Me, too,” Kagome whispered, lowering her hand to reveal a soft, beautiful smile and fuck, what he would give to have her look at him like that all the damn time.

Inuyasha opened his mouth to say something, anything as long as she’d keep looking at him like that, but then she suddenly yawned and he remembered where they were. She blinked and then gave a sheepish smile and shrugged.

Chuckling, Inuyasha pulled out his phone and checked the time. “Two AM,” he supplied and tucked it back in his pocket. “Things are wrapping up here anyway, so how about we call it a night and get you two home?”

The thought of her bed was nearly enough to make her weep. “That sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all night,” Kagome replied and shifted Souji in her arms again. Her shoulder twinged in protest and she hissed through her teeth.

“Um, can you do me a favor?”

Inuyasha crossed his arms and cocked a brow at her, waiting.

“Could you get his car seat for me, please? My shoulder is starting to really hurt for holding him for so long.” She tossed him a pleading smile and he was helpless but to obey.

He deliberated for only a second, casting a brief glance at the child in her arms before surprising her by saying, “I’ll do it.”

She blinked. “What?”

Shrugging, though not without a slight flush on his cheeks, Inuyasha turned his gaze away and repeated, “I’ll put him in it. I mean if you don’t mind. It’ll save you from having to lift your arm if it’s hurting you that much.”

Both of her brows lifted into her bangs and she tilted her head. “Do you know how?”

Inuyasha frowned and looked offended.

Immediately Kagome winced and shook her head, a flush darkening her face.

“Sorry, that was rude,” she murmured and received a grunt in response. “I was just surprised, is all. I didn’t mean to insinuate anything.”

He grumbled but nodded and Kagome somehow knew he wasn’t really upset over it. Still, she leveled him with an apologetic smile and adjusted Souji in her arms to make the transfer easier.

“Please,” she entreated softly and the wind was abruptly blown right out of his sails.

Relaxing, Inuyasha wordlessly bent down to carefully take the slumbering child from her arms and cradle him in his own. Souji didn’t stir and Kagome watched as the handsome medic who had taken such good care of them tonight stepped off the ambulance and crossed the scant distance to the car seat sitting on the ground. The sight of him slowly settling her baby boy in and checking to make sure everything was secure warmed her heart in ways she hadn’t felt for over two years now. It made her think that maybe, just maybe…that missing piece of her heart, the part that Kouga had viciously destroyed with his actions and carelessness of his own son, could be replaced with a new, much stronger piece to make it whole again.

And that piece had golden eyes, a fanged grin, and two adorable silver dog ears so much like her little Souji’s.

Kagome was just thinking that maybe this night wasn’t as bad as she thought it was when Inuyasha returned and gingerly set her son’s car seat with sleeping toddler cradled within on the ambulance floor before hopping back up into it.

With a rumbled word of warning, he slipped his hands beneath her and easily lifted her up into his arms, only to hop back to the ground a minute later and set her beside her son.

“Sit tight,” he said and before he could stop himself he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ll bring my truck around since I can’t carry you both at the same time with him in that thing.”

“You’re gonna take me home?” Kagome questioned, surprised, but undoubtedly pleased.

He leveled her with a look and quipped, “You really think I was gonna make you walk home with a bum ankle and a toddler?”

Kagome offered him a sheepish smile. Neither of them pointed out that she could just catch a ride with one of the cops still hanging around for whatever reason.

Rolling his eyes, Inuyasha shook his head and walked away, grumbling under his breath about silly wenches and dumb questions, Kagome’s soft laugher following after him.

Fifteen minutes later Inuyasha had his two patients bundled into his truck with the still snoozing Souji secured in the backseat of the crew cab and Kagome beside him in the passenger’s seat. Despite it being a rather mild night, she was wearing his leather jacket that had been lying on the floor in the back, the EMT claiming that he hadn’t wanted her to get sick on top of everything else she’d endured tonight. Kagome had simply smiled and tugged the garment closer against her and Inuyasha had delighted in the fetching shade of scarlet that colored her cheeks.

The ride to Kagome’s apartment was spent in comfortable silence but that had more to do with Kagome being dog-tired than not having the need to fill the quiet with soft chatter. Inuyasha let her doze with her head resting against the widow and he was content to steal brief glances at her during the short commute. Souji hadn’t stirred once strapped into the back and the half-demon doubted the pup would wake any time before 7 am, possibly later since he’d had a long night.

Parking in front of the address Kagome had given him, Inuyasha put his truck in park then cut the engine before turning his attention to his lovely passenger. She hadn’t stirred, and he hated to wake her up, but he needed to get them both inside so they could get some proper rest.

“Kagome,” he murmured and reached over to gently nudge her awake. “We’re here. Kagome?”

She murmured and frowned, but otherwise ignored him and he chuckled. Shaking his head, he unbuckled his seatbelt and shifted his hand to tenderly cup her cheek, sweeping his thumb across the softness of her skin.

“C’mon, baby,” he rumbled and was gratified to see caramel eyes flutter open to blink drowsily at him. “Let’s get you and Sou inside so you can get some sleep in a real bed. Doubt you’d be very comfortable out here all night.”

Blinking once more before wrinkling her nose in the most adorable way, Kagome offered a small, sleepy smile and gave a slight nod. She yawned and Inuyasha hopped out to retrieve Souji still passed out in his car seat. The older half-demon was a little surprised the pup didn’t wake even once as he carefully scooped him up into his arms, figuring he’d just come back for the car seat after he’d settle the two of them inside. Instead Souji merely sighed, snuggled against his chest, and Inuyasha’s heart about damn near exploded with affection for the kid.

It was astounding, and maybe a little frightening, how badly he wanted these two in his life, and he hoped to god that Kagome would allow him to see them again after tonight.

Keeping the sleeping toddler secured against him with one arm, Inuyasha helped Kagome down with his other arm tight around her waist and he effortlessly bore most of her weight as he led them down the short sidewalk to her front door. He didn’t like how she’d left her door unlocked, but after her explanation of how she’d planned on coming right back after a short drive to get Souji to sleep, he accepted it with a soft grunt and more or less carried the both of them inside her cozy little apartment.

Reluctantly he released Kagome and she took her son from his arms before tossing him a quick smile and turning to no doubt put him to bed. Inuyasha watched her go, frowning at her limp, but forced himself to remain where he was. She needed to stay off of her ankle for it to get better, but he couldn’t very well tuck in her son for her. While he wouldn’t have minded, he didn’t want to impose, and they had just met, after all.

He also didn’t like the thought of her staying here alone with no one around to help and he thought about asking her if it was alright for him to stay, but again he didn’t want to be weird or make her uncomfortable. They were practically strangers and despite the strangely overpowering need to care for and protect the both of them, he didn’t want her to think he had an ulterior motive or the paramedic side of him wanted to ensure she would be alright.

No, it went much deeper than that. But he didn’t want to scare her or freak her out, so he’d force himself to back off unless she outright told him she wanted him around. Or hell, he’d even take a very obvious hint that was impossible to ignore. He didn’t want this to be the last time he saw her, or the kid, and he desperately hoped the feeling was mutual.

Kagome came limping back down the hallway after closing Souji’s door most of the way and instantly Inuyasha diverted all of his attention on her. She looked utterly drained as she gimped her way over to him, however she still managed to muster up a smile for him and his heart ached.

Inuyasha closed the remaining distance between them and wordlessly scooped her back up into his arms. Kagome’s exhaustion was evident in the way she didn’t even gasp, merely releasing a quiet sigh as he strode down the hallway and followed his nose to Kagome’s bedroom. He set her down on the bed and knelt before her so he could carefully remove her shoes for her. He checked her bandage while he was at it, making sure it was good and secure before resting his hands on her knees and lifting his gaze to hers.

“Thank you,” she whispered and he knew it wasn’t just for taking off her shoes.

“I wish I could do more,” he confessed, eyebrows dipping into a slight frown. “I don’t like the thought of you being here by yourself. Are you sure there’s nobody you can call? I’m sure even your friend Miroku wouldn’t mind helping out if you told him what happened.”

Kagome stared at him, warmth blossoming in her chest. Somebody must be really looking out for her up there to introduce her to such an amazing, caring man like Inuyasha. Granted, she could have definitely done without the circumstances in which they met, but, well…beggars can’t be choosers and all that.

“It’s sweet of you to worry,” Kagome began, lifting a hand to cup his cheek and she smiled when he unabashedly leaned into her touch. “But I promise I’ll be okay. Souji will no doubt crawl into bed with me sometime during the night and wake me up when he’s hungry. After he eats something he’ll probably go back to sleep and I’ll be able to stay off my ankle, if not catch a little more shuteye myself.”

Inuyasha still didn’t look happy, but he finally conceded with a sigh and a nod. “Can I at least leave my number with you so you can text me if you need help? Just for my own peace of mind. Please.”

Boldly he reached up, dragged his claws against the soft skin of her jaw and caught a strand of ebony hair between his fingers. He kept his gaze on hers as he brushed his knuckles against her cheek and he heard the way the breath hitched in her throat. Inuyasha fought back a grin and tenderly tucked the lock of dark silk behind her ear.

Biting her lip, Kagome didn’t give herself time to think as she dropped her hand to grab the lapel of his uniform shirt, fingers curling into the fabric to keep him close. Inuyasha didn’t move, didn’t even dare to breathe as she smiled and peered at him from beneath twin fans of midnight lashes.

“You could,” she murmured, her smile widening just a bit. “Or…you could stop by tomorrow morning and we could maybe talk over coffee and pancakes. If you want.”

Abruptly the breath left Inuyasha’s lungs in a relieved whoosh of air and he nodded, eyes going hooded as he slipped his hand into her hair.

“Yeah,” he said, voice husky. “I want.”

“Yeah?” Kagome repeated, eyes bright, lips curving up even further in obvious delight.

Inuyasha nodded again, gaze fastened to her mouth, and that time Kagome sighed. Her hand tightened on his shirt, refusing to let go, or maybe she was unable to. She couldn’t tell, not with the way Inuyasha was staring at her. Or more accurately her mouth and unconsciously she swallowed, lips parting on a stuttered breath.

“Okay,” he muttered. “Alright. Good.”

“Good.”

They stared at each other, saying nothing, her hand gripping his shirt, his in her hair, and Inuyasha was fighting desperately to keep himself where he was, to not give in no matter how bad he wanted to. He couldn’t take advantage of her like that, he couldn’t risk destroying the trust she had so graciously given him—

She breathed his name, the softest of whispers falling from her lips, and Inuyasha’s control shattered.

“Aw, to hell with it,” he muttered right before surging up and claiming her mouth in the passionate kiss he’d been wanting to give her all damned night.

Immediately Kagome responded, both hands gripping his shirt now as Inuyasha braced his knee on the bed beside her and wrapped an arm around her waist to keep her from falling as he leaned over her. He nipped her lips and she parted them with a gasp that turned into a whimper as he deepened the kiss, greedy for her taste. Despite the hunger ravaging in his gut, however, he kept his kiss gentle, his mouth moving over hers in a hot, sensual dance that she eagerly reciprocated with flicks of her tongue and gentle nips.

He growled and with his hand cupping the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair, Inuyasha pulled back only to press a series of hot, lingering kisses to her mouth but it wasn’t long before he was unable to keep himself from going in for a much longer, deeper taste once more. Her breathy laugh turned into a moan and he would have smirked in arrogant pride had he had the higher brain function to do so.

Several heated seconds later, Inuyasha finally pulled back to allow them both to breathe and he rested his forehead against her own as they panted for breath.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” Inuyasha admitted in a low rumble that sent pleasant tingles down Kagome’s spine.

“Funny,” she whispered. “I’ve been wanting you to do that all night, too.”

He chuckled and couldn’t help but to brush one last lingering kiss across her smiling lips.

“Get some sleep,” he entreated against her lips. “And I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” she sighed and gave him a sleepy, but genuine smile. “Good night, Inuyasha. Thank you for…everything.”

Inuyasha smiled at her and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Anytime,” he husked. “Good night, baby. Sleep well.”

He helped her get settled into bed and wasn’t surprised that she was out as soon as her head hit the pillow. Inuyasha sighed, kissed her brow one more time, and then quietly stole out of her bedroom to let her sleep. Before he even thought about what he was doing, and almost like it was second nature, he checked on Souji who was still fast sleep in his little toddler bed before making sure all the lights were off and ensuring her door was locked when he finally left a few minutes later.

Just as she’d predicted, Kagome woke up just a little after 7 am to the feeling little hands on her face. She opened bleary eyes to find her son hovering over her, wee hands on her cheeks and blinking owlishly down at her. The biggest, sunniest grin split his cherubic face when he saw that she was finally awake and he patted her cheeks with a happiness only a child could have after only going to sleep a few hours before and getting up at what the fraaaaack o’clock in the morning.

Tiny fingers grabbed her nose and Kagome sighed even as a tired smile lifted the corners of her lips.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Kagome murmured and then released a yawn. “It’s too early for your shenanigans, Sou.”

“Mama,” Souji said by way of reply as his mother levered herself upright with a groan. God, she hurt everywhere. Her entire body was sore, not just her torso and shoulder. Not surprising, considering what she’d went through last night, but still.

Ow.

With a soft grunt, Kagome very, very slowly wriggled around until she managed to get her feet on the floor, her sore body protesting every movement. Obviously any pain meds she’d taken last night had worn off by now and her ankle throbbed in protest when she put a little weight on it. Kagome winced and dragged a hand down her face. God, today was going to suck.

But at least she had something to look forward to, Kagome mused to herself, a little smile lighting her face as she remembered they were going to have a visitor that morning. Which meant she needed to get her ass in gear, take a much-needed shower, and feed her hungry toddler.

Souji wedged himself between her knees and stared up at her with worried blue eyes.

“Hurt?” he asked and very gently patted her knee as if the barest touch would cause crippling pain.

Kagome sighed and smiled for her little boy, running a hand through his dark hair and tweaking his ears.

“Yes,” she admitted. “But I’ll be fine, baby. It’s only a little hurt”—lie—“and I’ll feel better once I take a nice hot shower and get some food in our tummies.” She poked his belly and was relieved to see the smile bloom across his face.

“Puffs,” he said and darted for the kitchen.

“Puffs it is,” Kagome murmured and taking a deep breath, she braced her hands on the mattress and slowly pushed herself to her feet. There was pain, but it was tolerable, and she tried to keep as little weight on her bad ankle as she could as she hobbled her way to the kitchen to pour her two-year-old a bowl of Cocoa Puffs cereal.

Even though she wanted nothing more than to sleep all day to let her weary, banged up body recover, being a single mother made that very tempting option unavailable So, despite being slow and muttering curses under her breath every few minutes, Kagome provided her boy with his coveted diabetes-on-a-bowl disguised as sugary chocolate cereal and then went about making herself a cup of much-needed coffee.

After two cups and by the time Souji had finished his second bowl, Kagome was starting to feel human again and since her son had wandered off into the living room to watch cartoons, Kagome seized this chance to take a shower. She knew Souji would pass out soon after on the couch so she wouldn’t have to worry about him for a few hours, or at least until Inuyasha arrived.

The thought of the handsome medical technician brought a flush to Kagome’s cheeks and warmth to flood her entire body. She couldn’t wait to see him again and she wondered if he was as excited about it as she. She could only hope, and the giggle that bubbled up in her throat as she hobbled into the bathroom was girlish and completely involuntary.

Half an hour later Kagome was showered, dressed, and feeling much more like herself, if not still a little tired, but she supposed that was to be expected. The pain meds she’d taken with her coffee had dulled the pain in her ankle, side, and shoulder, and she was grateful because the pain would make whipping up some breakfast much more difficult.

Unsurprisingly Souji was passed out cold in the most ridiculous position on the couch while Paw Patrol played on the television and Kagome left him be to start breakfast. She had no idea when Inuyasha would show up and she wanted to have something made up by then.

Unfortunately, she didn’t get very far before her phone started ringing and Kagome whipped her head around to stare at the device. It was still on the counter where she’d left it last night before venturing out for a drive with Sou and she sighed because she had an idea as to who it could be. And lo and behold, when she picked it up, “Mama” flashed across the screen.

Kagome grimaced, braced herself, and answered.

The conversation with her mother went as expected. Evidently someone from the accident scene last night had captured a brief video snippet of Inuyasha performing his little magic show for Souji and her mother had seen it circulating on social media. Asako explained that she recognized her own daughter and grandson in the video and Kagome managed to calm her down enough to enlighten the older woman what had happened. Several times she had to assure her mother that she and Souji were both fine and probably sometime later that day they were both going to go to the hospital to get an official checkup and an x-ray for Kagome’s ankle and ribs.

Of course, her mother being her mother, wanted to come over and help with Souji while Kagome focused on recovering, but the younger woman managed to convince her that she didn’t need to make the drive just for a likely sprained ankle. She might have put in the little white lie that Miroku would be stopping by later and it was enough to pacify Asako into agreeing.

It wasn’t really a surprise that seconds after hanging up with her mother, her phone beeped with a text message from Miroku but she really didn’t have the energy to put up with him right now so she ignored it and went about preparing breakfast.

In hindsight, she really should have replied to that message.

It was about a quarter after nine when the doorbell rang and instantly butterflies took off in Kagome’s belly from a combination of nerves and excited anticipation. Still, though, it was impossible to hold back the brilliant smile that spread across her flour-dusted face as she shuffled as fast as she could to the front door, heart pounding in her chest as she quickly unlocked it and whipped it open. God, but it was embarrassing how much she’d missed him—

“What the hell are you doing here?” Kagome asked, her radiant expression instantly dropping to one of horror.

Kouga didn’t answer and instantly zeroed in on the bandage on her forehead, blue eyes narrowing as a sense of unease roiled in his gut. So the stupid human hadn’t been lying, then. Least he was good for something other than grabbing ass.

“I don’t want you here,” Kagome hissed after recovering from the shock of seeing her ex out of nowhere. “Leave. Now.”

Stone-faced, she grabbed the door and started to close it in his face, but Kouga wedged his foot into the threshold and prevented it. Kagome glowered at him and tired again, but Kouga pushed his way inside, forcing her to stumble backward and nearly crumple to the floor as her ankle was forced to bear her weight. She gasped as pain ricocheted up her entire leg and she would have fallen backward had it not been for her ex grabbing her wrist and hauling her back up.

“What the fuck, Kagome,” Kouga growled and darted his gaze down to her feet, snarling when she saw she was favoring her right one. “Were you really in a goddamn accident last night and didn’t fucking tell me?”

Regaining her bearings and her balance, Kagome yanked her wrist out of his grip and stumbled backward with a scowl, dark eyes flashing with a mixture of pain and anger.

“Why the hell would I tell you anything?” she snapped, flicking her gaze toward the living room and hoping like hell Souji would remain asleep. “We’re not together anymore, Kouga, or don’t you remember when you punched me in the face?”

Crossing her arms, Kagome simply glared at him, giving up on getting him to leave because she knew in her current state there was shit all she could do. Even if she were at peak physical health, he was still ten times stronger than she and he never let her forget it, either.

To her surprise, Kouga actually looked regretful as he winced and thrust a hand through his bangs. His hair was up in its usual ponytail, but it looked as if he’d dressed in haste, donned in a simple t-shirt and loose sweatpants he wore when jogging. Oh please; don’t tell her he was actually worried?

“C’mon, Kagome, you know I hate it when you bring that up,” he muttered, having the audacity to actually look embarrassed. “I said I was sorry and it’ll never happen again. It’s been a year, can’t we just forget about it and—”

“You and I both know it’s far more than just a punch to the face, Kouga,” Kagome murmured, face tight with pain and old fury that bubbled up to the surface at his sudden reappearance. How the hell had he even found out, anyway? As far as she knew he wasn’t on social media and her mother would never reach out to him after what happened last year.

Kouga tensed and clenched his jaw, cobalt eyes going hard and cold as steel. Evidently his opinion hadn’t changed about half-demon’s and the old scar he’d left on her heart ached.

Deciding now wasn't the time or place to revisit that particular topic, Kagome sighed roughly and leveled him with a suspicious glare.

“How did you even find out, anyway? I know my mother didn’t tell you.” She arched an expectant brow.

Kouga snorted. “Of course she didn’t,” he confirmed. “It was that perverted friend of yours, Miro-whatever. At least he had the sense to—”

Tuning out the rest of whatever he was going on about, Kagome snapped her gaze around to land on her discarded phone still lying on the counter and the color drained from her face when realization dawned. Oooh, that complete and utter moron! That asshole! She was going to throttle him when she saw him next!

“Ooooh, I’ll kill him,” she hissed, glaring with such vehemence at her phone it was a wonder it didn’t burst into flames right there on her counter.

“—good thing he did because you can’t be staying here alone in your condition, you could fall and hurt yourself even worse—”

“Shut up, Kouga,” Kagome cut him off and the wolf-demon was so startled by her cold tone he actually did. “I have no idea why Miroku would ever contact you because it’s literally none of your business what happens to me or Souji because we are no longer together. I haven’t talked to you in a year, and I liked it that way, so now I want you to leave before my son wakes up and sees you. We’ve both had a very long night and he does not need the stress of your presence after what he went through last night. So get out. I’ll be talking with Miroku to make sure he never contacts you again.”

Arms tight across her chest, dark eyes stern and lips in a flat, thin line, Kagome stared him down and didn’t even flinch at the low growl her ex-boyfriend emitted.

“Like hell I’m leaving here without you,” Kouga growled, his eyes twin pools of blue fire as he stalked forward and reached for her arm. “I don’t care what you say, you can’t be alone—”

“So you’re the asshole sperm donor Kagome told me about, huh.”

While Kouga stiffened and slowly turned around with a dark scowl on his face, relief swept through Kagome and the smile that split her face was grateful and positively radiant.

“Inuyasha,” she breathed and Kouga sneered, crossing his arms as he took in the unwanted newcomer.

Leaning against the door jamb, a paper bag tucked under his arm and holding a cardboard drink holder with two coffees in it, Inuyasha looked unimpressed as he returned the once over before shifting his gaze to the woman behind the wolf. Kagome looked infinitely glad to see him, relief swimming in those dark eyes of hers, and his expression softened. Damn, he’d missed her.

“Who the fuck are you?”

Inuyasha ignored the question and kept his gaze on Kagome.

“You alright?” The sperm donor was blocking most of his view, but from what he could tell she seemed alright. His nose told him Souji was napping in the living room and he was glad for that. From what Kagome had told him, the pup didn’t need to see his father here and have a repeat of what happened last night. Poor kid already went through hell.

“I’m fine,” she assured him and stepped around her ex to take the bag and drinks from him. “I was in the middle of making breakfast, but now I suppose I don’t have to. Smells absolutely divine.”

The most delicious smell of muffins and honeybuns were coming from the paper bag and her stomach growled in agreement.

“I thought about taking you two out for breakfast,” he admitted a little sheepishly with a shrug. “But then figured you wouldn’t really wanna go anywhere considering what happened.” He paused. “How you feeling, by the way?”

Shuffling over to the bar counter and completely ignoring the increasingly pissed off wolf-demon, Kagome deposited their breakfast onto the surface and went about collecting some plates.

“Sore, obviously,” she told him. “But it’s tolerable. It still hurts to walk on my ankle, and I had to take the bandage off so I could shower, so if you wouldn’t mind wrapping it again—”

“I asked you a question, asshole,” Kouga interrupted their pleasant little conversation, stepping up and inserting himself right in front of the half-breed’s vision so he was forced to look at him. “Who are you and how do you know Kagome?”

Immediately Inuyasha’s expression changed from warm pleasantness to cold and flinty as he finally looked at the fucker in front of him that had so rudely interrupted his conversation with Kagome. The wolf was attempting to pull off a pathetic intimidating act by snarling in his face and baring his fangs while glaring balefully at him, a steady growl leaking past his clenched teeth.

Inuyasha stared at him for a beat before saying curtly, “I don’t think that’s any of your business, wolfshit. Matter of fact, you don’t have any business being here so why don’t you do us a favor and get lost because Kagome clearly doesn’t want you here, and you know what, neither do I. Your stench is already giving me a headache. There’s the door. I hope it hits you on your way out.”

With that, the half-demon roughly shoved his way past the other male and made his way over to Kagome who had silently watched the exchanged with a worried frown.

Kouga was having none of that, though, and spun around with a snarl to reach out and dig his claws into the mongrel’s shoulder.

“Listen asshole, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are—”

Inuyasha reacted so fast his movements were a blur. He spun around and in the same movement threw his arm above Kouga’s head before jerking it down hard against his back to dislodge the wolf’s grip on his shoulder. Kouga grunted but could do nothing as the next second the half-demon forced his body to turn and then with a swift kick, swept his feet out from under him. He landed on the floor with a grunt and a scowling half-demon glaring down at him.

“I know where very major artery is on your pathetic, weak little body, wolfshit,” Inuyasha growled and narrowed his eyes in lethal warning. “Touch me or her again and my claws just might slip. Comprende?”

While Kouga grumbled and glowered up at him as he pushed himself to his feet, behind him Kagome was feeling quite flushed at having witnessed the hanyou display a very effective self-defense skill and she had to resist the urge to fan herself.

Good lord, but why had that been so hot? Not to mention that threat if he touched her again.

God, Kagome mused, pressing a hand over her wildly beating heart. Take me now.

Scoffing in the face of the half-breed’s anger and threat, Kouga rolled his shoulders and leveled another scowl at him. If he thought he was just going to—

“Shit.”

Inuyasha’s ear flicked behind him at the muttered curse and a familiar scent told him the reason of Kagome’s sudden apprehension. Instantly schooling his expression, he shifted amber eyes toward the living room and found sleepy blue eyes blinking at the three adults. His black hair was a mess and he’d managed to kick off his pants sometime during his nap.

“Hey, bud,” Inuyasha greeted the toddler with a grin, not even sparing the sperm donor another glance. “Remember me?” He wiggled his clawed fingers and raised his eyebrows.

Souji, sleepy mind still trying to register what he was seeing, blinked and settled his gaze on the older male. He sniffed a few times, tilted his head, and wrinkled his nose.

“Magic man,” he said and gave a toothy grin.

Inuyasha’s face softened. “That’s right,” he affirmed. “The magic man. You hungry? I got some tasty muffins and honeybuns that I’m sure you’d like.”

“He shouldn’t be,” Kagome opined, hobbling over to stand beside him and beckoning her son over with a smile and a wave. “He had two bowls of Cocoa Puffs before his nap.”

“Lucky,” Inuyasha commented with another grin. “My mom only lets me have one bowl.”

Kagome snorted a laugh and covered her mouth, but Souji was too busy staring at Kouga to react. His ears were pinned, his little face was scrunched up and Inuyasha couldn’t tell if it was because he was scared or agitated at his father’s unwanted presence.

Shit. Acting fast, and without thinking twice, Inuyasha crossed the distance between them and abruptly scooped the kid up into his arms. Surprisingly, and thankfully, Souji let the older half-demon carry him and fisted a tiny hand in his shirt as Inuyasha crossed back over to Kagome, who was smiling and had suspiciously bright eyes.

“Chock?” Souji asked and it took him a minute to figure out what he was requesting.

“I’m pretty sure I got chocolate muffin for you, champ,” he said and watched the kid’s face light up in delight. It was true; he did have a chocolate muffin that he’d gotten for himself, but he’d give it to Souji in a heartbeat if that’s what he wanted.

Tired of being ignored, Kouga growled and stalked forward again, refusing to let this mutt get the upper hand here. If anyone should leave, it should be the half-breed, dammit!

“Goddammit, I’m not done—”

“Hey Souji,” Inuyasha interrupted the wolf’s tirade loudly and big blue eyes stared up at him questioningly. “Wanna see a magic trick?”

The tot’s eyes widened and he nodded, remembering the magic he’d showed last night with the red light and his fingers. There was more?!

Wordlessly Inuyasha handed the kid over to his mother and at Kagome’s puzzled frown, he merely grinned and winked before spinning around to face the red-faced wolf-demon. Grabbing a pencil that he assumed Kagome used when making grocery lists, he promptly stabbed the pointed end into the counter with enough force to make it stand upright and he mentally apologized to Kagome for ruining the surface. Kouga paid it no mind and stormed forward, growling low while Inuyasha casually rounded the counter to meet him head on.

“I’m gonna make this pencil disappear,” he announced jovially just as Kouga reached him and with both Kagome and Souji’s wide-eyed gaze on him, Inuyasha promptly grabbed Kouga by the back of the head and slammed his face down hard onto the counter.

Kouga dropped to the floor with a groan as Inuyasha threw his hands up, gesturing to the counter now sans pencil.

“Ta da! It’s gone,” he announced and while Souji squealed in absolute delight and clapped his hands, Kagome gaped at him in disbelief. Where…where did—

Inuyasha reached into his pocket and procured the aforementioned pencil before carelessly tossing it onto the counter. Crossing his arms, he stared dispassionately at the writhing wolf-demon on the floor, clutching his nose with both hands and the scent of blood was prevalent as he groaned in pain.

“I won’t ask again,” Inuyasha growled, golden eyes hard and flashing with thinly veiled warning. “Now make like the fucking pencil and disappear before you really piss me off, wolfshit.”

Managing to heave himself to his feet, but still clutching his nose that hadn’t stopped bleeding, Kouga glared murderously at the half-breed mutt and then shifted his gaze to Kagome. He was expecting sympathy, maybe even a little anger on his behalf – the fucker broke his nose, dammit! – but instead what he got was complete and utter ignorance from his former flame. She dedicated her attention to the boy in her arms, setting him on the counter and reaching inside a paper bag to retrieve what looked like a chocolate muffin, not even sparing him a glance.

And just like that the fight left Kouga and he sighed, giving up. Fine, he could take a hint. He pinned the mutt with one last venomous glare before turning tail and finally leaving, closing the door behind him.

Inuyasha grunted. “Good riddance.”

“Rinse,” Souji repeated with a mouthful of chocolate muffin and Inuyasha turned around to face mother and son. The toddler had more muffin on him than in him and the older half-demon chuckled as he stopped forward to ruffle his hair.

“That’s right, runt,” he praised and then locked eyes with his mother, who stood a few feet away, arms crossed and staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Magic trick, hm?” Kagome drawled as he made his way over to her, trying to remain stern but unable to keep the smile off her face as Inuyasha snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

He shrugged, unrepentant. “Souji liked it,” he defended and grinned down at her. “Hi.”

Kagome gave up and laughed, wrapping her own arms around his neck. “Good morn—”

His mouth cut off the rest of the greeting and Kagome melted against him, happily returning his kiss with a little hum of contentment.

“Sorry,” he rasped as he pulled back. “Couldn’t help myself.”

“Hmm,” Kagome murmured and pulled him back down for another one. Kagome felt his husky chuckle and smiled against his lips, tangling her hands in his hair and sighing in bliss as he nibbled the soft flesh of her bottom lip.

Several more kisses were exchanged, some sweet and slow, others deep and hot, until eventually Inuyasha figured it probably wasn’t he best idea to make out in front of her toddler son so he reluctantly pulled back with a sigh and contented himself by holding her in his arms. Kagome seemed perfectly happy to remain there as she watched her son sitting on the counter making a big mess with his muffin. He’d managed to get it on the floor too and she sighed. She wondered if she could persuade Inuyasha to clean it up while she gave the messy toddler a bath…

Her gaze suddenly landed on the pencil and she blinked.

“Hey,” she said and Inuyasha hummed in response. “How did you do that, by the way?”

“Do what?” He rose his eyebrows in question, but the corners of his lips twitched upward, belying his innocence.

She gave him a look and he smirked at her.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he rumbled and leaned forward to kiss the corner of her mouth.

“Oh, so you’re a magician now?” Kagome breathed, shuddering as he trailed kisses along her jaw.

“Obviously.” Inuyasha ran his hands up and down her sides, claws snagging the fabric of her thin t-shirt. “I mean I have magic fingers.”

He gave a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows as he said that Kagome couldn’t stop the snort-laugh from erupting from her throat even as a light blush stole across her cheeks.

“And speaking of,” he continued with a devilish glint in honey eyes. “Wanna see me do another magic trick?”

Kagome eyed him suspiciously. “Okay,” she agreed somewhat warily, curious despite herself.

“Alright,” Inuyasha said and nodded. “Now watch closely.”

Kagome blinked and stared at him. Inuyasha stared back and vaguely she was aware of his hand crawling up her back, the feeling of claws through her shirt sending shivers to crawl along the length of her spine.

“What am I supposed to be watching?” she whispered and Inuyasha merely grinned before leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her lips. She felt a slight pressure against her back, but paid it no mind, his kiss thoroughly distracting her.

Then he pulled away, released her from his arms, and that was when Kagome felt the tell-tale slackening of an unlatched bra and Kagome gasped as she immediately snapped up an arm to keep the garment in place.

The devil had just unhooked her bra! Through her shirt!

“Inuyasha,” Kagome squeaked, her face turning five shades of red as the wicked half-demon cackled and darted away, grabbing a happily squealing Souji and making his getaway.

“You—! How did you—?! Dammit, Inuyasha, get back here!”

With one arm pressed against her chest, Kagome took off after the pair of laughing half-demons, chasing them around her small apartment and it wasn’t long before she was laughing too.

“I told you!” Inuyasha shouted as he hopped the couch, grinning when Souji laughed in utter delight. “It’s magic!”

“Oh yeah, well watch as I magically shove my foot up your ass! Let’s see your magic solve that one, you mangy mutt!”

Inuyasha’s reply to that was to drop Souji safely onto the couch, catch his pursuer around the waist as she lunged at him, and then swoop her into a kiss and when Kagome wrapped her arms around his neck and immediately responded, it was warm, it was wonderful, it was…

Like magic.

#like magic #inukag #inuyasha #kagome #oneshot #keizfanfiction #fanfiction

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pauputoot · 6 years ago

Text

I have a theory for Amnesty that I’ve been meaning to post for a couple months now and just kinda… haven’t… but there was a throwaway line in this most recent episode that prompted me to actually post it. This seems rather obvious in hindsight, but I haven’t seen anyone else point it out yet so…

Griffin is basing Key NPCs off unused playbooks.

I first realized this because I was trying to set up a (so far unrealized) campaign of Monster of the Week for my friends. Certain things match. And my friend @castcharmperson helped me see some of these too. I’ll pull them from the handbook so you can see what I mean.

The Expert: the hunter who knows all about monsters and magic. The Expert knows a lot of hidden secrets and how to find out more, and also has a well-supplied base to work from. E.g. Bobby Singer from Supernatural; Rupert Giles from Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

It’s Mama. Easy. The well-supplied base is Amnesty Lodge.

The Monstrous: a monster fighting for the good guys. The Monstrous is very weird, and can have a variety of different powers based on what monster breed they are. E.g. Angel from Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel; Bill Compton from True Blood

This could apply to a lot of the Amnesty residents, but I’m pretty sure the closest example is Barclay, since it seems like he was meant to assist the most in hunts initially. Indrid may also fit this role, but there’s another playbook he fits into a little better…

The Spooky: has psychic or magical powers. These powers are strange and sinister ... and not completely under the Spooky’s control. E.g. Sam Winchester from Supernatural; Willow from earlier seasons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

I think this one’s Indrid. Many of the Spooky’s special moves revolve around premonitions, hunches, and probability, which 100% sound like our moth boy. Plus there’s a whole “dark side” element which fits him as well.

The Flake: a conspiracy theorist. The Flake is great at finding things out and seeing how the events of separate mysteries are connected. E.g. Agent Mulder or the Lone Gunmen from The X-Files.

This one is Kirby!

The Initiate: a member of an ancient monster-slaying Sect, trained to fight and use magic. The Initiate is good with magic, and their Sect provides help (and sometimes problems). E.g. The Wardens from The Dresden Files; Annelise from the Twenty Palaces series.

This is a littttttle bit of a stretch, but I’m pretty sure this is Hollis and the Hornets. The key things about the The Initiate are that they can operate independently or use their Sect as a resource, and that Sect’s goal is to hunt monsters. The Hornets may not be ancient, but that definitely describes their current goals and their relationship to Hollis. And whose to say rad snowboard tricks aren’t magical in their own way?

The Professional: you work for an agency that hunts monsters. The Professional is good in a fight, and a good team player. E.g. Riley and the Initiative from Buffy the Vampire Slayer; Olivia Dunham from Fringe.

Agent Stern! The key thing is that The Professional is part of an “Agency,” which can be “a black-budget government department.” Sounds like him to me!

The Wronged: revenge-driven, and really tough. The Wronged is all about killing a specific breed of monster and protecting others as you do it. E.g. Dean and John Winchester from Supernatural.

Minerva. “Revenge-driven and really tough” is her to a T. Note that this was one of the playbooks Griffin asked the boys not to pick because it was “too grimdark.” Maybe there was also a plot reason.

The Mundane was maaaaaybe going to be Pigeon until the Duck-loses-his-powers thing. So there’s only one unused playbook that I wasn’t able to pin down.

Until this week. (minor spoilers below cut).

The Divine: an agent of a higher power, with a mission to fulfill. The Divine is very tough and has been granted holy powers. E.g. Castiel from Supernatural; Michael Carpenter from The Dresden Files.

When Travis asked, “Who’s side are Muffy and Winthrop on?” in the recent episode, Griffin – seemingly jokingly – responded “God’s.” Simple throwaway joke? Or hint that these two are secretly based off The Divine? We don’t know a lot about these guys (except that they’re assholes) but this might give us more of a hint. Maybe they act holier-than-thou because they’re actually…. Holy? (gets booed off stage for the worst joke I’ve ever written)

So. If all of this is true, what does this mean going forward? One or two things.

The first is that the extra playbooks may give us a key to certain latent twists and turns Griffin has up his sleeve. Does Muffy and Winthrop being on God’s Side mean that as-of-yet unseen divine forces may come into play? Could Agent Stern actually be an unused resource rather than a threat?

The second is a little more nebulous. What’s unique about MotW (when compared to DND) is that unlike a player’s Class in DND – which is just kind of a fancy way to say their “profession” – the playbooks are all meant to represent character archetypes. In fact, the MotW handbook stresses the archetype thing so much that it says only one hunter of each type is allowed at the same time in any game.

They don’t just have certain abilities because their job dictates they should be able to. They have Moves that are based on their role in the story. (The Chosen’s Plot Armor is a perfect example of this). We already know from Balance and the post-Balance TTAZZ that Griffin likes the idea of playing with the fourth wall and the nature of stories. What if he’s doing that again? Maybe the reason all these archetypes seem to be represented is because the actual plot of Amnesty ties into what it means to LIVE in the Monster of the Week genre?

Or maybe we just figured out a neat way that Griffin comes up with new characters.

#the adventure zone #taz amnesty #indrid cold #hollis #barclay #agent stern #minerva #amnesty #taz #taz spoilers #i mean theyre super minor and hidden really well but just to be safe #i write things #taz theory

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that-shamrock-vibe · 5 years ago

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Disney+ What To Watch: My Top 10 Favourite Modern-Day Disney Classics

#2. The Princess and the Frog

With the Post-Renaissance era having mixed results from audiences, Disney decided to go back to its beloved an fruitful Disney Princess formula with the last 2D animated studio to date from the House of Mouse.

This not only reminded fans what they loved about Disney when it was on the top of its game, but also began what is now known as the Disney Revival era seeing a resurgence in Disney classics and it all began with the Disnefied spin on yet another classic fairy tale.

The Princess and the Frog does not get enough credit, period. Not only could this movie be mistaken for part of the 90s Renaissance, but the characters are fantastic, the comedy is on point, the music is original and fitting for the setting and...it may just be because there was a 71⁄2 year lull of sub-par movies from the mainstream Mouse House between Lilo & Stitch and this...but there is just this feeling of coming home or seeing an old friend again that I always get whenever I see this movie.

Now a lot of people who criticise this movie say that the main problem is the fact the plot seems very crowded, but really it is straight forward to follow and. if you treat it like a chessboard, the game is set up in the opening scene and song.

So basically you have, arguably, the best female Disney character in animation who has been brought up on strong moral values, she also has a life-long dream from a young age of becoming a well-known chef and owning her own restaurant to honour her father.

Simultaneously, you have a foreign spoiled prince who has been made broke by his parents who comes into the company of the movie’s villain who allows him to escape his troubles but by doing so curses him as a frog and employs his butler to take on the appearance of the prince, trick the local sugar baron’’s into marrying him and thereby takeover New Orleans and harvest its citizens for their souls to appease his friends on the other side.

Plots collide when our heroine meets the frog prince and is tricked into kissing him because he believes she is a princess and so promises to grant her the money for her restaurant if she frees him from his froggy prison, but instead she is turned into a frog and they must find a way to reverse the curse and thwart the evil villain.

I have genuinely just given a general synopsis of the movie in three very short paragraphs so if anyone still thinks this movie is confusing then either I’m missing something or you’re overthinking.

The lessons in this movie are so well learned and played out, the relationships are genuinely built up so that when our main protagonists do eventually fall in love it feels earned rather than just a business arrangement as it was originally going to be.

The choice to make this a 1912 Louisiana set movie, complete with a strong African-American protagonist and an equally strong ethnic Eurasian deuteragonist, as well as a Haitian villain, is genuinely revolutionary for not just Disney but family entertainment.

It doesn’t really shy away from prejudice, albeit while it is not a main focus of the movie, Tiana is put down numerous times not just for being a woman trying to succeed in life but also referred to as a woman with “her background” which means he skin colour, or her upbringing in a poor neighbourhood.

Tiana is the every girl for me, not only has she worked for everything that she has earned, even throughout the movie, but she has a smart head on her shoulders. She knows how to whip Naveen and her friends into shape, but also she is not afraid to stand up to the Shadow Man or any of her oppressors.

She also doesn’t believe herself a princess, she is not the type of doe-eyed dreamer that would usually fill the princess role. She has a drive, she’s determined, and it’s all real-world issues. Her motivations aren’t because of a man but providing for her future and maybe supporting her mother.

Even when cursed as a frog, she is still determined to achieve her goal, she just needs to be able to turn back into a human first which is where she learns life isn’t all about the endgame. That’s when she allows herself to open up to seeing the good in Naveen and allows herself to fall for him but in a natural organic way.

Anika Noni Rose does an absolutely amazing job as Tiana, she was born to be this character, I can genuinely see her as the live-action version of the character. Anyone saying Tiana was originally supposed to be Caucasian really needs a reality check, look at her design.

It also doesn’t hurt that Tiana’s main princess dress is green which happens to be my favourite colour.

Naveen is a lot like Flynn Ryder in terms of being that loveable rogue type of character but what elevates Naveen is he does at least learn and show personal growth throughout the movie, first with actually doing some hard work and cooking and then with developing actual emotions for Tiana and being conflicted into whether or not the most important thing is regaining his humanity and money or being with Tiana.

Dr. Facilier is one of the great Disney Villains, I may not be Haitian but I actually dressed as him for Halloween last year complete with UV skull face paint, now yes I’m practically a milk bottle and so a white skull face on me does not exactly show properly but I still felt very good about myself.

I loved the addition of voodoo to a family friendly atmosphere, it didn’t need to go into the blood rituals as heavily as say American Horror Story: Coven did but it still showed that a large part of voodoo is blood rituals with requiring Naveen’s blood in order to maintain the illusion of Lawrence being Naveen.

The personality they gave Facilier as well wasn’t exactly as sinister as Maleficent but instead more like Jafar or Scar, he allows himself to have his own brand of humour such as when he’s giving his tarot readings but also his sinister side manifests in how he utilises his magic and his friends on the other side and particularly his shadow.

Charlotte Le Bouff is probably the funniest supporting character I’ve seen since Mole from Atlantis or even the Genie in Aladdin. I absolutely love seeing this girl every time she is on screen, she steals the show in every scene she’s in. But also, you do feel for her. She wants that dream fairy tale life and you want her to get it because she is just that loveable.

If I had to say who I liked the least it would probably be Louis and Ray, nothing personally against them they are both decent comedic side characters, but they just seemed to be tagalongs and didn’t really contribute a purpose. Louis is an alligator who dreams of being a jazz musician which comes true when Tiana opens her restaurant and he is part of the house band, Ray is a Cajun firefly who is in love with a star and he gets to join her by becoming a star when he is, rather brutally, murdered by Facilier after a rather emotionally manipulating funeral scene.

Mama Odie and Eudora (Tiana’s mum) are great examples of Disney utilising named talent for minor roles, as both Jenifer Lewis and Oprah Winfrey respectfully do very reasonable jobs with what they’re given. I mean it’s Jenifer Lewis as a Voodoo Queen it’s just magic.

Just like Naveen, I was so happy with the infusion of Jazz music in this movie. I want to go New Orleans so badly, and I partially want to go there because it is the hub of jazz music. I loved the “Down in New Orleans” book-ended renditions at the start and the end of the movie, originally performed by Dr. John and in the reprise performed by Anika herself belting it out.

“Almost There” I love as a “I Want” song and as an empowerment mantra, it’s a song about focusing on your goals, working hard for them and it is catchy as hell.

“Friends on the Other Side” is the best villain song since “Be Prepared” and “Hellfire”. Not only does it give an amazing display of Facilier’s voodoo powers but Keith David delivers a fantastic performance all round.

“Dig a Little Deeper” is another great life motivation song, and if it is Jenifer Lewis singing it then she stays in character and does a great job.

The other songs are good, they’re nice but I do feel they’re a tad forgettable.

The Princess and the Frog is one of the more underrated Disney animated movies, it was unfairly weak at the box office, yet delivers a brilliant well-rounded story with fantastic characters, stunning visuals, great life lessons and an overall heartwarming feeling.

It’s also made me want to try beignets as I have never had them before.

So what do you guys think? Post your comments and check out more Disney+ What to Watch Top 10s as well as more Top 10 Lists and other posts.

#disney #disney+#disney plus #the princess and the frog #princess and the frog #disney+ what to watch top 10s #disney+ what to watch #my top 10 favourite modern day disney animated movies #my top 10 favourite modern day disney classics

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thisbitchinthecorner · 5 years ago

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2013 (roughly 6 years before the End of the World)

This is basically as set up for the second part of this chapter. For @drawlight

Cookies Prompt!

Part 1:

On a lavish and sprawling official London residence, a boy of about 5 sits beside his attentive Nanny. This small boy has known several nannies in the past, but none have been like this one; he enjoys her songs and stories, he finds comfort in her arms and even once, he swore she had eyes that glowed in the dark. When Nanny was around, he felt warm and loved. When Nanny was around, he felt special.

“Nanny,” Young Warlock began. “Mama says we’re going to spend a few days at our house in the country. She says her and Daddy have in-por-tent stuff to do while we are there, so I’ll get to be with you.”

“Isn’t that nice dear. A proper Holiday.”

“Since we will be in the country, can we go for a picnic? My last Nanny used to have picnics with me on the lawn, but that was a long time ago.”

The demon nearly lurched forward out of her chair. “Of course we can, my darling. But you know who would really enjoy coming along?”

“Who Nanny? Who?”

“Brother Francis. Why, I’m sure the garden at the country estate needs tending, and if you asked, I’m certain your mother would agree.” Nanny brushed back a strand of hair from the little boy’s eyes. “Come now, let us prepare for our adventure.”

The manner staff included a chef, several assistants to both Mr. and Mrs. Downing, a formal butler, three housekeepers, a multitude of Secret Service agents and one gardener. While it would seem that a recently hired Nanny would be outranked by all save for one, most of the help lived in fear of her. In all fairness, Nanny was an imposing figure; standing nearly 6’3” with her old fashioned lace up boots, a swathe of thick, red hair pinned back just so and an eye condition that required her to wear dark glasses at all points in time. Even Mr. Downing, on the rare occasions he was at home, found himself tip toeing around his son’s new nanny. So when it came time to assemble the entourage of Secret Service agents and house staff to travel to Pembrokeshire, Nanny was the one who gave the orders and assignments.

The car ride was long, the multitude of official government vehicles seemed ridiculous, yet the slew of violence towards Americans abroad had steadily increased over the years. Nanny did not like being a passenger in a car she was not operating. To make matters worse, young Warlock did not travel well, and spent the majority of the trip with his head in her lap. When they finally arrived, the countryside was different from how he remembered it. A shudder ran through him, as he recalled the last time he was in Wales.

“Come on Nanny! Let’s get ready to go on our picnic!” Warlock pleaded.

“We’ve only just arrived, my dear. Tomorrow will be a better day, I promise.” Nanny soothed. “In the meantime, why don’t we find some little treats we can bring with us.”

“We can ask Chef Claude to make some cookies with pink icing! Those are my favorite.”

“Cookies?” The demon asked. “Don’t you mean biscuits?”

“Nanny, Mama says that we should do as the Americans do, and they call them cookies!” Warlock sighed with exaggeration. “Do you think Chef Claude will make them?”

“He’d better, if he knows what’s good for him. We should ask him to prepare a full lunch also, oysters, French bread with brioche, savory stuffed crepes, figs and almonds, grapes and cranberries, and of course, your cookies.” Nanny listed. Such a fine lunch for Aziraphale.

“Nanny, I’m so excited.” The boy jumped up and down with glee.

“Let me tell you a little secret, I’m excited too. I’ve never been on a picnic before, this will be my first.” Nanny replied.

“And you get to spend it with me and Brother Francis! I hope he’s excited too.”

“Of course he is! I think he’s been waiting a very long time for this too, so it will be extra special.” She purred. “Now, my dark prince, time for you to get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Nanny?” Warlock said with wide eyes. “Can you sing me a lullaby?”

“Of course darling.” She sang for the boy, while her voice was a great deal more raspy and harsh than it had been long, long ago, the boy did not seem to mind. For the first time since those days, she actually enjoyed singing.

Morning came, and the sunlight poured though the open windows, welcoming the new day. Warlock leapt from his bed and ran out into the parlor. He looked around for Nanny, and finally spied her outside, talking to Brother Francis in the garden.

Warlock watched them with fascination; there was something so comforting about Brother Francis’s presence, he made the boy feel safe in an unsafe world. The funny little man seemed to be brimming with love, and Warlock greatly enjoyed their time together.

“There you are Young Master Warlock! Seems today is a fine day for our little picnic!” Brother Francis grinned as he patted the boy on his head.

“What’s this now? Still in your pajamas?” Nanny fretted.

“Want to see a little magic trick?” Brother Francis asked.

“I sure do! But Nanny says your magic tricks are rubbish and beneath you!” Warlock laughed as Nanny crossed her arms.

“Well now! Close your eyes and turn around three times. You can count to three, right?” Brother Francis asked with a wink.

The boy did as he was told, and a minor miracle was performed.

“Look Nanny! No more pajamas! You’re amazing Brother Francis!” Warlock cried as he flung his arms around the robust gardener. “Can I carry the basket? Please! I won’t drop it, not even once.”

“Of course, my dear.” Nanny hands the basket to the boy, seemingly weightless despite the multitude of items stored inside.

The trio set off, the boy ran ahead, scouting the perfect spot to settle down, reveling in the sunshine as he acted out the fantasies in his mind. The angel and demon strolled together, side by side as they conversed, relaxed and happy on such a perfect day in the countryside.

Perfect, just like you, my angel.

......

#31 days of ineffables #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #justenoughofabastardtobeworthknowing

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arcanaaa · 6 years ago

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"ah! you're really pretty miss."

❝Eh?❞

The brunette gave a start, blue hues both blinked and gazed down at what she obviously saw was a little girl. The lush gathered that this girl was no more than Wendy’s age, yet she seemed to embody all the metaphysical properties of the sun. Such radiance shouldn’t have encompassed one so small, yet Cana found this to be the contrary; a sunshine smile beamed a sincere declaration unto her without prompt or reason. A compliment that was unwarranted as far as she was concerned, yet it was appreciated nevertheless.

Form shifted, angled to face the much small stature of the youth before her while a slow, sweet smile unfurled from upon her lips. Softness did not often touch the lush’s countenance, but not many brought such a disposition from her form. Children, especially little ones, all held a tender spot in her heart.

With a smooth motion, Cana brought herself to a crouch, the weight of her body balanced by her own strength brought on by patience and practice; elbows rested atop her knees as her arms dangled loosely, as relaxed and at ease with kneeling before the girl than when she stood tall and sure. And still, Cana’s smile never wavered their integrity to bring the same feeling of tender joy brought by their sweet compliment.

❝Well, aren’t you sweet?❞

❝Thanks. By the way, where’s your mama?❞

Effortlessly Cana rose from her stance and cast her gaze to their surroundings-- her mother couldn’t have been far, maybe she just was lost? These things tended to happen with kids her age; however, as long as this little girl remained by her side, Cana could not leave her to fend for herself. Protective instincts surged as the lush caught the girl’s gaze, a shadow of vulnerability making her chest twinge.

A wide grin was given to force the rush of emotion that stirred from Cana, and an idea allowed her the ingenuity to procure one of her Heart Kreuz cards. Betwixt her index and middle finger was a calling card with a caricature of the mage’s likeness printed upon the item. Gently she presented the token and waited for her to take the card.

❝Just so y’know-- you shouldn’t walk up t’ random strangers. You’re lucky though, 'cause I’m a mage of Fairy Tail-- an’ I can do magic.❞

To demonstrate, Cana tossed three cards in the air, just a simple flick of her wrist and a quick snap of her fingers, a sudden shower of sparkling color rained down upon them. A simple yet harmless trick she had practiced on since the last Fantasia parade that was a hit with children. This one seemed a success.

❝If y’ever get the chance to visit Magnolia Town, head for Fairy Tail-- lot’s of wizards who can do a lot more magic than me.❞ Cana said with a wink before she turned and walked. A wave was tossed to the girl before she shot a grin over her shoulder, her call light-hearted and candid.

❝But be sure t’ask your mama if it’s okay first, alright?❞

At some point the mage realized she should have gotten the girls name-- a minor detail, surly, but one that Cana wasn’t too concerned about. There was a spirit inside her that Cana admired and found a tender likeness towards that made maternal instincts rear to the surface and beam with pride. It was an unexpected feeling, but a feeling the lush did not bother to question, for this brief encounter would likely fade into a forgotten memory.

Still, she could not help but hope the young lionheart’s endeavors were met with a kinder fate than one that Cana held. Of that she wished adamantly for any child-- no matter what.

#defianccs #█ ▌ ╰ ☾ ╮ ┆ 「ask.」#long post /#this was so nice to write thank you gina :* uwu

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fanfictionconnectionwordpress · 7 years ago

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What if the RFA + Minor Trio turned into the opposite gender? ;)

***Okey dokey, let’s swap the sexes. I’m going to make it more of a storyline thing rather than doing a typical ‘genderswap’ situation. Each character is on route and has received a chain mail email that they will be changed into the opposite sex for 24 hours if they don’t forward the email swiftly, followed by it actually occurring. All except Vanderwood who is myversion of Vanderwood as seen in my VanderwoodBackstory Fanfiction. ~Let’s Connect! FFC***

Jaehee:

It’s a lot like living in a nightmare.

She calls in sick to work, the one and only time she’s ever done that, causing Jumin to send someone to her house to drop off her work.

At least that gives her something to do so she doesn’t have to focus on the fact that her normally huge boobs are nowhere to be seen or how difficult it is to use the restroom.

The relief that washes over her when things return to normal is unreal.

Seven:

This is amazing! His boobs look even better than he’d imagined them, not that he wants to be a woman exactly, but it’s going to be amazing for his crossdressing for a day…or technically not crossdressing…considering

He tries everything on in his closet, taking so many pictures with his whole photo stand and remote set up.

Tricking the others in the chatroom with his pictures will be even more fun now.

Could he…manage to trick Vanderwood? The agent is due to arrive any second to make him work, so Seven puts on the most provocative dress he can and poses as sexily as possible by the door saying, ‘Hello, Madam~’ as soon as the brunet enters.

Being chased around by Vandy and his taser only teaches Seven why women wear such tight bras when exercising.

Jumin:

He is absolutely surprised and mesmerized that it actually worked. He’s read some occult books before simply for the purpose of research, but perhaps its more plausible than he believed?

Jumin goes to work like usual, everyone around him so confused as he commands Jaehee to launch an immediate research project on the phenomenon.

No one can decide if he is crazy or if they are. How does a man show up as a woman the next day?

He is not sure whether he is disappointed or relieved when the symptoms wear off, as he had thought about researching some things that only female bodies could experience, but since it was only a 24 hours situation, he needed to finish his work first anyway.

Zen:

He’s actually always wondered what he would look like as a woman.~

Clearly he would be the most beautiful woman ever in existence, and as he looks in the mirror, hot mama, yes he is.

He’s actually turning himself on, or so he thinks because it feels a little different than normal.

So. Many. Selfies.

Zen just can’t get enough of himself.

By the end of the day…there’s just one thing left to test out.

Haven’t you always wondered what certain things feel like for the opposite sex? ;3

Yoosung:

He honestly almost sends the email, gullible baby, but then Seven calls him, and as soon as he hangs up the phone…OH NO IT’S COME TRUE!

Yoosung proceeds to forward the email to everyone and their cousin hoping that it will reverse the side effects more immediately, but that doesn’t work.

24 hours…he can do this for 24 hours.

There’s a permanent blush on his face, and he keeps thinking about taking a look at his bare body, just a peek, and then proceeding to get wildly flustered.

He has to change his voice tone for LOLOL when he logs in to distract himself.

It is a mercy for him when the 24 hours are up.

Saeran:

He doesn’t like this at all. Somehow his idiot brother has to be responsible.

Should he go to the Savior for help or try to deal with this on his own?

The best course of action is clearly to hack the email and sender as much as he possibly can, and since it’s a chain mail, there’s a lot of senders to backtrack through to find the original.

His back starts to hurt ridiculously badly after a while of being in his chair and he realizes…the extra front weight is straining his back.

Saeran works for the entire 24 hours and past that, finally finding the original sender and grabbing his jacket, triumphantly pushing away from his computer so he can go to the magic shop and make them reverse this curse immediately…only to realize…his breasts are gone.

No point In going now other than to punish…His eyes fall on his computer screen, evidence of Seven searching the chatroom firewall again for a security breach popping up on the screen.

A smile grows on his face…on second thought…why not curse someone else?

Vanderwood:

Not real. Not happening. The supernatural is bullshit.

Instead of paying any attention to what has happened to himself and the lack of control he has, considering the way his body just morphed, Vanderwood decides to do the one thing that makes him feel like he has control over his life

Immediately, he launches into cleaning his house from top to bottom, not stopping until he can see his reflection in the tiles of his kitchen floor and then pausing…

Oh good…it must have been a total of 24 hours because he has returned to normal.

He’s always found the female body beautiful and intriguing but that didn’t mean he wanted to experience it firsthand.

Still, he spends a great deal of time looking himself over in the mirror, considering the art that he could make.

Is it possible to be your own muse? Of course it is, plenty of artists did that…

He only had a few short hours to do this!

V starts to take a load different photographs of himself, which he will later use in an exhibit that becomes critically acclaimed.

People ask the question of why he’d turn himself into a woman in a photograph, and he states it as ‘Because women are desirable in more ways than one,’ which earns him a following as a women’s advocate.

Well done, V.

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#mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanon #mysmes #jaehee kang #jumin han #zen hyun ryu #yoosung kim #saeran choi #luciel choi #vanderwood #v jihyun kim #askffc

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wishiwasmorticia · 7 years ago

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Let’s settle this for once and for all: your moralizing about Spike being a rapist is bullshit because...(a rant)

I’ve seen too many rants about this lately to keep quiet for much longer, so here we go. ** DISCLAIMER: I do not hate Angel or Bangel. I prefer Spike and Spuffy, but this does not mean I hate Bangel or Bangel fans. I have lots of nice things to say about Angel; I just like him better on his own show, and I prefer him with Cordelia. But I appreciate that you love Angel/Bangel so much. Rock on. Love them as hard as you can. What I DO hate are double standards, uninformed opinions, and such deep emotional investment in a character or a ship that one blindly puts it on a pedestal and deliberately ignores its flaws, while vilifying a rival character or ship for being “problematic,” and while also projecting that onto fans of the rival character/ship, saying THEY’RE blindly putting their fave on a pedestal and rationalizing. If you are an Angel/Bangel fan and you’re happy to live and let live where Spike/Spuffy fans are concerned, you’re cool - this isn’t about you. **

Claiming that Spike is irredeemable because he attempted to rape Buffy is complete bullshit - projection and rationalization rooted in nothing more than the fact that you like Angel better and wanted him to end up with Buffy. A bold claim? How about we deconstruct the anti-Spike/Spuffy rhetoric for a moment...

Let’s begin with the idea that sexual offenders can’t be rehabilitated. I minored in psychology as an undergrad. In 2013, I took Psychology of Atypical Sexuality. The class dealt with things like fetishes and paraphilia, and went all the way through sex offenders. The first week, we had a guest lecturer from New Zealand, a colleague my professor met when she was on sabbatical. They have a completely different way of handling sex offenders there, and have significantly reduced recidivism rates. What are they doing that we’re not in the US? Mostly, it’s the fact that they actually TRY to rehabilitate offenders, and offer them community support and the tools to change, rather than focusing on retribution and humiliation. Only the highest-risk offenders go on registries, and that didn’t even go into effect until last year. This does not mean that the rest get off scott free, but what it does mean is that they accept that there is such a thing as paying one’s debt to society and once they’ve served their sentence, the goal is to help integrate them back into the community and be productive members of society who don’t sexually offend. It’s hard. It takes a lot of therapy. It takes a lot of community support. But it’s doable...if you actually DO it. Americans don’t like to hear that, though. Even though studies show that our current methods of dealing with sex offenders do NOTHING to prevent recidivism and often actually increase it, but we LIKE the sex offender lists and the laws that keep them away from children, because dammit, somebody did something to keep us safe and it satisfies our need for retribution! So if this is the kind of mindset you’re coming from when writing Spike off as nothing but a rapist, I can’t change your mind...but you’re still wrong. Also, let’s remember that Spike DID NOT have a soul when that happened. You claim that it does not matter - I’m going to debunk that one next - but if we follow the metaphor of New Zealand and community support, that’s pretty much how Spike getting a soul and becoming an integral part of the Scoobies afterward functioned. If you listen closely to his Crazy in the Basement™ ramblings, he knows what he did was wrong and why it was wrong. He learned. He’s capable of change. He can’t operate in the human world the same way he did in the vampire world. The rules are different. Yes, Spike assaulted Buffy in her bathroom. We (Spike/Spuffy fans) know it. We’re confronted with that every time that episode comes on - and every time some of you have to make yourselves feel better by telling us how sick we make you. About that... Now let’s unpack this idea that Angel is somehow morally better than Spike, and let’s talk about souls. And let’s start with who they were before they became vampires. William Pratt moved in high society circles, was not respected by his peers, and wrote bad poetry for a woman who would never love him back. He was a mama’s boy. He may have tried too hard in some ways, but that’s really the worst we can say about him. Liam, on the other hand, was a pretty shitty person. VERY handsy with the women (hmmmm, sounds strikingly similar to certain complaints I hear about Spike), and was otherwise a lazy, entitled drunk. Yeah, Angel’s doing GREAT in our comparison so far. As soulless vampires, Spike had a reputation that ALMOST rivaled Angelus’s in terms of torture, etc., but we know for a fact that Angelus is worse. For one thing, we can tell that Angelus was not capable of love and he enjoyed torture. And you are naïve and deluded if you believe that didn’t include rape at some point in his career as the baddest vampire ever. Furthermore, Angelus never would have chosen to change. He LIKED the hedonism and depravity of the vampire life. The soul was the result of a CURSE, meant to make him suffer. Spike, on the other hand, IS capable of love without a soul. We see that in his devotion to Dru. He also loves Buffy. Yes, it’s a selfish love - BECAUSE HE’S A FUCKING VAMPIRE WITHOUT A SOUL. Duh. But he’s not nearly as sadistic as Angel. He clearly displays empathy from time to time. Even pre-chip (again, I refer you to his relationship with Dru). So let’s talk about ensouled vampires. Angel says he loved Buffy the moment he first saw her. We know that’s when she was a FRESHMAN IN HIGH SCHOOL in Los Angeles. I don’t think it says specifically when in the school year that flashback took place, but Buffy could have been as young as FOURTEEN. Ew, much? ENSOULED ANGEL HAS ROMANTIC FEELINGS FOR AN ADOLESCENT CHILD. That’s called an ephebophile since y’all are insisting on sex offender rhetoric. And we’re going to pretend that that’s so much better than what Spike did WITHOUT a soul? Yeah, right. Let’s remember that Buffy was a grown woman of 20 when Spike developed feelings for her, and 21 when they’d began their sexual relationship. Granted, Buffy made some bad choices due to being in a bad place from having been DEAD and all, but somehow we forget to talk about the guy who entered into a relationship with an inexperienced teenager. Or maybe you all do talk about that - but somehow that never comes up when some of you go on the attack against Spike and Spuffy fans. Even if we believe that Spike assumed getting his soul would be a quid pro quo deal in terms of winning Buffy’s affections afterward, the bottom line is, something inside told him that he’d never achieve the impulse control he needed without one, and that there’d be no way he’d be WORTHY of Buffy’s love without one. That to me sounds more like Buffy’s standards being the yardstick for what a good man is than it does a trade for her love, but as I mentioned above even if he did go in assuming the soul would make her love him, he understood the reality of the situation afterward, and his actions were more in line with giving her what she needed instead of taking what he wanted. But! But! But! Spike is back to his old tricks in ATS with Harmony!!! So, what you’re saying is, you’ve never known anyone who’s gone to rehab, who’s had good days and bad days, and maybe has fallen off the wagon, especially after suffering a trauma....maybe like DEATH? And then being recorporialized? No? Well, me either, at least the death and recorporialization part - but if we think about anyone in ANY behavior modification situation, yes, relapse is common. ESPECIALLY when you’re cut off from your support system and surrounded by people who treat you like shit. Just saying. As already stated in the thing about how New Zealand has programs that handle sex offenders differently, community support is crucial to the success of reducing recidivism. Spike didn’t have that in Season 5 of ATS. If we keep up with the rehabilitation metaphor, Season 5 Spike is comparable to what happens to sex offenders who can’t get jobs because of their records and end up homeless because the registries don’t leave them anywhere to live. These stressors often lead to reoffending. But you’re right - they DESERVE all of that. So what if that makes them continue to be dangerous even though there are alternatives that are more effective? So what stopped Angel from reoffending when he had a soul? BECAUSE IT WAS PART OF THE FUCKING CURSE THAT HE WOULD FEEL HIS VICTIMS’ SUFFERING!!!! Spike is under the constraints of no such curse, though he does admit to feeling remorse. Angel’s gypsy curse is the ensouled equivalent of having a chip in his head like Spike did when he was a vampire. Think about it. Too bad it wasn’t enough to stop him from macking on little girls, huh? Double Standards: They’re Not Just for Breakfast Angel Anymore. In the final analysis, Angel isn’t REALLY any better than Spike in a side-by-side comparison. But if we take shipability with Buffy out of the equation, let’s expose some more hypocricy where the rhetoric against Spike is concerned: WILLOW: Gets addicted to magic, gets Dawn hurt in a car wreck, turns evil and MURDERS WARREN BY SKINNING HIM ALIVE. Maybe he had it coming, but if rape is rape, then murder is murder, AMIRITE? Status: FORGIVEN BY THE FANDOM. ANDREW: Member of the misogynistic Trio who went so far as to turn Warren’s ex girlfriend INTO A SEX SLAVE ZOMBIE. Did all kinds of shit to Buffy. MURDERS HIS PARTNER IN CRIME, JONATHAN. Switches sides after becoming their hostage, and lookie there, he’s a fucking JUNIOR WATCHER after helping to close the Hellmouth. Status: FORGIVEN BY THE FANDOM.

FAITH: Murder and mayhem everywhere she went! Literally had no conscience until she checked into Angel’s One-Man Rehab™ and then turned herself in to pay her debt to society in prison. FORCED HERSELF ON ANGEL in order to try to turn him into Angelus. USED BUFFY’S BODY TO RAPE RILEY! Not to worry: she turns a new leaf and helps to save the world. Status: FORGIVEN BY THE FANDOM. (Wait, what? I thought rapists couldn’t be forgiven? Oh, wait - that’s only if you’re a man and don’t happen to be the one you ship with the Slayer.) I could go on, but hopefully you’re getting the picture. If you’ve forgiven/accepted these characters in the face of what they’ve done, your feelings against Spike have NOTHING to do with attempted sexual assault or any other crime he’s committed. It’s time to come clean about that. Really. Those characters have atoned. So has he. Let it go. On the other hand, if you hate all these characters for the unforgivable shit they’ve done, then good for you for being consistent - but your rhetoric had better match your moral compass. The TL/DR version: It’s okay to love something that’s problematic - but ENGAGE WITH THAT! Don’t put it on a perfect pedestal while vilifying a rival character or ship, or the people who love it. Check your own biases. Spike and Spuffy fans know full well what Spike did and have grappled with it, and we still came out on #TeamSpike and #TeamSpuffy. You don’t have to agree. You don’t have to switch sides. You don’t even have to like Spike. Just...STOP IT WITH YOUR MORALIZING AND YOUR DOUBLE STANDARDS, and be honest about the fact that it’s because you think Angel is hotter or you’d rather see him and Buffy together because of the tinglys they give you, or whatever the real reason is. Quit pretending it’s about rape or misogyny. Also, if anyone is going to be a coward and send me anon hate over this, don’t waste your time, because any anon hate is going to be summarily deleted without acknowledgement.

#spuffy #buffy #spike #angel #bangel #meta #critique #analysis #willow #andrew #faith #fandom rhetoric #fight me

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expressandadmirable · 7 years ago

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Children’s Work

(Response to the 58. “I will never hurt you.” prompt from @stufflaalikes)

“V, please! Don't run so far, I don't want to lose you!”

The girl giggled, skipping a few paces further ahead, and Esperance realised how dearly she had missed the sound. Aviva laughed less and less as she grew from childhood to adolescence; still young by most metrics, she had already seen more than her fair share of hardship and injustice. The fresh welts slicing her palms were the most recent example, and though she had simply adapted to favour the backs of her hands for a few days after receiving her lashings, the sight of them always made her mother’s heart twist in her chest. Damn every teacher in that blasted school.

But tonight had been a good night. More than slightly belated as far as celebrations went, but the Lux women had never been overly attached to where days fell on the calendar. They gave gifts when they could afford them and simply assigned their significance to the most recent occasion, be it a birthday or the Festival or one of the host of silly Cornerian holidays. Tonight’s excursion came a full season after its designated day, due in equal part to Esperance’s overfull working hours and to the sheer price of the tickets. She had refused Mourat’s kind offer to buy them for her; she was not often the type to let pride get the better of her, but gift-giving was a sacred ritual. It would be worth the wait.

From the moment they stepped into the theatre, Esperance knew it had indeed been worth the wait. Aviva’s wide, wondering eyes darted about the foyer, from the gilded statues of angelic Humans nestled in their alcoves to the monochromatic tiled floor beneath their feet to the glittering chandelier overhead. Her delight only increased as they made their way up the flights of wide marble steps to the balcony level, its lobby panelled in rich, dark wood and draped in green velvet. As her daughter stopped to admire the intricate carvings adorning one of the columns, Esperance could not help but wonder what the construction of such a place must have cost -- and if they had need of a leatherworker.

When the usher guarding the door stepped aside to indicate their seats, Aviva stopped in her tracks, rendered utterly speechless by the view sprawled before her. She took in the huge proscenium, the rich red curtains trimmed in golden fringe, the painted ceiling, the sheer vastness of the space, her breath escaping in a slow, awed exhale. They had attended plays on the common and occasional productions at the open-topped theatre near the docks, but nothing even a fraction as lavish as this. She did not speak until they had taken their seats, turning to her mother with a radiant, childlike grin. “Mama, it’s… beautiful!”

Esperance smiled and squeezed her daughter’s hand. “Happy birthday, baby.” Then the lights dimmed and the orchestra began to play.

The opera was as magnificent as the trappings surrounding it, with a sweeping score and opulent sets and costumes, a mixture of minor magic and clever lighting tricks bringing the otherworldly elements of the story to thrilling life. The plot was dark and appropriately theatrical, centring on a wraith who haunted an opera house in an unnamed faraway city and fell in love with a beautiful Half-Elf singer who worked there. Embittered by her love for a rich, mortal Human man, the wraith tormented her and wreaked havoc upon the theatre until it was banished during the final showdown between the three leads. For her part, Esperance thought it all a bit melodramatic, but she had to admit it was wonderfully entertaining.

Aviva was enraptured. She watched the events unfold onstage with singular focus, her fingers unconsciously tapping the rhythms of the music on the arms of her seat. Although her injured palms prevented her from applauding at the curtain call, she was undaunted, leaping to her feet and cheering with all her might. For once, Esperance noted with a smile, her daughter actually seemed her age.

As they ambled through the lamplit streets in the vague direction of home, Aviva filled the frigid winter air with an unending stream of thoughts and questions. She liked the female lead’s voice, though her own would likely become too deep to play that particular role. She wondered how they had made the wraith disappear at the end, and if it was magic, whether she could learn to cast it. She hoped Mourat could teach her the central melodies. She wondered if the two lovers really would live happily ever after.

“I do have one big question, though,” she continued, pausing to let her mother catch up and falling into step beside her.

Esperance laughed, glancing at her with a raised brow. “Were none of those big questions?”

“No,” Aviva retorted, then reconsidered. “Well, yes. But this is a for-actual big question. In the scene after the singer ran away from the theatre, when the count catches up with her and does that big grand declaration of love, they kept singing about how perfect it would be. How they were meant to be together. And he kept telling her ‘I will never hurt you’. That was the through-line of the whole scene: that he would never ever hurt her, and so he was better than the wraith -- also he was alive, but that’s beside the point. He kept coming back to it. And that’s just… not true, is it?”

Esperance had come to expect deep and far-reaching questions out of the girl, even moreso as she moved further away from childhood, but the specifics of them never failed to surprise her. She let out a puff of mist, folding her arms beneath her heavy shawl. “No. It’s not true. Mortals are clumsy creatures, and sometimes we hurt people, even if we don’t mean to. Even if we love them.”

“Did you and papa hurt each other?”

“Yes.” The older woman’s smile turned wan. She knew it was not the answer Aviva was hoping for, but the girl was far too smart to think it could be anything else. “Your papa and I had our share of quarrels, said our share of unkind things. We never meant to hurt each other, but we did. And… When he left it hurt most of all.”

Aviva chewed her lip, mulling over her mother’s words. “Love sounds exhausting.”

“It can be.”

“I’m not sure I want to fall in love.”

Esperance huffed a soft laugh. “Two problems with that, sweet pea. First, both your parents were hopeless romantics, and you are most definitely our child.” Opening one side of her shawl, she wrapped an arm around her daughter. “Second, love comes in many forms, and they all have the potential to hurt. It’s unavoidable.” She paused, her voice dropping. “Just look at you and me.”

Aviva stiffened, undoubtedly remembering their last big argument. Esperance had certainly spent enough time dwelling on it. Though her actions had come from a place of desperation, a panicked desire to protect and shelter, it had not gone as either of them had expected and she would forever wish she had handled it differently. But, at least it illustrated a point.

Slowing to a halt on the cobblestones, Esperance opened the other side of her shawl, drawing Aviva into the warmth of the fabric and squeezing her tightly. “Ohh, my girl. You’re too clever by half, you know that?” Aviva chuckled into her shoulder. “Always asking the big questions. Growing up so fast.” Too fast. She kissed her daughter’s forehead, already so close in height to her own. “Here’s what I know: there’s no such thing as a perfect relationship. Lovers, children, friends… People disappoint each other. That's part of life. It's how they move on from it that matters.” It was a lesson as much for her as for the girl in her arms.

“Sounds like an awful lot of work,” Aviva grumbled, but there was a smile hidden in her protest.

“It is, at that,” Esperance nodded. “You can’t un-hurt someone, even if it was an accident. The best you can do is acknowledge the pain you caused. Learn from it, grow from it, try not to repeat the same mistakes. And always, always say you’re sorry.” She breathed deeply, taking in the whispers of snow in the air. “I’m sorry, my love.”

It was not the first time she had apologised for the fight, but the words felt heavier as they left her lips. She had, however temporarily, lost her daughter’s trust, and the circumstances of their lives all but guaranteed it would happen again. All she could do was try her best. Hopefully her best would be good.

“Ie'vory xedaj, mama.” You are my calm. There was no word for ‘love’ in their people’s language, but generations upon generations had managed to get by all the same. They made do. They always would.

Esperance smiled. “I love you too, baby.”

#Dungeons and Dragons #Original characters #Backstory #Canon #Prompts #Aviva Lux #Esperance Lux #Title: Dessa

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ratherhavetheblues · 5 years ago

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QUENTIN TARANTINO’S ‘ONCE UPON A TIME IN HOLLYWOOD’ “Lightning in a bottle…”

The films of Quentin Tarantino are arguably the gold standard of amusement while indirectly excoriating the history of reverence. His recent shot, Once upon a Time… in Hollywood (2019), attends in a rather special way toward his enmity regarding pious foot-soldiers on guard for the sake of half-truths, at best. The target of Hollywood might seem to be a rather minor concern, not to mention that nearly everyone intuits its flaws already. But do they?

We take a ride with Cliff, a movie stunt man/ and double, for actor, Rick, in Rick’s cream-colored Cadillac convertible. While the actor attends to his well-known métier of Western adventures, overblown, underwhelming but passionately popular, Cliff, not being needed to spare the daring in this outing, takes up his other functions as chauffeur and handyman at Rick’s mansion in the exclusive hills. This day, there is the insupportable collapse of the perhaps, sinking brand’s television antenna, the year being 1969. Two magical events occur during Cliff��s hiatus. The first is the remarkable agility of his reaching the roof—sheer acrobatics in leaping from purchase to purchase. When on the irregular roof, his panache is not only bankable but poetry. The second surprise occurs on the freeway with the top down, of course, and music on the radio, to a tune called, “Gamblin’ Man.” The pitch and volume of the sound inundating the fast car can be discerned, with the driver in closeup, that intensity of this degree is, however unspoken, a field of grace. Much remains to be explored regarding Cliff’s solitary day off; but this film invites disparate, rare and desperate action to coalesce. Some months later, and late at night, with the sidekicks about to go their separate ways (and making a last-ditch party of the crisis), Cliff and his pit bull, Brandy, take a walk in the vicinity of Rick’s opulent (but now financially threatened) castle. The acrobat, saying nothing of the earthquake but feeling much, evokes another ecstatic song, far more explosive than the treacly film productions which made the actor affluent, namely, far from matinee-idol, Chris Farlow’s, one-hit-wonder, “Out of Time”—“Baby, Baby, Baby, you’re outta’ time…” And it’s freeway-time again, because the Stones (far more explosive than the earnest writer) know their Hollywood-Rare. The latter’s, wisely distorting the phrase, “Baby, Baby, Baby, you’re outta’ ooaa” [connoting, both “time” and “sight”]. The fateful musical presentation penetrates the mansion next door, the short-lease range of the now-pregnant starlet, Sharon Tate, where a dizzy anti-climax is about to unfold, which obliges us to consider a step far more demanding of nuance than Hollywood can afford. Back to Cliff, on the rich man’s roof, who couldn’t miss hearing the neighbor’s music, a bemusing effort by the laughably named, “Paul Revere and the Raiders.”

We had been up close to her the night before (at an intersection between convertibles; the play-list no improvement on her home choice), on their drive back to Rick’s, not the restauranteur, of course, but the ravenous, for Bogart’s fame. Here she was accompanied by her recent husband, Roman Polanski, still, at that point, a bright light of European avant-garde movies. (His elevated stature depended upon two early 1960’s efforts, Knife in the Water and Repulsion; from there he coasted and became a notorious child molester.) Rick, regarding this sighting as an epiphany, gushes to a less than thrilled Cliff, “He’s been living next door for a month and this is the first time I’ve seen him. I could be one pool party from starring in a Polanski movie…” Rather typically, he cites the big name for bringing to us, Rosemary’s Baby. The “glamorous couple,” dressed in rococo-era costume (once-stifling for all it’s worth in the 18th century) were en route to the Playboy Club, where Sharon cavorted as more polka-Polish than anyone else in the establishment. She and Mama Kass were the life of the party. But the real story had to be “no-bullshit,” tough-guy, Steve McQueen, describing, Louella Parsons-style, the tangled affections of Sharon’s depths. (A pan, while Cliff was still fighting off her music on Rick’s roof, discloses very briefly a lithographic poster by Alphonse Mucha. The sensitivity of the woman’s presence in that work must clearly derive from Polanski’s better days. That day, the so-called auteur was tossing a ball to her miniature dog, while the sweetheart slept snoring.)

There is about the first moments of our film today such miasma-inducing artificiality, that a whole universe of sensibility has to be invented to counter such an aberration. Firstly, there is a clip of a re-run of Rick’s television series of yore, namely, “Bounty Law,” the facile and preposterous rhetoric there being perhaps engaging for an eight-year-old. But soon we realize that those far more advanced in age than that swear it to be some kind of elixir. In the instalment mentioned, after dispatching five attackers in two seconds, he intones, “Amateurs don’t make it!” Cut, then, to a TV fan program where Rick can do no wrong. The peppy master of ceremonies, one, Allen Kinkaid, congratulates himself for including Cliff—by which he gets to maintain that the viewers are not “seeing double.” Rick explains that Cliff saves him from falling off his horse in high action. He admits, “Yes, I can fall off a horse.” This causes mysterious mirth all round. Then Cliff, convinced that the exercise doesn’t make it, blurts out, “I carry his load,” and more slippery goodwill fills the airwaves. Scatology closing the mainstream show. But there is more to Allen Kinkaid (and more to Hollywood madness) than that. The seeming inconsequential host is sitting on Hollywood gold dust, in the figure of Jeramiah Kinkaid, a farm boy and his black lamb, in the Disney film, So Dear to My Heart (1948). Jeramiah brings the lamb to the county fair and goodwill prevails. But the action having occurred in 1903, the lamb and the boy are no longer a joy. (The boy, played by Bobby Driscall, died destitute at age 31.) The skills invested in that little story did manage a topspin that fans are not to be ridiculed for cherishing. But, in failing to vigorously discern the hardness and settle for a pathos rapidly becoming bathos, those fans fail to appreciate how few such gems obtain; and they fool themselves that sentimental and melodramatic extracts are close enough to the template. They actually, in great numbers, become an uncritical and militant cult. Rick moves on to an appointment with his agent who urges, in light of his frequent drunkenness wrecking for good “Bounty Law,” and doing “guest appearances” on the order of a cover of the “Specialty Song,” “Green Door,” that he reboot in Italy, where American has-beens enjoy a second life. Over and above the insider’s savvy pragmatism, he enthuses about what is obviously his client’s favorite role, from some time quite long ago, as wiping out much of the Nazi hierarchy with a flamethrower, in the movie, “The Fourteen Fists” [recalling the many fists in play, killing the fearful pagan, Johan, in the Ingmar Bergman film, Hour of the Wolf ]. The unctuous go-getter, mimes the attack and we hear our protagonist call out the comic-book line, “Anybody for sauerkraut?”

Before plumbing here any more details of this nearly inscrutable myopia, let’s bring to bear more detail of that vigilante saga—from 1968 (set, wouldn’t you know it, in Germany)—where another homogeneous group of militants see fit to kill a painter who does not subscribe to an infinite future in a heaven. The painter, Johan Borg, could be described as some kind of acrobat, inasmuch as he has ventured to reach a dimension of life with which the vast majority are unconcerned. (“Borg,” denoting, in Swedish, a mountain, a castle stronghold. The film in point being set on a German island, there would be the very different lexical sense of a male castrated pig when young.) Cliff, a self-styled, easy-going guy, carries his skillset with significantly more panache than Johan. But, like the artist, who had repeatedly crushed the skull of a rude boy on a deserted beach, along a steep cliff, there is a past in which Cliff has murdered, in this case, his wife; and gone free, as with the kills Cliff delivered during his military days. (The relentless smashing of an intruder at that swan song party, by the sometime reckless athlete, will give us much to ponder.)

During his day with Rick’s Coup de Ville, Cliff, giving a lift to a teenage girl (1969, again)/ entrepreneur who’d rather do tricks than go home, show’s no enthusiasm for the trade (and its possible quicksand); but, on hearing that “home” is the ranch just beyond LA where the boys worked on “Bounty Law,” he persuades the hooker to ease up for the afternoon and let him see a place he hasn’t visited for years. What he sees is another homogeneous group bent on murderous coercion of heretics—a group, however, right across the board, so inept, you’d think they were in some form of rehab, their main action watching television series, in the energies of a seraglio. This being the notorious Manson marauders, another form of resentment arrives therewith, to make us think. “Pussycat,” the unthinking navigator bringing the Cadillac to the cesspool, declares, angrily—after our protagonist discerns that the once-friend and owner of the property receives, as rent, daily favors from a dogma official, named, “Squeaky”— “You’ve embarrassed me!” She, operatically, like the patrician wolf-pack, in Hour of the Wolf, sneering that the now-non-owner whom the cult kept from Cliff on a pretext of his blindness, is a lie, “He’s not blind—you’re the blind one!” (Her ready playfulness, before the reversal, lingers as somehow at least a bit incisive.) More to the matter of short fuse, by remote soulmates, Johan and Cliff, one of the few males of the entourage (the big beachboy nowhere to be seen) has had, while Cliff was weighing the weight, the temerity to cut one of Rick’s tires. On discovering this, and seeing the sneering perpetrator nearby—a scrawny boy looking as if he should get a checkup—our anti-hero, in the course of ensuring that the inmate install the spare, beats the rascal, repeatedly and very bloodily, to within an inch of killing him. That the first punch lifted the vandal skyward, as in Hollywood cartoons, brings to bear Cliff’s state of far from immunity from the general crap. Later he crushes a sneering Bruce Lee during a lull of a very-short lived assignment. And later still, as mentioned, when Squeaky and a few others (still sans-Manson), have the temerity to invade Rick’s place with Cliff visiting, the latter, receiving a superficial gunshot wound (like that received by wife, Alma, from Johan, the hopeful killer), the retaliation is his taking the pudgy lieutenant by the neck and smashing her face, very often, and very hard upon the telephone receiver (more 1969) and other appliances, leaving her unrecognizable as a head. (Could there ever be anything about that sorority which makes your day? Come to think of it, early on, as the so-called “doubles” [Rick and Cliff] pass by to do their storied errands, there are several of them scavenging through a dumpster, pleased to discover and catch by the wind some white sheets [somewhat like Johan’s lost wife and her sheets in the wind]; and as they squeal like happy seagulls, they have something. They have something far more palatable than do-gooders, Simon and Garfunkel, chiming in here, with their so arch, “Mrs. Robinson.” Hollywood being predictable, but Tarantino, not.)

The anticlimax—a maneuver in the same league as Bergman’s theatrical jolts—pertains, not to movie lore in general, nor to crime thrillers in particular, but to the explosive and lovely ways of intent within everyone’s grasp to sustain, however difficult. Tarantino’s priority is to see how advantages, far more cruel and formidable pieties than stupid murder, derive their monstrous power, and can be, though never not numerically dominant, eclipsed by courage and wit. The dust-up with Bruce Lee, eliciting from the now marginal pieceworker, Cliff, the sneer, “You are a little man who [far from the boast he could beat up Cassius Clay] couldn’t hope to carry his [the boxer’s] trunks,” concerns a ridicule of the entire Hollywood Establishment, perhaps a failing of taste, on Cliff’s part, but a revelation of the metaphysical crisis here. More modulated mockery is to be seen during Rick and Cliff’s evening watching old tapes of “Bounty Law.” Depressed Rick can only register contained grief for a lost past. Non-depressed Cliff laughs out loud, seeing through the dramatic travesty, from beginning to end.

It is, then, the seeming fine Sharen Tate, who can lead us, in special ways, to the poison. We first see her returning to LA from Europe, accessing her priority luggage—including a small dog—in the vicinity of a carousel nudging her to be forever a child, as recommended on the highest authorities. She strides, in a slight slow-motion pace, along a corridor with only one exit, emphasized by the glimpse of her Pan-Am stream-line plane. Soon there is a day, like Cliff’s roundabout at the ranch, where, in her tiny, convertible, foreign vehicle (a 1969 phenomenon), she picks up a woman hitchhiker, very unlike Pussycat. Seen from above, there is no doubt that Sharon, granted good bones and good skin, can be as congenial as the girl next door. (The prelude to the lift is a Buffy Sainte-Marie anthem, in tremolo on the radio— “The Circle Game”—a decided improvement over what she listens to at home.)

(“And the seasons they go round and round

And the painted ponies go up and down

We’re captive on the carousel of time

We can’t return we can only look behind

From where we came.

And go round and round and round

In the circle game.”)

(But does this bit of taste rise to the celestial heights her promotors would insist? Or does it speak to the volatility of cogency?) Arriving to the studio and giving the stranger a goodbye hug, we see the sign reads, “Fox.” (The infrastructure by Bergman reads “Wolf.”) Foxy advantage, all the way. Soon she’s done for the day, and she comes upon a movie house showing a film she’s in, along with Dean Martin. We can report she’s not another Jerry Lewis, but her enjoyment of seeing herself cavorting to little palpable effect finds her at some level of apparently remarkable fulfilment. She kicks off her sandals and places her dusty feet on the chair in front; and she foxes down every laugh and cheer in the theatre regarding her supposed martial arts skills. (Back to Cliff and Bruce; and wouldn’t you know, the latter—with his effete wolf howls—is a frequent guest of hers.) She had basked, coming into the show, in finding the cashier and the owner of the theatre typically elated by the presence of a goddess. But there’s a coda to this day even more edifying, in the goddess’ excellent day. On the way home she stops by a bookshop (remember them?) to pick up an order of the Victorian novel, Tess of the D’Urbervilles (1891), by Thomas Hardy, for her brainy husband who must, like her, be a Victorian softy. (Bergman kicks ass, similarly, in Cries and Whispers [1972], where Charles Dickens is seen to be an antiquated wimp, and avatar of advantage in the sense of precious careers, precious families and precious patrimonies. Since we’re drawn, by both Tarantino and Bergman being adept dramatic phenomenological philosophers in lodging a pushback against lead-pipe dogmatists, we seem to require mentioning that maniacal, militant careerists, and such, stem from that ancient Platonic myopia as to dynamics while overestimating inert matter. From there, religion, and its causal conclusion, humanitarianism and its obligations to coincide with the former, and science and its quietist retreat have enjoyed pushing around those who see much farther and braver than those who have gone too far with Plato.) With that ascension coming to bear in the anti-climax, we find Rick, a near-perfect wimp, out on the private road, invited to Sharen’s—she being tantamount to an addict of Rick Dalton action television (when she’s not listening to Paul Revere and the Raiders—“Hungry for the good life, baby!”) She wears a team jersey showing 17, her emotional age.

The suffocating majority that is Hollywood is at its apex with the pedantry of those behind the scene—producers, directors, agents, promotors, lawyers, accountants… The breathless Kinkaid raises “double” about our protagonists, only to show he doesn’t know what to do with it, having, the years gone by, allowing a swollen prose to predominate and a withered poetry to die. Earnest cheering for lead-pipe nonsense (see the hunks, see the babes) is the order of our function here. Just as egregious as the bishops presiding over The City of Angels, there is Rick, in semi-depression that his career options have dwindled, meaning that others will man the idiocy where he used to be quite paramount. Before the fading actor takes the advice of the savvy cash-sniffer sold on Italy, there is one more push we need to take into account—involving a director, seemingly near dementia—showing the last of Rick’s several-year stint as a villain. (Immediately after the interview about Italy, Rick rejoins Cliff and cries on the vigorous acrobat’s shoulder. “Don’t let the Mexicans see you crying,” the latter urges, a concern reaching as far as the appalling Mexican directors’ film coups of the present day.)

The obsequious last American helmsman he’ll see, for quite a while, probably aware of a disaster in the making, but knowing a way to lessen the cheapness, promises that modernity and novelty will be the watchword. His patter and timbre of voice about the quality of the chestnut in point somehow overruns his standard positivity, in fascinating ways. Aiming for “lightning in a bottle” and “zeitgeist,” he’s all about changing Rick’s image to “Hell’s Angels” and a new hair style. “I want this to be caliber, not cowboy… Hip…” Rick balks in hearing “hippie…” Though our fading star has for years seen himself as a lucrative entertainer first, to those easily entertained (having purchased a castle of sorts with a pool segueing to the heavens, Architectural Digest-perfect); and a participant in the arts running about #99th (the Polanski moment being a rare jog), that he cared at all would perhaps have factored in the eccentric leader’s rhetoric. And there’s something else crossing Rick’s path which Sam, the inflected snake-oil cheerleader, had to regard as a big plus. Waiting at lunchbreak for an early afternoon first take, he wants nothing more than to read his cowboy novella, and he pauses along a shady point of the concern’s walkway. Nearby, a little girl is reading a script. He asks if he could sit down there; and, after a long pause she says, “Sit.” Not the most cordial welcome; but her presence being far more mature than her age, he becomes curious. Lighting a cigarette and responding to her not small ego, he learns that she never eats before going in front of the cameras, because she wants to concentrate upon her persona. “If I can be a tiny amount better, I will.” She then, the sense of deep resolve losing some traction, declares that Walt Disney is the greatest human to have lived over the past hundred years. She goes on to ask about his book—with a topic about a once-world’s-best wild horse trainer in his 20’s becoming far less than that in his 30’s. Falling, as he would have done during those later acrobatic feats, he’s facing the future with “spine troubles.” “He’s not the best anymore. He’s far from it…” This state of affairs rather oddly brings upon Rick a spate of tears. She tries, by her sincere caring, to help lift the spirits he in fact seldom deals with. But the presence of a vigorous, though wobbly, commitment, has dredged up something he has failed to master, an acrobatic challenge demanding nerve and wit far beyond the ways of those million-dollar dogs. In this crisis, the strain of cheapness cannot be stanched. “Fifteen years, you’ll [the girl] be living it!” [no longer disinterestedly transcending that horde of wolves]. On to the oater and its cliché-fest. Rick flubs many lines; and on a break, back in his trailer, he beats himself up for being so unprofessional and being a drunk. (There are, as mentioned, stories tossed around about his addiction causing the end of “Bounty Law”—lacking bounty and lacking law. Having been inspired by the serious girl, he determines to stop drinking and yet he has a shot before tossing out the bottle). Rick does some homework and his subsequent deliveries of evil do surpass—for how long? —his usual Saturday morning television bilge. (This lost cause is interspersed with Sharen’s delight in a film of hers not noticeably any better than Rick’s. Moreover, Cliff’s radio, as he drives Pussycat to the Spahn Movie Ranch, plays, “Brother Loves Travelling Salvation Show,” another touch of bathos to make to make full sense of.) With a staged conflict between Rick’s “evil” emoting and a Bostonian rationalist, we have the goofy makings of a primal conflict no one is ever going to see as such. The empathetic girl, who was supposedly being held for ransom, tells Rick, “That was the best acting I’ve seen in my life!” Sam, sticking to his sticky story, finds that Rick had reached Shakespearian levels.

There is one more current to add, needing as much pondering as we can manage, that being Cliff’s. We’ll see how amenable our picaresque protagonist can see fit to be stronger and brighter than the level he’s settled for. After the brush with Polanski and Sharon and their effete, rare roadster, the “double” retrieves his severally damaged, early 1960’s Karmann Ghia convertible from Rick’s spacious entrance, performs a little UCLA huddle unwind and returns home—home being a severally damaged trailer at the backside, mud bowl of a drive-in movie of poor status, amidst a terminal truck, various bits of garbage and an operating oil well. (Would that latter apparatus have anything to do with depths?) He kisses and plays with his pit bull, “Brandy,” and presents him with a “Wolf Tooth” dog bone. The easygoing “nonentity” does demand some decorum and patience, at dinner, from the companion/ Alfa. His television, seemingly never turned off, is tuned to a pop singer in a tux, namely, Robert Goulet, a Canadian far less alive than Buffy Sainte- Marie. Discerning the spigot of entertainment may be a large obligation most of us neglect. How Cliff performs, as it happens, is far more momentous than that of anyone else in view here, and we’re obliged to see where he’s going. (Another prelude to a hidden slippage of dialectic is the two hand chow cans being slowly pulled by gravity to the bowl.)

Where he’s going, on that putatively fateful farewell party is far from transparent. It doesn’t involve Brandy chewing off one the intruder’s cock; but hostility does reign. Getting a bit closer is the Manson irregular and enduring fan of “Bounty Law,” lawyering, “My idea is to kill the people who taught us to kill.” Though far from a debater, Cliff, were he to have been able to listen to such entitlement, he’d have recognized the mob murderousness, in lieu of serious discernment. He’d have recognized it, because everyone around him uses it, in order to rough up those, like him (far from fully acute), by way of ostracism, contempt and sabotage. Even more a setback than the flesh wound contracted in the skirmish, there would be weepy Rick, using a flamethrower to kill a wounded sitting duck; and dissolving a supposed friendship and livelihood, for reasons of clinging to advantage. (How anyone can see staunch buddies here must indulge in large selective cognition. Sure, Cliff goes over old episodes with the star, and enjoys them. But he’s especially savoring the stunts [the acrobatics]. Anyone on to “Outta Time/ Sight” is not apt to be a fan of what Rick does.) After the Manson massacre, there’s the likelihood of some contact, on Rick’s terms. More good-natured balance and risk.

In the run-up to Sam’s hoopla, Rick lobbies to the producer to give Cliff some work, somewhere. “He’ll do anything…” That’s tastes of an in-crowd regarding a no-crowd. (On the plane home from Italy—where the jobs were easy for a Hollywood name, and Rick showed much more acute critical powers about European entertainment errors than the American brand—there was the name and his new wife in opulent “Business Class;” and Cliff getting drunk amidst the also rans.) On trampling Bruce Lee, Cliff loses that job, but occasions more gold than the studio is worth. Alma, the widow in Hour of the Wolf, the endeavor being consulted by Tarantino’s golden touch here, quite remarkably shows very little concern for her artist’s husband’s having stoned to death a young boy. Cliff, too, doesn’t lose any sleep about killing his wife. Here we’re in a volatile territory of crime, coming face-to-face with the heroes of civilization (Rick’s work) being strains of a plague the body-count of blasted fruition impossible to count, especially in view of the fact that it will never end. But the tuning is remarkably upbeat, because dudes like Cliff find a way. A T-shirt of his, somewhat covered by a full shirt, spells Champion. (Our film today, despite so many coincidences with the somber defeat in Hour of the Wolf, becomes a cornucopia of inflected verve.)

A coda at the ending credits, finds black and white Rick urging the viewer to smoke, “Red Apples Cigarettes,” which cuts down “bitter, dry” intake and delivers “healthy flavor.” Hollywood and its dubious logical props not nearly seen for its poison the way cigarettes have come to be discerned.

Someone who would have had no difficulty spotting the poison of world history and the merchants getting rich on it, is Heraclitus (flourishing about 500 B.C.); but left behind by pedants and sissies. One of his aphorisms, paradoxically counselling long-term, creative civilization, proceeds, “War is the father of all and the king of all; and some he has made gods and some men, some bond and some free.”

Let’s close things here with those well-known Heracliteans, the Stones.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0tyCOV3SyQc

#Quentin Tarantino

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manascoundrel · 8 years ago

Text

Trophy- Chapter 8

by Yarking Fandom: Dragon Age (general) Summery: Two troubled children meet at the Minrathous Circle. One is a magister’s heir, groomed to be the blood mage general of Seheron, without fear or mercy. Hopefully, that will keep people from noticing how very much an elf he is. The other is last born, least loved and most of his emotions involve academics and cadavers. They love each other, even if they’re not terribly good at it. Warnings for this chapter: GRAPHIC HATE CRIME. Physical, verbal and psychological trauma inflicted on a very young minor. Dead dove: do not eat. Special thanks to guest beta, anothersadplanet AO3: here

A hand shook Cato awake, startling him in his disoriented state. He gathered his bearings, hands splaying out over the sheets of his bed, and peered into the dark. The drawn face of a boy hovered over him, looking very concerned.

"Are you Cato Fen'Rhea?" he asked in a whisper, leaning in. The fuzzy shape set against the dark of night slowly came into focus as Cato blinked the sleep away.

He curled hesitantly back on the bed, immediately on edge by the boy's apparent dismay. He thought of shouting for the dorm master that chaperoned their hall, but thought better of it. He didn't want to wake the whole dorm over what could be nothing. "I'm... why do you want to know? What's going on?"

"You're mother was really hurt. Assassins. She's asking for you," he said urgently.

A wash of terror instantly swept over Cato. Breath caught in his throat and his already dim night vision blurred. He scrambled out of bed, bare feet slapping against the floor and didn't stop until he reached the dorm's doorway, hopping in panic. "Which way?" he asked in a strangled whisper, fear bubbling over. "Where is she?"

The stranger soon followed, his robes spreading as he walked; making dark, indistinct shapes in the low light and seeming to swallow up the hallways as he went. "This way," he pointed north, herding him down the corridor briskly. "She's down here."

"Is she going to be okay?" Cato asked. "What happened? Why was she even here?"

"The healers can explain all that, we were just sent to get you."

The messenger ushered him on, hand on his back while Cato blinked through his tears. His hands came to his mouth hiding the quiet keen of grief he couldn't fully smother. What had happened? Why assassins? His family had never had enemies from within before, not really. They couldn't have brought her here from very far. Had she come to visit him? Why now? How could they have known?

"Down here," the boy urged, pointing down a curve of stairs that went to the wing's basement.

Cato followed the direction, take the stairs in great leaps of three at a time and tumbling to the ground hard when he tripped. The pain didn't come- he was up on his feet like he hadn't missed a step, even having to wait for the boy to catch up while Cato sprung on his toes in anxious, frenetic energy.

"She's in here, right here," the boy finally directed, pointing to the only lit room in the otherwise abandoned hallway. That fact registered in Cato's mind just as he stepped inside, door behind him shutting with a dreadful, sinking click.

His mother was not here.

Oh, his mind supplied, the surge of adrenaline clearing for a crystal thought to resonate brightly. He'd made a mistake.

The room was lit with potent magelight, creating an artificial brilliance that felt wrong in the dead of night, felt sickly. There were a half-dozen apprentices in the room, all older and looking at him with bright, interested eyes. Cato could see Andorus behind a tall, ferret-faced apprentice, sitting leisurely on the smooth metal surface of what appeared to be a lab table. Andorus smiled when he saw him, wide, easy, and alarming.

"Nice work," the ferret-faced boy said cheerfully, nodding to the messenger whose hand urged Cato forward. Ferret drew up closer as Cato leaned back, fighting against the push, and looked Cato up and down slowly. If Andorus' smile was wide, Ferret's grin was positively toothsome, bearing unnaturally long eye teeth. "Cute little rattus. Look at him all made up like a person."

Cato was still, his breath held and a fine tremor running down his spine. The words crunched into him, spiking his fear into terror. He felt the hot tears come too quick to be halted, and Tamas' words echoed in his skull like a strangled scream.

Don't cry, or they'll think you're more fun to hurt. Don't cry. You have to stop.

"Oh, he's adorable!" another apprentice chimed in. Who, Cato didn't know- the wall of tears he tried so hard not to blink away blurred the room.

"Like putting a hat on a dog," another added.

Cato took a desperate step backwards tears spilling over when his back collided with the from of the boy who had came for him. A hand was on the back of his neck, gathering up his sleeping gown like a scruffed pup and dragging him forward.

The contact broke Cato's frozen reflex. His lungs gulped for air as he began to cry in earnest, raising his arms to protect his face as Ferret approached.

"What's your name, slave?" Ferret asked, dragging Cato's arms away with a grunt and grasping a handful of Cato's hair at the hairline. He forced Cato's head down in an artificial bow, shaking his grip roughly and making Cato cry out in pain.

Cato scratched and pounded his fists against the grip, finally trying to pry the fingers open one by one before he gave up with a frustrated scream through his clenched teeth. "I'm not a slave, I'm a-"

Cato screamed again as the grip in his hair pushed downward still, doubling Cato over and bringing his face to the floor. The pain exploded over his face, a sudden hot stream of blood in his mouth from a split lip. Blood ran down from his slammed nose, making him gag and his eyes water. Something heavy and solid rested against the back of Cato's head, pinning him with his face mashed into the concrete floors.

It was hard to breathe through the blood. Cato was still again, his small body feeling suddenly distant and cold.

"You're a Fen'Rhea," Ferret said, the words sounding close, as if hissed right into his ear. "A fucking rattus joke, born from your cunt mama, <i>another</i> fucking rattus joke, born from a whole line of shit-eating little rats all the way back to Seheron. Shit-eating rat isle."

Somewhere beyond them, one of the boys laughed, and another hushed him.

Cato remained still and felt nothing but an distant pain over his numb face.

"Your entire family is an insult to our country, and once this Archon dies already, the next one is gonna collar your mama right there in the senate and pump her little whore cunt full of weak-blooded bastard baby brothers and sisters for you, you mark my words," Ferret swore, punctuating himself by spitting in Cato's hair. "Do you know why we kept the Fen'Rheas around for so long? You're pets. We give you a command of a few degenerates and ship you over the water so those animal Fog Warriors piss off. That's all you are, just lip service to trick those rabid rats into thinking elves are worth anything more in our Imperium than what they can stuff in their mouth."

Cato heaved a shuddering breath, turning his head to the side to better snatch what air he could. The sole of a boot blocked out most of his vision, grinding his cheek into the ground. Cato managed a long, moaned "no" between his sniveling.

"No? You don't think so? Why's that? What’d I get wrong? You have other tricks up your sleeve to impress us, or where you refering to your other slave duties?"

Cato gathered a burst of mana from deep inside him and risked bringing forth fire. It was a sloppy display, flames arching only for a moment in the air between them, but it was enough to make Ferret leap away for a moment. Only a moment- as soon as the fire died he dived down and gathered a handful of hair again.

The warp and pressure of magic in the air was much stronger when Ferret did it. He twisted the ambient magic hard and drilled pain into Cato with a ruthless entropy spell. Cato saw only white, the pain hot and cold and drowning at once, flushing away anything but shock from the overwhelming surge.

"Don't you bring magic into this, you little shit. I could as soon kill you with it as I could put up another magelight. You don't want to test me."

Cato wept, bubbles of blood gurgling from his nose. The pressure at the side of his head released, letting him up, and he just barely managed to plant small hands under him before something hit.

The impact was another shock. Heavy and fast, diagonal with the swing of the leg and hooking under Cato's ribs with the top of Ferret's boot. It <i>hurt</i>. It hurt, and Cato thought briefly of the Maker, praying to make it stop between kicks. Begging to live.

At some point, he knew must have spoken his prayers out loud. Not from the delivery from suffering but from the hand that gathered up the front of his sleeping gown.

Ferret spoke. "The Maker doesn't care about animals like he cares about his children. You're a rattus; just a gross, filthy rat. You should have never come here, you just being hear is a disgrace to the Minrathous Circle. Letting an animal attend classes? It's an embarrassment to all of us. You might as well put a horse in the senate. Let's make the Archon a pig while we're at it. How dare you come here and pretend you're a real person. You're a slave. No matter what you do or who your mama is and you're a slave. That’s what you’re meant to be."

Cato's head lolled on his shoulders, his vision greying softly, and the call to sleep so warm and welcome and close.

But he thought of his mother.

His brother.

(Calpernius' cold, bitter anger.)

"If you don't keel over and die from fear before the end of the night, you're going to withdraw from the Circle tomorrow and get the fuck out of the capitol. If you're not working the brothels or cleaning the streets, you don't belong here. Do you understand?" Ferret demanded. The low growl of fury made Cato shake hard in terror, blood still bubbling and popping, whistling quietly as he tried to breathe.

Cato remained still and quiet, the rattle of his breath seeming loud in the silent room.

"I said 'do you understand me?'" Ferret repeated, giving Cato a single hard shake.

His head tilted over to his shoulder, unable to keep it balanced up and upright any longer. A fresh wave of blood drained down his throat, and when he coughed, flecks of blood misted the air and pinked Ferret's face with faux freckles.

Cato managed a whimper, his fattened lip jutting out and making even that painful and difficult.

He was so scared. It hurt so much.

"You're going to leave the circle, say it."

But he couldn't. He couldn't say it, he couldn't do it. This is where he had to be. There was no other choice.

And he was more afraid of what Tamas would do than he was of the boys.

Cato stared back at Ferret and blinked slowly. Not a no, but a very obvious not-yes.

He regretted it the instant he did it. A few of the boys behind Ferret exchanged delighted looks, a whisper lingered on the air, and Ferret's face went from sharp, vicious and precise to the rage of a wildfire. He brought Cato's head down, this time knocking the side of his head into the concrete, and sudden black.

When Cato's vision and consciousness returned, the pain in Cato's face paled in comparison with the crushing pain lancing through his head. He felt like he was spinning; dazed and uncollected as he looked dimly around the collection of apprentices. Why? Something…

He had to concentrate.

About... elves.

He hurt.

So badly.

He tried to shake his head, but a hand was holding it upright, letting the blood drain so he didn't choke or drown. A film of blood cracked over his lips.

Focus.

Somewhere behind him, wherever he was, Cato heard a high squeal of metal. He quivered, and let out a soft whine from his throat, the only thing he could manage to do when he found his hands tied behind his back with something sturdy.

The metallic sound continued until a cart wheeled into view, and Cato's breathing quickened.

Scalpels. Pins. Forceps. Tears sprang back into his eyes and he tried to recoil. Scissors. Tweezers. A probe with a curved end.

And rows and rows of dead rats, each nestled into their own wax-bottomed tray, waiting to be dissected.

"Look at him. What a coward. Not even a rattus, more like a mouse. I can't believe we'll let a little shit like him join our military," someone hissed, the voice sounding garbled and distant to Cato's pounding head.

"Every army needs cannon fodder."

"He'll defect before he even gets through training. Rattus just love the Qun. Being told what to do is in their nature."

"Shut up," someone demanded. Ferret. Cato tried to read back but the hand in his hair held him steady. "I need to concentrate. You- help me get this off of him. Rats don't wear clothes."

Ferret started rolling up Cato's sleep gown when Cato lashed out and kicked at the apprentice's face in panic. The idea of being exposed to these boys was horrifying enough without the piles of tools to poke and cut and prick him just an arm's length away.

Ferret caught Cato's foot in one hand and held it out by his ankle. He reached for a pin and held it at eye level, looking past it and into Cato's round, wet eyes.

"Are you going to stop or are these going under your toenails?" Ferret asked. He held the pin and foot high enough that Cato's leg hurt from the stretch for a beat in emphasis before dropping both; the foot to the ground and the pin back in its jar with the others. Cato curled back and pressed his legs hard together, but remained still. "That's what I thought."

Ferret and the apprentice continued, rolling the sleep gown up and over his head (the hands on him releasing for only a moment) and it gathered and tangled around Cato's bound hands.

One of the other apprentices lifted a pair of scissors for the try. "Should I cut that off of him?"

"The gown? Don't bother. But he doesn't need his pants. The cuffs too," Ferret instructed, and the apprentice stepped forward without needing to hear another word. He clipped through the sides of Cato's smallclothes, Cato motionless and watching in whale-eyed terror at the blades near his skin. Careful not to squirm or fight back, lest they cut him (either on accident or purpose, it didn't matter). Only when the scissors and the last vestiges of his clothes were pulled away did he curl his legs up over his belly protectively. His sobs were soft and jagged and choking.

Last came the cuffs, delayed by the apprentice who couldn't figure out how to slide the plates apart until another stepped in. Cato keened again, scrunching his face as the boy undid the small clasp and let them fall away.

"Elgh! What's wrong with him?" The exposed ear was pinched and twisted, making him yelp in pain. They released him and let the ear dangle at the side of Cato's head, limp and shapeless and folded like a hound's.

"He's not old enough for his ears to stand up yet, genius."

"And how do you know?"

"My family has slaves that young and younger back home. Got to train them early or they get lazy and spoiled."

"Pretty pathetic," someone said skeptically. "Is he really a Fen'Rhea? I know they're elves but I was still expecting..."

"No, that's just how they are. Don't believe their reputation, it's all empty words. They aren't- oh Maker, would someone please shut him up? His crying is driving me insane."

"Aw," Ferret said, returning in front of Cato from where he had stepped to the side and squared himself to him. "I think it sounds really sweet."

Don't cry, don't cry. He swallowed, trying to tamp down the noise that seemed to spill out of him like breath.

"Oh, don't be like that. I want to hear you."

Cato's breath caught again, stuck inside, and his lungs frozen. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't…

Ferret slapped him hard across the cheek, startling a wail of pain out of him when the force of it pulled harshly at his hair. Cato panted.

"There you go. Don't want you passing out on me again, not with that nasty little bump on your head. You might not wake back up next time," Ferret said, the words twisted into false concern. "But if you're really worried about being too loud, I'm sure I can help you with that."

Cato could only watch on in disoriented fear as Ferret turned back to the tray of supplies. His hand stretched out and hovered over the tools, each one glinting with malice and more potential for harm than the last. He moved the hand slowly, taunting as he passed over each tool more than once and feigned picking one up a few times to make Cato flinch. Finally, he made his selected and lowered his hand.

His fingers curled around one of the rats.

"Who has the gauze wrap?" Ferret asked, picking up the rat corpse and bringing it to his chest. He pretended to pet it while someone fetched a roll of thin woven linen that looked like it was snagged from a first aid kit. "Thank you. Now, you remember what I said earlier?"

Cato stayed silent, stunned and confused.

"About how rattus are only worth what they can fit in their clever little mouth?"

Ferret stepped closer, dropping the carcass to his side and reaching for Cato's face.

"Open up."

No. No. Cato screamed between his clenched teeth, thrashing as Ferret approached in spite of his survival instincts. Ferret's hand came to his mouth, trying to wrench his jaw open and struggled against Cato's tight lips fiercely clenched shut. He still screamed in his throat, breath rushing out of his nose and speckling Ferret's hand with a fresh flow of blood.

He curled his legs back up and went back to kicking, managing to catch Ferret in the gut and once between the legs and making him stagger back with a grunt before he crowded too close to get a good hit in. Cato continued to squirm and jerk but was barely able to knee Ferret's side before the hand was back on his face.

"What did I say about kicking?" Ferret gritted out, trying to hold Cato down alongside the hand in his hair. He scratched at Cato's lips and Cato finally opened his mouth, only to bite four of Ferret's fingers viciously. "Fuck!"

Cato shook his head, teeth still clamped hard and grinding against the bones in Ferret's hand as the apprentice screamed. Cato's terror fluttered and roosted in his chest, suspended from the ability to fight back and do something, and from exhaustion and a strange numbness that allowed him to act. It was just long enough for him to feel angry and a sharp, bright joy at how the older boy howled in pain.

It didn't last. The nails on his tongue gouged and curled, hooking over Cato's jaw and slowly prying it open now that Ferret had a grip on him. Cato gave a final scream, cut off as Ferret pushed his hand in further with the opportunity.

Ferret scrambled closer, bringing the rat in his other hand closer to Cato's face. It was stiff and smelled wrong and caustic and made Cato gag as Ferret held it against his cheek.

"Get ready," Ferret warned to the apprentice behind him. He wrenched down on the jaw, opening it as wide as he could, before stuffing the rat into the narrow gap above his fingers, head peeking out one end and tail peeking out the other.

Cato immediately recoiled, caught between trying to push the dead thing out of his mouth with his tongue and trying not to touch it at all. He let his jaw open as it was pushed in. The feeling on his teeth biting down on the cold, stiff fur made him gag and retch, his screams muffled as Ferret pushed it deeper still.

"Come on, now," Ferret urged, and the apprentice flanking him darted forward, winding the gauze around Cato's face to gag him. He tied the gauze off as Cato continued wailing. He could feel the outlines of bone- the ridge of its small spine digging into his pinned tongue. It was an effective gag. Thick and heavy and horrifying enough that Cato grew quiet, still and blank. The only sound he made as he stared forward, unfocused, was the wet rattle of blood as he breathed heavily through his nose, his blood still draining slowly.

Ferret leaned back, inspecting his work proudly. "Smug little rattus like you needs to remember how it feels to be stuffed. Get you used to what you're good at instead of giving you delusions of grandeur." He leaned forward, grasping Cato's head from under his jaw and turning his face up to look him in the eye. "You can thank me later for the reminder, since your mouth is occupied right now."

The hand under his chin moved into his hair, pulling him out of the chair. Cato tumbled forward, not expecting to be dragged and not able to brace himself with his hands. "But you still need to be put in line after that stunt. You can't bite your master and get away with it like that. You know what happens to rattus who turn on their master like that? They cut your throat and use your life to summon something actually useful. That is, unless you're a servus publicus."

Ferret threw Cato's head down at the end of his words, boots clicking against the floor as he walked towards the other end of the room while Cato labored to breathe. He didn't notice when the clicking approached, his attention still consumed by the rat, so when Ferret threw down something that blotted out the light for a moment, Cato flinched, dazed.

He wiggled out from under what he found to be a broad, burlap sack. Coarse and plain. "If you're a servus publicus and the Circle owns you, they'll just kill you and stuff you in one of these. Throw you into a freezer for us to dissect in the advanced classes. Isn't that right?"

"Mhm," a voice hovering above Cato confirmed. "They'll stuff you in a bag and cut you open. If you're lucky, you're dead before you freeze to death in the iced chamber they hold all the bodies."

"Help me out here," Ferret asked, hoisting Cato by his arm. The apprentice Cato recognized from before- Andorus- lifted him up by his ankle, and another apprentice still held open the sack. Cato toppled inside artlessly, the opening heaved up and gathered close so he couldn't squirm out without also fighting gravity and the grip the apprentice had on it. He still fought to right himself, worming carefully with his bound hands so as to not crush the rat further against his mouth.

"He seems lonely in there!"

"What are you- oh. Oh! Haha, yes!"

Cato curled his legs up into a ball as the sack was opened for just a moment, slipping in a dark silhouette against the light from outside the burlap. A rat. They dropped another rat corpse in with him.

He wanted to be gone. Cato squeezed his eyes shut, his shrieking sobs smothered by fur.

They lowered the sack back to the floor before the first strike. Probably a kick- a solid, heavy strike that caught Cato in the side. He gagged with the burst of pain. Another kick planted on the small of Cato's back, and a third managed to hit squarely over the rat they had added to join him. In the dark he couldn't see the results, but he felt something cold on his bare skin where the rat had been, its fur now wet.

The dark inside the sack was momentarily interrupted by one of the boys adding another rat. In the brief span of time for the rat to fall, Cato saw the first one they had dropped in. It's side had been split open at the impact, a gross mess of organs half spilled out and dangling from its burst stomach, and one of it's eyes was missing. Likely bulged out from the same kick.

The sight twisted Cato's belly, and when he retched the bile gathered at the rat still in his mouth and seeped from the corners of his mouth. He thrashed hopelessly, mindlessly, disgusted and unable to think of anything but the wall of unmanageable desperation. He wanted out, he needed to live.

"Do another one, do another one!" someone said, excited. A collection of cruel laughter agreed, and Cato felt the bag lowered to the ground so another could be added.

But the next corpse never came.

"Shit. Did you see that?"

"See what?"

"Voyeur at the door. Hold on-" footsteps, and Cato held his breath. Please. Please. "Shit."

"What?"

The voice continued, this time more quiet, "Think I saw someone. I'm not taking any chances. You all can test your luck but I'm on thin ice after Calpernius."

"That's fine. I think the rattus has gotten the message," someone- Cato thought it was Ferret- whispered. "Help me tie this off."

More footsteps, and the grip the apprentice had on the sack choked up suddenly, the sack constricting and crushing the rats closer. Cato gave a final token struggle before the sack was released, dropping him to his side on the floor. Cato stilled, flinching as the pinholes of light between the weave of the burlap dimmed and died, and the apprentices made hushed small talk as they moved about the room and their footsteps gradually retreated.

Cato waited, ears straining for any step, any word that might herald the return of danger. He remained still. His breathing shallow, his body sore and tense. A short age passed before he shook himself, breaking from his trance like a drowning man breaching the sea.

What was he doing? He had to go, he had to run, they'd come back, he had to get free or he'd die. He couldn't bear this again.He had to go.

Cato worked out his bound hands when the tears returned, greater now in the relative peace without the fear of goading them into further torment. He tried to squirm his hands past the wrap clinging his wrists together, but it wasn't long before his sobbing had him doubled over, shaking and weak from the force of it. He curled tight in what little room he had left, pressing his brow into his knees as the adrenaline crashed down in one painful swoop.

And then he stopped. The pain from before felt suddenly distant and unimportant. He was going to go, he couldn't sit here and wait for them to return.

He did not think of what happened.

"This hallway, dear?"

Tertius nodded again. His fingers curled around his robes as he pulled her towards the door from before. As he ventured deeper into the north wing basement the blanket of familiar comfort descended over him once more, balancing out the rush of unease he had felt earlier to even.

"And why were you down here, again?" the dorm master asked skeptically.

Tertius knew well enough to lie, preferring to be thought of as stupid rather than lose the opportunity to keep coming back. "I got lost."

They arrived finally at the room Tertius remembered, but there were no lights. This didn't stop Tertius. He slipped in, ignoring his dorm master's suggestions that he might have gotten turned around again. He was sure…

Yes.

The soft rattle of wet breath slipped out behind the cracked door, and Tertius turned to look up and the dorm master like a hunting hound that had found something. 'See?' he wanted to say. 'I told you.'

But the drawn look on the dorm master's face made the words die in his throat. If an adult was looking like that, the noise might be a greater cause for concern than he expected. Maybe who or whatever had been in the bag was more dangerous that he had guessed from the older apprentice's apparent delight.

"Wait here," the dorm master commanded sternly, and as soon as he went in to investigate, Tertius did the only sensible thing and peeked around the frame of the door to see what was causing all the ruckus.

The dorm master had thrown his own magelight into the air, illumination the lumpy, squirming form of the sack Tertius had seen before. It stopped moving as soon as the light was cast, summoning up visions of a shadowy demon that feared the light, or some vicious but more mundane nocturnal creature whose eyes weren't meant for something so bright. His curiosity peaked.

Whatever it was, it was squeaking loudly.

The dorm master untied the sack's knot and recoiled.

"What in the name of the Maker's lands- boy, what are you doing here?" the dorm master demanded. "Who's your driver? You should be-... wait."

Tertius shivered, the squeaking growing louder. The dorm master pulled the sack lower, and Tertius could hear the squealing cries of a rat.

"You're- oh, vishante kaffas."

Tertius watched silently as the dorm master pulled a bloody and beaten boy from the burlap, eyes set on the smear of gore against his skin. The squealing was lound, multiple, and at-odds with the still bodies of the rat in the boy's mouth and in the trays beyond him.

"Apprentice Danarius," the dorm master said, breaking him out of the entranced stupor the squealing left him in. "Get back to the dormitory."

The command was stern and urgent and the dorm master passed him, not looking back to see if Tertius obeyed. And he would, this was enough exploring for one night, but something called to him before that.

Tertius crept into the room after them, following the sound of the squeal to a lump still left in the sack. It smelled strange and foul, and Tertius was only willing to pick the sack up by its corner and empty its contents onto the floor. There he found the source of the squealing.

The crushed little corpse of a rat, insides spilling onto the floor beside it, remained still and dead and squealing on the floor of the room. The squeaks and squeals of it and the chorus of rats in their trays behind him were at first deafening until it grew lower and softer.

Until they were only distant, unplaceable whispers.

#dragon age #trophy #yarking writes #abuse tw #racism tw #fuck

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