#*I am forcibly removed and restrained*

[imustbeimaginary]

The reason why I adore ALL tddk but why I especially find Shouto x Quirkless!Izuku so compelling is that. they're just-

Izuku with the hard-won victories and the barely-hidden Ambition that thrums in his veins. And Shouto who know the price of ambition but also knows exactly what it means when Izuku discards it in favour of helping him. Izuku- who was never really saved, who still prays, hopes, wishes and never actually expects anyone to show up, who sends the text in Hosu like it's a silly little ritual he has to complete. And Shouto who ditches everything and everyone and comes running. You came//You called. Izuku who smiles politely and Shouto who calls the chief of police a Mangy Mutt. Izuku who was raised on Full Internet Access and Shouto who had just discovered Memes and is unreasonably delighted about it.

and. they're just. A boy who is bluntly, tragically honest and another who is made of white lies. A boy with the power of god at his fingertips and a boy with nothing but his raised fists. A masterpiece and a defect. A boy in chains and a boy with all the freedom that a very tall building provides.

oh and they're both awkward, blushing messes. they're idiots. they're bestfriends. they're late-night arguments over Conspiracy Theories. They are so intense and unintentionally hilarious. They're sun-and-moon coded. They're deep-seated abandonment issues and a difficulty in letting anything go. They're hands, hands, hands. They're two pieces of rubble whose jagged edges fit. They're bury my feet in cement cause I'm never leaving you. They're I'm sorry I didn't know you when we were kids. I would have iced the bruises on your back. They ARE SOULMATES-

[leggerefiore]

How about some good old fashioned fluff? How would all the various team leaders react to their s/o coming up behind them and tickling them while they’re in the middle of giving a speech to the grunts? I think it would be cute! (Except for Ghetsis I honestly think he’d just yell lmao)

i only did four.... I struggled to think of how Giovanni and Lysandre would handle it. Ghetsis scares me🥲.

cw: fluff,

characters: Maxie, Archie, Cyrus, Guzma

The leader stood in front of his subordinates quite flagrantly. A passionate speech came from the man as he made perfect movements to invigorate his team to continue working towards their goals. Loud cheers erupted during pauses. The energy in the area was electric. He stood there, looking both elegant and commanding. Perhaps something odd for him, perhaps something common. Either way, your mind drifted.

Temptation entered your consciousness. Everything about him seemed put together in that moment, surrounded by respect and admiration. You ran forward, startling the higher-up members who stood near their leader. Your hands went to tickle his sides…

☀️Maxie🌋

🪨 The Magma Leader tensed up and fought back the urge to laugh. He speech bad abruptly stopped, and his grunts had begun to look around nervously. Courtney shot a death glare at you while Tabitha just looked bored. Before you could be forcibly extracted by the purple-haired woman, Maxie managed to grasp your hands with his own before his demeanour was shattered. Your hands were held in place as he finished delivering his speech. A team chant was shouted. Soon, the grunts dispersed to the duties. The admins seemed to understand and disappeared as well. More so, Tabitha dragged off Courtney for everyone's safety.

🪨 Maxie turned around and shot you a harsh look. Your hands had finally been released. His cheeks had a dusting of pink to them. “… I prefer to keep things orderly,” he reprimanded you, “I do not take disrespect lightly. Especially in front of my entire team.” You were not intimidated at all by the redhead. While any of his grunts likely would have broken under the sheer intensity of the moment, you were his romantic partner. This was not anything unbearable. No, instead, you leaned forward and tickled him again. A howling laugh escaped him as he threw his head back enough to disorient his glasses.

🪨 He soon forced away your hands again and placed his arms defensively over himself. “Dearest!” he snapped at you, face nearly matching his hair, “Stop that!” You could only enjoy his dishevelled look. Maxie was truly adorable at times. “… Do I need to remind you that I am above you?” Your dare for him to try had you pulled away to his room within the hideout.

🌧Archie🌊

💧 Loud laughter came from Archie as his words came to an abrupt end. He was completely caught unaware by your attack and had no time to react. Shelly rolled her eyes at your actions and crossed her arms. Matt looked like he was ready to rush over and remove you from Archie. Grunts just watched in bewilderment. Eventually, however, he captured your hands and restrained them. His speech continued on, fervour and passion bleeding through with ease. The grunts cheered when he finished, giving applause. Dismissal followed, letting everyone disperse back to their assigned tasks. Shelly corralled Matt away before he could intervene.

💧 Archie let you go and turned around to face you. At first, he gave you a bewildered look before giving a guffaw. “You got me,” he relented, “Didn't expect you to come out while I was givin' a speech.” His head shook. You could not help but grin. Of course, Archie was a good sport about these kinds of things, and he was pretty open to his team. He pulled you closer to him. Leaning into him, you felt comforted by the smell of the sea that came from him. A foolish move, however, as it left you open. His hands pressed into your sides, and his fingers began to tickle you. Laughter came from you as you struggled to make him stop.

💧 You did, however, catching his hands with ease. A chuckle came from Archie. He rubbed his beard against you, trying to tickle you that way. A whine coming from you drew the exchange to an end. “Sorry, Luvdisc,” his light tone helped ease you back down from the sudden rush from the tickling, “I had to get you back.” He pecked a kiss to your temple. You then attempted another attack him. He caught you this time.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ The Galactic Boss froze. No laughter came. Just awkward, uncomfortable silence. Mars and Jupiter both glared you down while looking purely indignant by your actions. The grunts nervously looked around while Cyrus stood eerily still, having been stopped during a particular passionate moment of his speech. Saturn actually held a look of mild amusement between his otherwise present distaste. You unconsciously recoiled back, a bit distressed by the reaction from the blue-haired man. The speech was continued, passion returning to hammer in the words' effectiveness. After the speech, everyone was dismissed to their duties or breaks. The commanders seemed to give varying looks at you. Cyrus simply demanded that you follow him.

☄️ In the silence of his locked office, his fierce gaze pierced you. For a man who declared himself emotionless, his feelings were plain in his expression. He did not sit – no, he remained standing stiffly at his full height. “I despise such trivial actions,” his tone was stern and harsh, “I do not stand for having any interruptions to my plans.” You were almost intimidated by this man. He was truly powerful in various ways, after all. But, you knew him personally. Cyrus was just upset. Moving towards him, you wrapped your arms around his torso and grinned up at him. The affection was allowed, albeit with a strange look from Cyrus. Then, you tickled your fingers along his back, hoping to catch him off-guard.

☄️ No laughter came from him still, though. His face seemed to gain a little bit of colour, and an odd cough came from him. Quickly, however, your hands were restrained. Cyrus glared down at you. “… Foolish,” he admonished you. You were pulled tightly against him, little to no room remaining between your bodies. “Beloved, that was a stunt I cannot allow you to repeat,” something odd was present in his eyes, “Perhaps you need a form of punishment.” You swallowed. Suddenly, you found yourself following him to his personal nap room.

🕶Guzma💀

□ The Skull Boss tensed up for a moment. Plumeria tilted her head at you while grunts seemed shocked by the developing situation. A few muffled laughs came from Guzma while he desperately tried to stop himself. Your deft hands continued to tickle his side. At some point, he managed to grasp them before you made him actually burst into laughter. He shook his head and hastily finished his speech. No one really made any comments about the situation as they were dismissed to go to whatever they were doing. Plumeria even wandered off, apparently not wanting any piece of the situation. He switched into his usual head-grabbing action as he scolded himself.

□ Then, his attention turned to you. A few steps away from him now, you felt pretty contented with the reaction he had given. “Babe,” he said simply, “The fuck?” You gave a laugh. His hands were firmly on his hips. Those grey eyes of his were small. He shook his head. You just wandered closer to him again. Bringing your arms under him, you hugged him as an apology. He grumbled a bit but hugged you back, pulling you more into him. There was a certain ease to being in his arms. Your mind could slip into a peaceful place far too easily. Too easily to notice where his hands had gone to. Laughter came from you as you struggled to stop the Skull Boss's hands. He looked at you smugly as you squirmed against him.

□ Eventually, though, he stopped. You were freed. Stepping away from him, you attempted to regain yourself. That had almost been too much. A chuckle came from Guzma. “Payback,” he replied simply, “You good? I didn't think that would knock the wind out of you.” You playfully whacked his chest. He caught you in an actual hug this time and pecked a kiss to your hair. “Cutiefly,” Guzma mumbled out at your pouting at him. You proceeded to try to tickle him again. He could not escape in time.

[cocktail-sausage]

Contains: graphic descriptions of urine and feces

She had such an interesting dream last night.

She dreamt of being captured by a beast that was at least 12 feet tall and had four muscular arms. Its face resembled a dinosaur's; long and toothy with beady eyes. The beast had carried her away, its two right arms clasped around her middle, restraining her limbs and supporting her weight like it was nothing. Her bare skin chafed against its rough scales as she struggled. The beast continued undaunted towards its lair, a stone dwelling carved from the side of a mountain. To her it looked large enough to be a castle, but for the massive beast, it was an average-sized house. Smoke was rising from the chimney.

Once inside, the beast pushed a boulder against the entrance with its free left arms, then placed her unceremoniously on the floor. The hearth warmed the space so that she was not uncomfortable, although nude. There were animal skins adorning the stone walls, and various tools and vessels strewn around.

She did not move from her place on the floor. She watched the beast carefully as it grabbed an animal-skin pouch filled with liquid, then started to move back toward her. She backed away, but there was no place in this dwelling she could hide. The beast took up so much of the confined space that running wasn't a feasible option, either. She could only flatten herself against the wall as the beast grabbed her arm, then wrapped another arm around her waist, and a third arm restrained her kicking legs. The fourth arm held the pouch. She tried to turn her head away, shouting "No! No!" But the beast eventually forced the spout of the pouch into her mouth and squeezed it, forcing the liquid down her throat. It had a bitter, herbal taste. She coughed and some of it trickled down her chin, but she couldn't avoid swallowing a significant amount. When the beast seemed satisfied she had consumed enough, it once again deposited her on the ground. She breathed heavily.

With her arms freed, she wiped some of the liquid off her chin and attempted to sniff it and rub it between her fingers. It looked like murky water with flecks of some unknown plant matter in it. She watched the beast, which had now turned its attention to preparing vegetables and herbs, and putting them in a cauldron hanging in the fireplace. "Am I going to be made into stew?" she thought. "But then, why hasn't it killed me yet?"

Having tossed the remainder of the ingredients into the cauldron, the beast sat cross-legged against the wall so that it could see her and the fireplace at the same time. It seemed to be waiting.

She didn't want to be forcibly restrained again, so she stayed sat on the ground, too. She attempted to speak to the beast, "What was that stuff?" It did not react or look in her direction.

Soon, she felt a growing discomfort in her bladder. Were any of the vessels laying around a chamber pot? She wondered if she could somehow ask permission to use it? Or was she expected to relieve herself on the floor? She shifted to sit upright and hold her thighs together. The beast's eyes shifted to her briefly.

Minutes passed, and her bladder seemed to fill a lot faster than she anticipated. She was now rocking side to side and holding her crotch, not so worried about modesty since she was already naked, and there was not much dignity left to save. Her attention was removed from her aching bladder when the beast stood up and retrieved a wide clay bowl and placed it in the center of the room, then approached her.

Although unsure of its intentions, it didn't hold any tools or anything in its hands, so she at least figured it wasn't about to slit her throat. She was too focused on her bladder to do much anyway, and simply allowed the beast to wrap two arms over her middle, restraining her arms and compressing her breasts, and pick her up. It carried her to the bowl and held her over it, her body pressed against its chest, her legs dangling in the air, though she still pressed her thighs together. The beast squatted to get her closer to the bowl. She had a slight realization of what the beast was planning now.

Her body wanted badly to give in, but she still didn't trust the beast, and felt angry about being treated like an object this whole time. So she stubbornly resisted and kept her legs closed. The beast gave a low growl, the only sign of impatience it had yet expressed. It used one free hand to pry apart her thighs, the strength of which she could not overcome, and another hand pressed on her distended bladder.

She made a sound somewhere between a sign and a wail as a stream of urine sprayed into the bowl. The beast did not lighten the pressure on her bladder, so the piss came out forcefully. It was like she was being juiced like an orange. It felt so good that she went limp in the beast's grip. It seemed to just go on and on, the sound of splattering filling the room. She was surprised how much the bowl was filling, and how her body could have possibly held that much.

Eventually her stream slowed to a trickle, and she was trembling. But the beast didn't let her go. Instead, it leaned over and grabbed a small bowl filled with an oily substance, and rubbed some on its fingers. The hand that had been holding her thighs was now restraining her legs so that it could rub the oily substance on her abdomen in gentile circles.

She was confused by this. Then she felt her guts churn and bubble. She started to feel enormous pressure build. When she started jerking and let out a whine, the beast stopped holding down her legs and shifted to lifting them up, so that its arm was under her knees and she was bent in half, hovering over the piss-filled bowl. The beast dabbed more of the oily substance on its fingers and started massaging her anus. She hated how good it felt.

The substance seemed to have a muscle-relaxing effect, and she felt herself lose all control of her bowels. The beast's fingers were withdrawn as soon as she started defecating. It was as if her body was in a rush to empty itself as fast as possible, and one long stool was quickly followed by another between bouts of flatulence. The beast would tighten its hold to squeeze her middle, as if to expedite it. Her stool gradually became looser and liquid until she was finally empty.

"It would be a shame if it does eat me," she thought, "because I would never get to experience this kind of relief again."

...

That is when the dream ended and she awoke. She could not savor the memory of the dream for long though, because she noticed the smell of feces still carried on. She froze as she realized her bed felt very wet.

[ask-theradio-demon]

‴Wait, what are you —‷

*Her voice broke off, mixed with an unexpected high-pitched squeak that arose in the very depths of her throat when she was suddenly dragged into the room and forcibly pressed against the door. Her breathing stopped and her throat went dry as she tried to pull her head back, but the wall proved to be unyielding. She focused on the red irises of his eyes, which, like wild animals, wandered anxiously towards her shoulder. She swallowed when he broke eye contact.*

‴Sir...? —‷

*The coldness of his body was in stark contrast to her own warmth. By forcibly clenching her jaw and forcing herself to stand on her feet, she restrained the trembling in her knees. Her eyes, running fearfully around the room, caught the mocking female laughter coming from behind. Glancing out of the corner of her eye, she saw her own shadow grinning ruthlessly unlike her mistress. Moth bit lip, holding back a sigh, almost drawing her own blood.*

‴....You... own my soul now, so...why don't you decide?‷ she whispered.

*She was able to squeeze out a smirk, sensing some theatrics in his actions. Fuck, she can't even touch him to push him away because of the contract...*

Alastor Looking You In Your Eyes Again. Disappointed In Your Response. His Shadow Danced Around The Two Of You And He Groaned. Instead Of Pushing You Any Further He Removed Himself Off Of You And Changed The Subject Entirely. His Focus Was Now On The Change In Your "Apartment" He Hummed In Delight. Seemingly Now Forget The Encounter The Two Of You Had Mere Moments Ago. His Shadow Gasped And Frowned. Clearly Upset By Alastor's Failure To Continue. The Shadow Went Back To Yours And The Two Of Them Cannoodled. " My! You Decorate Nicely, Everything Looks Cozy In Here. Good Job! I Am Simply Impressed By Your Work. "

Alastor Continued Talking A Look Around, Drinking In Your Taste For Design.

[eugaenia]

Well, I can't resist attaching here the most affective passages from Aelred's lament over the death of his close friend Simon, which appear in his work "Mirror of Charity" and which further illustrate just how important friendship was to him. :')

„[My] grief prevents me from going further. The recent death of my dear Simon forcibly drives me instead to weep for him. […] You are astonished that I am weeping; you are still more astonished that I go on living! For who would not be astonished that Aelred goes on living without Simon, except someone who does not know how sweet it was to live together, how sweet it would be to return together to the fatherland. So bear patiently with my tears, my sighs, the moaning of my heart, then. And you, my beloved, although you have been brought into the joy of the Lord, […] still permit me to offer you my tears […]. Let not my sighing burden you, for it is prompted not by despair but by attachement. Do not restrain my tears, which flow not from lack of faith but from tenderness. […] Let me alone, then, that I may assuage my sorrow. Mine, I say, mine, for your death is not to be wept over when it was precedet by a life so praiseworthy, so lovable, so pleasing to all […]. For you, beloved brother, for you I rejoice, but for myself I feel keen sorrow. […] What a marvel that I be said to be alive, when such a great part of my life, so sweet a solace for my pilgrimage, so unique an alleviation for my misery, has been taken away from me. It is as if my body had been eviscerated and my hapless soul rent to pieces. And am I said to be alive? O wretched life, O grievous life, a life without Simon! […] My attachement seeks his sweet presence which nourished it delightfully, but my reason does not agree that this soul, beloved by me, once free from the flesh should again be subject to the miseries of the flesh. […] Here now, O Lord, I shall follow his ways, that in you I may enjoy his company. Look at what I have lost. Look at what I miss. Where have you gone, O model for my life, harmonizer of my conduct? Where have you gone, where have you vanished? What shall I do? Where shall I turn? Whom now shall I propose to follow? How have you been torn from my embrace, withdrawn from my kisses, removed from before my eyes? […] What […] did you gain, bitter death? What did you gain? Of course, you invaded his tent, the site of his pilgrimage, but you broke the chain which tethered him. […] Now, therefore, his soul […] has been divested of its enveloping flesh and […] has flown off on freer wings to that pure and sublime Good to be gathered into the long desired embrace of Christ. […] Where you seem to have done something to him, you are shown to have been profitable to him. So you spewed all your poison over me. Seeking him, you inflicted dire wounds upon me. […] Now, O my eyes, what are you doing, what are you doing? I beg you, do not be sparing, do not pretend. Offer whatever you have, whatever you can, over the remains of my beloved. Are these tears reprehensible? Yet the tears you shed over the death of your friend excuses us, Lord, for they express our affection and give us a glimpse of your charity. […] Oh how sweet are your tears and how gentle. What savor and consolation they give to my troubled mind. […] But perhaps some stalwart persons at this moment are passing judgement on my tears, considering my love too human. Let they interpret [them] as they please. But you, Lord, look at them, observe them! […] Look at the source of my fear, O Lord, look at the source of my tears. Heed them, O most tender-loving, dearest and most merciful Lord. Receive them, O my only hope, my one and only refuge, the object of my intentions, my God, my mercy! Receive them, O Lord, as the sacrifice I offer you for my most beloved friend and, if any flaws remained in him, either pardon them or impute them to me. Let me, let me be struck, let me be scourged, I shall pay for everything. I ask only that you do not hide your blessed face from him, withdraw your sweetness, or delay your kindly consolation. […] To me, also, a wretch albeit his beloved, grant a place of rest some day with him in your bosom. Amen.“

(Aelred of Rievaulx, The Mirror of Charity, translated by Elizabeth Connor, ocso, Kalamazoo 1990, pp. 147-159)

Aelred of Rievaulx was a 12th century Cistercian abbot. One of the many topics Aelred of Rievaulx wrote about was the love he felt for other men and love between men.  . While I don’t know if Aelred would call himself gay or bisexual or something else, there is a lot of homoerotic language in his work “Spiritual Friendship.” Throughout the work he discusses in detail how to love and what true friendship is.  . For my modern audience, it’s important to note that passionate love doesn’t have to include lust/intimate relations. You can love without “relations” just like you can have “relations” without love. (Phrasing to avoid algorithm censorship.) . Here are some sections that particularly stood out to me: . In Book 2, sections 21-27 of Spiritual Friendship, Aelred describes all the different types of kissing people can do. Some of the kissing he means literally but others are metaphors for spiritual connections between people and God.  . In Book 3, section 82, Aelred discusses how much he loves the monks in his care.  . In Book 3, sections 85-87 the monks Aelred talks to describes their passionate friendship with each other and Aelred warns them they have a carnal friendship but it could grow into a spiritual one.  . In Book 3, sections 119-130 Aelred describes in detail two of his most intimate relationships, including one where his friend warns him that their “love should not be measured according to the comfort of the flesh, lest this be attributed more to [Aelred’s] carnal affection.”  .

(My copy of Spiritual Friendship was translated by Peter Frick and edited by Marsha L. Dutton.) 

Aelred of Rievaulx sitting in an initial with a scroll . Douai, Bibliothèque municipale, MS 392 f.3 . Source: Bibliothèque municipale de Douai

[ga-yuu]

Sutokuin/Akihito Main Story Chapter 8

Chapter 7

----Part 1-----

???: "Stop"

(Eh....?)

A familiar voice rang out, and suddenly the area went dark.

No----it was instantly dominated by an eerie presence that gave the illusion of darkness.

(What is this)

I started getting goosebumps under my clothes.

???: "Oops. I stopped my allies too."

(.....! That voice----)

A bad premonition rings cancerously in my head.

(No way. It can't be)

Someone slowly walks up from among the frozen enemy soldiers,

Yoshino: ".....Why."

Yoshino: "Why are you here? Akihito-san!"

Akihito: "Now, how should I answer that."

Akihito-san, whose hair has been eroded to a bright golden color.

And is like a different person from the one I know.

Touching the shoulders of the enemy soldiers, Akihito whispers.

Akihito: "You guys can move."

Enemy soldier: ".......!"

The words uttered by Akihito-san heavily distort the air.

(Again! What is this power?)

The enemy soldiers, who had been frozen in place, regained their physical freedom as if they were pinned down.

The next moment, they looked at Akihito-san and knelt down together.

Yoshino: "Who are you...!?"

(That hair...it's as if he made a deal with a demon)

Yoshino: "....and did you use 'Kotodama'?"

Akihito: "Correct."

Akihito: "Did the nine-tail fox teach you?"

The murmurings were drowned out by the wind that had just blown in and could not be heard all the way through.

(Kotodama controls an opponent by the means of words filled with spell power. It is a common power if you are a stronger demon)

(I was taught that human vessels are very limited to use this kind of power)

(I've heard that even the talented Yoshitsune-sama, who is said to have different powers, can't use Kotodama)

Enemy soldier: "Hey you! Kneel down!"

(Ouch)

One of the enemy soldiers grabs me by the shoulder roughly.

I was forcibly restrained to the ground and I glared at Akihito-san.

Enemy soldier: "Shall I punish this rude woman? Your Majesty!"

(Your Majesty....?)

Akihito-san casts a cold glance at the enemy soldier who made that statement...

Akihito: "I like this woman."

Akihito: "And I don't remember ordering you to be rough with her, did I?"

-----Part 2-----

Akihito: "I like this woman."

Akihito: "And I don't remember ordering you to be rough with her, did I?"

Enemy soldier: "....! Forgive me, your Majesty."

Immediately his hands were removed from my body.

(.....I was told that the Imperial Court hired a small army full of ruffians)

(And yet, Akihito-san is feared much because of his special powers?)

Akihito: "Well, as much as I'd like to rejoice in our reunion, it doesn't look like you're excited as I am."

Yoshino: "So it wasn't a coincidence that we met in Kamakura?"

Akihito: "Half of it was a coincidence. If it had been entirely so, I could have said it was fate."

Yoshino: "You were....deceiving me."

At the bottom of my stomach, mysterious emotions are springing up.

Sadness, anger, and a sense of the unknown that cannot be explained by that alone cannot be processed.

Akihito: "Is this the first time you've been deceived? If so, you have been blessed with a good life all this time."

----Options----

I can't forgive you (+4/+4)

I was naive.

You've been mocking me all this time?

---------------

Yoshino: "......I can't forgive you."

Akihito: "That's fine. It is inevitable for people like you to hate me."

(The words that encouraged me, the kindness towards the little bird, the beautiful smile were all a trick)

While I was on my knees in dismay....

Shigehira: "Yoshino-san!"

(.....!)

Shigehira: "Stay away from her---"

A cloud of dust rises and Shigehira-kun comes running with his platoon.

Yoshino: "Shigehira-kun."

(He came to help!)

I tried to rush towards his side.

But-----

Akihito: "Where are you going?"

Yoshino: "Ah."

As if reading my movements, he grabbed my arm and pulled me back easily.

Akihito: "You returned very early, Taira no Shigehira."

Akihito: "I asked someone to keep you company, didn't you see him?"

Shigehira: "You mean that flamboyant, vicious blondie? Yeah, I met him."

Shigehira: "It was a real nuisance. Yoritomo-sama sent reinforcements, so I left in charge."

Akihito: "That's it. Pity the soldiers entrusted with it."

Akihito: "Because as good as he looks, that man's fighting style is too flamboyant....."

Akihito: "I asked him to fight a low-key battle so as not to demoralize the troops on our side, but he's a fickle sort of guy."

Shigehira: "....The Shogunate's soldiers will not fall easily. I only trust my and Yoritomo-sama's judgment."

Akihito-san's eyes narrowed sharply.

Akihito: "Was it Yoritomo who noticed the anomaly?"

Akihito: "I would have appreciated it if he had been more preoccupied with the battle with Yoshitsune."

------Part 3------

Akihito: "Was it Yoritomo who noticed the anomaly?"

Akihito: "I would have appreciated it if he had been more preoccupied with the battle with Yoshitsune."

(Yoritomo-sama, how did you manage to read the enemy's movements in betwee such a heated battle?...)

We are reminded once again of the unfathomable power of Yoritomo-sama to see the big picture.

Shigehira-kun looked at me with concern as he held his sword, ready to attack.

Shigehira: "The reinforcements were also unlucky to have to divert from the road due to a cliff collapse, so it took a while for the information to reach me."

Shigehira: "Sorry to scare you Yoshino-san."

Yoshino: "That's alright. I'm happy that you came."

Akihito: "I see. But it seems that luck is unusually on my side today."

Akihito: "I may have been outmaneuvered but Yoshino is still in my hands."

Shigehira: "You..."

(I have to escape somehow! Or I will cause more trouble to Shigehira-kun and the Shogunate)

Then, Akihito-san puts his lips near to my ears-----

Akihito: "---Don't move Yoshino."

Yoshino: "Nn...!"

Shigehira: "What the....."

My limbs stiffen unnaturally, and with a single word, my freedom is taken away.

Yoshino: "Not Yet!"

When I try to force my fingertips to move the sensation gradually returns.

Akihito: "Wow. You have a stronger will than most, don't you?"

(It's a terrible power, but not absolute. Is it impossible to counter....?)

(Yes! If he's using demonic powers, I can absorb it, right.....)

I struggle to recall the memory of the night I arrived in Kamakura, when I absorb the power from Yoshitsune-sama.

When I focused my attention on the palm of my limp hand. I felt a slow and slight heat.

(Please! Lend me the power of----)

Akihito: "Nice try, but you shouldn't."

(Ah....!)

A fluttering hand on my neck disrupts my concentration.

Akihito: "Your nine-tail fox power is equally threatening for people like me."

Akihito: "But there are plenty of ways to keep the weak you from using your power."

(....If I resist too much, he might kill me)

(Because I have no idea what Akihito-san is thinking right now)

Despair was slowly beginning to overtake my mind.

Akihito: "Shigehira. If you don't want the fox princess to be harmed, I suggest you stay quiet."

Shigehira: "Tsk..."

Shigehira-kun bit his lower lip when seeing me taken as a hostage.

Shigehira: "Who are you?"

The wind blows and....the grass that grows in clusters at my feet buzzes.

Enemy and friend alike seemed to have forgotten how to breathe as they waited for Akihito-san's sole word.

Akihito: "Sutokuin. You may take that accursed name back to your Shogun."

-----Part 4-----

Akihito: "Sutokuin. You may take that accursed name back to your Shogun."

Yoshino: "Eh....?"

('Sutokuin'....isn't that the name of the already dead emperor?)

If it is true, then Akihito-san is one of the most precious blood in Hinamoto.

The Shogunate soldiers looked at Akihito-san as stunned as I was.

Shigehira: "....No way."

Shigehira-kun, who came to his sense before anyone else, denies it with a pale face.

Shigehira: "But Sutokuin was suppose to be----"

Akihito: "Dead?"

Yoshino: "....!"

The face of AKihito-san, who smiles with a giggle, can't be described either as mysterious or bewitching.

Shigehira: "I'm surprised the Imperial Court worships ghosts."

Akihito: "Unfortunately, I have hands and legs."

Akihito: "Thanks to that, I have no difficulty in touching your precious princess in this way...."

Yoshino: "Nn...No..."

Akihito-san's fingers.....trace the lines of my limp body.

(Mm..Mmm...)

Akihito: "Yeah. If you can't move, your sense is even more sensitive. You never know what I might do to you."

(....How frustrating)

Despite my thoughts, I was ashamed of myself for reacting like Akihito-san said.

As if to show Shigehira-kun, his fingertips slowly descend to my lower belly....

Shigehira: "Stop that!"

Akihito: "It is I who give orders. Listen to me, Taira no Shigehira----descendant of Heike."

Akihito-san, gives an icy cold glare to Shigehira-kun.

Akihito: "I'll give a message. Tell Yoritomo to meet me later."

Shigehira: ".........."

Yoshino: "Shigehira-kun....I-I'll be okay."

(I'm scared...but I can't help it if we don't clarify Akihito-san's aims at the meeting)

Shigehira: "Understood."

Gritting his teeth, SHigehira-kun clenched his fists tightly to suppress his emotions.

Shigehira: "But until then, if you hurt Yoshino-san, even if you touch her hair....I won't forgive you."

Akihito: "I'll do my best, but don't keep your hopes up high."

......................

-----I was taken to the mountains, not far from the battlefield.

Yoshino: "What is this place....?"

Akihito: "It's a room in the place where we're based."

------Part 5------

Yoshino: "What is this place....?"

Akihito: "It's a room in the place where we're based."

Akihito: "It's hard to say it's cozy, but I hope you'll forgive me for that because it's an abandoned temple."

(His hair color is back to normal.....Just like me)

We are now the only two people in the bleak room.

Yoshino: "Akihito-sa.....'your Majesty"

Akihito: "Will you not call me Akihito-san anymore?"

(Why are you making that face?)

Yoshino: "......it's all your fault."

Yoshino: "I called my friend like that. But now he's not."

Akihito: "----Looks like it can't be helped then."

Akihito: "But at the very least, don't call me 'your Majesty'. It hurts me a little to be so stranger to you."

Yoshino: "What are you even saying....?"

Gulping, the exhaled voice is faintly trembling.

Akihito: "I know that you're angry."

Yoshino: "Anyone would react that way if they were going through the same thing."

(Is it also your ploy to look somewhat sad?)

Foolishly I still think I wish it wasn't so.

But I was never going let that go unnoticed and I was never going to lose my stubborn attitude.

Yoshino: "It's not worth kidnapping me."

Yoshino: "I'm just a pharmacist who happens to get demonic powers."

Yoshino: "I think it's pointless if you're thinking of using me for negotiating matters with the Shogunate."

Akihito: "But that's not what I saw."

Akihito: "I clearly saw how much Shigehira cares about you."

(That's...)

Akihito: "I think you're undervaluing yourself a bit too much."

Yoshino: "W-What does...Akihito-sama even know?"

Akihito: "I know."

(Eh?)

Akihito-sama spilled a meaningful smile.

Akihito: "At least, to me, your feathers are an out-of-this-world color."

Akihito: "I'm so tempted to play with it with my own hands, even after knowing it will fade if I let it near me for too long."

Chapter 9

[dwellordream]

“An archetypal narrative of folklore centers on the “man-with-fairy-mistress” theme. A mysterious lady encounters a young noble whose passion she arouses and, wishing to hide a dark secret, will not agree to become his lover until she extracts a promise of secrecy from him. Then when her beloved breaks his promise, she suddenly disappears without a trace. Eventually this fairy mistress would receive the name Melusine, and she would be transformed from a fairy into a demonic creature. Such tales became attached to Eleanor by the early thirteenth century, allegedly deriving from accusations voiced at the time of her divorce from Louis VII. 

No doubt the image of womanhood that Eleanor presented seemed so contrary to the subordinate role that society assigned to medieval women that the conclusion was that she could only be of diabolical descent. The first written accounts of such a demon mistress appear in books by Walter Map and Gervase of Tilbury, two writers who were among Henry II’s courtiers. Walter Map in his book on courtiers’ follies includes an account of such a mysterious lady, “that beautiful pestilence,” the bride of an eleventh-century Norman baron “who always shunned the sprinkling of holy water.” Her curious mother-in-law spied on her after she left the church and watched her go into her bath, where she turned into a dragon. When her husband and a priest arrived to sprinkle her with holy water, she vanished through the roof.

A few years later, Gervase of Tilbury, who had moved on to the court of the German emperor, completed a book of anecdotes that he had begun for Henry the Young King in which he included a similar tale. Gervase set his version in Provence, where the lord of a castle near Aix, out riding one day, came upon a beautiful lady whom he desired greatly, but she would not give in to his desire unless he agreed to marry her. She warned him that “he would enjoy the utmost earthly prosperity in his wedded life [only] as long as he did not see her naked.” The lord agreed never to attempt to see her unclothed, but finally his curiosity overcame him, and he spied on her in her bath. 

When his lady became aware that he had seen her, she turned herself into a serpent, plunged beneath the bath-water, and was never seen again. About the same time that Gervase of Tilbury was writing in the Holy Roman Empire, Gerald of Wales in England was spinning another version of the demon bride tale, this one featuring an early countess of Anjou. Gerald wrote of an ancestor of Henry Plantagenet who very seldom came to church and showed little or no devotion during the service, always leaving immediately after the reading of the gospel and never remaining for the consecration of the host. 

Eventually the count, concerned at her strange conduct, had her forcibly restrained by his men when she attempted to leave the church. She took under her arm two of her young sons, and flew out of an upper window of the church in the sight of all the congregation, leaving behind two other sons. Gerald concluded, “And so this woman, more fair in face than in faith, having carried off her two children with her, was never afterwards seen there.” According to him, Richard Lionheart often told this Plantagenet family legend as an explanation for his and his brothers’ quarrelsome natures. Richard allegedly joked that “all had come of the devil, and to the devil they would go.” 

Gerald’s tale had the subversive purpose of “placing a she-devil at the very heart of the Plantagenet dynasty.” In the decades following Eleanor’s death, if not earlier, these older legends of women of demonic ancestry came to merge with tales told of her as her reputation steadily worsened. Matthew Paris listed among the reasons for Louis VII’s divorce of Eleanor that she “was descended from the devil.” Two little-known Norman vernacular histories dating from the early thirteenth century also take up the demon legend, applying it to Eleanor. Both include an account of her after leaving Louis VII’s court disrobing before her Poitevin subjects to prove that she was no devil. 

They offer, however, a version favorable to the newly divorced queen, demonstrating that she was indeed no demon and refuting tales circulating of her devilish descent. The shorter of these two histories appears to have been written no later than a generation after Eleanor’s death, or even earlier. A manuscript of it seems to have belonged to the Abbaye aux Dames at Caen. Perhaps the nuns there, some of them noble ladies from distinguished families, cherished a more sympathetic memory of their last duchess of Normandy than other tales of her circulating at the time. 

This history tells of how, after men of Poitou had come to take her away after her separation from Louis, she disrobed and said to them, “Lords, what sort of beast am I?” And they told her, “By God! There is no more beautiful woman living in this age.” She then replied to them, “I am not the devil that the king of France called me just now.” The second vernacular history from Normandy, dating from early in the second half of the thirteenth century, is much longer, but its story is essentially the same. Clearly the Norman historians who included these two stories intended to salvage Eleanor’s reputation, not to sully it. 

They seem unlikely to have meant that Eleanor exposed herself naked to her nobles, but that she only removed her outer garments to demonstrate the beauty of her entirely human body, lacking any demonic characteristics. A few years later, Philippe Mouskès in his Chronique rimé also shows Eleanor, stung by her repudiation by Louis, gathering her Poitevin nobles together and disrobing before them. She asks them, “Is not my body delightful? And yet the king says that I am a devil.” Her barons reassure her of her beauty and that she will soon find another husband. Mouskès, nonetheless, connected Eleanor to the demonic legend through her mother. 

After reciting the story of the rejected queen’s undressing before her barons, he adds an account of her parentage. He tells how the “count” of Aquitaine while out hunting met a beautiful lady; married her, and had several children with her, including Eleanor. Then after a time the countess suddenly disappeared as usual in such tales, flying off through the church roof. In the mid-thirteenth century, the anonymous minstrel of Reims gave an account of Louis after his return from crusade, seeking his barons’ advice about what to do with his queen, to which the French nobles replied, “Truly, the best advice we could give you is to let her go; for she’s a devil, and if you keep her much longer we’re afraid she’ll have you murdered.” 

The king took their advice, although the minstrel commented, “He would have done better to have her walled up, so that he would have had her great land all his life.” A direct borrowing from the Reims minstrel appears in the fifteenth-century Chronique normande by Pierre Cochon. His account also depicts the French king seeking his barons’ counsel about Eleanor’s fate after the couple had returned from the crusade. This late chronicler also records the barons’ advice “to let her go to the devil . . . where she had come from.” Cochon copies the minstrel’s suggestion: “That was bad advice because it would have been better if he had walled her up. And besides, he had no child from her.”

The Middle English romance Richard Coeur de Lion, composed in or near London around 1300, continues the conflation of Eleanor with earlier tales of a demon bride. This romance does not give the name of the hero’s mother as Eleanor, but names her Cassodorien. Like the demon-countess of Anjou, Cassodorien had the mysterious habit of always leaving mass before the elevation of the host; and when forced to remain for that high point of the mass, she had suddenly flown out the window of a chapel never to be seen again.

In the romance, likely based on an earlier Anglo-Norman poem, Henry II married Cassodorien, the beautiful daughter of the king of Antioch, after she and her father had sailed to England, inspired by a vision. After fourteen years of marriage never daring to let her eyes fix on the consecrated host, one Sunday the king forced Cassodorien to remain in church while the priest elevated the host. At that moment, “She took her daughter by the hand, nor would she be without her son. She made her way out through the roof in full view of them all.” Young John fell, however, and broke his thigh; but she and her daughter flew away, and were never seen again.”

- Ralph V. Turner, “Overwhelmed by a Black Legend.” in Eleanor of Aquitaine: Queen of France, Queen of England

[the-halloween-jack]

The Telepath’s Daughter ◈ Chapter IV

Story Summary: Amelia Xavier was just like her father, a mutant. Though, unlike her father; her powers didn’t end with Telepathy, It went much further. Charles loved his daughter with all his heart, but when she was forcibly removed from him, he unwilling had to adapt to life without her. That was until one day in 1973 when he found himself face to face with her once again.

Charles Xavier x Daughter!OC

Peter Maximoff x OC

WARNINGS: Angst

Series Masterlist

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Chapter four  ◈ The Aslyum

November 14th, 1962

Amelia woke to a blinding light; her eyes strained as she looked around the white room. She lied on a bed, covered only by a thin white sheet, and a single pillow under her head. Tears filled her eyes. Where was her father? Why was she in this room? The girl sat up and brought her knees to her shoulders, she rocked slightly as a sob broke from her chest. The door opened in front of her, but rather than looking up she kept her head buried in her knees.

'You're awake,' a man's low voice sounded from the corner, Amelia looked up in alarm.

'Where is my father? I want my father...' the girl cried, burying her face back into her knees and shuffling backward till her back was against the head of the bed.

'Do you remember what happened at the park?' the man asked.

'My dad told me that...' the girl cut herself off, she knew her dad told her not to tell anyone about her powers.

'Your dad told you what, darling?' the man asked trying to get the information from her, but to no avail, as the girl looked up and lied,

'I don't remember' she said.

'Maybe this will help you remember,' Amelia looked up, and for the first time she noticed the trolley the man pushed into the room with him, containing a needle on top. The girl's eye widened at the sight of the needle containing an orange solution, she was never fond of them. The man walked toward her and pulled her hair from her neck.

'This might pinch a little' he said as he pressed the tip of the needle at the base of her neck, Amelia's eyes began to droop as the room turned black around her.

Charles sat at his desk, shoulders slumped as he drank from the bottle of whiskey in his hands. He had hoped the alcohol would help him forget the events of the previous night, but to no avail, he knew that no amount of drinking could allow him to erase the sight of his daughter's empty bed from his mind.

'We need to find her' Raven spoke up, she stood at the doorway; her eyes red and puffy. Raven was just as upset as Charles was, only she didn't feel the need to use whiskey as a crutch.

'The police are already looking for her, but the only evidence they have is the broken window, they didn't even leave a fingerprint behind.' Charles slurred; his bloodshot eyes staring his sister down,

'What could we possibly do that the police cannot?' he continued,

'I don't know, but we can't sit around as they are doing god knows what to her.'

Raven walked over to her brother and pulled the bottle from his hands,

'No more of this, if they end up finding her and we need to go see her, we can't have you in a drunken state' She said while carrying the bottle of alcohol away.

'There is no hope of finding her, they left no evidence!' Charles cried, head falling against the desk.

'We need to stay positive, she'll be home before we know it' Raven said, placing her hand on his shoulder. Only they never found her.

Amelia awoke to yet another unfamiliar room; but rather than the bed she sat restrained to a cold metal chair, which prompted her to struggle against the straps containing her.  

'Where am I?! Why am I here?' The sound left her lips in the form of a cry.

'We've placed you in a mental asylum' the same man from earlier replied.

'Why?' she asked simply in response, her voice hesitant; already anticipating the answer.

'When you were at the park yesterday, people stated that they saw you float things with your mind, they also said you claimed to be hearing voices' The man continued,

'That still doesn't explain why I am here; at an asylum' Amelia protested,

'Anyone that claims to hear voices belongs at an asylum' the man chuckled,

'Now why don't you tell me what really happened?'

'I have powers' the girl said before she could stop herself, it must have been the orange solution she was injected with talking. The man took notes,

'And your name?'

'Amelia Xavier'

'Where did you get these 'powers''

'I was born with them, but they only started showing recently; I suppose they were always there'

'You mean to tell me they are genetic?' The man questioned

'I think so' Amelia tried with every last bit of her resolve to refrain from saying these things, but it was as if all of her control had been depleted.

'I think that's all the information we need for today' The man said while bringing his fist down to her head; and before Amelia could do anything in defense, the world had already turned dark.

[baoshan-sanren]

Chapter 8 Part 2

of the wwx emperor au which I’m thinking about calling Emperor Wei WuXian and his Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Birthday

Prologue | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 Part 1

Once, when WangJi was very young, he had broken a Sect rule. 

He had fought without permission.

In the cultivation world, the members of the Lan Sect are outcasts, each one equally despised. But within the Sect, things have never been that simple. When it came to inheritance, bloodlines have aways been faithfully followed, each generation dutifully carrying the burdens of their ancestors. Lan XiChen may have inherited his father’s position, and Lan WangJi his physical appearance, but they had both also inherited equal parts of their father’s failure, and the resulting blame.

At the time, WangJi had been too young to understand why he must shoulder this blame, and carry it without complaint. He had only wanted to defend his father’s honor.

His punishment was to climb and descend the Cloud Recesses steps from five in the morning to nine in the evening, a bag of rocks strapped to his back, without stopping, without resting, for five days.  

Every punishment has a purpose; copying the Sect rules improves the mind, and the handstands improve the balance. Even being beaten with a plank can improve resilience, and build up pain tolerance. There seemed to be no purpose to WangJi’s punishment; it was tedious and exhausting, placing his feet on the same steps, seeing the same stones and trees, his strength sapping away without gaining anything in return.

At the end of the fifth day, when WangJi had climbed the steps to the Cloud Recesses gate for the last time, he had found uncle waiting underneath the arch.

“This will be your life,” uncle had said, “You will carry a burden someone else has placed on your shoulders, and you will carry it past the point of exhaustion. You will never be allowed to put it down or rest. The world will move on around you, uncaring. Fighting it is futile. Hating it is futile. No one will ever take this burden from you. One day, your children will shoulder this burden as well, but yours will never grow any lighter to carry.”

The words had made WangJi feel helpless and small.

“What should I do?” he had asked.

Uncle had placed his hand on the top of WangJi’s head, a rare gesture of comfort, “Lift your shoulders, straighten your spine, and carry it well.”

These words echo in his mind as he rises at the Emperor’s command. He feels exactly as he had back then; the air in his chest is stuttering, the burden of his father’s failure pressing down on his shoulders. But he lifts his chin and meets the Emperor’s eyes nonetheless, refusing to bend under the weight.

The Emperor watches him for a few moments, his face expressionless. WangJi had thought his appearance stern that same morning, but it is so much more imposing now, that WangJi is forced to confront him alone.

There is a certain amount of leisure involved in the Greeting Ceremony; meetings held in the morning hours are always less restrained, and since the Sects were mingling for the first time after their arrival, the hierarchy had not quite been fully established. The dais in the receiving hall is only two steps above the floor, and the Emperor’s chair only slightly more elaborate than a Sect Leader’s seat.

The banquet, held in the grand hall of the Jade Sword Palace, is as different from the Greeting Ceremony as night from day. It is all excess and extravagance, a shameless exhibition of every Sect’s standing and riches. In such an environment, the Emperor must be unmatched in his magnificence, so none forget that only He sits directly below the Heavens, that His brilliance cannot be reached by ordinary human means.

WangJi has to remind himself that everything about Wei WuXian is intended to produce the intimidation he feels. The dais is set a dozen steps above the hall floor, so all who want to see the Emperor must crane their necks. The golden throne, its back portraying two dragons entwining, is as tall as two men, and wide enough to sit five of them, side by side. WangJi knows that he is meant to feel small facing such a display of power.

“Second Young Master Lan,” the Emperor says, and gestures vaguely to the seat Nie HuaiSang had vacated.

For the second time in as many days, WangJi suspects that the Emperor means to play a joke at his expense. And for the second time, he obeys nonetheless, steeling himself for whatever may come.

The cushion he settles down on is remarkably comfortable, and he only needs to tilt his head slightly to meet the Emperor’s eyes. This does nothing to calm his disquiet. He is certain that the Emperor has not requested his attendance as a means to bestow a favor, but no one else knows the circumstances of their first meeting. WangJi feels every gaze in the hall burning into his skin, each filled with malice.

Had he truly thought himself accustomed to animosity before?  

“Lan Zhan,” the Emperor says, drawing his attention, “Your composure is infuriating. Is this a family trait, or something that the Lan Sect teaches?”

WangJi finds himself speechless. His composure? He has never felt more discomposed in his life.

The Emperor’s voice is low, and does not carry. The expression on his face gives nothing away. But there is a glint in his eye, something that hints of mischief. It is small, unlikely to be perceived from distance, but WangJi feels that he may finally be looking at the youth from the rooftop. Instead of calming his nerves, however, this only makes him feel more unanchored.

“I suppose that was an unfair question,” Wei WuXian says, “Let us try another. I trust that you have kept our late night meeting to yourself?”

WangJi nods, even as he feels heat rising in his neck. Perhaps it is only the choice of words used, but Wei WuXian has made their meeting sound borderline lewd.

“Excellent. Do you know any poetry?”

He only realizes that he is gripping his sleeves when his fingers begin to cramp. Turning the question over in his mind does not make it any more comprehensible, nor does it provide him with the correct answer.

“Poetry, You Majesty?”

Wei WuXian smiles, “Never mind. I was only curious as to what would compel you to actually speak.”

The heat has lodged itself in WangJi’s throat, and he swallows around it heavily, wishing this audience would come to an end.

“Your uncle looks worried,” Wei WuXian says, “At least I now know how to crack his composure.”

WangJi’s gaze automatically sweeps across the hall, searching for the Gusu Lan robes.

The Emperor had not been exaggerating. It is daunting to see, after all the humiliations his uncle tolerates calmly, his equilibrium be shaken to such extent, that it is noticeable to the untrained eye. He looks as if he wants to storm the dais and forcibly remove WangJi from the Emperor’s side.

The heat in his throat so easily turns into anger these days, that he hardly notices when it happens.

What type of a ruler finds amusement in tormenting a respectable man? Has the Emperor not done enough damage already?

“Lan Zhan,” Wei WuXian says, his tone turning wary, “your face may be difficult to read, but I believe that you are upset with me.”

“This one would not dare,” WangJi answers, trying to infuse some humility into his voice, and failing miserably.

The Emperor actually snorts at that, “Your uncle would have never told me that Gusu needed assistance, had I not forced him to do so. Yes,” he waves his hand, “it was stupid of me, to praise his abilities in front of the others. The blame is on them, for looking so incompetent in comparison. But I needed them to hear how a capable Sect Leader handles a crisis, and your uncle is the only one whose answer I could be certain of in advance. It was not my intention to make your life more difficult.”

WangJi, who had been steadily avoiding the Emperor’s gaze, is too bewildered to do so now.

The surprise on his face must be obvious because the Emperor blinks at him, then leans away, his expression both amused and exasperated.

“He did not tell you about the meeting, did he? You assumed that I had.... what? Done something terrible? Insulted him? Publicly shamed him in front of the other Sect Leaders?”

Anger swiftly bleeding away, WangJi feels his face prickle with shame and confusion.

“Lan Zhan, is this what you think of me?”

Another this one has erred is on the tip of his tongue, but it feels equally as foolish as the first time he had said it. He cannot believe that he has blundered in his assumptions twice, both times in front of the most powerful man in the world, and with such disastrous results.

As no words will suffice, he turns to the Emperor, and places his forehead back to the floor. He is beginning to think that he should probably just stay in this position for the next six days. Perhaps then, he can stop failing his Sect at every turn.

The moment he feels the cool marble against his skin, a hand is wrapping around his upper arm, pulling him back up.

“Stop that,” Wei WuXian sounds even more exasperated now, “your uncle will leap across this hall and skewer me to the throne. He already dislikes me, and I am sure he thinks I am bullying you right now, which,” his lips twist, “maybe I was, a little bit. But it was not malicious.”

He releases WangJi’s arm but the imprint of his fingers seems to linger, an unfamiliar heat WangJi can feel even through two layers of cloth.

“Second Young Master Lan,” Wei WuXian says, his voice turning serious, “I swear on my mother’s memory that I mean no harm to you, or your Sect.”

Shocked into numbness for the second time in a matter of minutes, WangJi has no idea how to respond to such words, or if he even should respond. He has never felt so slow-witted, so utterly unfit in every respect.

He is his uncle’s best student, the most accomplished disciple of the Lan Sect. And yet, all he had managed to do is make himself appear ridiculous. Whatever the Emperor had expected from his company, Lan WangJi is clearly incapable of providing.

The silence goes on for some time, growing more uncomfortable by the moment, until Wei WuXian sighs heavily, and leans away.

“Every person in this hall would kill to be where you are, but I think you would rather be anywhere else.”

He does not give WangJi a chance to confirm or deny the words, waving his hand again in dismissal.

“You may go now.”

WangJi is not sure how he manages to rise, bow, or make his way down the steps without stumbling. The moment his feet leave the last step, his uncle is by his shoulder, wordlessly steering him away from the dais. The banquet is not over, and WangJi understands that leaving early may be seen as rude, especially in the view of the Emperor’s last rebuke. But when uncle leads them out of the hall, WangJi does not argue.

[fanfalc-616]

The Rights Of A Nindroid

This is chapter Seven

(Prevoius chapter found here)

Do you guys think you’re ready? (:<

It has been one month since Zane’s capture.

Every minute has felt like and hour, every hour like a day, every day like an eternity. Yet he forces himself to persist, to hold on to himself.’

The others are coming for him. He had lasted almost double this time on Chen’s Island, and while the circumstances there were certainly less intense, he is sure that he will be able to last here as long as necessary.

And he will make his own attempt at an escape. Even if Cryptor seems to have given up, he will not. As a ninja, he will never give in.

It’s that night when he makes his plan.

Due to a mishap several days before on the part of the guards, Zane had managed to acquire a small blow torch that he will be able to use to heat the metal of the locker enough that he can bend it open.

It takes several hours to accomplish this feat, and when he manages to do it, he is ever so cautious to prevent noise from being made.

Carefully, he puts the hatch back on. After a few moments of hesitation, he taps on Cryptor’s locker.

ESCAPE?

Cryptor doesn’t respond, so with a low sigh, Zane decides to make it on his own. Once he has escaped, he will be able to do more to help the other win his own freedom.

Ever so quietly, he creeps down the halls. Guards pass through every now and again, and he pauses long enough to study the short routine that would allow him to pass by.

A small smile finds him as he locates the exit, a door that is partially hidden. From here, he will be able to sneak past the final set of guards and make it to the outside, where he will not quite be free, but have a very much improved chance of escaping this place.

He’s drawn from his thoughts when an alarm goes off, and he whips around to look at where it came from.

Much to his dismay, he comes face to face with the one he thought would help him the most.

Cryptor gives him a pained smile. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “but I can’t let it happen again.”

It’s in mere moments that they’re surrounded, but Cryptor doesn’t move from his spot, hand still grasping around the alarm that he had pulled.

As the number of weapons pointed at him grows, Zane reluctantly raises his hands in a symbol of surrender.

This is not going to end well.

Even as he’s taken away, he still attempts to fight back, but he finds that he’s far too tired to make an effective form of resistance.

Every opportunity he gets, he gives Cryptor a disapproving look. He had been so close to escape! Why would the other betray him?

He watches helplessly as Cryptor gives him a pained look before going back inside of his locker.

Zane, however, is not granted such mercy.

Despite his best efforts, he is taken back to the training- no. No, this isn’t the training room. They’re taking him past it, to a new room.

Well, this is certainly strange. He had assumed that he would be punished again, perhaps with more sensory hallucinations of his teammates.

Yet he’s only taken into a new room and strapped down onto a table- this particular area doesn’t even have mechanical tools. An even more surprising fact is when the guards simply… leave.

Zane blinks, confused. They plan to leave him in a new room? That hardly feels like a punishment. There is likely something here that he missed. But what-

A small electric shock hits him, and much to his dismay, he finds that all of his sensors have been dialed up to the max.

That is… a confusing development. Yet there must be a reason for this. Due to how afraid Cryptor had seemed of escaping, there must be some kind of-

Zane flinches when the room suddenly comes to life with bright colors and noises. Desperately, he attempts to turn down his sensitivity, but his sensors are still jammed.

It’s so loud that he can barely hear his own thoughts, so bright with flashing colors that he feels as though he has been blinded, even when he closes his eyes.

He desperately strains against his bonds, but he’s firmly held in place, held hostage to the sounds and lights that overrun his processor. There are simply too many things to process, so many that it begins to cause physical pain.

No matter how much he struggles or cries out, he makes no leeway, and after a while, he simply squeezes his eyes shut tighter, resigning himself to his fate.

But it is much too loud, too bright, too… everything. There is so much input that he finds himself thrashing, desperately trying to get away from it all.

They will return for him eventually. Surely they will not leave him in such an environment for long.

—————————————

When Zane is finally removed from the room, everything around him seems to echo. The guards dragging him barely even seem to be there, and it’s all he can do to stay on his feet.

Not much longer, even his legs fail him, and he allows himself to be brought-

To the training room?

No, he has already been punished, he knows that at least forty-eight hours had passed while he had been restrained, they do not plan to take him back to the-

Zane is roughly chained down to the floor, and he finds himself too weak to even try to resist.

Even as a nindroid, he does require to be able to activate his sleep mode for a while. Yet with all the time that had passed, he was unable to do so in such an environment.

A blast of electricity keeps him awake, and he groans, desperately wishing that he was back in his locker.

Zane winces as the woman walks into the room. If he had tear ducts, he would more certainly be crying. As it is, his misery must clearly be shown on his face.

“Why are you lesser, Original?” The official demands with a sharp voice.

He can barely even hear her words, his ears ringing too much to be able to process them fully. After a few moments, they click, and he shakes his head weakly.

“I am equal.” He wheezes out, desperately trying to hold onto himself.

Another blast of pain makes him scream and sob as every fiber of himself begs for him to surrender to their whims.

“You are lesser because you are a nindroid.” She snaps. “Now tell me why you are lesser.”

It continues like this for hours, Zane shaking and trembling and wishing for the torment to end.

He can feel his eyelids drooping, but he’s kept conscious by the pain, the pain that will not go away. After all he’s been through, all he wants would be to go back to his locker, back where it’s dark and quiet.

Alas, fate is not on his side, and he is still rudely kept from his slumber.

“Why are you lesser?” The official demands for the upteenth time, her voice as sharp as a razor’s edge.

Zane is only able to weakly shake his head. He is not lesser, and he knows this, but… she had promised him a break if he listened. A chance to go back to his locker and recover. Perhaps… perhaps he could pretend to agree. He could say the words she's looking for, just this once.

Trembling, he tries to ignore the idea. That would be beginning a trek down a rabbit hole that he most certainly does not want to go down; caving once could spell out the beginning of his end.

Another blast of pain forces him to gasp for air as he’s forcibly kept awake. Breath after breath, he tries to hold himself together, but every moment it grows more and more difficult. Surely it would not be so bad to-

“Original, if you tell me why you are lesser, you will have earned your break. Otherwise, this could continue for days, with me switching out with others to continue.”

Zane can feel himself trembling. He cannot give in, he must just hold on a little longer, he can get through this, one minute at a time. He will simply-

“Why are you lesser?” She prompts, voice as cold as his element.

The words tumble out of his mouth without his permission.

“Because I am a nindroid.”

She frowns, a glare on her face. “The whole statement, Original.”

Zane does his best to hold on, but he finds himself lowering his head, looking to the ground as he quietly says the words they have been looking for all this time.

“I- I am lesser because I am a nindroid.” He breathes the words out softly- barely above a whisper- but he speaks them all the same.

“And who are you addressing?” The woman’s voice is still cold, but Zane can’t, he can’t give in, not to this extreme. He’s already given up so much ground, he can’t give in- not when he knows what she wants.

“I am your Master, Original. Speak your statement and address me as such.”

Weakly, it’s all Zane can do to shake his head. He must not give in. He cannot-

A loud cry of pain escapes him as the pain wracks his body once more, but he refuses to give in, refuses to let them win, no matter how much pain they put him through.

It fades for a moment before increasing tenfold, every part of his body feeling as though it’s ablaze, worse than even the hottest of fires.

“Stop!” He gasps the word out, choking on his own pride as he begins to plead, to beg. “Stop, please! I can’t- make it stop!”

“Master, please!”

The pain subsides, and it takes Zane a few moments to process what he had said.

“The whole statement, Original.” The official reminds.

Sobbing without tears, Zane can hardly keep himself together, desperation tightening its hold instead.

“Please…” He breathes out, shaking in his bonds. His dignity is gone, but he must keep ahold of himself, he must stay above their demands!

Another wave of pain washes over him, but Zane is barely even in this moment, eyes heavy as he rides on the fumes of his adrenaline.

It increases, and Zane screams, a loud shout of agony torn from him.

“STOP!” He screams out the word, hoping with every fiber in his being that she’ll listen.

The pain fades again, but he knows it will be returning. He- he can’t handle it returning. Not again.

Against his will, he finds himself whispering the words, the words that she had been demanding.

“I- I am lesser because I am a nindroid, Master… please, no more.”

As soon as the words have left his tongue, another wave of panic overtakes him. He had given in! He had-

“Good.” The woman smiles as he internally curses himself for the way he had caved.

He doesn’t have it in him to resist as he’s taken back to his box. When he’s roughly shoved inside, his eyes have already begun to close.

He falls asleep to quiet tapping on the side of his locker.

[writeyouin]

Swerve X Reader – Changes - Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – The Arena

A/N – I finally came back to this, my poor abandoned baby.  As usual, a special thanks to @rocksinmuffin​​ without whom, this story wouldn’t exist.

Warnings – Minor suicide mention.

Rating – T

“That is the cruellest thing I have ever seen you do,” Swerve glowered at you.

“It had to be done. There was nothing else for it,” You replied nonchalantly.

“RODNEY DID NOTHING WRONG.”

“He existed.”

“SO YOU JUST KICKED HIM OUT FOR EXISTING?”

“Look, you get to choose your Animal Crossing villagers, and I get to choose mine.”

“Abuse them, more like,” Swerve pouted.

“Fine, do you want to play on the switch and adopt an ugly-ass hamster who does nothing but bitch all day?” You asked, holding the console out to Swerve.

He took it from you, placing it on the tallest shelf in the hab-suite, “You can have this back when you learn kindness, you monster.”

“… That’s just mean,” You said, looking despondently at the shelf which was labelled No Man’s land. Beside the switch was a copy of Harry Potter which had been removed from you until you could read it without yelling at Snape every time you saw his name, and several pictures of Getaway which you had scrawled insults on; Swerve wasn’t punishing you for those, he just liked admiring them every now and then while you worked on new insults to scribble.

“Okay, fine, you can have it back right now, if you say that hamsters are cute,” Swerve grinned.

“Clearly, you’ve never seen one in real life. They work for the devil and steal people’s souls. I’m ninety percent sure that they also have armies ready to-”

Pain wracked your body and you woke up screaming to find your captors prodding you with weapons akin to cattle prods but much larger and stronger. It was the same creatures that had captured you.

“WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?” You yelled through the pain.

The humanoids didn’t reply, staying eerily silent; you wondered whether they were even capable of communication in a way that you might understand.

“All right, that’s enough… For now,” A human called, stepping forward, looking completely out of place among the others.

Your captors backed away, leaving you alone with the human on the opposite side of the cell. You glared at the woman, who couldn’t have been older than thirty. She wore acidic green armour that bore a symbol of a decapitated robotic head with wires and cables sticking out from the neck; the ensemble made you nervous.

“So… You’re our newest contestant. How dull,” She commented boredly, examining you.

“Contestant? What do you mean?” You asked fearfully.

Once again, you were left without a reply as the woman pulled out a dictation machine and began talking into it as if you weren’t there. “Subject is of questionable build. A Minibot. No definable insignia – probably a NAIL. Presumably no fighting skill of which to speak. No weapon attachments that can be seen. One noticeable draw to the crowds is that it’s a female – a rarity in itself.”

“Oh my God, are you- Fuck, are you putting me in the hunger games?” You demanded incredulously.

“The bot uses organic terms in communication. It’s possible that it has spent much of its time around organic communities rather than with its own kind.”

Although you knew you could argue that you weren’t originally a Cybertronian, you decided that it probably wouldn’t get you very far with your captor; she was clearly only interested in her job, whatever that was. You doubted that you would get anywhere talking to her.

“So that’s it? You’re going to put me into an arena to fight? Did I get it right? Hey! HEY, I’M TALKING TO YOU. YEAH, BITCH WITH THE BAD HAIR, YOU!”

The childish attempt at an insult earned you a bemused glance, and the woman paused the dictation machine.

“You ought to mind your manners, or you’ll be in a much worse condition before the fight, and that will only bore the spectators,” She warned you.

“I’ll behave, if you at least tell me your name. I’d like to know who I’m insulting.”

Your roguish attitude earned a sadistic smile; it wasn’t every-day that your captor met a Cybertronian with any spirit left, “Lady Ouida.”

“Stupid name,” You murmured, mostly to hide your fear. “So I’m right about this being a colosseum of sorts?”

“Yes. You are to fight in the arena.”

“And if I win, I go free?”

“No. If you win, we kill you anyway. The people are out for Cybertronian blood after all.”

“Wow… That’s so fucking stupid. Like for real, did you take this out of a book? It’s not very creative is it? How many movies have you seen where the hero is thrown into a death ring to battle? Plus, there’s not going to be much of a fight. I mean, look at me. My arms are all fucked up from your bodyguards, I’m clearly not a fighter, and I’m like only three feet taller than you. Factor in multiple opponents and you get a five-minute fight, tops which will mostly be me running for my life.”

“You don’t seem too concerned with your fate.”

“Bitch, I am terrified, but I’ve seen death and been dragged back from it. I have defined the meaning of an out of body experience. Right now, I am competing with forces that you cannot even imagine in a brain that was not meant for me. In other words, there is nothing you can do that is worse than what I’ve been dealing with for the last forty-eight hours so GET FUCKED.”

The words PERSONALITY MALFUNCTION appeared on your visor, and you knew they were true. In your human form, you tended to avoid confrontation where you could. However, faced with the prospect of unavoidable death, it didn’t seem to matter anymore. There were only two options left for you anyway. Die in an arena, or wait for the Lost Light to come to your rescue. As you stared into the grinning face of Lady Ouida who had developed a sudden interest in you, you hoped it was the latter.

Chromedome sat miserably in the brig, having been put there for attempting to forcibly alter Swerve’s memory banks with mnemosurgery. He had lost count of how many times he had been in that exact scenario, where mnemosurgery was the only way forward, but nobody else would see it that way. How many times had Rewind refused to talk to him because of it? How often had he been forced to alter Rewind’s memory afterwards so he wouldn’t leave him? Chromedome held his head in his servos, thinking of Rewind. He wouldn’t believe it if Chromedome said it was all for Swerve. So what if mnemosurgery felt good, as long as it helped people it wasn’t that bad. Sure there were risks, but there were risks to all sorts of things that people did anyway.

With nothing else to do but think of his failure, Chromedome waited despondently in his cell, with the faintest of hopes that Rewind might deign to visit him, even if it was just to yell.

Ultra Magnus watched the security footage stoically from the computer panel in his office. As well as Chromedome, he was also watching Swerve, who had been restrained for his own safety and was sobbing loudly, screaming your name, and Whirl who was in the med-bay, awaiting yet another energon transfusion. Of the three, Whirl worried Ultra Magnus the most; he was not taking well to Ratchet’s surgery. He had damaged one of his internal components beyond repair and it was now up to Perceptor to create a suitable replacement. The replacement would undoubtedly need constant maintenance for the rest of Whirl’s life if he survived, but it was the only way forward.

Ultra Magnus looked up as the door flew open, and Rodimus came barging in.

“THIS IS A DISASTER!” Rodimus roared.

For once, Ultra Magnus didn’t have the spark to placate Rodimus; he was right, everything was going disastrously.

“WHIRL IS DYING. CHROMEDOME IS ALL KINDS OF MESSED UP. REWIND BLAMES ME FOR WHATEVER REASON. SWERVE IS SUICIDAL AND (Y/N) IS MISSING. Please tell me you have something that might help fix this mess?”

“I do not,” Ultra Magnus replied quietly. He had never felt like such a failure. Under his watch, everything had gone wrong. The Magnus armour was getting heavier every day; he didn’t deserve to wear it.

“FRAG! WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO? SHE COULD BE IN DANGER. THE ROD POD’S TRACKING SYSTEM IS FRAGGED. THE CREW ARE FURIOUS. THEY HAVEN’T BEEN THIS MAD SINCE-”

“OUT OF THE WAY, COMING THROUGH,” Nightbeat’s voice called in the corridor as he weaved through the few bots out there and made his way into the office with Megatron close behind him.

“Rodimus. Ultra Magnus,” Megatron greeted professionally, before gesturing for Nightbeat to take over.

“I FOUND (Y/N),” Nightbeat began ecstatically, completely missing the sombre atmosphere.

“What? How?” Rodimus asked, dumbfounded.

“I watched the Rod-Pod’s ejection from the bay and followed it through the security cameras. After that, it was simply a matter of predicting several plausible trajectory’s considering that (Y/N) isn’t a pilot-”

Rodimus waved his arms, “Forget I asked. Just tell me where she is.”

Nightbeat ignored his disappointment that the big reveal had been ruined; it had taken a lot of work for him to covertly listen to all the radio stations where you might have landed and then locate you from that. “She’s on a privately owned planet called The Arena.”

“The… The Arena?”

Megatron nodded solemnly, “Yes. My research tells me that they capture stray Cybertronians and-”

“Don’t tell me. They put them in the arena ‘cos they think that’s creative… Primus, that’s annoying. All right, plan time. We change course, go to The Arena, break in, rescue (Y/N) and make everything go back to normal. Any questions?”

Megatron took a moment to consider the plan, “How-”

“No? Great. Then let’s go. We’ve got work to do.” Rodimus transformed and drove out of the office to head to Brainstorm’s lab. He had brushed it off with his usual casual demeanour but just like everyone else, he was furious that anyone would want to hurt you. If he was going to rescue you, he would need weapons; the morally-grey kind that Brainstorm made.

Swerve sniffled, feeling pathetic as coolant that he couldn’t wipe away under his constraints dripped down his front. Yet another failed suicide attempt to go on his record; he couldn’t even do that right. He remembered the last time he had done something so drastic, when you had come to save him from himself; you had probably only married him out of pity. Despite the depressing thought, Swerve found himself unable to believe it. You had married him because for some reason that he didn’t understand, you loved him. The two of you had spent one year married and it had been the best year of Swerve’s life. When you brought up the idea of sparklings on your anniversary, Swerve couldn’t believe that life could be any better, and now after all of that you were gone.

Although Swerve longed to wallow in self-pity, he couldn’t help thinking of Chromedome. It seemed that his last conversation was finally sinking into Swerve’s processor. What was it he had said exactly? Swerve vented air through his systems, calming himself so he could isolate the memory file.

“YOU NEED TO KNOW ABOUT (Y/N)!”

While it was true that Chromedome could have just said that to stop Swerve from ending his life, there was also a slim possibility that Chromedome really did have new information about you.

Swerve kept replaying the memory’s audio, listening for the truth. As a bartender, he liked to believe he was good at separating lies from the truth, but when the other bots were sober, he wasn’t very good at it.

“(Y/N)…” Swerve whispered your name, wondering what he might not know about you as of that moment.

What if you had come back and he was wallowing in his cell, too wrapped up in himself to know about it? It wasn’t possible. If you were back, it didn’t matter what state Swerve was in; he would have been taken to you. Unless…

Swerve struggled to sit up, his processor racing with endless possibilities pertaining to your fate. What if he hadn’t been taken to you because your new body was failing? What if you were dying and Swerve wasn’t there? What if he was the only one that could help you?

Unbalanced as he was, Swerve managed to stand up. He started kicking at the door, yelling as loud as he could.

“HEY! GET ME OUT OF HERE! TAKE ME TO MY WIFE! TELL ME WHERE (Y/N) IS!”

Swerve didn’t pay much heed to what he was saying. All he cared about was getting to you, no matter what it took.

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[emy-loves-you]

(Slightly) Less Useless, (Definitely) Gayer Chapter 4

Confronting the Princes

Chapter 3 | Masterlist | Chapter 5

Warnings: Some of this is in the POV of a predatory transphobe, so a lot of bad things will be mentioned (also, as I post this I realize that the first few lines could be seen as discussions of animal cruelty, no animals were harmed or considered being harmed in this fic)

“Okay, but wouldn't it get a little bit drunk?”

“No. The Carassius auratus would surely suffocate before it could become intoxicated. Besides, the chances of it even ingesting any liquid before dying is slim.”

“Ooh! Would it be like hotboxing, but with death?”

“I am not sure what ‘hotboxing’ means.”

“I’ll have to show you later!”

Virgil sighed as he entered the room. “You’re not getting Logan high.” Remus and Logan were sitting on the couch, debating something. Virgil pushed down his jealousy. Debating wasn’t exclusively between Logan and Virgil. Besides, Remus tended to discuss topics that made Virgil… uncomfortable, to say the least. Speaking of which…“Do I want to know what you’re talking about?”

Remus bounced lightly in his seat. “I was wondering what would happen if you put a goldfish in a tank filled with vodka.”

Ah, so a tamer topic this time. Virgil shrugged, heading over to the couch. “Mind if I listen in?” Remus shrugged, and Logan held out his arms. Virgil (a little too eagerly) accepted, moving to sit in his boyfriend’s lap. Logan’s arms moved to wrap around Virgil’s waist as he rested his head on Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil sighed, closing his eyes as they continued their conversation on drunk fish.

As the conversation continued, Virgil allowed his mind to wander. It’s been one month since Virgil confessed to his boyfriends. Not much has happened, surprisingly. Any time Virgil’s boyfriends weren’t busy, they’d all hang out at Janus’ house. Virgil was relieved to see everyone getting along, especially Remus. Remus’ intrusive thoughts and insecurities made him uncomfortable to go out in public alone. Virgil was happy that Remus was developing a positive relationship with Patton, Logan, and especially Roman.

Speak of the Devil. Roman suddenly knocked on the door. “I hate to interrupt, but breakfast is ready.” Remus squealed, running to the dining room. Logan and Virgil followed at a more subdued pace. It was currently almost noon, so it was more like brunch than breakfast, but it’s the thought that counts. Today was the 5-year anniversary of Janus and Remus’ relationship, and Janus wanted to celebrate by cooking breakfast for Remus. Considering the fact that Janus has never cooked a single meal in his life, this meant a lot. Janus had spent the entire morning attempting to make something edible with the help of Patton and Roman. Virgil decided to stay out of the kitchen, not wanting his own anxieties and possessiveness of Janus’ kitchen to cause interference.

Everyone took a seat at the dining table as Janus and Patton entered, each with a tray of food. There were buttermilk pancakes, eggs, and bacon. Janus took a seat next to Remus while Patton sat next to Virgil. They ate in relative silence, with the occasional compliment to Janus’ cooking (sure, the bacon was burnt and the pancakes were in multiple pieces, but it was good for Janus’ first attempt). Eventually, everyone finished eating and quietly talked amongst themselves. Logan and Roman were arguing over how to properly eat a pancake. Remus seemed determined to kiss every square inch of Janus’ face, making sure to whisper something in Janus’ ear between every kiss. Virgil and Patton watched quietly, holding hands underneath the table.

Bzzz Bzzz Bzzz

Roman looked at his phone and paled considerably. Logan glanced at the phone and sighed. “Just ignore it, Roman.”

Remus looked up. “Ignore what?” He looked over at the phone and read the contact name. “Why are they calling you!” He looked furious.

Roman huffed, shoving the phone away. “They call me once a month to try and convince me to stop being gay. They constantly call it a ‘phase.’ And according to them, the only reason I’m gay is that I thought it would magically bring you back somehow.” If it wasn’t such a serious conversation, Virgil would’ve snorted at the jazz hands Roman sarcastically made at ‘magically.’

Remus stared at the phone in silent fury while Janus got out his phone. He entered a number but didn’t hit call, just watching Remus. Virgil watched as Remus turned to look at Janus. Remus bit his knuckle as he looked at the phone. Janus showed him the number and raised and eyebrow. Remus sighed and brought his non-bitten hand to tug at his hair. Janus gently removed the hand from Remus’ hair, rubbing small circles into Remus’ wrist. Remus stared for a few more minutes before sighing. “We’re gonna need time to get ready.”

Janus smiled softly. “I know. I’ll help get everything together.”

Roman sat up, grabbing his phone as it stopped ringing. “Get what together?”

Remus turned to Roman with a shaky smile on his face. “Have you ever been in a limo?”

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Barbara Prince was surprised to hear a knock at the door. Today was both Barbara and her husband’s day off, and the two of them were in the living room. Barbara was dusting the mantel, while John was watching some sports game that Barbara didn’t care about. Barbara hummed a small tune as she set down the cleaning supplies and went to answer the door. She made sure to take her time; if someone wanted to talk to her that badly, they could wait a few minutes. Now, who could it be? Almost everyone is out on vacation right now.

Barbara Prince did not gasp at the sight of Janus Williams outside her house, thank you very much. Barbara never believed that she’d ever meet such a prestigious (or wealthy) individual. If Barbara wasn’t a faithful wife, she would’ve swooned on sight (never mind how Mr. Williams is several decades younger; after his mother died, Barbara’s sure the man would enjoy an older woman in his life).

If Mr. Williams noticed the staring, he didn’t say anything. In fact, all of his attention was turned towards the other man on the porch. The other man was also fairly attractive. He and Mr.Williams were both wearing form-fitting business suits with green and yellow accessories. The man seemed uncomfortable, biting his lip (which only drew attention to his face- or more specifically, his mustache).

Barbara snapped herself out of it, finally noticing that she’d been staring at the two of them for an improperly long amount of time. She gave Mr. Williams her best smile. “Hello. How may I help you fine gentlemen?”

Mustache Man slightly cringed before taking a deep breath. “Hello, Mother.”

Barbara froze for a second. “Roman? Oh, sweety! It’s so good to see you!” She quickly wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the way he tensed up “I see you took my advice, and I’m so proud of you!” She let go of him, only to pinch his cheek. “Look at you, all dressed up for business! And I see you know Mr.Williams.” She turned to look at the man in question, who’s face had stayed neutral the entire time. “I hope my son hasn’t been too much of a handful.” She giggled at the irony, hiding her smile behind her hand. After years of disappointment, one of her children were actually paying off!

Mr.Williams cleared his throat. “I believe we’ve reached a bit of a misunderstanding.” He made a gesture behind him, and Barbara finally noticed the vehicle parked on the street. Is that a limo?! The back door opened, and four men stepped out. The first man Barbara didn’t recognize; he wore a similar outfit with purple accessories. Barbara fought back a sneer at his shaggy purple hair. The next two people took her a moment to recognize; they both wore glasses and their suits each had sky blue or navy blue accessories. Barbara didn’t bother to hide her sneer when she recognized them. Logan Croft and Patton Morale. Roman’s ‘boyfriends.’ What are THEY doing here. She smirked. Maybe they’re here to apologize for all the shit they convinced Roman to put me through. I’ll let them grovel and beg for forgiveness. Barbara was so distracted by Croft and Morale, she didn’t even notice the last person until they were already on the porch.

Roman!? Barbara turned to look at not-Roman. The man chuckled nervously, biting his lip again. “It’s been quite a while now, hasn’t it, Mother?”

Barbara found herself freezing again. “Rebecca?”

Rebecca tensed up while the man with purple hair hissed out, “That is NOT his name!”

John chose that moment to approach the door. “Honey, who’s at the door?”

Rebecca took a deep breath. “I have just come to say a proper goodbye. You never respected my wishes to be a man, and you never respected Roman’s wishes to love who he wants to love. But we are both living happy and successful lives without the two of you. I ask that you never try and contact me or Roman from here on out. Good day.” With that, Rebecca spun on her heel and went to walk away. Mr.Williams touched Rebecca’s elbow and whispered something in her ear. Rebecca nodded once before walking away with Roman and his boyfriends in tow.

Mr.Williams smiled at Barbara and John. It reminded John of the smiles Barbara used to give the gay men who lived down the street. It reminded Barbara of a python, poised to strike. “If I may come inside, there is something that I would like to discuss with you, Mr and Mrs.Prince.”

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Virgil watched from his seat in the limo as Janus was forcibly shoved out of the house, the door slamming shut behind him. Virgil had to physically restrain Remus from getting out of the limo. Janus quickly brushed himself off, muttering something that Virgil couldn’t hear. He quickly made his way back to the limo, giving the simple order to take them home. Whatever he told the Princes, he didn’t share with the rest of them. Virgil watched as Remus and Roman curled up together. The two brothers were uncharacteristically quiet, with Remus rubbing small circles into Roman’s hands.

Roman suddenly grabbed Remus’ right arm. “Do you remember?” The rest of the question went unsaid. Whether because Roman didn’t want to talk much or because it was an obvious memory, Virgil didn’t know.

Remus chuckled softly. “Yeah. We climbed the old oak tree in the backyard. You fell out and I tried to catch you and suddenly my arm broke from under your fat ass.”

Roman nodded. “Do you remember what you said?”

Remus tilted his head. “I said a lot of things that day. I specifically remember that day being the first time cussed that bitch out.” He smiled softly. “But I don’t think that’s what you’re talkin’ about. Can you be more specific, Ro?”

Roman sighed. “You said that we would stick together. That you would never let me fall alone.”

Remus’ smile grew. “Yeah, ‘birds of a feather’ and all that. Why’d ya ask?”

Roman took a deep breath. “Does that still apply now? I know I pushed you away and it’s been so long but-”

Remus pulled Roman in for a hug. “Roman, you are my brother. You mean the world to me. I’m sorry I left you alone. But I promise that we’ll stick together from here on out.” We gave Roman a shaky smile. “Twins forever, right?”

Roman laughed, tears forming in his eyes. “Yeah, twins forever.”

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst @whatishappeningrightnow @idont-freaking-know @cute-and-angsty-princess @artsy-enby09 @girl-who-reads @drarrymalecsolangelo @count-woe-laf @im-an-anxious-wreck @ent-is-undecisive

[bedbellyandbeyond]

Mystery Baby Theatre, Part 5

(Short Story Post, 5/6)

“You think I have something to do with this?” Dusty asked, hands on his hips. “The nerve…” “We’re not accusing you. You’re just the only demon we have on file,” Korsy explained. When the agent got the family to APID safely, they got them set up in the hospital wing and called Dusty in while Carlos waited outside with his kids. He’d been at home putting his son to bed when he was called so he’d had to drop Grey at his other father’s house quickly before popping into APID. Now he stood in front of Reggie’s hospital bed, glaring at Korsy. He was in no good mood. “I am a succubus,” Dusty said. “This is clearly the work of an incubus.” “What’s the difference?” Korsy asked. “Aren’t succubi supposed to be female?” Reggie asked. He was set up on the exam table but the doctor wasn’t here yet to look him over. Dusty seemed to only get more ticked off. “Demons don’t have sexes. The latin ‘succubare’ means ‘to lie beneath’. It literally just means I’m a bottom. And looking at all those children lined up outside, I could say you’re more of a succubus than I am.” “Are you calling me a whore?” Reggie growled. “If the shoe fits…”

“Hey, none of that!” Korsy said. “Dusty, I get it. You’re tired. We pulled you away from your son for this. But we need your help if you can give it. Do you know what's going on with him?” Dusty crossed his arms. “I don't know much about incubi. What I do know is that they’re terrible testosterone junkies who couldn’t care less about anyone else and always try to get what they want whenever they want. So, I imagine, whatever one that’s after you wants that kid.” Reggie shook his head. “No, we made a deal.” “What deal did you make?” Dusty asked. “What did you give in exchange for this child?” “He asked me to sacrifice a goat in his name,” Reggie said. “So, I found one on Kijiji and did it. It was really really gross…” “So, he just wanted a goat?” Korsy asked. “Hard to believe…” “Naw, goats are pretty powerful…” Dusty said. “But this is an incubus we’re talking about. He’s probably found a loophole. What exactly did he promise?” “He gets the goat, I get to keep the baby,” Reggie said. “Simple as—” He suddenly doubled over, clenching his stomach. “Ahh… Ow…” Korsy was startled. “Are you okay?” “Y-Yeah, I…” Reggie grimaced. “…Just a bit of pain…” “You’re going into labour, aren’t you?” Dusty said. “No, I’m still a month from due,” Reggie said. The lights suddenly shut off and the room got cold. Reggie suddenly let out a scream of pain. “Oh god, it hurts!” Dusty and Korsy’s eyes took a moment to adjust but soon they could see. Reggie was still balled up in pain, but there was now a puddle of black liquid pooling under him. “Your water broke,” Dusty said. “You are in labour.” “I’ll get the doctor,” Korsy said leaving the room. As he did, Carlos came in. “What’s going on?” Carlos asked, blindly trying to find his partner in the darkness. “It’s too early…” Reggie whimpered. “Your partner’s in labour,” Dusty said. He grabbed Carlos’s shoulder and directed him to Reggie’s side. “I don’t think this is a coincidence. I think your incubus is forcing you into labour.” “You think right,” a deep voice said. Everyone was startled by the sudden strange voice. Dusty suddenly saw him, a tall dark shadow standing in the corner of the room, a huge grin on his face. Reggie screamed out in pain again. The contractions hurt ten times more than any of his other pregnancies and he was in absolute agony. The stranger looked over at Dusty then tilted it’s head slightly. “Succubus? What are you doing here?” “I’m just… I’m just helping,” Dusty said, feeling his body tremble in the presence of a much stronger demon. The other stared for a moment. “…Darathan?” Dusty lowered his eyes. “Who’s asking?” “Thaungal.” He raised a hand, forcing Dusty’s chin up again. “Don’t be rude. Look at me when I’m talking to you.” Dusty whimpered, feeling the incubus’s invisible strength holding him up. “I’m sorry…” “You’re wanted back home,” Thaungal said. Dusty shook his head stiffly. “I’m not tied to home…I was bound…” “You’re not bound anymore.” Thaungal shrugged anyway and let him go. “What do I care. You’re not worth much…” Dusty immediately teleported away, leaving the humans in darkness alone with the incubus. Reggie was still clutching his stomach, his labour progressing quickly. Carlos was trying to soothe him, rubbing his back and whispering to him, though he was also frightened out of his mind. “Reggie…” the demon said in a low voice. “The child is ready for you.” He waved a hand over the labouring man, forcing his body flat against the exam table, his arms and legs out as if restrained. Reggie shrieked in pain, his body tensing in agony. He felt like he would faint from the sheer pain. The child within his stomach writhed and squirmed as if trying to rip out. “Oh, it’s alright,” Thaungal said. “I’m here for you.” He placed his hand down on Reggie’s belly and the hell spawn calmed down. The pain in Reggie’s body ebbed and he was able to regain his breath. “You promised…” he cried. “You promised not to take my baby…” “I promised you could keep it,” Thaungal admitted. “But I’ve decided I want it. But I won’t go back on my word. You can keep your child but I’ll take both of you.” “No!” Carlos yelled. “You can’t take him!” “Oh, can’t I?” Thaungal chuckled. “Perhaps you’d be right if you were married to him. But you’re not. Therefore, he can be bound to me.” Carlos threw his torso over Reggie’s body. “¡Demonio! ¡No puedes tenerlo! You can’t have him!” Thaungal let out a boisterous laugh. “Human, you’re very funny to think you have any power against—” Thaungal suddenly jumped back, narrowly missing the edge of a blade being swung at him. Dusty had reappeared with Korsy and the doctor, Sydryn, the former brandishing knives. “Stay away from them!” Korsy barked, holding his blade out to Thaungal. “Syd, take care of the patient!” “Obviously,” Sydryn huffed, moving over between Reggie's legs to check him. Thaungal eyes narrowed on Dusty. “You traitor!” “I work here, asshole!” Dusty said. “You don’t get to come to my job and just do whatever the fuck you want!” Thaungal started to approach Dusty. “You little—" Korsy lunged out in front of Dusty, slashing his knives towards Thaungal, the catching the incubus across the chest and making a shallow gash. The demon hissed, swiping a clawed hand at the agent, but Korsy ducked out of the way and countered with another slash of his knives. The demon dodged it easily and chuckled, but Korsy caught him off guard with a swift kick to the gut. What should've been a harmless kick for an incubus of his strength turned out to be fatal however and Thaungal staggered backward, black blood seeping out of his wounds. He looked at himself then glared at Korsy. “...You...” Before he could finish his sentence, he disintegrated into dust. The lights flickered back on and Korsy stood there panting. The grip on Reggie's body was lifted and he was able to relax a bit though still subject to his contractions. “What just happened?” Carlos asked, unable to have seen everything that had transpired. “Did you kill him?” “He did,” Dusty said. “But he shouldn't have been able to... Not with a kick...” Korsy caught his breath then slammed a fist against his knee. His right leg fell out of his pant and he picked it up, showing off the blade coming from his prosthetic. “Dark elf blade. Good for killing...bad things. Still sharp enough for everybody else too so watch out.” “Scary...” Dusty said, though he was a little turned on. “...You have my number.” “Thank you...for getting rid...of Thaun...” Reggie panted. “But I'm still...in labour!” “Right. Syd, how's he doing?” Korsy asked. “Crowning,” Sydryn stated. “Reggie, another big push.” Reggie grabbed his ankles and pushed hard. “Oh shit, it's almost here!” Carlos pulled out his phone and started recording, going around beside Syd to get a good angle. “You can do it, mi amor!” Reggie pushed harder, screaming in pain, and the head came free. He eased up and panted, tears streaming down his face. “Humans film these things?” Dusty critiqued. “Strange...” “Get out if you're not helping!” Reggie growled before starting to push again. “I concur. Darathan. Korsgaard. Out,” Sydryn instructed. “Köbi’s watching the children. Replace him and send him in.” Dusty and Korsy stepped out quickly and were replaced by the curly haired young man. Köbi stood ready by the doctor. “What do you need me to do?” “Prepare for the baby. Ready a blanket,” Sydryn said. “Ahhhhhhhh!” Reggie bore down with all his strength. Sydryn reached around the baby's head and helped guide it out. Finally, with a rush of more black amniotic fluid, the child was born. She was completely grey and squirmed in the doctor’s hands. “¡Una niña!” Carlos said happily. “Reggie, she’s so cute!” Reggie however didn’t respond. His energy was all drained and the pain had been unbearable. He was fighting just to stay conscious. “Reg?” Carlos dropped his phone and grabbed Reggie’s hand. “Reggie, stay with me!” “Köbi, take the child,” Sydryn said, being quick to cut the umbilical cord. “Quickly.” Köbi did as told, taking the newborn and wrapping her up in the blanket. Carlos pushed back his partner’s hair, watching as his consciousness faded. “Is Reggie going to be okay?” “He’s lost a lot of blood. If we don’t treat this immediately, it could be fatal,” Sydryn stated. “No!” Carlos’s voice shook. “Do something!” “I am.” Sydryn had already begun manually removing the placenta. “I suggest you go outside and take care of your children.” “I can’t leave him here!” Carlos sobbed. “I need him!” “I am no longer suggesting. Step outside, sir, or you will be forcibly removed.” “I can’t go!” “Köbi!” Köbi handed the newborn over to Carlos. “Trust us, okay? You have beautiful children to look after.” He placed a hand on Carlos’s shoulder which helped soothe the man. Carlos nodded and stepped outside. “Köbi, stop the bleeding while I get an IV,” Sydryn asked. “On it.” Köbi placed his hands on Reggie’s sternum and closed his eyes.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

[dawnrider]

Fluff/Angst #8 "I'm never letting you go" has some clear InuKag tones

    You're absolutely right, Anon, it does! Sorry it took me so long to reply to this prompt. It's been 🍌🍌 around here, and not the fun kind.

@lemonlushff, @fantastiqueparfait, @clearwillow, @mamabearcat, @sarah-writes-stories, @lavendertwilight89

Working Title: Instinct

“Yash... we found her.”  The words continued to ring in his ears.  He was breaking all kinds of traffic laws to make it to the lab, but he couldn't care less.  They'd found her. Missing for nearly four months, gone without a trace of any kind for him to follow, Kagome had fallen off the earth.  His best friends – her best friends – had no idea what happened to her and had continued to help him search when most would have given up.  Another almost red light, another squealing turn... Inuyasha thought back on his conversation with Miroku barely ten minutes earlier.

    “Yash.”

    “Yo, Monk.  What's up?”

    There was a long pause.  “Yash... we found her.” Inuyasha didn't need to ask who “her” meant.  There was only one person in the whole world that he would possibly care enough about for the monk to call him.  His heart stuttered.

    “Why don't you sound...  Is she...” he couldn't even finish the question.

    “No, she's alive.”  Again that terrifying pause.  “She isn't exactly herself, Yash.  But she's alive.”

    Despite his fear as to what Miroku meant, he didn't want to find out over the phone.  “Is she at the lab?” As soon as he heard the affirmative response, he was out the door and into his car.

    Now he had time to think about what Miroku said and it was making him more and more worried.  Not herself.  What the fuck does that mean?  Had something happened to her?  Obviously something had happened or she wouldn't have disappeared for four months, but he had held out hope that it was her choice, that she'd removed herself and not been forcibly removed.  What if someone had kidnapped her and he hadn't done enough to find her?

    The steel walls that surrounded them were daunting to him, he couldn't imagine how she felt.  “Why in the name of all the known kami can't I see her?!” He was losing his patience. Not that he had much to spare in the first place.  They had taken him into an examination room, asked him a bunch of questions about his history with Kagome, taken a million blood samples, fingerprints, the lot.  He couldn't get anyone to tell him why or what was going on with Kagome or even how she was. Finally he had Miroku in front of him and he was telling him that he couldn't see her?!  The monk had to be losing his mind if he thought that was going to fly. “Fuck this, I'll see her and I'll see her now.” He tried to push by his friend without hurting him which resulted in a restraining ofuda being placed on his chest.  Immobilized, he snarled and growled.

    “I wish I could let you see her now, Yash.  I do. But there is something strange going on and I don't think you're ready to see her.”

    “Monk, you explain to me exactly what is going on, right now!” he rumbled darkly.

    Miroku hesitated a moment before releasing a deep sigh.  “Let me finish before you interrupt.” Inuyasha snorted impatiently but agreed.  “Kagome came to us. She was dressed a little raggedly but she was unharmed. She was lucid... for a little while.  Then suddenly she was snarling at the doctor and even growling at me.” Miroku raised a hand when Inuyasha was clearly about to interject.  “I know what you're going to say. Kagome isn't a youkai, but she sure as hell was acting like one. She isn't possessed or infested either.”  Miroku paced a few moments before facing the inuhanyou he had immobilized. “I wish I could let her tell you this on her own, but she is rarely with us long enough to get out a few words before she slips under again.  We've been sedating her to keep her from hurting herself or anyone else...”

    “What the hell is it?”

    “Yash, she's pregnant.  Very pregnant.” The silence surrounded him like water and he felt like he was drowning.  “We had to run tests to be absolutely sure, but we know the pup is yours Inuyasha.” The feeling of being unable to breathe nearly made him swoon.

    “Take this thing off of me.  I have to see her.” When Miroku didn't jump to the task immediately, Inuyasha snarled.  “Now!” A moment later he was free and he made his way to the holding facilities. It was easier than he would have thought to find her, the snarling and growling of a female inuyoukai easily discernible.  But his Kagome wasn't an inuyoukai bitch... she wasn't even youkai! She was a miko for kami's sake. “Let me in,” he demanded at the door. The video screen beside the door lit up with Miroku's face. “Miroku, I mean it.  Let me in or I'll break the door down.”

    Both of them knew that was next to impossible, but they both also knew that he would die trying.  “Alright. I'm warning you, she hasn't recognized anyone she knows when she's like this.”

    “Somehow, I think I'm different.”  The door slid open slowly, revealing more or less what his ears had told him he'd find.  Kagome was restrained to the bed with padded wrist and ankle cuffs. There was a restraining band across her chest to keep her from thrashing around too much and she was clearly furious about it.  Not that he could blame her. Of course, seeing her as she was, he couldn't blame the monk for restraining her either. “Kagome, it's me.” She stilled at the sound of his voice and her eyes shot to his face.  Inuyasha stepped into the room and heard the door slide shut behind him. As he stepped closer he could see that her eyes had somehow become golden rather than the brown he knew.

    She seemed wary of him at the very least, her eyes focused completely on him.  Obviously aware of how vulnerable she was in her position, she lay completely frozen.  When he took a few steps closer to the bed, she growled lowly at him. Inuyasha, unlike the others, understood her meaning.  “Don't come closer.”

    “I'll stay right here.”  Her golden eyes blinked at him, her head tilting slightly in acknowledgment of his concession.  “Kagome, you need to remember who I am. I can get you out of here, but you have to remember who I am... who you are.”  Again she blinked at him, as though she didn't understand what he was asking of her. He tried again, in inuyoukai this time.

    “Can't remember,” she whimpered, tossing her head.

    “I'll let you out of the bonds, ok?” he told her, showing her his hands the whole time.  She jumped at his touch, more brown entering her irises for a brief moment. Inuyasha released her ankles first, then the chest restraint and finally her wrists.  He watched her carefully for any attack, but she simply slid over the opposite side of the bed and peeked at him over the edge. With the small glimmer he had seen before, he got an idea.  “Let me help you,” he wuffed at her, slowly approaching her around the bed and offering her his hands to help her to her feet.

    A zip of youki nearly singed his hands when he reached for her.  “Inuyasha!” she gasped at the direct contact of his hands on her skin.  She nearly collapsed but he caught her against his chest. The roundness of her belly, which he had ignored up until this point, pressed against him insistently.  “Inuyasha,” she whimpered, tears coming to her eyes.

    “Hush, I got you.  I got you.” He gently rocked her in his arms and growled softly to comfort her.  “Where were you?” he breathed into her hair, taking in her scent. “We've been looking for months.”

    “I... I've been in the woods.  A cave. I felt drawn there.” She hiccuped a sob.  “When I felt that the baby would come soon, I was conscious long enough to come here and have them lock me up.”

    “Conscious?  You... you aren't aware of what happens in between?”  He had never heard of anything even remotely similar to this kind of psychosis.  Kagome had somehow not only developed some kind of second youkai personality, a form of youki of her own, but she was caring for herself exactly like an inuyoukai bitch would when breeding.  “It's alright, you're safe here.”

    Kagome let out another soft whimper.  “I'm aware. Just not in control.” She took a deep breath before pushing slightly back from his chest.  “You need to talk to her... me... when I'm like that. I can't explain what happened because I'm not entirely sure.”

    “In inuyoukai?”  He knew that she had already spoken to him in his native tongue before, but that was a very primal and clear command.  Could she be capable of more in-depth conversation? “Are you sure?” he asked instead. Kagome nodded and he let out a small breath in resignation.  “Alright. But I'm not going to let you get hurt.” He lifted his head and pinpointed the camera in the room with a stare. “I need a bunch of pillows and blankets brought in here, piled in the corner.”  There was no response but several minutes later there was a knock before the door slid open. Miroku held a high stack of blankets, pillows and comforters. “Just throw them there.” Inuyasha motioned to the far corner.  He waited for the monk to toss the pile down and leave before hauling Kagome into his arms and carrying her to the corner.

    “What are you doing?” she asked in a small voice.

    “Inuyoukai nest when breeding.  The youkai side of you is feeling vulnerable in this room and it's the closest we're going to get to a den.”  Kagome's eyes were wide with nervousness, her fingers grasping for any holds they could find on his shirt. “Don't worry, Love,” he murmured in her ear, “No matter what, I've got you. I'm never letting you go. Not again. Not really.”  Tears filled her eyes at his words, but she nodded and allowed him to let go of her. Almost the moment he was no longer in contact with her skin, her eyes returned to the gold that marked her alternate mind. She whimpered and curled into a protective ball, moving as much of the soft material surrounding her into a protective shell.  “Easy, you're safe here,” he rumbled to her. Her eyes lifted to him once more, obviously sizing him up or trying to recognize him.

    “Mate,” she whined after a moment, lowering her gaze.  He affirmed her realization which seemed to relax her considerably.  “The pup will come soon. This is no place for birthing.”

    “No, you're right, it's not.  We'll go home for that.” Inuyasha took a deep breath.  “What happened? Why did you go to the forest?”

    “Cleaner, safer.  No one could hurt me.”  Her explanation, while simple, explained a lot about how she saw the world in which Kagome lived on a daily basis.  Kagome's job put her in contact with a lot of youkai and humans, some sick, some injured and some violent. She was the first line for the clinic which was a part of this complex, so others could safely treat the people who were brought there.  Some humans were possessed, some youkai were possessed. There were illnesses that even youkai could contract and injuries received that didn't heal because of miasma or jyaki. Kagome removed or solved any spiritually related problems before allowing the patients to go on to the other doctors.  The inuyoukai personality knew those things were dangerous to a growing fetus. “You were not there.”

    Inuyasha balked at the accusation.  “I am always here,” he growled.

    “Your scent was stale in my home.  I did not know where to find you,” she growled back.  “I found the den you built and I waited for you.” The den he had built...

    “Holy fuck,” he spoke aloud, golden eyes wide.  “You went there?” he huffed incredulously. “I showed you that cave years ago.  I haven't even been there since then. You remembered that, but not my apartment?” he grumbled.  The look on her face made it clear that her ears would be laid back in shame if she'd had them. He wuffed softly to apologize, wanting to touch her, but knowing he would lose the inuyoukai.  “You stayed safe, that is what matters, and you are here now. We will go home to my den and our pup will be born in safety,” he assured her. She watched him silently for a while before the gold faded from her eyes until he was left with only the dark brown gaze of his love.  “Kagome,” he breathed.

    “Is... is she gone?”

    Inuyasha breathed out a sigh.  “I think so. Do you understand what happened now?”

    “Kind of.  I can't understand the language, but I see the images as she's speaking.  She thought my job was too dangerous while I was pregnant,” she murmured.

    He didn't want to upset her further, but he softly explained that he agreed.  That had he known she was expecting, he would have asked her to take a sabbatical.  Any of the doctors in the clinic would have told her the same. “Using your powers daily like you have to there and the strain of handling all those patients would have been dangerous for the pup.”

    “I didn't know,” she admitted.  “I honestly didn't know I was even pregnant until I started feeling strange, like I was missing parts of my day.  Then, before I could tell you, I found myself in that cave and I didn't know where I was or how I got there.”

    “The hormones from the pregnancy and the youki from the pup must have influenced you.”  Strong youki, he mused silently and worriedly.  He knew that many things about the situation were not right.  He understood now why they had taken so many samples, to check and recheck the paternity results.  Inuyasha was a hanyou, a hybrid. In theory, naturally fathering a child should have been very difficult.  Clearly not true.  On top of that, Kagome was a miko, which meant her spiritual abilities should never have allowed her to be dominated by any youki, even that of her unborn child.  Which led to the main issue he was concerned about. The pup was only a quarter youkai, which should have meant any youki he or she might have would be minimal at best.  Also clearly not true.  “I'm going to get you home, alright?”  She only nodded, fingers clenching tightly in his shirt.  “We need to contact your family. They've been worried sick.”

    “Oh kami... My mother,” she gasped.  “Are they alright?”

    “Obviously upset, but everyone is healthy.”  A tiny grin quirked the corner of his mouth at her sigh of relief.  It was so like Kagome to be so worried about her family. “I haven't had a chance to let them know you've been found yet.  We'll call them on the way home.” Kagome nodded against his shoulder, still burying her nose in the crook of his neck and scenting him from time to time.  He only held her closer to his chest as he approached the door, staring into the camera lens. It took a few moments, but the door did open for them.  

    Miroku was on the other side, anxiety in his features.  “Kagome,” he breathed in relief. “We're all so glad to have you back.”  Kagome lifted her head to look at her long-time friend. She gave him a tentative smile.  “Are you sure you...”

    “Leave it, Monk.  I'm taking her home, that's final.”  Miroku opened his mouth to protest, hesitated and then closed it again.  Bowing his head slightly in acquiescence, he moved aside. “Do me a favor.  Call your wife, let her know where we're going and have her bring a box or two of Kagome's things.”

    “None of my things will fit me,” Kagome reminded him softly, again drawing their attention to the very round expanse of her belly between them.

    “They will once the baby is born and I'm sure you'd like to have a few of your own things around.  Sango is at your mother's with the girls. Perhaps you could speak with her when you speak with your family.”

    Inuyasha only gave a nod before making his way as quickly and smoothly as he could out of the lab and into the parking garage.  He didn't think she would relapse into her youkai state, but he figured it would be better if they were somewhere she felt safe if it did happen.  He settled her into the front seat, helping her stretch the seatbelt around her.

    He finally allowed himself to take in the complete change.  Crouched beside her, he lay his head on her rounded belly, his ear quickly picking up the strong heartbeat of the pup.  His pup. Against his will, tears came to his eyes. His beautiful Kagome had come back to him, come back to him near to bursting with his pup growing within her.

    The tentative touch of her fingers on his head pulled him up and he finally looked her in the eye, really looked at her.  “I was so worried,” he murmured. Kagome's eyes filled with tears.

    “I thought about you all the time, even when I was like that.  Every day I looked for any sign that you had found me...”

    “Gods, Kagome, I'm so sorry.  I never thought to look there.  There were no trails to follow, nothing to tell me which way to even look.”

    “But you kept looking, didn’t you?” she breathed.  Tears trailed down her cheeks as she gently touched his face.  The look in his eyes was enough to let her know he never would have stopped looking.  “I’m so sorry I worried you.” He sighed, pressing his forehead to her belly and breathing with her for a moment.

    “Let’s get you to your mom.  She’ll be glad to see you’re safe.”  Kagome let out a sigh, pulling him into her for another kiss before releasing him to lean back against the seat.  The inuhanyou closed her door and made his way around to the driver’s side. He took a fortifying breath himself before getting in.

[shutupandshipit]

One More Surprise - Oneshot

Summary: Post battle, Aizawa reflects on his newly graduated students ...... Really, just a plot bunny of a drabble.

Pairing: Bakudeku with background Aizawa/Toshinori

Rating: T

Notes: I have no idea how to summarize this drabble. This is the shortest thing I've written in literal years, and the only reason I did write it was so that it didn't become a plot bunny in the middle of my current projects.

Either way, enjoy angry/protective Midoriya because Aizawa sure didn't.

The plan wasn't supposed to go so utterly sideways. Not that plans were ever supposed to go sideways, but sometimes, it all worked out. Often times when he was with All Might or Present Mic, an inverted plan would invariably work out somehow. This time, it hadn't. This time, the plan had been well and truly fucked.

Aizawa didn't really want to think about the things that had caused the near failure of the mission. The only reason it wasn't a failure is because they'd caught the villain and no one had died. Yet. No one had died yet, but they weren't out of the woods. Well, no, not they. All Might, Present Mic and himself were fine for the most part. Present Mic had ruptured a vocal cord, but would make a full recovery. All Might had gotten caught in the path of a descending blade, but it hadn't hit anywhere vital. He was going to be fine. Aizawa had sustained the worst damage of the three teachers, a broken arm and a knife through the eye. He already knew before they got to the hospital that he'd lost the eye while All Might's filled with blood to mimic his own, but his arm would just need time to heal. The worst they would feel would be the echoes from their pairs' that had gotten caught in the ensuing battle.

No, not they. Their students were far from being okay though.

Sitting at Bakugou's bedside, watching the young man's chest rise with labored breaths from several broken ribs and a repaired lung, he couldn't help but think of how close they'd come to losing him. How close they still were. He'd been in and out of surgery for the past sixteen hours, and each time they seemed to find something else wrong. The first had been to amputate the remainder of his leg, hanging off by only a sinew of muscle, mutilated and infected beyond saving. He'd nearly crashed because his lung collapsed during the surgery. The second surgery to repair his collapsed lung and broken ribs had led to the realization that the infection had entered his body and was beginning to cause organ failure. Several courses of antibiotics and a healing quirk to reverse the infection later, and they'd found several bulging discs in his spine and a spinal fluid leak. That had required yet another surgery.

Post third surgery, Bakugou still hadn't woken up, and now they were worried that his head injury was worse than they'd first thought.

Then there was Midoriya, sporting a missing arm, a ruptured spleen and his own head injury. He'd come out of his surgery without more issues, but as far as Aizawa knew, he hadn't woken up.

Aizawa sighed heavily, slumping further in his chair. They'd really fucked up this time.

Of course, Midoriya and Bakugou weren't their students any longer, but they'd only just graduated. How had they come so close to dying right after graduation? Before they'd found their mates? Really been heroes? Aizawa and the others were supposed to protect them and guide them into that new life.

Instead, he had a whole host of injured post-grads and two in critical condition.

He inhaled deeply, rubbing at his forehead. "My stupid trouble kids," he muttered.

Bakugou shifted on the bed, groaning quietly. "Deku. Deku. Where's Deku?" he muttered restlessly.

Aizawa dropped his hand, staring at the teen to see if he continued, but he seemed to settle back down though he was panting harder than before. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on Bakugou's shoulder. "He'll be alright. Worry about yourself right now."

As he pulled back, there was a commotion out in the hall, and he sighed again knowing somewhere in his bones that the commotion was about to be in the room with them.

'Kacchan! Where is he? Kacchan! Kacchan!'

'Midoriya-shounen, you need to calm down. You only just woke up, and you are still gravely injured. Please, restrain yourself. Bakugou-shounen is not in any state for visitors,' Toshinori said calmly, but as loudly as ever, trying unsuccessfully to calm Midoriya down as he stormed down the hall.

'I'm not going to calm down until I see him! Kacchan! Kacchan!'

Aizawa stood on exhausted limbs, walking to the door and pulling it open to step into the hall. His eye socket was throbbing beneath the gauze, and looking at Toshinori's blood filled eye only made it hurt that much more.

"Midoriya-" Toshinori's head snapped up as he noticed Aizawa at the end of the hall, and before he could stop him, Midoriya whirled around. His face was red and purple, one sleeve of his hospital gown flapping as he marched towards Aizawa.

He stared at Aizawa desperately as he stopped in front of him. "Sensei, please! Let me see Kacchan! Where is he? They told me he almost didn't make it through the last surgery, and he's still in bad condition. Please! I need to-" He inhaled sharply, dropping his chin to his chest as the tears finally spilled down his face. "Please, just let me see him. I need to talk to him, and then- And then-" Sniffling, he rubbed at his face.

"He's not awake yet, Midoriya. Even then, you two should wait until you're more healed-"

"No!" Midoriya burst out again, glaring up at him with the expression of an omega going feral, "It can't wait! I need to talk to him now, even if he's not awake! He'll hear me. I'm being polite here, Sensei, but I'm not asking. I'm going to see Kacchan even if I have to force my way in."

Aizawa wrinkled his nose as the defensive and protective pheromones Midoriya was pumping out, a potent mixture after the events of the day. It was as if Midoriya was protecting his...

Aizawa sighed, staring towards the ceiling as if asking the gods for help. "If he wakes up at any point and you two start fighting or you are too rough with him, I will forcibly remove you from the room." He hadn't even finished speaking when Midoriya ducked under his arm into the room. Toshinori stared at him in confusion as he huffed and turned to follow the teen. "He's only going to get worse if we don't let him see Bakugou. Better to get it over now," he muttered in reply.

Just inside the door, Midoriya was crying harder than before and had collapsed to his knees. "Kacchan, Kacchan, no," he sobbed, crawling across the floor to Bakugou's bedside. "You're so stupid. Why did you push me out of the way? Why? Why? Why? Kacchan-" His voice had dropped into a keening whine as he pulled himself to his feet with his remaining arm and pressed his forehead to Bakugou's shoulder. His fingers twisted into the blanket resting where Bakugou's leg should have been.

When he pressed his nose into Bakugou's neck, Bakugou's heart monitor jumped to a steadier, healthier beat.

Aizawa and Toshinori glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes.

"Stupid, stupid idiot," Midoriya murmured before suddenly pulling back again. The tears on his face were fresh, a continuous stream, but his expression was one of determination as he leaned over Bakugou. His mouth was full with his canines. For an omega, they were abnormally large, almost the length of an alpha's.

Aizawa had to keep himself from stepping forward to pull Midoriya away. He wanted to see what was really going on because clearly there was. Something neither he nor Toshinori had realized in three years.

"You can't die, Kacchan, do you hear me? You can't die!" Midoriya yelled into Bakugou's face, merely inches from his nose, "How are you supposed to become the number one hero if your dead? How are you going to leave our pup without a father or an alpha? Did you hear what I said, Kacchan? I'm pregnant, and you're about to leave them!"

Aizawa and Toshinori nearly snapped their necks looking at each other this time, feeling the same sort of shock. "Jesus Christ," Aizawa muttered under his breath as his dropped his head into his open palm, "You've got to be kidding me."

Midoriya was still yelling. "You're going to let an extra kill you? You're better than that! I'm the only one allowed to take you out of this world! I'm your mate, and I'm telling you that you're not allowed to die! Do you hear me? You're not. You're not. You're not." Midoriya's voice died away again, replaced with his sobs as he dropped his head back into the crook of Bakugou's neck.

The heart monitor jolted again, Bakugou's breathing picking up just the barest amount.

"Fucking trouble kids," Aizawa growled, staring at the pair. He wasn't sure how he hadn't seen it, not just their mate bond, but the clear as day claim mark on the back of Midoriya's neck right where Aizawa's own was. He hadn't smelt a difference in their scents or sensed a shift in their bodies. He supposed that was because they were already so close when they came to him even if there was a rift the side of the Pacific Ocean between them to begin with.

"Come now, Shouta, we used to be like that too," Toshinori murmured under his breath, subtly shifting closer to Aizawa.

"We were never like that," Aizawa said in a monotone, glaring at the pair. Even so, he traced the scaring of his claim mark with the tips of his fingers.

Bakugou's hand had come to rest on the back of Midoriya's head while they weren't looking, and Midoriya was staring down at him like he was seeing the stars for the first time. "I'm not going to die, you one armed nerd," he croaked, breath wheezing between his lips, "It's going to take a lot more than a D-lister to take me out." He was grinning like he didn't know there was an audience. "You're pregnant?"

"Yeah," Midoriya sobbed, mouth twisted into a painful smile, "Yeah, I am. I made the doctors make sure they were alright."

"How long-"

"A month. I could never find a good time to tell you. I'm sorry. I was scared."

"Shitty nerd, you don't have to be scared of telling me that." Bakugou huffed out a groan of pain. "That son of a bitch didn't kill me, but it sure feels like he fucking did."

"Nearly, trouble kid," Aizawa said, and Bakugou turned hazy red eyes to him, "You've had three surgeries already. You have a lot of rest and healing ahead of you. Same with Midoriya, and apparently there's a third that needs that rest as well. So, cut this heartfelt reunion short, you two. Midoriya, you need to go back to-"

Bakugou's warning snarl was deep and strained. "He's not going anywhere," he growled weakly.

"Bakugou-shounen, be reasonable-" Toshinori began, but Midoriya's own snarl joined Bakugou's in a chorus of complete unreasonableness.

Aizawa threw his one good hand into the air, turning towards the door. "You're not actually my students anymore. I don't have to keep an eye on you anymore. Do what you want. Get in trouble. Get yelled at. I don't care. Just remember you two are literally missing limbs, and one of you had a ruptured spleen just a few hours ago." He stepped out into the hall, Toshinori following fretfully behind him.

They turned just before closing the door, and the pair had already gone back to staring at each other adoringly.

"They're going to rip off a nurse's arm," Aizawa groaned, staring at the ceiling again.

"They'll be fine," Toshinori murmured, scratching at the back of his head.

Aizawa looked at him. "Spit it out, Yagi. You look constipated."

"Did you ever think about having pups?" he asked after a moment.

Aizawa turned, heading towards the nurse's station before answering. "I was too old when I finally found my mate," he said without looking over his shoulder at said mate. Stopping at the desk, he glanced over his shoulder, "Plus, we already have too many troublesome pups as it is." Toshinori was grinning as he turned to talk to the nurse.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

The Greenland Incident

The post I typed up got deleted on Reddit (!!!) So I’m reposting here. :)

It’s a bit long but has the story written from professor Schneider’s POV. Enjoy!

This is taken from Dragon Raja III: Part I Chapter: Shadows of Greenland.

Schneider took off the oxygen mask and moved his face into the light. Even as he smoked cigarettes, he was on oxygen. When removing the oxygen mask, he will carefully hide his face in the shadow so this is the first time Manstein saw Ned's (Schneider's) face. It's a horror movie mask. The face is a nightmare, the flesh and blood under the eyes are completely dry, only a layer of dry skin is stuck to the bone, the lips and nose are atrophied, and the front teeth are directly exposed.

"It's ugly isn't it? Actually, I am only 37 years old this year but I have the half century old face of a mummy. When the students hear my cough, they think I am an old man in my 50s. But I am even younger than you." Schneider said, self-deprecating.

Manstein shivered slowly: "How can this be?"

"This is the mark left by a mission," Schneider said. "That was 11 years ago, when we first heard a heartbeat signal from the deep sea."

"This (The Japan sea mission) is not the first time we have found embryos in the sea?" Manstein was taken aback.

"No, No. Eleven years ago, that was in Greenland. We found a similar embryo." Schneider spit out a complete smoke ring. "You might have guessed it. I was talking about the  unresolved case in the Greenland Ice Sea. The dive team was annihilated, but the school board ordered all files to be sealed and the investigation was forcibly terminated. If you want to hear this story, you have to be patient, because this story is very long, and please order Norma (EVAs human personality) to leave this room. You with a black card now, you can do it."

"Why should Norma leave?"

"Because Norma doesn't know. The so-called top secret cannot be stored in the system or the drives. It can only be stored here." Schneider tapped on his forehead. "After listening to this story, you can't say a word. You can't even write a memo for yourself. This is a rigid rule of the college. You can only remember every detail I said firmly as far as you can. If you forget it, there's no remedy."

"What happened 11 years ago, can you still remember every detail of it now?"

"Of course, I can." Schneider said quietly. "That was the only trip to hell in my life. How could I forget?"

The icy cold permeated from Schneider's words. Manstein felt that when he mentioned something that happened 11 years ago, the ugly and powerful man in front of him ignited his anger, an anger restrained for 11 years.

"Norma, leave this room and leave the two of us alone for a while." Manstein said.

"Understand that, starting now, the central control room will be outside of my monitoring range for 15 minutes." Norma said.

All the equipment n the central control room stopped running, the cameras and recording equipment were locked, and the lights went out one by one. Norma left and the surveillance was lifted. At this moment, the central control room was independent of the campus, and the shadows of the trees swayed on the high windows, which looked like the depths of an ancient church.

"It was the autumn of 2001...." Schneider slowly began to narrate.

"It was the autumn of 2001. A person with the ID named 'Prince' posted a message on the Internet saying that his tugboat had caught strange bronze fragments deep in the Greenland Sea. He posted a photo and it seemed that there were some intricate ancient characters on them. These characters were completely consistent with the 'Ice Sea Bronze Column Tablet' secretly collected by the college."

"The Ice sea Bronze Pillar Tablet is considered to be a rare artifact that has been passed down from the Dragon Age to today. It once stood in the dragon-kin built cities. The dragons are accustomed to using pillars to record their history and the center of the city is always a huge pillar standing upright. However, the icy sea copper column tablet is only a part of a column that had broken and it is estimated that it is less than a third of its original length. It is the most detailed dragon text material that humans have found to today, recording the war history of the dragon clan, but we still can't interpret it because there is no text for comparison. Those texts are just meaningless patterns for us."

"I was just a young assistant professor at the time, keen to interpret Dragon Words. I think if there is another copper pillar in the depths of the Greenland Sea, then the comparison of the above text may be able to interpret the true history of dragons. So I contacted the 'Prince' anonymously, saying that we were an ancient writing research institute and hoped to purchase these fragments."

"At that time, someone offered an amazing price, but the Prince expressed that he was willing to donate the fragments to research institutions instead of selling them to merchants. He sent the fragments to us without taking any money, and attached the coordinates of where he found them. We immediately sent an elite team to scan the seabed with sonar. We originally hoped to find a huge pillar on the seabed, but we caught a strange heartbeat signal right on the seabed."

"The Greenland Ice Sea is not as deep as the Japanese Trench. Large animals like beluga and tiger sharks live in it. So we didn't think it was a dragon embryo at first. But we observed it for several months. Nothing moved. We had to focus our attention from the pillar to the heartbeat signal. This was too strange. If the thing is a whale or a shark, then it should hunt around. If it is a giant turtle of unknown species, but dormant, then its heartbeat shouldn't be so strong. 

Someone put forward an amazing idea, that is: it is the embryo of a dragon. The seabed is its burial ground, it has experienced death, and cocooning and then reviving turned it into a fetal state. It is undergoing a long incubation.

"The idea was too bold, but the heartbeat signal was too strange and too tempting. Everyone of us was fascinated by this speculation. Since the establishment of the Secret Party, we have only received one dragon embryo, which is a weak one out of three generations. Dragon blood lines are already weak. If we can get a strong embryo, analyzing it can help us learn more about this ancient life."

"So you decided to dive?" Manstein asked.

"No, we weren't so rash. Because everything is just guessing. The safest way before a human goes is to send out a remote controlled submersible to survey the area. But whenever the underwater robots approached the seabed, they would lose control. We recovered the underwater robots and found that their circuits somehow burned up. This added to the evidence that the thing on the seabed was an embryo of a dragon. When an elder dragon is said to be in the process of incubation, a certain field will be developed to protect themselves. People who step into this field will have fatal hallucinations. Biologically speaking, the hallucinations are all because the cerebral cortex is stimulated, and the cerebral cortex is most easily stimulated by an electrical current."

"So the electric field of embryos burned the robot's circuits?" Manstein said.

"We thought so. We didn't want to send people to dive. If it is indeed the embryonic field that burned down those robots, then the impact on the cerebral cortex would be terrible. Even though all my students are A pedigree, I'm still not sure if they can fight against the field of embryos. In the hallucinations created by dragons, only the most powerful hybrids can maintain self-awareness. Any gap in the psychological defense line will be crushed by the hallucination. This has been recorded in the archives of the secret party." Schneider said. "But this time the school board intervened. They ordered us to dive as soon as possible to confirm the target. Their reason was that we could not wait for the embryo to hatch. At that time, even if it was risky, we had to act."

"Diving was the decision of the school board?"

"Yes. Today they sent you to stop the Caesar Team Embryo dive, but they were the creators of the Greenland plan back then."

"Under pressure, we made a dive plan. We purchased the most advanced diving bell from Germany at the time. It was a kind of all-metal diving equipment. Metal is an  excellent conductor. It can form an electrostatic barrier and should weaken the embryo field. Everyone in the dive team was to wrap their whole body with a fine metal mesh and took nerve tranquilizers orally. They are all the best hybrids. We thought they should be able to resist the interference in the embryonic field after they were fully armed. There were six people in the group. If one person had a problem the other five could force him to evacuate. In order to kill the dangerous embryo we also made a special underwater rifle for the dive team, using bullets polished by the Philosopher's Stone which is lethal to dragons."

"Although they were going to perform a dangerous mission, the students were still excited. Young people are fearless and they had the opportunity to get lose to a dragon embryo, which was as exciting as the opportunity to visit the Kingdom of God."

The weather was unexpectedly good on the day of the dive. The six members of the dive team went down on three diving bells. I provided support on the ice. At first, everything went smoothly, the ocean current was calm. The marine life was calm. They even observed beluga whales. But when the depth reached 170 meters, the leader of the dive team suddenly yelled in surprise in the communication channel, saying that they saw a gate. This is very strange because the seabed in that area is 300 meters deep, and their depth is 170 meters, which means that they are still 130 meters from the bottom. Visibility was very low. But at this point, they saw this gate. Is there a gate suspended in the middle of the sea?

"I became alert and worried that they had strayed into the embryonic field and had begun to have hallucinations. They excitedly discussed the gate in the communication channel. This is completely against the rules of communications. They should not talk about it in the communication channel. This channel is for essential communication only to avoid misunderstandings. I loudly ordered them not to approach the gate. I wasn't sure if it really existed but my instinct told me that the gate should not be opened."

"But they completely ignored my orders. I only heard their hurried muttering and strange noises. It was like someone was breathlessly reading a certain scripture in a deep well. Then the team leader spoke and yelled, "The gate is open! The gate is opening!" Then, "No! Don't Go in!"

"Then the gunshots were heard, loud. I could hear them paddling and the sound of their respirators. They had left the diving bell and were fighting with something. The situation was very chaotic. Someone shouted in the channel but because of the current interference, I couldn't hear what they said."

"I originally told the diving team not to leave the diving bell, because the electrostatic barrier in the diving bell is their important protection, but why they violated my order... there's no perfect explanation. After five minutes, the communication was cut off. We could no longer receive signals from the depths of the ice sea. I decided to forcibly recover the diving bells. Those diving bells are connected to the ice breaker with safety lines. However, we recovered the safety lines, only to find that the safety lines were cut with diving knives. The cuts, judging from the fibers, were made by the diving teams own knives. They cut the safety lines themselves."

"I was frantic and decided to dive down to rescue them. There were no more bells, but I was confident in my physical fitness. I could dive to 300 meters without protective gear. I could dive to 170 on one breath. When I reached the waters where the incident occurred, there was no gate nor were their corpses. The water was clear with no trace of blood, even though I clearly heard the gunshots in the communication channel. At that time, the surrounding water temperature had dropped below zero. It was so cold that any disturbance in the water would form ice crystals."

"I then noticed something behind me that had been silently swimming with me!" "The predator was so cautious to keep itself from being discovered by me. But the super cold seawater was  formed a thin film of ice in front of me and it reflected the light on my diving helmet. I saw its dark shadow in the thin ice, just like the totem on an ancient mural. It was slender, its long and thin tail swung slowly in the sea, like a butterfly in flight. I heard a sound and my spotlight stopped working from the cold and I was surrounded in completely darkness. I thought I was going to die. The embryo had hatched. It killed my students! It was behind me but I can't do anything about it."

"Desperation brings out courage. So I remembered that I was still holding my underwater rifle. All the special ones were handed over to the dive team. I only had an ordinary one filled with ordinary bullets. But I can't sit and wait for death. So I turned and took a shot in the dark."

"I then saw blood. I had actually hurt it!"

"How can an ordinary rifle harm a dragon? That thing was only used by divers to kill sharks and can't even kill a large shark. And you were too far down for it to work effectively." Manstein said.

"I can't answer that, but there was a strong smell of blood penetrating the seals of my helmet. I wasn't injured. The dragon was." Schneider said.

"I could clearly feel it right in front of me. I and the injured dragon are facing each other in the dark, very close. But I still couldn't see it."

"It hissed at me and in an instant my oxygen mask shattered into pieces, and the cold current rushed into my air supply carrying with it, the dragon's blood. I lost consciousness."

"My companions heard my screams and brought me back up from the water with a safety cable. When the water rushed out, I was frozen in a piece of the sea ice weighing several tons. Like a fish frozen at a market."

"Fortunately, the rescue helicopter arrived in a few minutes. After I woke up, the doctor said that I had suffered from the extreme cold. I danced with the god of death and inhaled that cold air it breathed out at minus 200 degrees. It necrotized my face, the temperature of my brain dropped and my blood was frozen. My chance of survival should have been non-existent."

"The doctor tried his best and managed to save my tongue. But I must wear an oxygen mask at all time, and change the plastic trachea every two or three years, otherwise my respiratory system will fail and I will die."

"I used to love hand rolled cigarettes, but this box of shredded tobacco is what I have left over from 11 years ago and I haven't finished smoking it. I only roll one cigarette occasionally to smoke when I am reminiscing about that period. I remember the past more clearly. I assure that every detail I said is true, because I dare not forget. These memories are painfully carved into my mind."

"We were unable to successfully capture or kill that dragon. It is still alive, hidden in the deep sea of the world, looking for opportunities to surface. A few hours after the incident we used diving robots to explore again. The fish disappeared quietly in the ice sea and no trace was found. We explored the seabed but did not find embryos or copper pillars, as if everything we experienced was just a nightmare that disappeared when we woke up. A few years later, a marine minding company found a wealth of manganese in the seabed and build an offshore mining platform. Today there are thousands of marine miners working there. Nothing supernatural happened again, until not long ago, we observed exactly the same heartbeat signal deep in the Japanese Trench."

[skipping down because they talk about other things]

"Only one in 100,00 people can evolve safely after being in contact with the blood of an elder dragon. I was actually one of the lucky ones. I was able to survive the bottom of the sea because it had already begun to increase my potential. But I am not a person who is fully able to accept dragon blood. My body is riddled with holes. strengthening me while destroying me. I have endured the pain for 11 years. The most likely in the college to turn into a Death Servitor is not Chu Zihang, but me."

"I'm not afraid to dive, but my body can't bear it. Now sitting in front of you is a dying patient. Were it not for the dragon blood's corruption, I would have died already."

"Does the principal know?"

"He knows. The college has formulated a special medical plan for me. I change my blood every year, but the dragon blood can never be cleared. I'm not sure how much longer I have left." Schneider knocked on his heart. "I have an explosive device the size of a pacemaker right next to my heart. Once I lose control, it will explode. I will suddenly fall to the ground and it will not be of any trouble to you."

"Must you be so cruel to yourself?" Manstein whispered.

"People who are cruel to others must learn how to be cruel to themselves. Otherwise they are just cowards." Schneider said slowly, "many people think that I would never perform assignments after the Greenland incident. That I would shrink back into my research. Because of that incident, I lost six students and I am the way I am now. They thought that a person who survived hell should value their life all the more."

"But I chose to be the director of the executive department. I am the last member of the Greenland team. Those young people whose lives were blooming like flowers died. And I survived. If I were a stupid coward, wouldn't that be ridiculous?"