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highontomholland · 3 years

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I'd do it all again. (ch.1)

I'd do it all again. Chapter 1 Summary: Tom Holland one of the many frat boys out there, and you are his little secret. He has a “reputation” to keep up and you apparently don’t look too good next to his side, so he keeps you in the back of his pocket. Type: Angsttttt Inspired by: Reading a bunchhhhhh of frat boy!tom one shots... oops haha Pairing: Frat boy!Tom x Fem!Reader Some mentions that the reader does: -Put on makeup -Does hair -Wearing tight/showy clothes -Drinking -Partying Word count: 2.2k “Y/N you have to come to Harrison’s party with me tonight!” My roommate Paisley literally yelled in my face as I was trying to take a nap. “P, I have no interest in going to some-” She cut me off right before I could finish. “Your little fuck buddy Tom Holland is gonna be thereeee… Plus we’re on break.” She said in a little sing-song tune. Fuck she knows me so well I thought.

Tom Holland and I weren’t exclusive, nor were we in an “official” relationship. It was kind of a lowkey thing. We’re just taking our time. Well maybe he’s taking his time, I honestly don’t know… It’s complicated. But only Paisley knew about Tom and I. She smirked at me which made me laugh. “You promise you won’t leave my side like last time.” I looked at her and gave her a little death stare. “I promise! I promise! I promise!” She hugged me tightly and pulled me out of bed to go and help me do my hair and makeup. As Paisley and I were putting on our makeup, she couldn’t help but ask some questions about my “relationship” with Tom. “Does he spoil you with a lot of gifts?” “Is the sex good?” “How did you pull Tom Holland? You know Y/N/N we’ve been roommates since freshman year and I still don’t even know half of your life.” P was right… How did I pull Tom Holland? I wasn’t even like any of his ex girlfriends… Tom did tell me about them though, and they’re all the same. They all made a name for themselves, like to drink and party, social media’s definition of “gorgeous”, daddy’s money, and most importantly they pulled Tom Holland. Just like me. So how the hell did I pull someone like him when I’m nothing like his exs. “Y/N?” Paisley snapped me out of my thoughts. “Sorry P, I was just thinking… Um can you do that little bubble braid you did on me not too long ago?” I looked at her with puppy eyes. “Yes! Can I curl the ends of your hair too?” She asked. “Do whatever you want, just make me look good.” I said, I trusted P for almost my whole life. She’s crazy good at everything: dressing up, doing hair, making drinks… etc. Thirty minutes P and I were done with both of our hair and makeup. “The theme’s twinning Tuesday, is it okay if we wear hot pink?” P said while looking through her closet. “Whatever you want to do, I’m down for anything… Wait, how did you find out about this party, and the invite? Why didn’t Tom invite me?” I asked Paisley as she was going through both of our closest for a cute and similar outfit. “I don’t know, ask him when you get to the party. Here put this on.” She threw me a hot pink cropped tank and skirt that was a matching set. I quickly went into the restroom and changed into the outfit and asked Paisley if she was ready to see the outfit. And we both couldn’t help but laugh and scream together. P was wearing a hot pink bralette with shorts, she then went over to her dresser, put on a pair of pink sunglasses, and gave me a pair of pink sunglasses identical to hers… to top it off. “Are you ready to get fucked up tonight?” She nudged me as she quickly slipped on her shoes and grabbed our room key. “Unless I have to babysit you.” I said as I slipped on my shoes as well, we both laughed and walked to the party. When we got there you could hear the music blasting, red solo cups in people’s hands, everyone matching, and bottles everywhere. “Paisley! You came, I thought you wouldn’t come!” I was guessing it was Harrison? He went up and hugged her, talking/ yelling over the music... plus this was his party. “Harrison! This is Y/N, this is Tom’s girl!” Paisley yelled over the music. “No way Y/F/N Y/L/N, you’re Tom’s little fuck buddy?” Harrison looked at me up and down. I knew Harrison from History class, we worked together but I didn’t know Tom and him knew each other. “Um I guess, has he mentioned me before?” I questioned. “No, never. He’s just told all of us he’s been seeing someone.” Harrison told me. I was confused as hell. Tom has told me that his friends knew about me. That he told them about us. What the fuck… Harisson must’ve saw the disapointment on my face because he then told me to “Fuck Tom” and “Go have fun” and showed us the direction of where the drinks were. “Y/N/N, are you okay? I know you said you and Tom weren’t anything official, but I know how much you like him… And you know what literally fuck Tom, what Harrison said! Also how did you know Harrison, why don’t you tell me anything.” Paisley was rambling while I couldn’t wrap around the fact that I’ve

been with Tom for three months and he has never told his friends about us. “Take a shot with me.” I interrupted her. “That’s my girl!” Paisley poured her and I a shot of whatever there was and we cheered to have a good night. Paisley and I were talking about something random when these two guys from the frat who were hosting the party came up to P and I and asked us if we wanted to dance, of course we did. The guy Paisley was dancing with was Brandon Hiker, football team member of this fraternity, and one of the top students in our class. On the other hand I didn’t know who the hell I was dancing with. He was tall, taller than me, hazel eyes, brown hair, muscular, and he was matching with Brandon Hiker. “I’m sorry your name is?” I asked him over the loud music as we were dancing. “Daniel Case! And you?” He laughed over the fact that we were yelling over the music which made me laugh. “Y/N L/N! I’ve never seen you before!” I said. “Do you go out to the football games?!” He asked me. “Yeah of course, that’s how I know your buddy Brandon!” “I’m number #5, on the team!” He replied. How was I supposed to know who this guy was on the football team. There are so many numbers and he just adds- Then I was snapped out of my thoughts. #5 was the QB of the football team, also team captain, and also a year older than me, P, and Brandon. We were Juniors in college. “Ohhhh, I am so sorry! I didn’t recognize you at first!” I laughed. “It’s fine, do you and your friend want to go play some beer pong? Losers take a hardcore shot of winners choice.” He smirked at me as if I was going to say no to his offer. “It’s on.” I tapped P and Brandon on their shoulders and mentioned to come outside so we could play some beer pong, and told them the deal I made with Daniel. As we were walking to one of the many beer pong tables outside I noticed a familiar face playing with girls all around him. Of course Tom Holland. Him and Harrison were playing together vs these girls. I watched as he slung an arm around one of the girls beside him, watching and he tapped a finger to his cheek probably for “good luck” she did what he asked for, shot the ball, and made the cup. All the girls cheered for him and Harrison gave him a high five. He then looked in my direction where we started to set up our cups. His happy grin turned into a subtle one, tapped Harrison, and pointed in our direction. This was my time if he could go and act like I meant nothing to him, I could do the exact same thing. I saw from the corner of my eye that he started walking towards our table. “Daniel, maybe we should team up Paisley and your friend look too busy chatting it up.” I told him. “So you want to be on the winning team, huh?” He questioned me. “What no I just think that-” “Fine, you can be on MY team, but reminder… I never told you I was good.” He said and laughed, I couldn’t help but laugh at how contagious his smile and laugh was. Kind of reminded me of Tom. Finally Tom approached our table and said hi to everyone. P caught my eye from across the pop up table and made a throwing up expression which made me laugh. “Y/N it’s nice to see you.” Tom said and smiled. “Thanks, care to watch our game?” I asked him, a little snarky. “Sure why not.” He had a beer in his hand, hair slicked but still poofy enough, Our game lasted a good five minutes until Paisley and Brandon had one cup and Daniel and I had one cup. At this point there was a crowd around us wanting to see who the losers would be. It was Paisley’s turn; she gave the ball a quick kiss, flicked it, and it went. Everyone screamed and cheered for them. Daniel and I looked at each other scared but also confidently. “Daniel.” I said to get his attention, and I knew everyone was looking at us so I put a finger to my cheek and tapped it. “Good luck kiss?” I said and smirked a little. Daniel cupped my face with one of his hands and gave me a kiss on the lips. Everyone cheered and screamed, I felt my jaw drop but I played it cool. I also knew Tom saw that shit. He then whispered in my ear “Don’t miss

this Y’N.” As I flicked the ball, it hit the edge of the cup and fell off, and hit the ground. Everyone awed and was looking at Daniel to see if he’ll make his. He flicked his ball and it hit the rim of the cup, and also fell off. Everyone awed for Daniel and I but also cheered for Paisley and Brandon. I was clapping for them and I could see Tom’s mood change. People slowly started leaving, but there was still a crowd around us, waiting to see Daniel and I take the shot. While P and Brandon went to go get some shot glasses and their liquor of choice. I turned to Daniel and whispered a quick “I’m sorry.” and gave him a pouty face. He pulled me into a hug and said “It’s okay.” And we both laughed. Paisley and Brandon came back with the liquor, shot glasses, and chaser for Daniel and I. They poured the shot for Daniel and I and before we were about to take it Daniel stopped me and said “Interlock our arm and take it.” I shook my head yes, interlocked our arm and took the shot. Everyone was cheering for us as Daniel and I shook our heads from the disgusting, fiery taste of the alcohol. Hours later I’ve probably taken around five shots, I was starting to feel tipsy. I was dancing around Daniel and our friends. Paisley never left my side like she promised. I told Daniel I was going to go get a water bottle so I won’t have a bad hangover tomorrow and that I'll be right back. As I was reaching into the bucket cooler I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up and it was Tom. “What do you want, Tom?” I sassed at him. “Y/N, can we talk please? In a quiet place?” He asked. “Why?” I questioned him. “Do you really want to be seen with me at the moment! Cause you might be too embarrassed to want to tell people that we were seeing each other! Oh yeah and lets not forget the fact that you literally had someone kiss your cheek, when you damn well know what we are! I don’t even know what the fuck we are Thomas!” I was yelling at this point. Thank goodness we were in the corner of the kitchen, so it didn’t draw a lot of attention. “Y/N Daniel kissed you on the lips! Why are you upset over the fact that some girl kissed me?!” He asked me, trying not to yell but he had too because of the loud ass music. “You think I asked him to kiss me on the lips?! I asked for a kiss on the cheek! He kissed me on the lips, those are two different things!” I told him. “You could’ve told him that you were seeing someone!” “And then what, he asks me ‘who’ then I tell him what? Because Obviously you are too embarrassed to be seen with me or even tell your friends about me. Yeah Harisson told me that you’ve never told your little frat friends about me. That’s fucked up.” My voice got quieter at the end, and those shots were kicking in. “Y/N please don’t take this the wrong way. I never wanted to hurt you.” Tom said while trying to hug me. “Well too fucking bad Thomas, you already did. I should’ve fucking known the minuete you didn’t want to ask me to be your girlfriend and make it ‘official’.” I said as my eyes were getting teary eyed. I grabbed the water and quickly left Tom and went back to Daniel. Hey guys, I'm so sorry I haven't been posting a lot :( I've been so packed and writing one-shots haven't been one of my top priorities. I hope you all can understand. I'm currently writing this fan fiction for you guys. It won't be long, maybe a few chapters and if I'm honest... I was not expecting this to be 2.2k words long... If I didn't decide last minute to make this one-shot into multiple chapters then it would've been wayyyy more. I hope you all enjoy this little mini series as much as I loved creating it! -HighonTomHolland.

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queen-of-my-goofball-army · 3 years

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Ouran High HCs

For the fifteenth birthday of one of my favorite romantic comedies, and the day that I started watching said romantic comedy with my boyfriend who is relatively new to anime it got me thinking about these characters and how wonderfully diverse their personalities are. The show has 100% chaotic energy and I love it so much. I wanted to look at every major character in the host club (Haruhi, Tamaki, Kyoya, Hikaru, my favorite twin Kaoru, Honey-senpai, and of course Mori-senpai.) using all their personalities and make some head-canons for favorite group of crazies!

Haruhi:

- She/they icon, we stan

- Always preferred to wear more masculine clothes growing up, they were less expensive than the feminine ones. Plus she felt more comfortable in a pair of shorts as opposed to a dress.

- A very active child, she was always running around her neighborhood, going to the park and doing things with her dad.

- Her dad taught her everything that she needed to know about makeup once she became a member of the host club.

- She worked a part time job in order to help her dad pay the bills and to get food money.

- She thought that she was arosexual before joining the host club. Despite the confessions that she got in junior high they either went entirely over her head or she told them that she was too focused on her studies for romance at that time. Of course all that changed when she met our favorite blonde haired himbo goofball.

- She did wind up taking the conversational French with the twins and often times they'll slip into it for practice. Of course, Tamaki always understands when they talk shit about him so they just do it to mess with him.

Tamaki (my favorite):

- Bisexual king, honestly I love that for him out here living his best life.

- He didn't have much of a childhood between constantly needing to be there for his mom and make sure that she was healthy and okay. It's why he made the host club in the first place to live out his childhood that he was robbed of.

- Is actually way smarter academically than most people might think. If you were to look at the class grades he's always right behind Kyoya. He dedicates a lot of his free time to studying. He's not inherently stupid, just naive.

- His mom was the one that got him into cosplay by introducing him to the various kinds of fabrics. It stemmed into a personal interest that he could lose himself in and distract himself from the loneliness.

- He practiced flirting on Kyoya back in middle school for the future host club once he had his heart set on it.

Kyoya:

- In the words of the great immortal J Michael Tatum "Kyoya is probably gay". It was something that didn't even occur to me until I watched him do an Ouran panel and then I was like holy shit the king makes a good point.

- While Tamaki was his gay crisis, he quickly realized that he would spend forever pining after him and eventually shelved his feelings. Tamaki was his best friend and that was more important to him than his feelings.

- Kyoya has always been a really keen observer of people's true intentions. He's excellent at reading people and knowing what they want from him. The only people he has never been able to read perfectly are Tamaki, Kaoru, and Haruhi.

- He originally didn't want to be a doctor but he eventually wanted to prove himself so badly that he told his father that he would surpass his expectations no matter how high they were.

- Doing background checks on people is fascinating to him. It's not just for blackmail purposes but he likes learning people's weaknesses. He's also an excellent chess player.

Hikaru:

- The definitive over protective sibling. Anybody hurts Kaoru they will wish that they were dead. Kaoru is the most important person in his life and he would do anything to protect him.

- His tsundere tendencies come from a place of wanting to protect those he loves not out of anger.

- While he is begrudgingly worse at letting in other people once you fight your way through his walls he's actually a really amazing friend and s/o.

- His love of the fashion industry stems more from the model side of things than anything else. He can't design anything of his own to save his life.

- He never cared about any girls in his life before Haruhi came into his. Even though he didn't know how to deal with his feelings she was the first person who ever really showed that she cared about him.

Kaoru (my preferred Hitachiin sib):

- One big gay disaster that is absolutely crushing on Kyoya (I just learned about this ship today and it has stolen my life juice.) To blush when he's working with Hikaru to please the ladies all he has to do is think of Kyoya in his brother's spot.

- Is the far superior designer that can actually make really beautiful clothes. Most of the costumes that are worn by the club are designed by Kaoru.

- His hair is a lot softer than Hikaru's even though it's the same style, hair product and everything. I think that his would be more poofy and Hikaru's more spikey.

- Kaoru has always felt like he had to work harder to be like his brother that when you spend time with him alone at first it will be almost like you're talking to a replica of Hikaru and not a separate entity. At first it's a little bit awkward but once you get him out of his shell you find what a sweet and amazing person he is.

- Kaoru is an incredible skateboarder. He loves the feeling that he gets from the wind in his hair and designed his own skateboard. A lot of his hobbies outside of the club are athletic related causing him to have a more defined body than his brother since Hikaru is basically a cat.

Honey-senpai: - If this boi could make cakes and pastries for a living without the threat of eating them all he would make the best sweets. He knows when something is just the right amount of sweet and when something is too sweet.

- He learned martial arts to be stronger because he knew that people would try to take advantage of him due to his childlike nature.

- Honey had a fight with his grandmother before she passed away over something completely selfish. That is why he is so attached to Usa-chan.

- Him and Mori were always really close, even as children and understand each other better than anybody.

- His constant animosity between him and his younger brother is because he feels like he is constantly being babied due to his personality.

Mori-senpai:

- Mori has autism. He is also selectively mute. I'm sorry I don't make the rules, the show itself gives them to me.

- Looks like a tough guy but in actuality would give the best hugs. I want a Mori hug. Haruhi probably gets the most Mori hugs because he is immensely protective over her.

- Aro-ace baby but gives the best platonic cuddles to any of the club members that are having parental issues.

- While he prefers spicy over sweet he does have a sweet tooth at random times of the day. Has been sighted at a local Cold Stone five minutes before closing in the dead of winter, while it's snowing outside by Kaoru and Kyoya while they were trying to find a place to get warm while out on a date.

- He actually didn't start his athletic endeavors with kendo, he started with ballet and gymnastics when he was really young.

And that's all my head-canons for the day! Happy anniversary to my favorite ridiculous throw everything against the wall and see what sticks to it romantic comedy. I hope that one day we will either get a season two or at this point it would be better to just do a hard reboot. Hoping that one day we will see our boys animated in high definition, even though I feel like an HD Tamaki would definitely kill me.

#ouran high school host club #ouran headcanons #headcanons #ouran 15th anniversary

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eadanga · 4 years

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Let There Be Love Part 2

Summary: 4 years after winning the custody battle MC and Thomas decide to get married but what happens when a jealous ex and a ex husband get in they way?

Paring: ThomasxMC

MC sat in the bed reading and smiled as she looked down at her ring This is beautiful. The bathroom door opened and Thomas walked out smiling “Hey there” He got into bed and wrapped his arms around her.

“Hey tell me how long did you have this planned?”

He chuckles “A while been trying to find the right time I was so nervous”

MC giggles “You’re cute” She kisses his cheek “But you knew I’ll say yes right?”

“Of course I mean I love you and you love me and it’s been a long time since I’ve been in love with such a wonderful woman”

MC smiles “I love you so much Thomas”

“I love you too” He kisses her deeply then he pulls back “Promise me something MC”

“Sure Thomas”

“Promise you won’t ever leave me”

MC smiles “I promise as long as you promise the same”

“Me leave this sexy ass woman who drives me crazy?” MC giggles as he pulls her closer “Never in a million years”

“Good you better not”

“I won’t now I wanna make love to my fiancé” He climbs on top of her and pins her arms down as he growls “I wanna hear you screaming”

“You know we’re not alone in this house”

“Yes we live with two girls who are on the other side of the house”

MC giggles as he kisses her deeply wrapping his arms tightly around her.

****

Vanessa sat at her kitchen table with a drink in her hand Can’t believe her proposed to her in front of everyone is Thomas trying to make a mockery. Getting married to such a low class girl She scoffed Ugh disgusting if Thomas and I hadn’t broken up that could have been me marrying him instead of me marrying that piece of… She stopped herself No use dwelling on him he’s gone and out of the picture. She thinks to herself then smirks Thomas just needs a reminder on what he’s missing out on and MC she needs to learn her place she may have won that custody battle but the war is far from over and I know just the person to help me out She pulls out her phone “It’s me”

****

MC got ready to start her day she looked at herself in the mirror Yes this looks great She smiled and headed downstairs where Thomas was cooking “Hey there chef”

He turns and smiles “Hey what does my beautiful fiancé want for breakfast this morning?”

“Whatever is the special of the day”

“Today’s special is kisses” He wraps an arm and pulls her closer kissing her down her neck as she sighs “With a side of wetness” His hand goes under her skirt as he strokes her gently as she moans

“Oh Thomas…”

He leans in and whispers “Are you allowed to be this sexy? Now I don’t even want to go to work I wanna fuck you all day long”

MC giggles “The feeling is mutual Mr. Mendez”

“Soon you’ll be Mrs. Mendez and then we’ll start a family together”

“I can’t wait maybe add some boys to the mix”

He smiles “I would love that but whether we have a boy or girl I would love them regardless they’re a perfect mixture of me and you” He kisses her deeply

“You guys are gross” They startle apart and see Luz and Hope standing behind them. They both laugh as they take their seats at the table.

MC smiles “You know Luz one day you’ll get married and have kids of your own”

“And be all lovey dovey like you two? No thanks”

Thomas chuckles then smiles “We’re having dinner here tonight with all our friends so we can share the news with them”

MC smiles “I can’t wait to tell them”

Hope smiles “Am I going to be in the wedding?”

“Of course you two are going to be in it”

Luz makes a face “But we have to wear dresses”

MC laughs “I’ll try to find something that’s not too girly”

Luz smiles “As long as it’s nothing frilly or poofy I’ll wear it”

After the ate they headed down to school. As the girls went to their classes MC got all her stuff and headed to her classroom.

“Well hello there MC”

MC sighed and turned around “Hello Vanessa”

“Off to your class?”

“Yeah”

“How nice” Vanessa walks closer “Bet you’re feeling pretty smug”

“I’m sorry?”

“I mean you just got that ring and now that you’re marrying a rich guy you finally feel like you belong and you’re on top”

MC rolls her eyes “No that’s not how I’m feeling at all”

“Well even though you’re marrying him it doesn’t change where you came from you’re still a broke struggling mom trying to pay the bills”

“Thank you Vanessa did you just wake up and decide that you wanna annoy me today? Cause I really don’t wanna hear the garbage that’s spewing out your mouth right now”

Vanessa scoffs “I’m just saying the truth besides if me and Thomas didn’t work out what makes you think the same won’t happen to you?”

“I don’t know maybe because I’m not a slut”

“How dare you?! I’m just waiting for your little relationship to crash and burn and then Thomas will get a taste of a real woman”

“Yeah that’s great when you find her let me know goodbye” MC walks away and enters her classroom she grumbles Stupid bitch who the hell does she think she is?

****

After school MC and the girls headed home. Luz and Hope went upstairs as MC began making dinner. The front door opened and Thomas came in “Hey there” He kissed her on the cheek

“Hey baby”

Thomas studied her face “Uh oh I know that look what happened?”

“It’s nothing Thomas just Vanessa”

Thomas sighs “What did she say to you?”

“Said our relationship will crash and burn”

“Sweetheart don’t listen to her she’s just jealous that she’s all single and lonely while I’ve got the most amazing woman in my arms” He kisses her forehead

MC smiles “You’re right I can’t let her get under my skin”

“Good now let’s prepare for this party our friends will be here any moment”

After the finish cooking their friends arrived at the house as soon as they ate Thomas tapped a glass and stood up “Everyone I have an announcement it’s the reason why we invited you all here”

Alma giggles “You mean you didn’t invite us cause you’re not sick of us”

Thomas rolls his eyes and tries not to laugh “No Alma and why would we ever get sick of any of you?”

Levi smirks “I know you invited us over for the free food”

Thomas chuckles “Can I get on with my announcement please?”

Levi sits back “The floors all your man”

“Thank you ok so yesterday I asked MC to marry me and she said yes”

Eiko claps “I’ve been rooting for you two”

Alma grins “Congratulations” Then she narrows her eyes “Make sure you treat her right”

“Oh trust me I plan to”

“I propose a toast to the happy couple” They raise and clink their glasses

****

Vanessa paces around then her phone rings “Glad you called me back”

“Meetings”

“So are you in?”

“Whatever I can do”

“Good” She smirks “I can’t wait to see that pathetic wrench crash and burn”

Tags: @mfackenthal @annekebbphotography @indiacater @the-soot-sprite @hopefulmoonobject @liam-rhys

#mother of the year #thomas mendez #thomas x mc #choices #choices fanfiction

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missn11 · 4 years

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Chapter two and three of The Devil’s Advocate, since chapter two is quite short, but these chapters are giving us some build up by introducing a mysterious woman luring people in a poorer neighborhood to the local abandoned church with her song. And we catch up with Liza and Owain and see how things are done in the Atlanta Camarilla court.

The song called. Antwuan made his excuses to his friends and left. They weren’t going anywhere. Nobody Antwuan knew was going anywhere. Nobody but Antwuan. His friends had always ragged on him. Except for Little Johnnie, Antwuan was the only one who’d stayed out of trouble, “kept his nose clean,” like his mama put it. Soon he would be old enough to work for his uncle Maurice driving a cab. He was going to save some money, buy his own place. The ladies would like that. He wasn’t going to spend his whole life in Reynoldstown.

I seen too many folks get shot down, or go crazy on drugs. None of Antwuan’s friends really thought they’d live much The Devil's Advocate 63 past thirty, anyhow. None except Little Johnnie, and he was just too scared to get himself killed. Antwuan liked hanging out with his friends, but he didn’t need them every night. And it wasn’t every night that the song called. The first time Antwuan had gone had been for other reasons. Taquanna had hinted that he should come, so he’d figured, play his cards right, he might get down her pants. Seemed worth a shot. Since then, though, there was no question. The song called, he was there.

The old church had always been a part of the scenery for Antwuan. It was there, he just didn’t mess with it. Nobody messed with it. The place had that feel to it, and people stayed away. Not even the up and coming gangstas congregated there. Hell, Antwuan reasoned, plenty other boarded up buildings to trash.

Lol, I think we have a title drop here with that street name!

Again as he approached, Antwuan heard the notes that floated through the night and sum- 64 Gherbod Fleming moned him. He had never heard the song before that first time, but now he heard it every time, no matter where he was. This past summer he’d been down at a Braves’ game, and even over the miles, the traffic, and the crowds he’d heard it and hopped on MARTA and gotten back as quickly as he could. There was no one else around as he walked up the cracked sidewalk into the shadows surrounding the church. But there would be others, he knew. The song would reach out to those who were aware, and many would come. Antwuan was glad he lived so close and could almost always make it. He reached for the door, the lofty, lilting notes pulling him more forcefully now. It was a prelude, as his mama called it when she made him go to their church, only this music was far more alluring than any church prelude, and the service was nothing he would expect from Preacher Rutherford. Antwuan chuckled at the thought, but immediately fell silent as he entered.

She stood at the front of the sanctuary before the toppled, graffiti-carven pulpit—the pale angel. Her skin was white as ivory, made more noticeably so by the dark black hair and straight bangs that framed her thin face, now lifted toward the heavens, eyes closed, lips slightly parted to allow forth the most enticing sound heard to man.

Place your bets on what Clan this woman is! I’m thinking at the moment a Toreador with a high level Presence.

Her voice brought them to her, held them there, not that they would want to tear themselves away. Antwuan closed his eyes, let the music ease his mind, carrying away thoughts of trouble, of his mama pestering him to get a job now instead of waiting till he was old enough to work for his uncle, of the long empty days since he’d dropped out of school, of wondering if the gunshots he heard at night would kill a member of his family or one of his friends. The daily concerns were washed away, replaced by soothing music, the closest thing to true contentment that he’d ever experienced. But even this contentment was not complete. At its heart was a tiny ache, the seed of desire, a rising need. The music did not erase this need, did not carry it away, but rather caressed it, cared for it. Now the music changed, shifted indescribably. Antwuan knew that if he opened his eyes he would see the others around him, ten or fifteen of them. He felt the familiar presence of Taquanna beside him, her shoulder inches from his. The angel still 66 Gherbod Fleming sang above them; her music reminded Antwuan of a song his grandmother used to sing to him as a little boy, but he couldn’t quite fully summon the tune to memory. Besides, that would only distract him from the pleasure at hand.

and then they dance and Antwuan has sex with Taquanna, which isn’t told in great detail, more tastefully really. Then later Antwuan feels super happy on the way home and he collapsed on his bed, sleeping until very late into the day.

Chapter three starts with Liza making her way to the art museum for the Camarilla gathering

Liza took a detour through Piedmont Park. She loved the freedom of walking the city at night by herself, something she couldn’t do as a mortal. Not only did she revel in her newfound powers, she always looked for a chance to show them off, to convince herself they were real more than to impress anyone else. Liza don’t need nobody else, she told herself quite often. She hoped somebody would give her trouble, wished that some thinks-he’stough asshole would try to mug her, or better yet, to rape her. She’d leave him with his dick stuffed down his throat. I bet ol’ Dietrich give Francesca a big hard one, Liza mused.

Probably got spikes just like on his head. The Devil's Advocate 69 Strangely enough, it was Francesca that intrigued Liza more. The way she rrrolls her rrrrs. The very thought gave Liza shivers. Maybe the two women would meet again, without Dietrich. The freak. Who knew when another Sabbat mission might bring them together again? The team had worked well enough: Liza, the Atlanta native, guiding; Dietrich helping herd their prey; Francesca giving the orders and immobilizing old what’s-his-name at the end. To Liza’s disappointment, it was a slow night in Piedmont Park. After about forty-five minutes completely unmolested—not even a nibble—she headed toward the High Museum of Art and Prince Benison’s exhibit.

The Camarilla, the vampire sect that controlled Atlanta, claimed every vampire as a member. So Liza, as an Atlanta Kindred, was automatically invited, even if Benison didn’t really want her there. Technically, she was an anarch, a rebel who didn’t acknowledge the strictures of the Camarilla, at least not all of them. But since the Camarilla claimed her, there was plenty of gray area to use as she saw fit. Liza liked gray area. Gray area meant freedom. Although if Benison, or any of the 70 Gherbod Fleming other Atlanta Kindred for that matter, found out about her Sabbat connections, that would be the end of freedom, not to mention her life. She’d be staked, or beheaded, or left out for the sun, or all three.

And we get our first look of who’s who of the Atlanta Camarilla court at the gathering.

Occasionally, Benison had midnight prayer breakfasts at Rhodes Hall, his mansion just a bit down Peachtree Street. Liza avoided those like the plague. No way was she going to go listen to the crazy Malkavian prince spout scripture, pretending that God still cared about the Damned. Liza the The Devil's Advocate 71 anarch had that freedom. She could skip out on any gathering she felt like. Not so for these other Kindred. Stupid bastards. Prince Benison frowned on subjects missing his courtly functions. That was another reason to attend this relatively painless exhibit: to rub it in the others’ faces that she didn’t have to be there.

And they were all there all right, Liza noticed: Eleanor, the prince’s snobby bitch wife wearing her poofy Gone With the Wind dress; Benjamin and Thelonious, resident legal eagle and Mr. Civil Rights, brothers who bought into the white folks’ world; Owain Evans, the youthful and good-looking but boring-ass businessman; Hannah, the local Tremere grand wizard or whatever; Marlene, artist wannabe, porn queen more likely. There were others too, but Liza was distracted by the sight of Alex Horndiller, Benison’s righthand ghoul, leading two young men, mortals, toward the center of the gallery. She strutted over to them, her black tights drawing quite a few stares amidst the formal evening wear crowd.

Liza causes a stir when she feeds on two of the ghouls before the Prince has a chance for the first sip.

She slapped the ghoul on the shoulder, hard enough that he almost stumbled. “Corndicker, what you got for me?” Without another word, Liza took the forearm of the first young man, tall, blond, maybe in his early twenties, and sank her teeth in. He flinched only slightly; the collective gasp that arose was from the onlookers. Liza tried not to 72 Gherbod Fleming laugh—she hated when blood ran out her nose— but it was so like the courtly Kindred to be shocked…like she knew they would be. The two men were the refreshments for the evening, common vessels, but of course the prince should have enjoyed the ceremonious first sip. Liza wasn’t hungry, not after feeding on that vampire sap with Francesca and the Elephant Man, but this was almost as much fun as ripping apart muggers in the park would have been. She let go of the first man and grinned at the irate Horndiller, red splotches forming on his face. “Not bad,” she said as she winked and pinched the blond vessel’s ass. “And I like the Dixie cup.” Before Horndiller could form his indignant sputterings into words, Liza sank her teeth into the second man, stockier and more darkly complected than his counterpart.

She had drunk only a little when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Corndicker’s got more balls than I…but before she could finish the thought, she was spun roughly around, and to her shock, it was not Horndiller who held her. Instead, it was J. Benison Hodge, prince of Atlanta. Liza stumbled backward in surprise, but the prince’s iron grip held her upright, his fingers pressing down to the bone of her shoulder. He towered above her, his massive dark red beard inches from her face, his green eyes ablaze with more anger than Liza had ever seen in them.

She tried to speak but The Devil's Advocate 73 could only wince at the pain as he squeezed her shoulder more tightly. The prince spoke in a low, throaty growl. “I offer hospitality, and you mock it.” The words were meant for her, but Hodge’s forceful baritone easily carried across the chamber to the onlooking Kindred, about whom Liza had very nearly forgotten. The prince released her shoulder and quickly drew back his hand to strike her backhanded across the face…but he stopped, spotless white glove raised, arm trembling with rage. His stiffened jaw forced his beard forward. “I will not tolerate this.”

Liza could do nothing but cringe at this awesome display of barely controlled ferocity. One swipe of his gloved fist would likely crush every bone in her face. She suddenly felt very young and weak and small confronted with this force of nature that was the prince. Benison took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled. Just as slowly, he lowered his arm. Not for one moment did his severe gaze release Liza from scrutiny. “For one year and one night, I do not want to see you, I do not want to so much as hear report of your name.” A savage, psychotic glint flashed across the prince’s fiery green eyes, as if he wanted to end it now, as if he wanted nothing more than to strike her down this instant for her affront to his honor, but the brief wavering passed, and though his wrath was undiminished, restraint held the day. “If I do, 74 Gherbod Fleming you will find final death.” The prince turned his back to her. “Begone.” It took Liza a second to realize that she had not been struck down, that he had not snapped her neck as surely he could have. She swallowed her wounded pride and slunk away

Then we switch over to Owain’s POV, who’s still thinking about the chess game he lost.

Owain probably had never been to a courtly function in a fouler mood. Three hundred years of strategy and planning abruptly catapulted to hell, he kept telling himself. It was not a misfortune he could lightly set aside and forget. How? How could it happen? Overconfidence? Carelessness? The art exhibit was hardly a sufficient distraction. At least it’s not one of those damnable prayer breakfasts. Prince Benison, through his contacts on the board of the High Museum, had commandeered this gallery to show the artwork of one of the Atlanta Kindred, Marlene. Marlene fancied herself something of a sculptor, and though she was Toreador, Owain did not feel that the term “art” accurately described her accomplishments. Apparently ceramics or clay were too subtle media; Marlene had taken to welding together various shapes and sizes of scrap metal and then attaching somewhat grandiose titles to the resulting monstrosities. What her work lacked in vision it certainly made up in magnitude. No mantlepiece The Devil's Advocate 75 collectibles in this portfolio.

Not a big lover of modern art is he? XD

As usual at these functions, Owain attempted to stay out of the way. There was much more to be learned from watching and listening than from taking a lead in most endeavors, a fact that Owain had learned well over his centuries of vampiric existence. And one that anarch rabble would do well to learn, Owain thought as Liza was shown the door. Her little outburst had been entertaining. Owain had to admit that, although he had been quite guarded in not displaying his amusement at the spectacle. She won’t live long confronting a prince that way. Owain was surprised by her brazen recklessness, her stupidity. There are more efficient ways to undermine a princes’ position, subtler ways, safer ways. Owain could only wonder if the prince’s treatment of her might have been more irreversibly detrimental had she had time to actually insult the “artwork.”

At the time of Liza’s little scene, Owain had been standing to a side of the room, near the Tremere chantry leader, reclusive Hannah. He was close enough that most passersby, assuming that he and Hannah were merely pausing in conversation, continued on without disturbing him, but not so close that he actually had to speak to the Tremere. Owain suspected that Hannah appreciated the arrangement as well, she not being one of the more socially ambitious Kindred in the city. For the most 76 Gherbod Fleming part, the only people who expressed more than the most passing of interests in speaking to Hannah were her Tremere lessers from the chantry. Several attempted to toady but quickly retreated having received nothing but coldly polite and formal responses

Owain also noticed that Chantry Mistress Hannah’s reaction to the anarch-prince confrontation was as muted as his own, only a slight wrinkling of her nose indicating her distaste. Owain himself was not a stickler for manners. Over the years he had come to see their value as a stabilizing factor in both mortal and Kindred affairs. He was not offended by the “affront to the prince’s honor.” Rather he was dismayed by the anarch’s idiocy. Owain shook his head thinking of her misguided actions. She wanted to embarrass him, to damage his reputation.

But Hodge came out looking stronger than ever, and now she’s banished for a year and a night. Owain laughed to himself. A nice touch that—a year and a night. Hodge does have a flair for the dramatic. The duration of the punishment was a clear echo of the length of Arthurian quests—a year and a day. Owain was particularly enamored with the legends, as many of the earliest were of Welsh origin. It was clear to Owain that the prince saw himself as some type of crusading knight, protector of moral fortitude. It fit all too perfectly with the prince’s other derangements.

No, Owain was not offended by Liza’s little show, unlike many of the other gathered Kindred who bought so completely into the aura of southern gentility that Hodge, his wife Eleanor, and his sire Aunt Bedelia so convincingly affected. To Owain etiquette was a means, not an end unto itself. It was sometimes the only keeper of civility between enemies, and more importantly it was a veil behind which to work deceit. That line of thought reminded Owain that there was business to be conducted this evening. Mostly he was biding his time, making sure to stay long enough not to insult the prince, but not so long as to seem to be attempting to ingratiate himself. Almost no vampire, Owain felt, was worth the time of a social engagement, and very few mortals or ghouls. But if he had to be here, he might as well get something accomplished.

Then Owain tends to some business but first he has a brief encounter with the Prince’s sire, Aunt Bedelia.

He scanned the room until he saw Benjamin, a fellow Ventrue but hardly a friend. As he moved to leave his safe haven near Hannah, however, Owain nearly stumbled over Aunt Bedelia in her antique wheelchair being ushered around the gallery by her childe the prince. “Goodness, J. Benison. Someone has stepped on me,” Aunt Bedelia chittered shrilly. “Who is that?” She squinted up through her half-moon spectacles in Owain’s general direction. Her heavy wool dress swallowed her frail form. “My apologies, Mother,” muttered the prince, 78 Gherbod Fleming gracious and mild-mannered now that civility was restored to the gathering. “This is Owain Evans.” Owain smiled dutifully. “Never heard of him.” “Of course you have, Mother,” Benison patiently reminded her. “He came from Europe during the Great War. He’s from Wales originally. He…” “Never heard of him,” Bedelia snapped, testily this time.

The prince lowered his head and sighed. “Of course you haven’t, mother. Mother, I present to you Owain Evans, Ventrue of King Road, Atlanta. Mr. Evans, my sire Aunt Bedelia.” Bedelia held her left hand before her. Owain, standing to her right, glanced at the prince who was watching him expectantly, so he stepped around her, delicately took her hand, and kissed it. “The pleasure is all mine, Aunt Bedelia.” “Charmed, I’m sure.” Bedelia smiled sweetly, quite content now that she had been paid the proper respect; so content, in fact, that she had apparently fallen instantly asleep, her eyes closed now instead of squinted. She began to snore quietly.

Benison was smiling broadly. “Always good to see you, Owain. Mother and I couldn’t be happier that you made it this evening. Enjoying the artwork?” Before Owain could answer, the prince glanced off to his left. “No, I don’t think we need to send any- The Devil's Advocate 79 one to follow her,” he said, answering a question that no one had asked. Then, without missing a beat, he was smiling at Owain again. Owain hesitated. This peculiar behavior was nothing new for Benison.

The prince waited a moment. “The artwork?” he asked again. “Oh yes,” Owain assured him. “I’ve seen nothing like it elsewhere.” Benison cuffed Owain on the shoulder and laughed heartily. “Good, good. Of course you haven’t. Our little Marlene is quite the artist.” “She is something,” Owain agreed. He wondered what else Marlene was to the prince that she should merit such patronage. Owain had it on good authority that the prince’s wife was no paragon of fidelity. Perhaps the indiscretion was reciprocated. Though few vampires retained any type of sexual desire, there were always other…displays of affection that a spouse might guard jealously. “Well, Mother and I must attend the other guests,” said the prince. “Always good to see you, Owain. Enjoy the exhibit.”

At this, Bedelia perked up. Her gentle snoring ceased abruptly as she blinked herself awake. She squinted up at Owain as if she had just asked him a question and was expecting an answer. Owain, nodding respectfully at the prince, saw that Bedelia was still watching him expectantly. “A 80 Gherbod Fleming pleasure to see you, madame,” he offered. She continued staring at him, as if oblivious to his statement. “Have we met, young man?” Benison broke in quickly, “Well, Mother, here’s your favorite bridge partner, Hannah,” as he wheeled her away. “J. Benison, why didn’t you introduce us?” Bedelia was asking, but the prince continued on their way, greeting Hannah with great enthusiasm and seeming not to hear the protestations of his sire.

Owain gratefully slipped away. He always had gotten on fairly well with the prince. Both were warriors and, even though their wars were of different eras, there was a certain camaraderie in that. Aunt Bedelia was a different matter. Owain was sure her “forgetfulness” was merely an intended slight, a game meant to lessen him somehow. He shrugged off the encounter. Let the old hag pretend she doesn’t know me. I’d rather continue advising the prince than have her approval. Now where has Benjamin gotten to? Must have slipped into a side gallery.

He also skirted the main work of the exhibit, a behemoth of a piece consisting of three major chunks of curved and twisted metal The Devil's Advocate 81 with numerous smaller additions, suspended in its entirity from the ceiling by chains. It was a work Marlene had crafted several years ago titled “Benison’s Ride,” in honor of the prince’s purging of the Atlanta area of those anarchs and caitiffs who had not paid him the respect of announcing their presence to the court. Benison was quite fond of the piece and arranged for public viewings periodically for the edification of the Kindred in his domain. A vociferous Brujah had surmised that the sculpture was actually a representation of a whale spewing forth a Volkswagon. The prince felt otherwise. That particular Brujah no longer resided in Atlanta. Other colorful yet more discreet speculations had included but not been limited to: a severely disfigured head wearing a propeller hat, three falcons fornicating, and a ballet dancer engaged in projectile vomiting. At the original unveiling, Owain had limited his response to polite applause.

Finally Owain finds Benjamin with the Prince’s wife Eleanor.

Benjamin, an African-American dandy with his impeccable Brooks Brothers suit, tidy short-cropped hair, and wirerimmed glasses, was relatively young in his undeath but there was power in his blood. Next to the prince’s wife Eleanor, he was ostensibly the most influential Ventrue in Atlanta. Owain tended to keep his distance from clan politics; he’d been there too many times before. The fewer everyday entanglements the better, he felt. Both Benjamin and Eleanor, however, held this detachment against Owain and regarded him with suspicion. If they only knew how much older and more powerful he was than they, they would fear him as well.

“Benjamin, we must speak,” Owain said as he approached. A young female, whose name escaped Owain at the moment, edged away from Benjamin with only a glare at Owain, a grudging display of deference to the elder. Benjamin frowned, the expression causing his glasses to slide down his nose. “Yes, Owain, how The Devil's Advocate 83 may I be of service?” he asked in a cool formal tone. Benjamin’s slight but noticable English accent always amused Owain. True, the young lawyer had studied for several years at Oxford, but after more than fifteen years back in the States such an acquired accent would normally have faded. Unless, of course, the bearer consciously chose to maintain it as an affectation, a vanity. Owain, after living in Wales, London, France, Spain, and now Atlanta, had studied language and made a concerted effort to acquire an almost accentless English that raised no eyebrows. Speech patterns could give all too much away about a person. Even his current name, “Owain Evans,” was a concession to the need to remain unobtrusive and seemed choppy and harsh in comparison to his original “Owain ap Ieuan.” “Owain?” Benjamin’s voice snapped Owain out of his woolgathering, a bad habit and one he’d been succumbing to increasingly of late. “How may I help you?”

Owain edged closer to his fellow Ventrue and spoke in a low voice that would not be overheard by the other Kindred milling about. “I need a favor, a simple thing really.” Benjamin regarded Owain skeptically but said nothing. “There is a certain case,” Owain continued, “that will be heard this week by Justice Chamberlain of the Superior Court. You know Justice Chamberlain?” Benjamin shrugged noncommittally as he pushed 84 Gherbod Fleming his glasses back up. “He’s an acquaintance.” “Ah. How fortunate. You see, this particular case involves a zoning dispute. Mercator Manufacturing has bought property near downtown with the intention of constructing a regional distribution center. Unfortunately, certain rather reactionary individuals, most notably the Citizens Empowerment Union, have taken it into their heads that such a project would not be a desirable addition to the area. Never mind the jobs it would bring. Never mind the investment in surrounding neighborhoods….” “Never mind,” Benjamin interrupted, unable to hold his tongue any longer, “that the jobs would be non-union minimum wage, or that the people would be working for an international corporation with a history of closing shop when standards of living rise to a point where workers demand raises, then relocating to centers of cheap foreign labor.”

Despite Benjamin’s refusal, since the whole thing is just basically wage slavery, Owain blackmails him into agreeing since he knows about his relationship with the Prince’s wife Eleanor.

He loves Eleanor too deeply to harm her, but you…? I don’t think he would exercise such restraint in dealing with you.” 86 Gherbod Fleming A polite smile masked the venom of Owain’s words to any who might be watching. Owain stepped back. Benjamin could not hide his dismay, his shock, his fear. His every muscle was taut; his glasses slid down his nose again. “Now that I think of it,” Owain went on, “not only will Chamberlain uphold the rezoning, but the Georgia Supreme Court will refuse to hear the appeal.” He winked at the still speechless Benjamin. “I’ll be in touch.” Owain turned and left the side gallery laughing to himself at the expression on young Benjamin’s face. That should teach him some respect for his elders.

Yikes, Owain! But we knew that anyway,from when he killed his niece in las and her children. After being a really huge dick, Owain walks back to the main gallery and sees a wild scene unfolding.

Just as Owain entered the main gallery, a cacophony of gasps, exclamations, and laughter errupted. Owain saw why instantly. Atop “Benison’s Ride” perched Albert, the wiry, bearded Malkavian known to all Kindred in Atlanta. Completely naked. “On, Dasher! On, Dancer!” He rocked back and forth, in his own way reenacting the prince’s heroic ride as the massive metal sculpture wobbled precariously beneath him. Marlene, the self-proclaimed artist, had fainted dead away. The prince, doting over Aunt Bedelia at the other end of the gallery, his back turned, was quite oblivious to the evening’s second spectacle behind him. That was as much as Owain cared to see. He nonchalantly eased around the room—the oppo- The Devil's Advocate 87 site end from the prince—toward the elevator. Several Kindred were ordering Albert to dismount, but they were unwilling to risk breaking the sculpture by pulling him from his seat. As the elevator doors closed behind Owain, he could hear Albert singing, “Rollin’ rollin’ rollin, keep them dogs a-rollin’!” at the top of his lungs, the sculpted representation of the prince towering upward between his hairy legs like a giant scrap metal phallus. And then dead silence. Owain could picture the prince turning around. “Albert!”

#vampire the masquerade #The Trilogy of the Blood Curse #The Devil's Advocate #books #my reading blogging

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chubbyooo · 5 years

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Blurred Lines: Cursed Past Chapter 44 - Dress Sense

so the spinoff is finished and as a result we’re back to the main story and headin back to Gacen and Ash

Gacen and Ash do a favour for Amy and talk about their situation

Ash was confused Gacen had said they were going shopping but as far as she could tell they were still floating in space, he’d been gone for a few hours normally she would go find him but she wasn’t looking forward to the gala so didn’t mind if he was distracted. She no longer had her military ranking so couldn’t use being a soldier as an excuse to not dress up, she didn’t know the first thing about it and didn’t really want to. But it was necessary to fit in especially considering Amy’s mission, Ash thought back to the galas the republic used to throw hopefully this gala wouldn’t be as interrupted. The gala was being thrown on some rich persons planet called Cantonica no doubt the target was some bigwig executive or business man.

From outside the door she heard some shuffling “Ok Ash are you ready” Ash frowned did he already have his outfit. “I SAID are you ready?”

Ash walked up to the door turning on the lock “sure I’m ready” promptly she heard a wumph as Gacen crashed into the closed door

Ash couldn’t help but grin “oh very funny Ash come on open the door” Ash chuckled to herself unlocking the door.

A few seconds later Gacen came prancing through the door, he was wearing a ridiculous red suit with tailcoats and a black and red top hat. He twirled into an elegant pose “soooo what do you think” Ash frowned at him trying to stifle laughter

Ash raised her eyebrow “I think you look like a nexu tamer” Gacen scrunched up his face “is that seriously your outfit?” he glowered at her nodding

Gacen brought a box into the room “I guess not everyone has my impeccable taste” he put the box down

Ash frowned “what’s this” she had a hunch she knew but was hoping it wasn’t that

Gacen gave a devious smile as he lifted the lid “it’s dresses of course this is what I meant when I said shopping” Ash peered into the box which was full of dresses

Ash chuckled “dare I even ask why you have this” there was certainly a wide array of options to choose from

Gacen laughed “ah well that’s a good story me and Risha took a job to smuggle these to some crime family but oh no we ‘lost the shipment’” Ash sighed of course “needless to say Risha liked a lot of the dresses so we created a clever lie and I won many boyfriend points it was a win win” Risha certainly seemed eccentric

Ash rubbed her forehead “and I have to wear one of these?” Gacen frowned he seemed at least sympathetic

“well not if you really don’t want to but it’d help you fit in, it’s just those Risha didn’t take so the selection isn’t perfect” Ash appreciated his concern but he was right she’d stick out like a sore thumb without it and their job was to blend in

Ash looked away “I uh I’ve just never done this sort of thing before I don’t wanna embarrass myself” Gacen chuckled

he gestured to himself “Ash first of all you really have nothing to be embarrassed about but also you’re gonna be next to this I don’t think anyone will think you’re the one embarrassing yourself” Ash chuckled that was fair

Ash smiled “yes I was wondering where Gacen went Marching band conductor do you know?” Gacen chuckled good he did know how ridiculous he looked

Gacen began rooting around in the box “okeeey let’s see what would you look good in ooo what about” he pulled out a big poofy pink dress and raised an eyebrow “this?”

Ash glowered at him “I’d sooner see you in that than me” Gacen grinned

he looked at the dress “I bet I could pull it off” he began rooting around again “ok that was my one joke serious now how do you feel about golds and silvers?” Ash sighed in no universe did she want to sparkle

Ash rubbed her forehead “no part of me wants to shimmer Gacen” Gacen nodded continuing to root around

Gacen turned to look at her “uh short or long?” Ash eyes widened why did she have to choose she didn’t wanna look exposed

Ash blushed “uh I guess long” Gacen nodded rooting around a little more before he stopped

Gacen nodded “here we are” he pulled out an elegant white dress that went over one shoulder “I think you would look amazing in white” Ash looked at the dress it didn’t look awful

Ash held her arm “uh I dunno Gacen are you sure” Gacen frowned at her he seemed to be losing patience

Gacen brought the dress over “ok it’s this or the pink one take your pick” Ash’s eyes widened, she quickly took the dress and headed to change fine she would wear it.

She held it up in front of her it didn’t look so bad to be honest Gacen was definitely right about the colour. It looked a little small though she chuckled it’s probably not built for athletic people still it seemed better than the other options. She put the dress on and looked in the mirror she felt very awkward but she looked ok not awful and to be honest that’s all she needed. It was a little tight but still fitted the only real problem was the bottom of her legs sticking out but still could be worse.

She put her jacket back on and walked back out to Gacen, she walked in and he gave a clap beaming at her.

Gacen grinned “told ya it wouldn’t be so bad you look awesome, girls better watch out Ash you’d knock em dead” Ash folded her arms she appreciated him being nice but still felt weird

Ash looked away “well uh thanks but let’s just get this over with” Gacen nodded gesturing for her to take his arm, Ash gave him a long glare so Gacen relinquished the gesture.

later...

They arrived outside the event in good time Ash looked at the other guests, a lot of their outfits were either a lot less ‘elegant’ seeming kind of low budget or way too elegant with frills and side bits she’d never understand this culture. She could see Amy waiting near the entrance wearing a red jumpsuit dress and waved as they walked over.

Amy smiled “well well well you two certainly made an effort it’s nice to see you looking so pretty Ash” Ash felt herself blush as Amy turned to Gacen “and I wasn’t aware you knew the leader of the local carnival” Gacen sighed

he folded his arms “you guys are just jealous of how good I look” Ash had to admit Gacen certainly fit in wether or not that was a good or bad thing was yet to be seen.

Amy raised her eyebrow “uh huh” Ash couldn’t help but chuckle “as I told you just blend in and if anyone asks I’m uh on the can” they both nodded at least this wasn’t complicated.

They made their way into the event and Amy quickly broke off from them to do her ‘business’. Ash turned to Gacen “So what now failed magician we just wait around” Gacen seemed to brush off the comment

Gacen smiled “well I know where I’m going I’m heading to the buffet table galas always have them” Ash followed him to the buffet table and was suddenly hit with a huge wave of deja vu looking down at Gacen filling his plate had she done this before?

Ash chuckled “woah Gacen I’m getting crazy deja vu right now” Gacen smiled at her seemingly understanding what she meant

Gacen chuckled “well this is like the mirror image of when we first met” Ash’s eyes widened it totally was “I remember you thought I was an ass and that the smuggler program was a waste of time” Ash frowned that did sound right

Ash folded her arms “and you thought I was an uptight soldier yeah I remember” Gacen chuckled as he began to eat

Gacen frowned “then cipher nine totally crashed the party the prick” Ash chuckled that was certainly correct “over 7 years later and we’re doing the same, well with a few differences” Gacen seemed to sway slightly as he talked

Ash smiled “yeah more things change more they stay the same right?” Gacen nodded “what did change though I used to hate you” Gacen raised his eyebrow

“same as most people Ash I badgered you until you opened up to me and ya know broke you out of that uptight soldier shell” Ash nodded that seemed accurate she had to admit having a good laugh was useful and the old her wasn’t the sort of person she wanted to be again.

Ash surveyed the room “I guess you’re right” she turned to Gacen who was taking a swig of alcohol “ya know I heard Darth Nox was part of the team that crashed that party” Gacen spat out the alcohol coughing for a few seconds

he tried his best to compose himself “oh yeah? that’s interesting” Ash frowned maybe she shouldn’t have pushed that she had said she’d wait until they found Risha Ash just wanted to be sure.

That spit take was pretty much proof “um yeah just interesting it was so high profile, you ok there Gacen?” Gacen continued to cough for a couple more seconds

Gacen hit his chest “yeah I’m good just some booze went down the wrong pipe don’t uh worry” he took a few deep breaths “uh um you know that gala was my first date with Risha” Ash wracked her brain she did remember seeing Gacen with a woman that day clearly she hadn’t committed it to memory properly through.

Ash smiled “huh no kidding” Gacen nodded eating more of his giant plate “how are you feeling about uh all this then?” Gacen frowned

“I uh I’m feeling ok about it I’m not so confident in the uh leads but it’s like you said it’s better to get it done and know than worry about it any more” Ash nodded this must be tough especially considering his dependancy but she was glad he wanted closure.

Ash hesitated “and uh how’s the well booze situation” Gacen sighed looking at Ash seriously

“well it’s a little better but it’s not something that’s gonna be ‘fixed’ I’ve always drank in moderation but normally I had something to hold me back but after Belsavis I well I didn’t that’s I think why things got so bad” Ash nodded she understood somewhat but it did genuinely seem like she was getting her friend back so who was she to judge his methods “shit the only thing that stopped me from drinking myself to death was the threat of you leaving, I uh really couldn’t lose anything else so thanks for setting me on the right path” Ash smiled she was glad her meddling hadn’t been too destructive “but I dunno maybe if we find Risha things will get better who’s to say” Gacen smiled Ash didn’t want to push him anymore and it seemed like her trust was somewhat working, the distraction of the Risha mystery also helped. Gacen grinned “but for now I have seafood tray with my name on and I want me some king prawns” Ash chuckled she felt she could go for seafood too.

As they made their way over Ash saw Amy shuffle over to them quickly “Ok guys did anyone ask about me?” Ash completely forgot about that luckily no one had asked.

Gacen slapped his forehead “oh yeah that’s what we were here for” Amy frowned at him

she sighed “great thanks guys” Amy looked around frantically “well on my cue we’re leaving” Gacen gasped looking upset

“but I was about to get some seafood” Amy gave him a puzzled look “fine what’s the signal” Ash saw Gacen begin putting seafood into a bag of course he brought a bag.

suddenly the lights all dimmed and flickered off Ash heard from the darkness “THAT” from Amy as she felt her grab Ash’s hand. They quickly dashed out of the gala, Ash wasn’t gonna even ask how a power cut helped her kill her target bounty hunters always had their methods.

Soon they were at the spaceport as Amy caught her breath “awesome that went off without a hitch thanks guys” Gacen smiled

He picked some seafood out of his bag “hey we got free food out of it not too bad if you ask me we should do this more often” they both chuckled while Ash folded her arms

Amy smiled “it’s certainly been fun thanks eccentric clown and Ash you were great too” Ash nodded Amy was certainly something but she somehow hoped it’d be a while until they met again. “alright see ya” Amy headed off leaving Ash and Gacen in the spaceport

Gacen turned to Ash “sooo back to the hunt for my wife” Ash nodded she hoped that’d somehow be less weird than this

Ash smiled “sure thing” Gacen began eating more seafood “did you have to bring a bag?” Gacen chuckled as he stuffed his face

he grinned “would it really have been like me if I didn’t” he had a point not a good one but a point...

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frankenfrady-blog · 7 years

Photo

Ficlet: Inspired by Season 7 Promo (Part II)

Rating: G

Summary: Take two. The first ball didn’t go as planned, but the prince is throwing two more, so things can still get back on track. The only problem: this Cinderella is showing more of an interest in Henry rather than her destiny...

Part I: https://frankenfrady.tumblr.com/post/163429500153/ficlet-inspired-by-season-7-promo-rating-g

Henry took a drink from his water flask, staring up at the feminine statue before him. She towered above him, but not imposingly; more maternally. Protective. Her hands were palms up, much like the Madonna’s posture, offering an embrace to those who visited her, as if they were cherished friends of hers. The immense weeping willow tree behind her basically fused into the statue’s grave, but did not crack the stone. The roots instead cradled it gently, and created almost a smooth alter for one to kneel at. The site was well maintained and riddled with candles that were mysteriously lit even before he arrived.

He raised his flask reverently. “To good mothers.”

“Did you say something?” Henry turned with a start, not realizing that Cinderella had snuck up behind him. She gave a laugh; it was like bells. “Are you talking to my mother’s grave?”

Henry gave a sheepish grin. “Just paying homage.” Cindy’s eye brow was still arched at him with a bemused expression. “I’m not talking with anyone. That would be crazy.” He defended.

She gave him a mock offended expression, turning to the statue. “Don’t listen to Henry, mother. We’re not crazy at all!” She stepped up to the alter, brushing some dried leaves off its polished surface. “No, he actually is a nice fellow.” She looked back at Henry. “…Once you get to know him.”

Henry’s face blanched. He looked back at the immense tree. “I’m…pardon me ma’am…I didn’t know-”

Cindy couldn’t keep up the pretense any longer. She burst out laughing. “No… no Henry. I’m just teasing! I don’t hear the voice of my dead mother from beyond the grave. That would be silly…”

“Well, I didn’t know! She conjures ball dresses and glass slippers; talking doesn’t seem that far of a stretch…”

Cindy giggled, but her face softened into a tender expression as she regarded her mother’s resting place. “Sometimes I hear her words… but they are only echoes from my memories. Still guiding and comforting me all these years later. I come here to get away from the house. Gain clarity.”

Henry once again looked up at the mighty willow, golden in the early evening hues. “It’s beautiful here.”

She knelt by the stone beneath the statue, fingers tracing the letters of her mother’s name. “She died when I was so young. It devastated my father. He woke me up one morning, a few days after the funeral, carried me deep into the forest to her grave… with a tree sapling in his pocket. He planted it here, and we wept over it, every time we came, for years…and little by little…this incredible willow tree sprouted.” She turned and gently held a graceful tendril of leaves, as if it was a hand dangling down for her. “I know her spirit lingers here. I can feel it.”

Henry was silent, moved by her account. It was a beautifully tragic tale… in need of a happy ending. He finally noticed her threadbare and tattered appearance.

He straightened and cleared his throat. “You’re not ready.” He blurted. “I’m here to get you to the ball, since the carriage is still out of commission.”

Cindy came back to herself. “Oh, yes. Yes of course.” She climbed up some thick and knotted roots to reach a small nook in the tree’s trunk. “I managed to wash up at a nearby brook. After the birds helped me picked up all the lentils that stepmother threw in the ashes.”

“What?” Henry asked.

“Yes. Another impossible task to finish to keep me from going to the ball…”

“I mean, she’s unaware of your attendance anyways. You could have just left them-”

“Well, she also would have sold me to the nearest brothel if I didn’t complete it before she and my sister return home.”

Henry blinked. “…That evil BITCH.”

“Excuse me??” Cindy had emerged from around the tree’s trunk with a golden bundle. “Henry…”

“Pardon me…witch.” He grumbled.

She couldn’t maintain her scolding stare and let a grin creep upon her face. She had heard worse from her stepsister, Drizella. For a ‘loving. dainty flower full of potential’, as Lady Tremaine had put it, her biological daughter could swear like one of the foulest sailors in the realm.

“Well, regardless…the task is completed and she’s none-the-wiser.” Cindy gently unswaddled the glass slippers from her bundle and put them on a wide root before holding up the golden garment for Henry to see.

He looked at it, expression hard to read. “It’s… nice.”

Cindy frowned, looking from him to the dress in her hands. “‘Nice’? It’s enchanted… it should be breathtaking…”

“I just…liked the blue. Liked how you… looked… in the blue.”

“Oh? Then perhaps I should wear that one again…”

Henry kicked himself. “No wait! Please wear the gold. Don’t listen to me… I’ll only screw things up.” He ran a hand through his brown hair. She was taking his opinion much to seriously. He needed to break her of that habit if they were to pull this off. “Besides, it would be a major fopaux to wear the same thing twice in a row.”

“And we don’t want that.” She smiled, though her confidence had taken a hit: Henry liked blue.

She stood with the gold dress for a moment, looking a Henry. “Henry… I need to dress.”

“Oh! Right….I’ll just… over there…” He began taking giant strides away from the site.

“Don’t go to far, please. The fastening is on the back… I”ll need your help, if that is alright.”

Henry’s voice came out higher than he meant it to. “Fine.” He cleared his throat, putting his hands on his hips and tried to regain his masculinity with a lower tone. “That’s fine.”

He tried to focus in on the sounds of the forrest: distant song birds, creaking trees, leaves rustling in the breeze…

…Not the sound of fabric against skin as Cindy changed behind him.

“I’m glad you found the place… I’m the only one who’s ever been here.” She spoke up, trying to break the strange tension. “My step family has never ventured too far from the house, unless it’s towards town for social calls. And none of the other servants have made mention of it…it’s so tucked out of the way.”

Henry grinned to himself. “I’m good at finding secret hideouts.”

She was right behind him before he knew it. “Well now it’s our secret.”

He turned toward her… and stared. Maybe he was wrong about the blue dress. The gold reflected off her tanned skin, almost making it shimmer, as if she was the thing of enchantment, not the garment. She held her breath, waiting for his verdict.

“You…pull off gold, too.” He stammered.

Cindy smiled broadly. “Really? I’m glad you like it.” She turned her back to him and pulled her long hair over her slender shoulder, exposing the unfastened back. “Could you…?”

Henry helped her, trying not to touch the smooth flesh of her back as he did so. “There. All set.” He stepped away from her with an awkward pat. “Ready to dance with destiny?”

Cindy scowled before she turned to face him; he was still about having her go and meet her prince, was he? It almost annoyed her. But not enough to cause a fight; she liked it when Henry was sweet, nervous, and playful around her. She didn’t want to spoil that. Not when they had a limited amount of time left together.

He had made it very clear that he would be moving on once she had secured the prince’s affection. She just had to make that process last two more nights…

“Put these in the satchel on your….motor…bike?” Cindy held out her slippers to him. He looked puzzled. “Yesterday I was scared to death that they would fall off and shatter on the ride over!” He shrugged and did as he was told, while she took the helmet from the transportation contraption to strap on.

Henry mounted the motorcycle, watching with amusement as Cindy, in a big poofy ballgown concentrated on putting on the black, clunky helmet.

“What?” She asked, noticing his bemused expression.

“It compliments the look.”

She put her hands on her hips. “I seem to recall someone saying ‘safety first’ upon my first introduction to this contraption. Does that not still stand?”

“It stands. Climb aboard, m’lady.”

Cindy scoffed at the memory of her first attempt to mount the device the previous day, in a side saddle fashion, before it failed miserably and she had to straddle like an indecent barbarian. Today she picked up all her skirts ungracefully and plopped herself down upon the seat; her voluminous gown billowing out behind her. She wrapped her arms around Henry’s chest, much more comfortable with his presence than she had been the previous day.

“It’s going to get loud, remember…” He warned her.

“I remember.” She affirmed, but still bit her lip to keep from squeaking as the motorbike roared to life. Once her ears adjusted, it wasn’t so bad…not as bad as she remembered. When it was new and terrifying.

The ground became a disorienting blur of movement as they took off. Cindy remembered to look up and forward in the direction that they were heading, to keep from getting dizzy. It worked, and soon she became dissatisfied with the leisurely speed they were traveling.

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” She yelled into his ear, over the thunderous puttering.

“Yeah. But you didn’t seem to like it yesterday.”

“Well today, I would like to go faster!”

Henry grinned. “As you wish.”

His hand slowly twisted at the accelerator and increased the speed of the motorbike. Cindy held on to him tighter, almost regretting her request, but eventually the thrill of it all had her grinning like a young child. She let out a few hoops of excitement as Henry took paths with sharp turns and slight inclines that sent the contraption into the air, a few feet from the ground. But he was an expert on the thing when he knew the way to his destination.

When they arrived, they received a few odd looks from courtiers heading in through the main gate. Henry parked his bike, waited for Cindy to fix her appearance in a small handheld mirror he had brought for her in his bag, and held her arms as she stepped into the glass slippers that he had placed on the ground.

“Show time.” He whispered to her, offering his arm. He had contemplated letting her go in alone… but at this point, she seemed so disinterested in sticking to the script… well… story… that he was sure that his presence would be needed to keep things in check.

Cindy didn’t complain.

Her entrance was less dramatic this time, though quite a few glances were cast her way. Many remembered the stunning creature from last night. And she looked even more glowing than before.

Of course Henry couldn’t keep her from getting refreshments. She was half-starved everyday by her stepfamily, afterall. So the two of them loaded up their plates, found a spot against a curtained wall, and talked amongst themselves for a time.

And then a few more dances to give her a refresher, or so Henry justified.

At least Cinderella’s interest was more on the prince this night. She made theories about him, with silly anecdotes that made Henry laugh. Then he would snap out of it and talk the prince up as being quite the man… and man that she would adore. But Cindy was having none of it.

“You don’t even know him!” She huffed. “For all we know, his best quality might only be his luscious blonde locks!”

“The princes in these stories are men of honor; they fight for good and justices. You’ll see.”

“And how, pray tell, will I see?”

“When he gets to know you.”

Cindy shrugged, exasperated. “And when will that be?? He’s a little preoccupied with every eligible maiden, at the moment…”

Cinderella stared at the prince, who was surrounded by so many young and beautiful ladies. Henry’s guarded patience gave way to something more transfixed, as he watched her profile.

“When his eyes finally meet with yours. From across the room; through sea of silks and embroiled collars… he’ll fall into that deep, dark gaze of yours and come to you, as if possessed by some mystical yet entrancing force…”

Cindy’s dark brown eyes widened as she realized a set of royal blue eyes were gazing back at her. It was just as Henry said. She turned her head to the side to look up at Henry…caught off guard by how intense his hazel gaze had become.

She almost lost her voice. “And… and what happens next?”

“He’ll… he’ll bow; you’ll curtsey. He’ll offer his hand to you, to lead you to the center of the ballroom…” Henry slowly took hold of her dainty hand; he examined it as if it were the most complex riddle. “…But when your hands touch…”

Cindy gazed intensely into his hazel eyes. “…What? What happens?”

“Magic…” He said with utmost certainty. He was lost in her eyes. “For the first time you’ll believe in it. The wondrous magic that is true love, because it can happen in an instant. You’re forever changed, and bound to this person who makes you feel like no other can.”

Cindy’s eyes fluttered down to her hand pressed against his. Her fingers slowly entwined with his as if they had a will of their own.

“You’ll dance, and feel like it’s only the two of you, because no one else here matters…and…”

“…And?”

Henry blinked, as if waking up, slightly blushing. “And then… he takes you out to the veranda and you two get acquainted.” He pulled his hand away, taking a sip from the goblet in his other to hide his flushed face.

Cindy had felt like an incredibly warm and cozy blanket had been suddenly stripped from her, leaving her bare and disoriented. She found her hand had been taken by the now present prince, who was bowing.

When had he gotten there? Curtsey. She needed to curtsey! She did so, gracefully. She looked down at their touching hands and glanced back at Henry. He was suddenly getting farther away as she was pulled deeper and deeper into the crowd by destiny.

Henry watched for a few minutes as the prince showcased his new bewitching dance partner. The crowd parted for the two, admiring how well the pair complimented each other. Henry retrieved more wine, downing it faster than he should have.

Cinderella and the prince danced another waltz, with the steps that Henry had taught her. The prince made her laugh a few times; that bell-like laughter. Henry winced. That didn’t sit well with him.

He had a crush. He knew it.

A dance later, the prince escorted his golden prize to the veranda, to be alone.

Henry let out a sigh. At least all was as it should be.

Having no interest in lingering, but realizing that he was Cinderella’s only ride home, Henry departed the party and made his way out to his motorbike. It was still some time before midnight, so he took out his sketch book and looked through some old drawings of creatures and persons from different lands. He wasn’t as good as his father or grandmother allegedly had been with the craft, but he found that his doodles were nice little breaks from the sold chunks of written text.

He found himself sketching now. Dark hair… dark eyes…poofy dress. Of course fashion design was not his forte, so that part was rather scarce in detail… like a big blank marsh mellow… but the playful smile: that was spot on. That’s all he wanted to remember.

He was so lost in thought that he almost didn’t hear his name being shouted.

“Henry!” Cindy yelled, sprinting down the steps of the palace. One hand had her skirts held up so she would trip; the other hand holding the heels of her glass slippers. “Start the motorbike!”

Confused, but concerned with her urgency, he obeyed.

“Wait! I don’t know your name!” Another voice, male, from farther up the steps. “How will I find you?” The tower clock was starting to chime the hour of midnight.

Cindy leapt onto the back of the transport, slipper in each hand, crossing her arms around his waist. “Go, go, go!”

She held on to him in frantic silence, the dark village giving way to lush forrest as they sped along the path back to mother’s willow tree. When they arrived, the candles dispersed throughout the roots were still burning brightly, illuminating the swaying branches with an ethereal glow.

Henry brought the bike to an abrupt stop and kicked the stand into place so she could dismount. “Cinderella, what happened? Did he do something? Tell me…” He thought the worst had happened to cause her such panic. “Cindy if he tried anything-”

“No. No, he was everything you said he would be. More, even.” She was pacing back and forth, barefoot, slippers still in hand. “He was…kind and generous. He will be a good king. Any maiden would be so fortunate to have him… but…”

“But?”

Cindy’s heart was thundering. She let out a breath and went to Henry. “But when you told me those things… about how I would feel… when our hands touched…did you…” she shook her head, feeling it so absurd, but if she didn’t ever address this she would live a life of regret. How she knew that, she did not know.

“When our hands touched, those things that you said... were about how you felt about me, weren’t they?”

Henry sat silently.

“Weren’t they??” Cindy insisted. Her hands, still full, came up to rest over her heart. “Because… I felt-”

“No, Cinderella.” Henry abruptly cut her off. He looked straight ahead of himself and his bike; not at her. “They were just words.”

That struck her through the heart. Her arms dropped to her side. But disbelief rose in her chest. She never believed in love at first sight; it was unpractical. Yet this stranger had made her a believer…but now made her feel a fool for it??

“Look me in the eye and say that.” She challenged.

Henry’s eyes met hers, as stoic as he could muster, but his lips couldn’t move. Wouldn’t move. He revved up his motorbike and zoomed away, leaving Cindy alone in the glow of her mother’s grave.

#glass believer #hella #ouat spoilers #theory #fanfic #fanart #henry mills #cinderella #this is fun!#to combine a different version of Cinderella with OUAT #Part II

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lonestorm · 7 years

Text

The Inugami - Chapter 12

Summary: When Kagome Higurashi moved to the bad side of Chicago to help with her grandfather’s restaurant, she expected chaos. Being thrown into a fake gang, caught in the middle of a drug war and grudge that stretches centuries back in time, befriending a grumpy half demon along with a ragtag bunch of three other misfits… wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. High school AU. Inukag.

Rating: T (some language)

Pairings: Inukag, Mirsan

Chapters: Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 | Ch. 8 | Ch. 9 | Ch. 10 | Ch. 11 | Ch. 12

Shorts: 1. Sesshomaru | 2. Miroku | 3. Shippo

**Also on ff.net here.

“Maybe we should add a tail?”

Kagome squirmed under the scrutinizing gaze of her friends. Sango had a hand on her chin, contemplating, and Miroku looked to her for an answer to is inquiry. Miroku was looking her up and down, which was starting to make Kagome want to pull a Sango and slap him across the face. Shippo frowned at the wig Kagome was holding. Inuyasha wasn’t looking at her at all, pouting childishly with his arms crossed on the bed and staring at the wall.

“She’s going as a wolf demon girlfriend,” Sango said, squinting, “not a furry.”

There was a collective shiver from the demon and half demon at the word “furry”.

“What are you all so scared of?” scoffed Sango. “How can you be creeped out by furries when Inuyasha has doggy ears and Shippo has a poofy fox tail?”

“These are real!” Inuyasha protested, moving his ears right and left with emphasis and pointing at Shippo’s tail. “People that pretend to have them are disturbed or somethin’!”

Shippo shook his head, stroking his own tail. “They always try to touch my tail. They pretend to be fox demons all the time! It’s annoying!”

Giving a huff, Kagome said, “Anyway, does the wig look real enough? And the contacts are blue, right?”

Miroku nodded. “Yep. The dark brown looks realistic enough with your skin tone, and they’d know it can’t be Kagome because it’s so long and you cut yours short. Should feel real, because it’s a super expensive one using real hair. The contacts will make your eyes stand out with the dress well, and you’d pass for someone that wants to be a Spider when you wear the black. Maybe we could hem it shorter a bit, though-OW!”

After bonking Miroku on the head, Inuyasha gave her a once over too. “Yeah,” he muttered. “It won’t look like you.”

“I’m lucky this is my size,” Kagome said, looking down at the strapless, black dress in her right hand that seemed much more like a shirt to Kagome. It hardly looked like it would cover as much as she was comfortable with, but for the plan to work, she needed any sex appeal she could manage. The dress had been lent to her by a friendly Wolf, who’d said it hadn’t been washed since she’d worn it last, so it still held her scent. Kagome would want a shower as soon as she got home. “Okay, I’ll add some perfume to throw it off some more. I’ll try to pick a Spider boy that isn’t a demon. You guys will have to help me with that.”

“Right you are,” Miroku said, rubbing his sore head. “Show us again when you’re wearing it. Also, you’ll need a cover name.”

Shippo narrowed his eyes. “Serena.” The rest of them looked at him blankly. “What? It’s a hot name.”

Kagome didn’t mind. “Okay. Serena it is.”

Miroku turned to Inuyasha. “Okay, Inuyasha, your turn for a wig.”

“I told you, I won’t wear one of those!” he fumed.

“Sango, Miroku, and I should be fine with our normal hair colors, but your white hair, weird eyes, and ears are way too noticeable,” argued Shippo. “We’ll cut holes for your ears and you can wear a Wolf bandana over them. You need to hide that you don’t have human ears, too.”

“We got you a nice one,” said Sango. “Now let me tie some of your hair into ponytails. You need it cut again, by the way. It’s everywhere. Just stay still.”

While Sango worked on Inuyasha’s disguise, Kagome packed a more comfortable outfit and shoes to change into as soon as she got the info she needed. Luckily, Kagome’s mother was working late tonight so that she wouldn’t see what Kagome was wearing. The rest of the Inugami were already dressed.

Breathing out shallowly, Kagome splashed some water on her face from her bathroom sink, and then used some of the water on her hands to gather her excess hair into bunches that would be shoved under the wig. She then swung the wig over her head and began securing it into place. Next were the contacts.

Looking up at herself was disorienting; the brown hair, bright, blue eyes, and face pale from nerves. “I can do this,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut. “I have to do this. I will do this.”

Honestly, her main problem was that Kagome didn’t really know how to do sexy. But all she had to do was her best impression of sexy for about an hour and then they’d be home free.

Sango peered into the open door, knocking on the frame. “Hey there, you good? You’re looking kind of blanched.”

Managing a weak smile, she gripped the sink. “I’m fine. I can do this.”

“Of course you can,” Sango said firmly. “Here, let me get you some water and then I’ll do your makeup, okay? I’ll probably lay it on thicker than you’re used to, so bring some makeup wipes with your change of clothes.”

“Got it,” Kagome breathed as Sango left, and rummaged for the remover.

When she looked up from her drawer, she was met with green eyes and an unfamiliar, brunette haircut. But the face was recognizable enough.

“Wow,” she said, impressed. Kagome leaned against the counter on her hip to get a better look at him in the doorway. He was wearing a black jacket blue shirt, bandana over his ears like some sort of biker, and the same boots. “You do not look like you.”

He didn’t respond to that, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Kagome… look, I didn’t mean to boss you around before or make decisions for you. I just...you don’t have to do this. I don’t want you to feel like you have no other choice. If this makes you uncomfortable, we’ll figure something else out-”

“No,” Kagome cut him off, startling him. “I’m not rethinking this; I’m only nervous because I want to do this well. I am going to do this. I am tired of Naraku hurting and playing his sick games. Tonight, we will take him down once and for all, and whatever I have to do, I’m going to be a part of it, and he is going to wish he never harmed a hair on the head of my friends or the man I love! Now prepare to fight and avenge your parents, because tonight is the night we’re going to outplay Naraku, and I am proud to be a piece in the game.”

Inuyasha’s eyes were round, mouth slightly parted. Kagome kept her face set and fierce… until she realized fully what she’s said. Either all the blood had rushed to her face, or it had drained completely. She wasn’t quite sure. The man I love.

“Whoa,” was his response in a choked voice. “You’re-um… Um, I mean… wait… the man you…?”

At this moment, Sango rushed into the room. “Out, Inuyasha! Girl time to make her look sleazy.”

He yelped as he was pushed out of the bathroom, and Sango shut the door behind him. Kagome squeezed Sango into a hug. “You saved my life!”

“What? Why?”

In a blushing rush, Kagome explained what she’d said to Inuyasha.

“Wow, Kags!” said Sango in a hushed voice. “You really accidentally went for it! But… you didn’t specify who this man was?”

“No…” she answered warily.

Sango banged her head against the counter. “He’s going to think it’s not him.”

“Why would he think that? Who else could it be?” argued Kagome.

Giving a shrug, Sango offered, “Koga?”

“I told Inuyasha that I don’t like Koga like that. And my dislike of him is pretty obvious to everyone except Koga.”

“It could be anyone, really. Miroku’s insightful; he once told me that Inuyasha has a hard time believing anyone could love him. Unless you tell him right out, he won’t think it’s him.”

Kagome’s heart sank at the words. “I… I can’t stand how he can think that. Once you know him, he’s easy to love.”

Sango gave a sad smile. “Yeah, I know. But after all the years… It’s not hard to see why he thinks that way.” Squinting over at the door, she whispered, “So… we’re gonna eavesdrop on the boys, right?”

“Absolutely.”

The girls rushed to the door and put their ears to it, where they could just make out Miroku’s small laugh of, “Well, now you know what Koga meant when he said her fierceness was a turn on.”

“Shut up!” Inuyasha hissed.

“Kind of kinky, Inuyasha, to get hot and bothered because she got aggressive,” Shippo snickered.

“I am not hot and bothered! I’m surprised, okay?”

“Oh really? You’re looking very uncomfortable downstairs.”

“Shut up before I make you. She said… something, and…”

“Yeah, we heard it from out here,” Miroku said lightly, “what with how intense she was being. The man she loves, huh?”

Inuyasha became quiet. “Do… do you think…? I mean… Koga offered her to live in such a pretty place, said he wanted to marry her…” he trailed off, but then tried for a save. “I-I mean, pfft, of course not! She wouldn’t fall for a moron like Koga...”

Kagome narrowed her eyes, annoyed. So Sango was right. Honestly, how shallow-?

“How shallow do you think Kagome is, Inuyasha?” Shippo said, sounding irritated.

“I-I don’t think she’s-!”

“You’re acting like you do,” Miroku interrupted. “Kagome doesn’t care about material offers, and she certainly has higher standards than a man who persists when she doesn’t express interest and acts like he owns her. You should know by now, as her best friend, what she really cares about in a man.”

“Thank you,” Kagome muttered, giving a firm nod.

Sango was smiling hazily. “That’s my boy.”

Inuyasha spoke up again outside. “I-I know she cares about more than that… I guess… I just…”

“You don’t think you have much to offer?” Miroku finished lazily.

Inuyasha sputtered, “I-I never said… anything about me!”

“You didn’t need to,” scoffed Shippo. “It’s so obvious how crazy you are for her and you get jealous of Koga because you’re worried that he might be a better catch than you.”

“You should shut up about stuff you don’t know about, kit!”

“Oh, but he does know,” sighed Miroku. “You know, ladies find reasonable confidence attractive. If you don’t think you’re good enough, it makes no sense for her to think you are. It’s not her job to fix you; fix yourself.”

“I never said it was! What the hell is that supposed to mean, Miroku?”

Kagome’s eyes were wide at this point, completely astounded that they were even talking about this.

Miroku seemed to be getting frustrated. “Have some confidence! Know that you are worthy of her!” Miroku proclaimed. “Love yourself for a damn change, Inuyasha, or you’ll be too focused on being angry at yourself to give all of you to another person--to put them first in your heart, and your mind. So you’re a hanyo. So some people don’t like it and don’t accept it. So maybe you have a hard time changing your thinking because of people in your past that mistreated you. Well you know what? Fuck them!”

“Damn,” Sango said, impressed.

Inuyasha was stumbling in his speech. “I-I don’t care what they think!”

“This may be easy for me to say, hard for you to do, but,” Miroku’s voice got lower, “that doesn’t mean I’m not right. Nothing that happened to you in the past or present gives you the right to be an asshole to anyone or think less of them, and ‘anyone’ includes yourself.”

“I-I-”

But Miroku kept going. “If you don’t care what they think, then prove it; stop thinking lesser of yourself for being half demon and half human! Kagome thinks you’re perfect the way you were born, so do we, and you should too, because you came into the world the way you were meant to be.”

To this, Inuyasha didn’t respond.

“I didn’t know guy talks could get this real,” Sango said, hand over her mouth.

“That was…” Kagome whispered, “...weirdly adorable.”

None of the boys spoke after that, so Kagome mournfully discarded her jeans and t-shirt for the tiny black dress. From there, Sango got to work on Kagome’s face. After about ten minutes, she glanced at the clock on her phone. “We should probably get going, Kagome.”

“Alright,” Kagome breathed, pushing her (fake) hair over her shoulder. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, and froze. “I… look like a prostitute.”

“A highly paid prostitute,” Sango corrected, beaming. “A prostitute that can afford good quality beauty products, doesn’t go crazy with the rouge, and gets hired by royalty.”

“...was that supposed to make me feel better?” Kagome grimaced, wishing she could be wearing what Sango had on instead: a pink dress that had actual straps and reached mid thigh.

Sango grabbed Kagome’s hand, sprayed her with some perfume that made her choke, and dragged her to the room. “I present a royal prostitute!”

Three mouths dropped open. Shippo turned a little pink and looked mortified. Miroku’s gape turned into an appreciative smirk. And Inuyasha-

“Holy mother of… y-you… wh-what…put some damn clothes on!” he finally shouted, slapping his hands to his eyes.

“Kagome’s not going to change her outfit just because you can’t handle your hormones,” scoffed Sango. “But based on the reactions, mission accomplished.”

Kagome made sure to grab a jacket on her way out, and needed to pace a few times before she got the hang of walking in the ridiculously uncomfortable heels. This time, they left in Sango’s father’s, midnight blue car, not wanting any Spider to recognize Miroku’s.

The ride was quiet, filled with tension and anticipation. Darkness had draped over the sky, leaving only the moon and stars to brighten their horizon. Inuyasha was silent beside her on the way, staring down at his clawed fists.

Kagome elbowed him slightly, and said, trying to keep her voice level, “You okay?”

A pause. Then he nodded. And that was all.

First, the Inugami made a stop at the police station, where there was only a single police car in the lot; Sesshomaru’s.

Pulling the jacket around her more tightly, Kagome examined the red brick building. There were bars on the tall windows, and graffiti that hadn’t fully been wiped off; they must be far too busy and budget-tight to do so.

Inuyasha lifted his nose to the air. “The Wolves are already here. Let’s go.”

The station was a ghost town, the remaining half of the officers all on duty. Only Sesshomaru remained, standing impassively in the briefing room next to the office.

Koga, Ginta, and Hakkaku took over chairs in the front row. Once the Inugami entered the room, the three of them rose up. “Hey there, Kagome,” purred Koga, looking her up and down. “The wolf scent and colors are marvelous on you.” He then scowled at Inuyasha’s wolf bandana, and Inuyasha scowled right back.

Kagome fiddled with the blue and silver bands around her upper arms with a fake laugh. “Um, thanks.”

“Enough,” Inuyasha snapped, walking up behind her. “We’re not here to flirt.”

“Maybe you should try saying that again when your arm isn’t around Kagome’s waist,” suggested Miroku, throwing himself down in the nearest seat. He was in a dark blue, button down shirt, sleeves rolled up and top unbuttoned. His black jeans and thick, leather cuffs about his wrists, he was giving off a classy “devil may care” vibe that would surely fit in at the club.

Before Inuyasha could retort, Sesshomaru spoke up. “I have earpieces for each of you. Inuyasha, kitsune, and wolves, I have specialized ones for your ears. They should not be noticeable. Collect one and test them. Higurashi-san, I have an extra microphone to hide somewhere to better record whoever you speak to.”

Kagome took a small speaker the size of a bead out and placed it in her ear, the way she’d seen in movies. Then, she took the little microphone and turned away from the others, managing to get it under the top of her dress. “Sesshomaru-sama, isn’t it illegal to be helping us and giving us police property to use?”

The demon raised his eyebrows, as if he didn’t understand why she was asking. “Yes.”

Shippo whispered to Inuyasha behind her, “I can’t figure out if your brother is Chaotic Good, True Neutral, or Neutral Evil.”

“You’re a fucking nerd,” Inuyasha whispered back.

Shippo smirked. “So you do know what I’m referencing, huh? How am I more of a nerd than you?”

“...I say Neutral Evil.”

Each of them tested their earpieces successfully, after which the commander said, “I will be patrolling the general city area with my car.”

“Why won’t you be coming in with us, uh, Commander, sir?” Ginta asked, twiddling his thumbs together.

Sesshomaru regarded the Wolf cooly. “If I were to enter, every Spider in the club that knows the meaning of the word ‘fear’ would immediately evacuate. I doubt that would be beneficial to this plan.” He turned back to the rest of them. “As far as the patrols for the rest of you of this operation, I am… placing… Inuyasha... in charge, since I won’t be seeing what’s happening. You are to listen to where he says to go and what to do, as he will closely be observing the undercover work. I have a contact that’s an employee in the club; he will insure that you don’t get in trouble with anyone if you need to go upstairs or behind the bar.”

Kagome was rather in shock that he was acknowledging Inuyasha’s existence at all, much less making him in charge of a crucial mission; after the unspeakable “Came home to find wall blown up and little brother having a pizza party” incident last week, Sesshomaru had been a bit… cross. Like “turning into a gigantic, white, snarling, fluffy dog and sending the Inugami screaming from the building” cross. But Naraku was apparently important enough to shake off the grudge.

“I have to listen to muttface?” Koga snarled, but a single sharp look from Sesshomaru silenced him.

Sesshomaru did reason afterwards, “I do not know the demon slayer girl or the fox demon well, the monk will be too easily distracted by wayward women, Higurashi-san will be busy undercover, and I do not trust Wolves. We are simply using you as extra eyes and ears because I am low on officers.”

Koga narrowed his eyes. “Look, pal, I don’t have a problem with you. Never did. Unless you insult my pack.”

The commander seemed unfazed. “I have no reason to trust you. In fact… this one,” Sesshomaru gestured to Hakkaku, “was arrested three days ago for robbing a gas station at gunpoint all to steal a single box of Pop Tarts. Speaking of which, why are you not still in the jail cells?”

The rest of them stared.

“What?” Hakkaku said, shrugging. “I wasn’t gonna hurt the cashier dude. He wouldn’t let me leave until I pointed the gun at him. I was just cravin’ some Pop Tarts, and then I broke the cell I was in. I kinda thought that the point of jail was staying there until you were smart enough to figure out how to get out.”

Koga slapped a hand to his forehead. “You idiot--if you wanted some Pop Tarts, would it kill ya to dish out five bucks? We talked about this; if we wanna stay here, we have to follow their rules!”

“But if I want a box of Pop Tarts, they-they’re sittin’ right there! Why can’t I just take ‘em? And I left all but one box! Only took my share!”

“Because we live in a capitalist country, Hakkaku,” Ginta explained. “Not a primitive communism or feudalism that we had in Japan. Here, you have to pay because your share is determined by how hard you work to earn money to earn your share; there are so many more people in the collective to provide for. Koga used to keep track of how much we helped out and our achievements to make sure we deserved a share, but since there are so many people in the country, money is the way to prove that you did your share of work because they can’t keep track of all of us like Koga did.”

“Oh, okay. Well why didn’t you just say that, boss?”

“Oh, for the love of…” Koga pinched the bridge of his nose. “We will talk about this later.”

“In any case,” Sesshomaru intoned, “Inuyasha, you will not act impulsively and let your emotions get the best of you. You will order them with a cool head and determine what is best for the mission rather than your own desires.” His eyes flicked to Kagome, and then back to the disgruntled hanyo. “Is this understood?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Inuyasha muttered back. Kagome waited for Inuyasha to start a fight or gloat, but he remained quiet.

“I will be listening to all of it.” Sesshomaru tapped his own, elfish ear. “So no unnecessary chatter. It’s not the kind of earpiece you touch to communicate with; it is active the entire time you have it in. I will turn all of them on as soon as you all reach the club, and then I shall not turn them back off.”

The group agreed, and they filed out of the briefing room. Kagome followed after Sango until-

“Wait a moment, Higurashi-san.”

Surprised, Kagome turned to face Sesshomaru. “What is it, Sesshomaru-sama?”

He took something that was clipped to his belt, and held it out to her. Kagome took it; it was a clip filled to the top with bullets.

She swallowed. “Um, what am I supposed to do with this?”

“It is for Tessaiga,” explained Sesshomaru. “I assume Inuyasha showed you its transformation?”

“Yes… he said he figured bullets wouldn’t work in it because it’s not really a sword.”

He gave a dull stare. “He only said that because he’s an idiot. Transformation does not change weapon usefulness.”

Narrowing her eyes, Kagome pointed out, “Well, his jacket tore when he was stabbed, and yet in fire rat form, it protects from all that.”

“Naraku outfits a few of his underlings with weapons that are modified to rip through Inuyasha’s jacket, and he would do it for all of them if the weapons weren't so hard to come by,” Sesshomaru dismissed, unclipping his keys from his belt. “Naraku has been dealing with Inuyasha for a long time. In any case, keep that in case my stupid brother needs to use the gun form and has no ammunition. And make sure that when he’s fighting, he does not drop it.”

She gripped the magazine. “Sure… I mean, that’s kind of an obvious thing to make sure of…”

“It is essential.” He made his way to the door. “Tessaiga was made as his inheritance for a reason. Its sheath is made from a special kind of tree; our father had it crafted so that when Inuyasha was in fear for his life, he would not resort to demon form in which his soul would be lost.”

“Whoa, wait, what?” she questioned, running after Sesshomaru to face him. “Demon form? Losing his soul? What are you talking about?”

He frowned down at her disapprovingly. “I should have expected that he would not tell you. Very well; since he is half demon, he has the New Moon, where he transforms into a human once a month. But for this same reason, if he feels his life is in danger, he will transform into demon form. The form makes him a vicious beast that lusts for blood. If he enters this form too often, his soul will be lost. Only the sheath of Tessaiga can subdue that monster. He must keep Tessaiga against his body the entirety of the time he’s fighting Naraku, or the lives of even his allies will be in danger.”

Kagome’s mouth had dropped open. “But… but Inuyasha is gentle and kind! He’d never hurt any of his friends-”

“His transformation is a demon, not Inuyasha.” Sesshomaru pushed open the door to the outside and strode through. “I leave Inuyasha and the demon within him in your hands.”

As soon as Kagome got into the car with Inuyasha, Shippo, Miroku, and Sango, who was driving, she stashed the magazine under her seat. There was nowhere to hide it in this dress, and if Sesshomaru gave it to her instead of Inuyasha, it was doubtful that Inuyasha would use it.

She stared straight ahead for most of the ride, thoughts and memories brewing like storm clouds. Inuyasha doing work for her when she was tired, Inuyasha watching anime on the couch with her, Inuyasha laughing as he danced with her around the kitchen…

That man, that kind, wonderful man becoming a demon was unthinkable.

At first, she’d felt a spark of anger that he hadn’t told her, but then, as she’d gotten used to doing with him, had held back and thought. Kagome realized that if she were him, she wouldn’t have said anything either. It didn’t mean he didn’t trust her; he probably just didn’t want to bring up such memories.

Of course, he could be worried that she’d see him as a monster.

Kagome looked up at his face, hard and concentrated beside her. The brown hair and green eyes were enough to lose suspicion of the enemy, but Kagome managed to see her Inuyasha underneath. She traced her gaze down his face; from his high cheeks, sloped nose, set mouth. Somehow, she’d have to later make him understand that she loved all of him: the demon, the human, the half demon.

Her eyes fell back to his mouth, and a familiar heat filled her cheeks. They hadn’t talked about the incident in the Den--no time. And right after everything he said while on the morphine… Kagome had no idea what do think. Did he really… get over Kikyo? Did he kiss her because he was being petty about Koga being her first, or did he actually want to? It sure had felt like he’d wanted to. He’d grabbed her and kissed her like he was a soldier and she was his wife that hadn’t seen in five years. Kagome wasn’t going to lie; she knew she’d be daydreaming about it for a looooong time...

Finally, Inuyasha snapped his head towards her, “What?! Sure means somethin’ if you can give a half demon the creeps by starin’ at him.”

“S-sorry,” she relented quickly, looking back to the front.

Shooting her a last, weird look, he spoke up, “Shippo, I’m leading the mission, but I want you walking everyone through your plan; you know it best. I’ll handle anything that comes up and making sure people are guarding right, and I’ll change the plan if need be. You’ll be up on the upper level with me while the wolves patrol the dance floor and outside. Got it?”

Shippo puffed out his chest. “You got it. I won’t let ya down.”

Kagome smiled at him. Sesshomaru had gotten him a fake ID so that Shippo could get in, and he was looking quite handsome for a freshman in his light blue shirt, brown, leather jacket, and jeans.

“Sango,” Inuyasha said next, “I don’t want you rotating with the rest of us. I want you to stick to Kagome, act like you came together and help her find a human male to get info from. When she goes to talk to him, you can follow behind.”

She gave a nod. “Sounds good.”

“And me, Inuyasha?” Miroku piped up.

Inuyasha’s eyes narrowed. “You are not gonna be on the dance floor, pervert. Sesshomaru’s contact in the club is the bartender; he’s gonna take you back there where you can watch and be of some use to the place. Besides, Kagome’s likely gonna take this human to the bar to talk.”

“The sweet torture you all like to put me through, being separated from my Sango,” Miroku sighed.

“This is a drug bust operation, not a night out!” Inuyasha growled.

Rolling his eyes at them in the rearview mirror, Miroku reached up and took down his ponytail. Kagome hadn’t even noticed, since she saw Miroku nearly every day, but his hair had grown much longer. Some guys, Kagome concluded, could pull off shoulder-length hair down like that, and Miroku was one of them. His dark blue eyes sparkled, and he pushed some layered, black hair back. “I think this is as far as I go with disguises.”

Sango glanced at him, and they all let out shouts and screams as she accidentally jerked the wheel and dipped into the other line. But she soon righted the car, flushing. “S-sorry. Um, yes, that’s… that’s fine, Miroku.”

Kagome couldn’t help but think that since Miroku was going to pretend to be a bartender for the mission, Sango was about to have a lot of competition.

Once they found a place to park, Inuyasha sent them out in groups. “Miroku first, then Sango and Kagome. Shippo, you’ll go with me. Increments of time in between. We can’t look like we came together.”

Miroku left, sticking his hands in his pockets and humming lightly as he walked to the club, the streetlights shining off his shoulders. With a last try at a smile to the boys, Kagome breathed out and stepped out of the car. Sango came around the side to meet her.

Sango squeezed her hand. “I’ll be by you the whole time.”

And there was the sound of a car door closing. Inuyasha stepped out, and though he was disguised, his blazing look was only too familiar. “We’re all watching over you, Kagome. It’ll be okay.”

Finally, a real smile slipped onto her face. “Thank you, guys. Okay. Let’s do this.”

Sango and Kagome walked around to the front, and Kagome tried to convince herself that this was just a girls night out, that she had no reason to be internally screaming and sweating too much in a dress that was not warm whatsoever.

After waiting in line, they managed to get through the door with limited time but unlimited leers. Kagome tried to ignore the eyes on her as she scanned the floor. Across the way was the bar, where Miroku was leaning over the counter toward some girls that were asking for a drink. He smiled, and with his hair down and in the neon glow of the bar, he looked much like an enchanter. Kagome raised her eyebrows. “Maybe he should get a job bartending,” Kagome suggested. “Imagine how good his tips would be.”

But when she looked back at Sango, she was practically hissing. “They’re all over him. If only he’d put his damn hair back up…”

Kagome couldn’t help but smirk at that. “He’s just doing it for the money. Hmm, you like his hair down, Sango?”

“Shut up and get on the dance floor.”

Once they’d made it closer to the DJ and survived squeezing through the moving crowd, Kagome heard Sesshomaru’s voice crackle to life in her ear.

“Turning you on all on the same frequency. Check in if you are in starting position. Over.”

“Sango and I are in place,” Kagome spoke up, hoping they could be heard in this mess, but luckily, she could hear him clearly.

“Sango here. That was Kagome,” Sango confirmed.

“Miroku successfully in place at the bar,” chipped in his cheerful voice. “You know, the head monk always had me make him drinks. I mean, lots of these are non-alcoholic, but I could get used to this job. And all these beautiful women are coming to me.”

Sango cleared her throat.

“Not that I’d be interested romantically or sexually in any women other than my lovely Sango,” he amended quickly.

“I asked,” drawled Sesshomaru’s rather exasperated voice, “for you to say your names if you were in place. I did not ask for an update on your thought process that I would rather not know.”

“My pack is in place,” came Koga’s voice, satisfied and confident. “As am I, circling the floor.”

“Ginta here,” said Ginta’s voice.

“Hakkaku too!” added Hakkaku.

Finally, Inuyasha’s voice joined in, causing Kagome’s shoulders to relax. “Shippo and I are in place on the second floor. Kagome, Sango, Miroku, and mangy wolves in sight.”

“Shippo here!” Shippo seconded.

“I am a block away in my car,” Sesshomaru finished. “Resort to use me in an emergency and once you get the information-”

“-you’ll come with us right away, blah blah,” interrupted Inuyasha. “Yeah, we know the plan. Shippo made it. Now let’s get this over with.”

Sesshomaru gave a sharp sigh, but didn’t say more.

Inuyasha went on, “Shippo, feel free to give some instructions to make your plan go right.”

“You got it, White Fang,” Shippo said with gusto.

“...what.”

“Well, I thought we should all have codenames.”

“I will throw you off of this banister, runt.”

Kagome sighed at how they were already fighting, but then tried to blend in with the crowd, dancing beside Sango and looking around for potential targets. There were three Spider girls in the middle of the floor, five Spiders at twelve o’clock, and two at three o’clock.

“Okay, so step one of the plan,” Shippo told them, “wait for a sexy song.”

“You are making this sound so stupid,” Inuyasha groaned.

Shippo ignored him. “And then draw some attention to yourself, Kagome. Sango, help her find a human Spider. Kagome, you gotta lead him on with all you’ve got. You are a female ninja, Serena the kunoichi, sent in to seduce and gather intelligence.”

“There will be no seducing,” growled Inuyasha.

“There Inuyasha comes, raining on our parade,” Miroku mumbled. “Damn, I just got tips for flipping a bottle and smiling! This job is great.”

Koga added, “I dunno, I’m totally fine with seducing.”

“Shut up, you two,” reprimanded Inuyasha.

But Shippo’s comparison had helped. “I am a kunoichi,” Kagome muttered to herself. “I can do this.”

“Atta girl,” Shippo praised. “Oh, this song! Perfect. Now attention.”

“Right,” she said shakily, and did the best dancing she could, letting the music rock through her body. She pretended she was someone else, Serena, and Serena didn’t feel awkward. Serena was sexy and knew it. Sango gave a nod and thumbs up, rotating subtly to find a Spider.

“Damn, I just want this to be over,” came Inuyasha’s gravely voice.

“I never want this to end,” Koga moaned back. “You sure can move, Kagome.”

“You are such a creep!” Inuyasha repeated for the second time that day. “This is why I didn’t want you to come! You always look at her like a piece of meat! She’s a person!”

“Oh? And you weren’t staring at her and saying you wanted it to be over because it’s torture to watch her and not be with her?”

“That is beside the point!”

“Boys, cut it out,” Kagome hissed. “I’m trying to concentrate.” It was distracting enough always hearing Miroku asking customers for their orders and flirting for tips.

“Apologies, Kagome,” said Koga. “Please keep concentrating.”

“Don’t make me come down there, Koga,” Inuyasha warned. “Gah, I was right, the guy you said you loved can’t be that asshat.”

“We are not discussing this right now!” Kagome whispered, strained.

“But if it’s not Koga, then who is it?” continued Inuyasha, like he hadn’t heard her. “Wait, it’s not Miroku or Shippo, right? Because sorry, that would be weird.”

“Ohmygosh no!” Kagome practically shouted, pausing for a moment to shudder. “Hell no. Gross. No offense, of course, but gross.”

“None taken,” said Shippo.

“Some taken,” Miroku admitted. “I mean, if I weren’t happily in love with Sango, I’d still consider for two seconds making you the mother of my children.”

“Can we please get a douchebag jar for him?” Inuyasha begged. “Five bucks for every douche moment?”

Sango’s teeth clenched as she suggested, “Or we could hit him in the face with it each time he says something stupid.”

“Sorry, Sango! I was only trying to change the subject because Kagome didn’t want to talk about the random confession she made before,” Miroku amended quickly.

“I don’t want to talk about bearing the children of a man I consider a brother, either,” Kagome said, the words sounding even worse out loud. “Let’s stick with the no chatter rule, okay, guys? Trying to be sexy is actually rather difficult.”

“You make it look so easy,” Koga noted.

“Back. Off,” Inuyasha warned again.

Ginta finally added something. “You gotta excuse the boss; Kagome’s personality reminds him of Ayame, so he just can’t help himself.”

Koga’s response was a snap, “I thought I told you never to speak of her again!”

Cutting off Ginta’s squeak of terror and ‘sorry!’, Kagome said, eyes widening as she rose her hands to the rising tempo, “Koga? Was this Ayame a girlfriend of yours?”

His answer was gruff. “It was a long time ago. No idea where she is now.”

“Probably back in Japan,” Hakkaku chimed in. “Leading the North pack. Missing you.”

“You guys will never let me live that down, will you?” Koga mumbled. “I told you, it was too dangerous for her to be with me! Naraku could’ve decided to use her.”

Apparently regaining his courage, Ginta added, “She was the granddaughter of the Alpha of the North pack; they met when Koga saved her from some other demons. He saw her and proposed to her only an hour after under the lunar rainbow--love at first sight, they say.”

Kagome’s inner fangirl screamed. “That is so romantic! Koga, you broke it off to protect her? That’s tragic and romantic too… you have to go back for her after we defeat him!”

“There’s no way she’d want to see me, after dropping her and leaving like that,” Koga argued back.

“I’m sure she’d understand if you tried to explain!” Kagome challenged, spinning around with a laugh. “If she’s anything like me, like Ginta said, she’d eventually forgive you. Especially if you were trying to put her needs before yours.”

There was radio silence, until- “I’ll… think about it.”

“I will literally pay for your plane ticket,” Inuyasha offered. “First class.”

“Shut up, mutt. You just want Kagome for yourself.”

“No, you shut up! You liked her just because she reminded you of another girl!”

Koga scoffed. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you. She looks almost exactly like your ex.”

“Whomp, there it is,” Miroku muttered.

But Inuyasha didn’t hesitate. “What? I don’t give a damn how she looks. Kagome is absolutely nothing like Kikyo.”

Kagome felt warmth trickle down to her toes. Any doubt that he favored her because of her resemblance to another had finally been extinguished.

“I am five seconds from killing every single one of you,” Sesshomaru droned. “Or tearing my ears off.”

“I vote for the latter,” said Inuyasha. “Kagome is having trouble finding a Spider human, so we might as well sort some things out. Like what she was saying earlier--shit, Kagome, are you into Sesshomaru?!”

Kagome stopped dancing immediately and screeched into her microphone, “What the hell, Inuyasha! Your brother is a terrible person and way too old for me, and I’m talking demon maturity years! What kind of sewer-low standards do you think I have?! I can’t believe you’d even ask me that!”

“Geez, calm down,” Inuyasha grumbled.

“...you do realize Sesshomaru hears all of this, right?” Miroku mused.

“Right,” Kagome muttered, pushing her uncomfortably long, fake hair back and trying to get back into rhythm. “No offense, Sesshomaru-sama, but you’re a terrible person.”

“None taken.”

Kagome started to feel rather guilty. “I mean, you’re not ugly, and I’m sure you’re very nice deep down, and you do care about your brother at least, and you’re good to help us, but you have some issues and character traits I really don’t find attractive-”

“You do not need to explain yourself to someone that doesn’t care. I’m losing precious brain cells.”

“Oh stop being such a damn hardass,” Inuyasha said, which Kagome thought was rather hypocritical. “Acting like an uncaring rock while your briefcase is filled to the brim with adoption forms-” And Inuyasha stopped himself, as if he hadn’t even realized he’d been blurting it out.

“Adoption forms?” Miroku repeated, interested.

“In-u-ya-sha,” Sesshomaru said slowly, danger dripping from his words, “am I to understand that you have been looking into my private folders? One of the only things you were forbidden from doing when you moved into my flat?”

“Okay, first of all, I pay half, so it’s our flat,” corrected Inuyasha. “And this ‘only things’ was actually a fifty page contract you had me sign, so I couldn’t have remembered all of it. Also, your briefcase was right on the counter! The papers were right there!”

“The briefcase was locked.”

“Well you left a paperclip right next to it. It was obvious that you wanted me to pick it.”

“Okay, but let me get this straight,” Shippo cut in. “Our Sesshomaru-the commander with an emotional capacity of a walnut-is trying to adopt a child?”

“My personal endeavors are none of your business,” quipped Sesshomaru. “Any of yours.”

“Girl or boy?” Miroku asked. “Where are you getting them from? Are you getting a demon child? Or will they not let you because they think you’re a pedofile?”

“As fascinating as this ridiculously off-topic conversation is,” Sango said, much to Kagome’s relief, “I found a Spider boy. Can’t keep his eyes off her.”

“Where?” Kagome breathed, dancing a little closer to Sango to hear better.

“There,” Sango said, gesturing to the left.

Kagome frowned in that direction. “The cute, tan one, or the one with an undercut?”

“Cute one.”

“He’s not that cute,” Inuyasha muttered.

“Oh, shut up,” Kagome snapped. “Okay, what should I do?”

“Make eye contact. Dance closer. Dance with him. Touch his arms and neck and chest--that’ll do him in. Don’t be Kagome; be Serena,” coached Shippo.

“I’m concerned about how much Miroku has rubbed off on you,” Kagome mumbled. “Okay, going in.”

“Good luck; he looks pretty shy, so you’ll probably be able to play him like a fiddle,” Sango assured her. “If he doesn’t have the info, then we’ll resort to someone else.”

“Oh, I’m feeling guilty about leading him on.” Kagome winced.

Sango looked exasperated. “You haven’t even done it yet! Look, maybe you’re leading him on, but by doing this, we’ll be saving him from Naraku! Don’t feel bad!”

“I guess you have a point,” she muttered.

“Demon coming to dance with Kagome at five o’clock,” Inuyasha barked. “Intercept, Sango!”

“On it!” And Sango was gone.

Kagome took a deep breath. Serena the kunoichi. I can do this.

So she approached the boy. She lowered her lids, smiled, traced her fingers from his palms to his forearms before grabbing him and pulling him closer. The boy’s eyes brightened, face flushed under the flashing lights. He really was cute; dark hair drifting over his brown, innocent eyes.

I’m sorry! I’m doing this for your own good! she said internally, looping her hands around his neck. His hands hesitantly took her waist. So they danced for a while, Kagome at least wanting to give the boy a little fun before she used him for information-

“Dammit, Kagome, are you gonna dance there all night?!” Inuyasha spat. “We’re almost to Naraku, here, and you’re too busy tangoing with some pansy!”

Kagome gritted her teeth, too busy to respond.

“Stop giving her a hard time, Inuyasha,” Shippo reprimanded. “She’s pulling him in more by the second; the more she dances, the more likely he’ll give her what she wants. And Kagome, have some mercy on Inuyasha’s temper; he’s practically turning green right now. The shade doesn’t suit his bone structure and real eye color, let me tell you.”

“I am not jealous; I’m on a tight schedule!”

“I didn’t say jealous, did I?”

“You implied it!”

Miroku broke through their argument with exasperation. “Inuyasha, we know you’re jealous. Don’t even deny it. But get over yourself and focus on the mission. Do you think I like watching Sango twirl around in that gorgeous dress without me? No, but I’m doing my job. We should be helping Kagome, not yelling at her for doing what we asked her to do.”

Inuyasha grumbled incoherently for a moment, and then she heard the sound of a miracle. Inuyasha said, “Sorry, Kagome.”

Kagome smiled, turning away from the boy for a moment to whisper, “I forgive you, Inuyasha.”

But she did want to wrap this up. So, running her fingers up the nape of the boy’s neck, she told him in his ear, “For your hands go any lower, you’ll need to buy me a drink.”

She heard a wolf whistle from the earpiece that likely came from Koga. Inuyasha just choked, “Shippo, gouge my ears off.”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

“Shit, that was smooth,” Miroku said appreciatively. “Well, c’mon over Kagome. Ask me to surprise you; as one of your bestest friends, I think I can whip up something you’ll like. Nice and sweet and non-alcoholic.”

The boy nodded quickly with a gulp and led her by the hand off the floor.

Kagome was distracted temporarily by Miroku talking to a customer, after which he said to them, “I just got prepositioned by man. Again.”

“Was he cute?” Sango mused.

“Eh, nice guy, but not my type. I prefer less pecs and more boob.”

“That’s a very wide range of types,” noted Sango.

“No need to be jealous, Sango. You are special to me in endless ways.”

“Aww,” Kagome whispered as they approached the bar. “Okay, I’m here.”

The Spider boy helped Kagome into a seat, and then took the stool beside her. Much to her relief, Miroku appeared right away, giving a sparkling grin and a, “What can I do for you two?”

Flushing, the boy cleared his throat. “Um, a-anything the lady would like and a-an old fashioned for me.”

Ah--he must be 21 or over. Eh, it hardly mattered that he was too old for her. Kagome leaned on the counter, smiling right back at her friend. “Surprise me.”

“Coming right up.” Miroku snatched up some bottle with a pink substance and a funky sort of glass, rolling the bottle down his arm and tipping it into the cup before mixing in a bubbly liquid and topping it off with a candied cherry. He slid it over to Kagome.

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re very good at this.”

Miroku winked. “Just takes a bit of a magic touch, miss.”

After mixing up the drink for the boy, Miroku went a little ways away, pretending to clean out glasses. She was grateful for how he didn’t go too far.

After taking a sip of a rather fruity and carbonated drink, she smiled at the boy. “So, I never caught your name.”

“Theo,” he answered, giving a shy smile.

“Well, pleasure to meet you, Theo.” Kagome leaned towards him. “I’m Serena. I do hope Wolf girls can be your type.”

Theo nodded vigorously. “Oh, they c-can. I d-don’t mind.”

“Then again,” Kagome sighed, twirling some brown hair in her fingers, “I’m rather tired of being a Wolf. Our leader is no fun at all; hardly lets us do anything.”

“Hey!” Koga protested in her ear, and Inuyasha snickered.

“Y-yeah,” Theo said, loosening up slightly with a laugh. “I heard Koga can be kind of a creep.”

“If he wasn’t a Spider and wasn’t eyein’ up Kagome, I think I’d like this guy!” Inuyasha laughed while Koga sounded greatly offended.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Kagome went on, finding a topic she could be honest on. “He’s always hitting on me and can’t take a hint. I didn’t know that when I signed up to be a Wolf, I also signed up for sexual harassment.”

“And I didn’t know that when I signed up for this mission, I also signed up to be to totally ripped on,” grumbled Koga.

“Welcome to the truth, fleabag,” said Inuyasha with smug satisfaction. “Also, Kagome said I’m a better kisser than you. Suck it.”

If Kagome hadn’t been undercover at the moment, she would have marched right upstairs and given him a talking to he’d never forget.

“What?! As if! She was just lying to you so that she wouldn’t hurt your damn feelings!” Koga snarled back.

“She didn’t say it to me! She whispered it to Sango and they were talkin’ and gigglin’ about it later-”

Sango to the rescue. “If you two do not cease this pathetic thinking-with-your-penis testosterone battle right this instant, I will break you both in places you did not even know you had.”

It was silent as the grave after that.

“That sucks,” Theo said, frowning. “Is there a way to quit?”

“I’d need the protection of someone else because of the information I know,” Kagome sighed, glancing to him. “I’ve actually been thinking… The Spiders seem much more powerful lately. And they’re an enemy of the Wolves. If I could become a Spider, I’d be set.”

But Theo shifted uncomfortably. “Well, we’d get you the best protection, for sure. But you’d have to take the Shikon.”

Kagome shrugged. “Sounds like more of a perk to me. So, Theo, I’m sure you’d know how I can join. Any boy with a face and body like yours hopefully has a sharp brain to match.”

The blushing was rather endearing, and also uncharacteristic of a gang member. But there was most certainly a purple and black bandana around his head, and a spider on his bracelet. “U-um yeah. You’d have to go to Naraku’s distribution point and pledge yourself. There, he’ll give you a dose.”

“Oh, that’s nice and easy,” Kagome said, heart rate increasing. “Where can I do that?”

Theo opened his mouth to answer, but just then, a hand slammed down between them. Kagome jumped, swinging around to look at the interruptor. It was another Spider, and a demon, by the looks of it.

Kagome gripped her glass more tightly to hide the shaking of her hands. Sango, where are you?

Theo started, looking up. “Oh, Samson. What is-?”

“Were you seriously gonna tell this woman the distribution point without making sure she was serious first?” growled the demon. The other holders of the earpieces muttered various curses. Kagome held her breath, hoping beyond hope that he couldn't smell the Inugami scent underneath the Wolf and perfume.

Miroku slid up to the rescue. “Is there a problem over here?”

Samoson let out a growl. “No.”

Not the least bit intimidated, Miroku raised his eyebrows. “I’d ask for you to please not make my customers uncomfortable. You’re intruding on the lady’s space.”

Shooting Miroku a withering glare, Samson grunted and removed his hand from in front of Kagome. Miroku caught her eyes for a moment, and then sidled down to wipe out more glasses just to the back of her.

Theo winced at Samson’s glower and whispered, “O-oh, well, um, I didn’t wanna get caught carrying...she said she’d be willing-”

“Words,” Samson scoffed. “She gotta prove it.” With that, he took out a bag of powder, opened it, and shook it into her drink out of Miroku’s sight.

“Hey, Samson, just… Serena, I’m so sorry,” Theo groaned. “He can be kind of…”

But Kagome shook her head, calmly stirring the Shikon into her glass. “No worries. He’s right; it’s only fair that I prove my words.” And she drank it all.

Theo’s eyes widened, and Samson narrowed his eyes. Kagome waited, making sure it still had no effect on her… sure enough, she felt no different. Putting the glass down, Kagome let out a sigh, opening her eyes so that they became round, and straightening in her seat. “Ohh, I could get used to this.”

Slowly, Samson nodded. “Alright, you can tell her. I suppose I’ll be seeing you at the next gathering…” He leaned closer, and her heart froze in its cage. He frowned. Sniffed once. Twice… and then leaned back. “Serena.” And he pushed his way back through the pulsing crowd. She finally breathed out; she hadn’t noticed that she’d been holding it in.

Theo said again, “Sorry about him.”

“It’s no problem,” she said breezily, making sure to keep looking bright and energized. “I already know I’ll need to get more.”

“I know what you mean,” Theo said, eyes turning more hungry. “You’ll need to keep up with those dosages, or the withdrawal is a bitch.”

“So I’ve heard,” Kagome said, mind wandering back to Inuyasha crying out in pain in a hospital bed. She grimaced. “So where can I get more?”

Frowning to one side, Theo admitted, “Well, the boss generally passes the Shikon along through others for newbies, but lately, anyone that wants to join he’s been having sent straight to the lab. It’s strange; he’s usually so paranoid about that. But we’re not complaining.” He laughed lightly. “We’re holed up in the Waldorf Astoria hotel; he lets us stay there sometimes, and you’ll want to ask access to the basement door, where he’ll give you your share and you can pledge. Obviously, you can’t tell anyone--Naraku enforces ‘snitches get stitches’ quite literally, so be careful.””

“Yes!” Shippo cheered. “Plan Ask Nicely is a success!”

“Nice going, Kagome and Shippo!” Sango said vigorously.

“Waldorf Astoria?” Inuyasha repeated, aghast. “The most expensive and high class hotel in Chicago? Sesshomaru, how the hell have you not found him?!”

“Why in hell, Inuyasha,” Sesshomaru questioned, “would I have thought to look there?”

“He just has to outdo my Den,” Koga complained. “Insult to injury…”

“Oh, I certainly won’t tell,” Kagome said. “Stitches don’t exactly match many of my outfits.” Though she was internally dancing in celebration, Kagome acted completely casual, tilting her head. “Your crib sounds classy. My kind of place. So, how do I get access?”

“Passphrase changes every week,” revealed Theo. “This week, the doorman will ask you if it’s a nice night. You tell him, exactly, ‘Yes, but it’s too cloudy to see the North Star.’”

“Okay, Sango, time to text her,” Shippo said.

“Thank you, Theo,” Kagome told him, giving her most dazzling smile. “Shall we get back to--oh, wait a moment.”

Kagome had thankfully felt her phone buzz on the thigh strap she was wearing. She took it off, which may have given him an eyeful, but at the moment, she didn’t care. “Oh no.”

“What’s wrong?”

The texts read:

[i thunk i justice drink text ex]

[miss him so mooch, Sere]

[hat seeping him wit other grils]

[were r u i cant do thesis want too go home]

Showing Theo the screen, where she’d changed Sango’s name to “Trisha”, Kagome said, “Looks like she’s pretty wasted. I took her here to help her get over her ex, but I guess it’s not working. I should go get her home before some guy takes advantage of her…”

Theo stood, nodding. “Of course. Yeah. Shall I walk you to your car?”

“That’s sweet of you,” Kagome said, putting a hand to his chest. “But I’ll be alright. I can fit more than one canister of pepper spray in this dress, if you can believe it.”

“Hardly can,” he muttered, swallowing and forcing his eyes back up to her face.

Kagome leant up and kissed his cheek, which she felt was well deserved on his part. “Thank you for everything; I had a great night, thanks to you.”

“A-anytime,” he promised.

“I’ll be seeing you around, Theo.”

“Later… Serena.”

She sashayed away, trying not to look like she was running.

But as soon as she burst outside, she was met with Sango, Inuyasha, and Shippo. Miroku ran out just behind her.

“Are you okay?” Inuyasha demanded, taking her face in his hands gently. It was strange to hear his voice straight from her ear and right in front of her at once. “He didn’t try anything that I couldn't hear or see, right?”

She found a smile, and couldn’t help but pull him close in a hug. She breathed in his familiar scent--leather, wind, mist across a lakeside. “I’m fine, Inuyasha. I promise.”

“I know I was kinda difficult,” he muttered in her ear, holding her firmly back. “But you really did do amazing.”

With a laugh, Kagome backed up and gripped him by the arms just as Koga and several other Wolves walked out to meet them at the side of the parking lot. “You were all very annoying, but I would have been so much more nervous if you weren’t constantly bantering in my ear. Thank you, guys. We did it!”

“You were awesome, sis!” Ginta complimented.

“As always,” Koga supplied.

“Thanks,” she said, and gave a smile to Shippo. “You’re a little genius, you know that?”

Shippo blushed under the praise, and Inuyasha granted the kit a rare grin. “She’s right, kid. You did good.” Inuyasha looked up to Sango and Miroku, absently putting an arm around Kagome’s shoulders. “All of you. Thanks for… protecting her.”

“Always for Kagome,” Miroku promised, and Sango nodded in agreement.

Sango looked up at Miroku fondly. “Miroku?”

“Hmm?”

“Put your hair back up.”

“Oh? Is it bothering you that the rest of the world gets to see my full glory front and center, dear Sango?”

She elbowed him in the side, but she was smiling.

Inuyasha paused, then barked, “What are we standing out here for? This is what I’ve been waiting for for over a hundred years! Let’s get moving!”

And then they were in the cars; Inuyasha had torn off the wig and bandana, abandoning them in the trash and plucking out his contacts before stepping into the car. His red jacket was back on as soon as he scrambled for it.

Miroku drove, as Sango and Kagome still needed to change. In a moving car. The boys thankfully looked away while Kagome somehow managed to pull herself out of the suffocatingly tight dress and into a t-shirt, leggings, and large, warm sweatshirt with her beat up tennis shoes. Her face felt lighter after she rubbed makeup removing wipes all over until it was clean. Throwing her wig back into the trunk area, she flicked out the contacts that had started to itch in her eyes. Soon, Sango was in similar attire, sighing and slumping into a slouch with a lazy smile.

“I’m me again!” Kagome cheered, thrusting up her hands before tugging out small ponytails and combing her short hair back straight. “And Inuyasha’s back too! I missed you,” she teased, eyes finding his golden irises and wandering to his snowy hair and the cutest ears in the world.

His mouth quirked upward. “I… missed you too.”

Shippo slid down in the leather, groaning, “Get married.”

“Do not get too cocky about this lead,” Sesshomaru’s voice warned. “That was far too easy. Like the Spider said; Naraku is usually paranoid about the lab’s location, so him releasing it to all of his members like this must mean that he no longer cares for some reason. We are all walking straight into a trap.”

Kagome bit her lip. “Maybe he just wants us to fight him head on to get rid of us once and for all.”

“Nah, probably worse,” Inuyasha said, agreeing with his brother for once. “Who cares if we’re walking into a trap? At least we’re walking somewhere.”

“This ‘somewhere’ had better be closer to Naraku,” Sesshomaru said darkly. “There is too much is riding on this tip. I’m fifteen minutes away from the hotel. I’ve called the commander of that district and all the officers he can afford are heading to meet us to surround the hotel and evacuate the guests in a manner of which Naraku won’t notice. Stay on guard.”

“My pack will help hold the hotel,” Koga pitched in. “Ten minutes away. And when I say pack, I mean all of them.”

“However this goes tonight,” Inuyasha spoke to them, eyes blazing in the half moon light. “We will do whatever it takes to bring Naraku crashing down.”

#wooo longest chapter yet!#the inugami #inuyasha #inuyasha fanfiction #inukag #inukag fanfiction #kagome higurashi #my fanfiction #my writing

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studiomaya · 7 years

Text

Introducing Meg

You know how little kids say whatever they want, whenever they want? They aren’t self conscious. They aren’t worried that the world won’t like them if they mess up.

I spent my elementary school years in and out of school. My parents were pretty careless about pulling me out if they were traveling, and sticking me back in when we got back. They liked to do their South Asian travel during the winter, which allowed them to miss monsoon season, but wasn’t really ideal for my school year. I really don’t think it mattered much, and maybe because I was in public school in New York City, I don’t think anyone at the school cared. I had some math workbooks that my mom picked up at the grocery store, and I did those off and on. I was pretty good at math and it was kind of fun to finish the books. And I read. I read and read and read. So whenever I got back to school and suddenly had to draw a bean plant and name the parts, or had to do long division on the blackboard, it was never a problem. And I was a real talker, so if we had to discuss poetry or a book, you could hardly shut me up.

In sixth grade, everything changed. My parents decided that I needed something more rigorous and that they would be more careful about snatching me out of school to go on long trips to weird places. I still went on some pretty strange trips, but they were a little less scattered, more concentrated during the summer and school vacations. My dad teaches South Asian history at the New School, my mom runs an antique shop, and both of them thought that it would be better for me to have more challenging schoolwork. They have some friends who somehow got me an interview at this fancy school on the upper East Side—not one of the crazy elite schools, but it was still posh, compared to what I was used to. I remember the interview well—I wore these dusty brown Doc Martens and cotton harem pants that I had made myself, and I must have looked a sight! The headmistress was almost like a cartoon character, she was such a type—poofy white hair, pink sweater, pearls—and thought I was hysterical. I found out later that I was getting a big scholarship. I don’t know whether it was because we couldn’t afford it or whether they thought I needed to be rescued from the perils of public school.

The kids were pretty nice but I had a hard time getting to know them. They did soccer together after school, or dance, or music lessons. They all knew each other, and their parents knew each other. My parents were not really in the loop on school, and since everyone lived all over the place, there wasn't a neighborhood you could draw on to meet people. But everyone was well-behaved, polite, and seemed to care about school and grades a lot more than they had at my old school in Greenwich Village. I knew that I wasn’t like them, but it didn’t bother me terribly. I wasn’t like the kids at my old school, either, and it had never caused any problems for me.

But things took a weird turn at some point that first year, when we were supposed to do a research report on a foreign country. It was an oral report, but we also had to put together some sort of illustrated brochure thing to turn in. I was super excited. I mean, this was my life. I had been to so many different countries, I could speak a few different languages, and dinner at home with my parents was all about which tribal motif was embedded in what carpet from which village in Afghanistan. This was my thing and I was so excited to share. And I was excited to hear what everyone else had to say. You didn’t exactly discuss foreign countries when you went out for recess. I don’t think anyone knew much about the stuff that lived in my head. The girls talked about pop music and movie stars, and I was okay with those subjects. The boys talked about sports, which I knew nothing about, but that was okay because anyway the boys and the girls were starting to separate and do their own stuff that year. Everyone knew that my family and I had traveled a lot, but everyone was so polite about it, as if it would be rude to pry. So I was thinking that standing up in front of the class would be my chance to tell everyone about things that were so important to me.

I remember what I wore the day of the presentations. I was doing Pakistan, a country where we had spent a lot of time, so I wore a shalwar kameez, which are these baggy pajama pants and a tunic and a scarf. It’s what girls wear in Pakistan every day—it’s not some kind of dress-up thing or special occasion get-up. When I walked into the classroom, everyone stopped talking and turned to stare. These were all kids that I had been friendly with since the start of school, kids that I ate lunch with and compared notes with during math class. I didn’t think wearing a shalwar kameez was such an earth-shattering thing, but everyone looked amazed. I started to feel a little funny. I heard one guy say to someone, “Is there extra credit for wearing a costume?”

I sat at my desk, flipping through my notes, but I wasn’t thinking about my presentation. I was suddenly thinking about the last time I had worn that shalwar kameez, running around the gardens of Shalimar in Lahore, surrounded by cascading fountains and apricot trees. I had a friend in Lahore, a much younger girl named Rihana, the daughter of one of the caretakers at the house where we usually stayed. I was always put in charge of Rihana so I had to make sure she didn’t do anything stupid, like fall into a fountain or slip and break her neck on the wet marble. She talked a mile a minute in Urdu with an adorable lisp, switching into accented baby English when I complained that she was going too fast for me to catch everything she said. I had not seen her in a couple of years and I wondered what she was doing. I thought of the sunset’s glowing reflection in the pools at the park, the evening call to prayer, and the scent of jasmine at night, which is always so much stronger than in the day, and to my surprise and dismay I could feel tears in my eyes. It was like being homesick, except that I was homesick for a place that wasn’t home.

I tilted my head back so that the tears wouldn’t actually run down my cheeks. I could see the other students milling about. The girls with their flat-ironed hair and perfect manicures and Ugg boots, the boys with their Under Armour and their crew cuts. The girl who sat in front of me was digging around in a Louis Vuitton briefcase. I suddenly felt quite bizarre, sitting in a classroom on the Upper East Side in my shalwar kameez. Maybe I’m exaggerating how weird it felt, looking back on it now. When I think about it, it’s like I’m floating above the class and looking at this one weird girl with her dark green tunic and pajama pants and frizzy red hair in a scrunchy, in the middle of a sea of perfect straight hair and Abercrombie jeans. I look so strange. And I think that was the first day, ever, that I felt as strange as I probably had always looked.

The first student to present her country was the girl with the Louis Vuitton briefcase, Alexandra. Her country was Egypt. I had been really looking forward to her presentation. I had a lot to say about Egypt—I knew Egypt really well. I even spoke some Arabic, although it wasn’t as good as my Urdu.

But as the presentation unfolded, I became increasingly dismayed. I think she must have lifted the whole thing from Wikipedia or the CIA fact book. Facts and figures galore and estimated GDP. A long, tedious discourse on the pharaohs and the pyramids. I bit my lip, trying to keep the expression off my face. How does anyone make pharaohs boring, I thought. Alexandra continued on, pushing back her smooth, blonde hair repeatedly with a practiced gesture. A sparkly bracelet slid up and down on her wrist.

After she had said the word “Muslim” and “Islam” about ten times, I raised my hand. Alexandra stopped speaking, clearly startled.

“There are Copts, too,” I began. I stopped. I hadn’t meant to stop her in her tracks, but I had feeling in my chest as if I would burst—and maybe she was getting to the Copts and wouldn’t mind some engagement with the class.

Alexandra shot a look at the teacher, who had retreated to the back of the room to listen and take notes.

“Copts,” she repeated.

“Coptic Christians?” I added helpfully.

“Oh. Right. Um, Christians in Egypt,” she nodded. She looked again at the teacher for help. The teacher remained impassive.

There was a silence. I felt eyes on me. I didn’t dare turn to see the expressions on the faces of my classmates. I knew instinctively that I had done something very wrong by speaking up.

But I couldn’t stand it. This was no introduction to Egypt, a country I had loved for as long as I could remember. Egypt was the land of pyramids, it was true. But it was also the land of so much more—Muslims and Christians, a huge entertainment industry that delighted the entire Arabic-speaking world, a Nobel-prize-winning novelist. It wasn’t this dry, boring place that she was describing, and if all you could say about the population was the name of the majority religion, you were entirely missing all the energy and conflict that made it such a dynamic, passionate culture.

“Thank you for your question, Meg,” the teacher said in a carefully neutral tone.

I felt sick. I had done something wrong, and I honestly had not meant to. Everyone was going to hate me now. At the same time, I felt angry. There was nothing wrong with my intentions. I wasn’t trying to make Alexandra look foolish, but she apparently didn’t have anything in her speech about the real Egypt.

My palms were sweating. I felt like I couldn’t move in my seat.

As other students got up one by one to give their presentations, I got to work on my own script. I had written it out in outline form on note cards, but I now took a pencil and started to draw lines through parts of my speech.

It was bad enough that I was going to have to stand there in a shalwar kameez. There was no way I was going to give the delighted description of the Lahore of my younger years that I had planned.

They would never understand the people are the heart and soul of a culture, of a country. They would never understand. I had to just try not to be laughed at, try not to upset the balance.

So my speech was shorter than planned. I started with a casual reference to my clothes and made a joke about pajamas. The class chuckled politely. Most of what I said was not actually written on my cards. I made up some facts and figures about population and chief industries, and then recited a brief history of the partition of India and the creation of Pakistan in 1947 from memory. I didn’t say a word about the labyrinthine alleyways of the market in Lahore, or the jasmine vines in Shalimar.

As I spoke, I looked around the room, but I didn’t see the faces. They were a blur. I could have imagined anything I wanted on those faces—disgust, contempt, amusement—but I don’t even remember them because I was just trying to get through the five minutes that I was standing up there in that outfit. Here’s something really strange—I could still smell jasmine. And I could feel my eyes filling up. I was sniffling and tossing my head because I didn’t want the tears to run down my face. I think maybe this would have qualified as some kind of panic attack, because I was imagining everything—the jasmine, the reaction of the kids, all of it. It wasn’t actually real. But everything, the emotions and the blurry audience, felt so REAL, and my stupid speech felt like something out of the dictionary.

There was polite applause when I sat down. My stomach still felt funny—when I get that angry, burning feeling inside, sometimes it feels weird in my stomach for days afterwards.

I actually got a B+ for that presentation. The weird feeling in my stomach came back when I saw the grade. I saw the brief comment on the front page of the brochure, something mildly critical about my artwork, before cramming the pages into my folder. I couldn’t stand to look at what exactly the teacher had said, but I am a pretty sucky artist, so I told myself that since my parents weren’t helping me to illustrate my work like the other parents did with their kids, I was obviously not going to get a top grade for that assignment. I buried the sense of disappointment and frustration, thinking that I was just glad to get out of that project without further embarrassment. No one had ever mentioned my Pakistani “costume” that day, and Alexandra remained carefully friendly, although she and the other girls remained a little too polite and a little too cordial—I knew that I wasn’t ever going to be their “type” anyway.

On my way out of the classroom on the day that we got our papers back, the teacher stopped me and waited until everyone had exited the room. He spoke kindly.

“You know a lot about foreign countries,” he said to me. I nodded.

“You’ve had an interesting life. You know much more than other kids your age.”

I nodded again.

“You know, some people study foreign cultures their whole lives.”

“I know. My parents—“ My voice suddenly choked on me and I stopped. I tried to clear my throat.

The teacher smiled and cocked his head. “You’re way ahead of most of the kids. But eventually you’ll be able to find people who share your interests. You’ll get there.” He patted my shoulder.

I really appreciated his kindness. And I understood what he was saying. That I was only weird—among my classmates. They were the normal ones, I was the weird one. I was going to be okay if I stuck to weird people like me.

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