#severa writes

Sometimes authors rise from the dead when you leave comments on their abandoned fics! Like I just did when someone dropped a comment on my old Yashahime Rewrite AU, which has been neglected for about 3 or 4 years...

Maybe I'll keep updating. Maybe I won't. I have no idea where I was going with this thing, but the format is fun and easy. You tell me if I should keep going!

Remember, kids: commenting on fics matters!

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PART 11: KAGOME

PART 1—6 || PART 7—10 || FOLLOW AND READ FULL SERIES ON AO3

Before morning, Kagome wakes with a good sort of pain in her back. The type that only comes from sleeping on ancient cots, laid out on ancient floors, when your back is decidedly modern and not fit for ancient living.

It's comforting.

But she lays there as the room sleeps on, all her daughters and neices and nephews snoring. It's still early. Not yet dawn.

Night reigns.

She doesn't know what woke her. Her dreams were muddy and unclear, filled with ghosts and the cold remembrances of Kikyo.

(Kikyo, holding a clamshell of rouge. InuYasha had given it to her. It had belonged to his mother. He was so very sweet beneath that hard exterior.)

Of another time. A time before another time, and then a time after that.

Of white petals on the breeze and miasma bleeding into the air. Of the wind breathing for the first time.

She turns her head.

Beside her, laying innocently on the cold stone floor, is a seashell. A clam.

Kagome is suddenly very awake. She jolts upright, grasping at it with weary fingers.

She knows what it is. Her dream. Kikyo.

It looks the same. Seems the same. But it couldn't be—no, InuYasha had told her about it. It had broken.

It had broken.

So what was this?

Kagome knows in an instant it isn't rouge—when she opens it and sees the makeup inside, a sort of power eminates from it. Something she had only felt in Tessaiga, so very long ago.

Strength. Power. Sorrow.

But it's a question for another time. Kagome places it away with her things. She tries to keep it safe.

She dozes off on the ancient floor, in her ancient bed, and the world is strange enough that she forgets that her daughters aren't idiots. She also forgets that they're just as foolish as Buyo, climbing trees he can't come down from out of curiosity.

What wakes her next is the nightmare.

The nightmare that becomes reality.

It's the epic burst of power she used to feel from InuYasha when he lost control of himself, overwhelmed by demonic blood.

Rage and anger and power, lust, greed, blood, and red, red, red, red.

That power wakes her from her dead sleep.

But now it's not InuYasha losing control.

The first had been when he'd seen his Mother cry for the only time in his long life—on the night of the death of the Inu no Taisho.

(When the world had resumed, he was a child no more.)

The second had been when InuYasha, six-years-old and orphaned, bloodied, and dirtied from digging his mother's grave, had grabbed his hand with broken nails and begged him for help.

(When the world had resumed, he'd turned him away.)

The third had been when a woman he'd nearly loved had become the wind.

(When the world had resumed, he was fundamentally changed.)

The fourth had been when he'd held his daughter in his arms and watched his Mother retrieve her soul from Hell.

(When the world had resumed, he'd remembered feeling grief for the first time in five hundred years )

The fifth was now, when the moon was high and the wind was silent, that Sesshomaru felt the world begin to slow. When something happened to gain his full attention, making everything around him fade to black, and he caught the scent of something on the air that would change everything.

Blood. Miasma. Green. White. Black. Purple. Red. Blood. Blood. Iron and blood.

He found his daughters beneath a weeping willow tree and saw Kagura's eyes in them. He felt Naraku's power in the ground, like a ghost haunting abandoned grounds, and found spider scars on their backs to prove his own sanity. But they had the face of his father—and his father before him, and his father before him—and Sesshomaru knew all the way down to the marrow in his bones that these children had the blood of his clan.

He did not know how. He did not know why. He simply knew, and that was enough.

It would always be enough.

by @loveyou-x3000​ & @heavenin--hell​ for @inuparentsday​ 2022

The Inu no Taisho warns his lover of the war to come.

Rated: M Words: 1360 Pairing: Inu no Taisho / Izayoi

A short story to celebrate InuParents Day 2022! Even if we are a little bit late. 😅 This is a half-written, half-comic ficlet with a very open ending to let your imaginations run wild. Enjoy!

READ ON AO3

~

There was something about the horizon that still brought Izayoi hope. 

In the last hours of daylight, she always found herself watching the sunset. As the sun turned its back on the world and the colors of fire burned their way across the great expanse of the sky, Izayoi watched its blues turn red, then orange, and then yellow and pink, comparing it in her mind to the way autumn swept through a summer forest. And she, in turn, would shed her colors, trading them for a singular white robe in the same way that the sky traded its colors for darkness. It was two turns of the day happening at once: the sun going to sleep, and a noblewoman turning away from the burdens of her day.

If she could even be called a noblewoman, anymore.

The world had changed and that change had come violently. Her father’s castle-fortress, which had been taken and built on the sweat of his brow and the blood of his men, had once been a stronghold for mortal power and might in the region. Situated on a small island that was surrounded by water and neighbored to the East by high cliff faces and a sleepy, profitable port-city, it had been said to be impregnable. Land armies were bottlenecked by the paths, sea armies were faced with the obstacle of choppy waters, and the castle itself was protected by natural defenses that were fortified with walls, towers, and soldiers. A single drawbridge entrance controlled the flow of people that came to and from the grounds. Here, her father had built his power and might. A resplendent castle of ivory and blue had sprung up as though one with the land, and Izayoi had loved it with every inch of her heart. 

Until the skies had fallen on them. 

That was their weakness: the sky. Yokai of flight had been their end. Like meteors, they’d descended on the palace in the dark of night, and Lady Tomoei of the Southern Sky had taken the palace by force. Only women of worth had survived: noblewomen, servants, and pretty faces had been spared as spoils of war, and Izayoi had been torn from the corpses of her family to be tucked away as a treasure. Lady Tomoei, with her crooked face and twisted smile, led an army of bird-creatures and yokai with ambitions to expand her lands–and this fortress, situated so close to the West and yet not in its bounds, provided a strategic position.

Yet, despite it all, Izayoi did not hate the sky. Now, situated for the night, hoping no man or general would have a reason to call upon her, she sat on her futon beside the window and folded her arms on the sill, watching as the stars began to appear. Here, in the darkest hour of dusk, she gazed upon the sky because it gave her comfort. 

Because when the sun disappeared, the moon arrived, and the moon always brought with it the possibility of a kind guest.

That guest had been given the title of the “Dying Sun in the West” by the bird youkai she was now surrounded by. It wasn’t that he was actually dying, of course; the Dying Sun was very much alive, but Lady Tomoei said that Death always followed in his wake. She coveted him because of it–desired him, his power, and his influence, hoping to make him hers the same way she wanted to make him her ally.

So if she knew that he had a certain fondness for Izayoi, the results would be disastrous.

Izayoi knew the Dying Sun. She knew his name was Toga, that his preferred title was the Inu no Taisho, and that he was renowned among youkai and humans alike. She knew him well–so well, in fact, that he let her say his name without honorifics, and preferred that she said it when their bodies were one and her body was unbound.

In the beginning, she’d seduced him with the hope of escape. But now…

Well, she’d never meant to fall in love.

When her father had lived, he’d taught her to use both her mind and beauty as weapons–not one over the other, but both, because those were the only weapons she had. She had taken that advice to heart. Serving Tomoei, she’d heard how the Inu no Taisho was feared. She’d heard the stories of his conquests, of the rivers that had run red in his name. She’d seen the evidence of his power, but she’d also seen his wandering eyes when he’d visited. She’d felt his gaze on her and known she could bring him to heel. He was just a man, after all. No matter how great he was, he shared the same weaknesses all men did.

And she was woman enough to conquer him.

But where he was ruthless, he was kind. Where he was terrifying, he was mindful. He listened to her when she spoke. He kept her warm. One second he was fucking stars into her eyes and the next he was holding her, soothing her, wiping tears from her eyes and caring. Or pretending to care, anyway.

It was enough.

In the beginning, she’d hoped that he would fall for her ruse. She hoped that one day, she could ask him to spirit her away from this terrible place and escape Tomoei’s grip. But now, she didn’t know what she wanted. She didn’t have ambitions to take her lands back–she was only one person, after all, and a woman at that–and she had nowhere to go from here. A part of her yearned to stay with him.

The other part of her said she was stupid to dream.

But what mattered most was finding freedom. That she and every other victimized woman here were given a second chance at life, if she could manage it. That was more achievable than revenge–more achievable than survival, even, because she knew that one day their novelty would wane. These yokai would be more interestested in satisfying their hunger than enjoying a mortal’s servitude or submission.

When the last bit of sunlight left the sky, Izayo rested her chin on the cradle of her crossed arms. Toga had said he’d be back tonight. There was only a sliver of the moon in the sky, giving him ample darkness to travel in. Their trysts were done largely in secret–a few visits too many and his peers would grow suspicious that he was doing more than simply using her. 

She hated that she didn’t care. She hated that she yearned for him in his absence.

But then he was there, waking her up from a doze with a hand on her cheek. He was floating outside her window, silver and shining in his onyx armor and she felt herself smiling, felt her hands moving on their own to touch his face, and then his lips were on hers. His tongue was in her mouth. His fingers were in her hair and he was in her room–her awful, terribly, tiny dungeon of a room–and he was already putting her on her hands and knees, cushioning her with his pelt, stripping her of her robes. Leaning over her back, and quickly divesting them of their clothes. He was warm and soft and powerful and oh–oh, he was there, hands on her, inside her, around her; body plunging into hers, melting and desiring and devouring. She was lost in him in seconds. Her world was all hot breath and strong hands and him, him, him, him, him…

It was over before her heart had stopped aching, but his embrace was enough to soothe her pain.

In time, they had parted. They’d coupled again and broken apart, relaxing on either side of her small room so they could see each other in full. He leaned against the wall that framed her lonely window as she came to join him again, silent and pensive.

“What is it?” she asked, because there was a storm in his eyes.

Sesshomaru is used to people dying around him. He does not age as others do. He is immortal, so far as he knows. He will outlive Rin. He will outlive Jaken. He will likely outlive his own mother, and he knows he will far outlive his half-brother.

He is powerful and he is endless.

So he lives in the present, not the past, and watches the mortals around him rise and fall. He sees Rin grow. Blesses her marriage to Kohaku.

And it is at that marriage ceremony that he sees his half-brother look at Rin and tilt his head. Sees him scan his eyes over his friends, who are aging and laughing and smiling.

He looks at them, and then he looks at his wife.

Kagome, who has not aged.

Kagome, who will not age.

She is not accustomed to the curse of immortality. She did not expect to bear that burden. Yet she does, and Sesshomaru watches it happen; watches her struggle and scream against time, which has somehow forsaken her.

And soon, it takes everything from her.

Soon, her friends are gone.

Sooner than expected, so is her husband.

A quick little fic based on this prompt. Enjoy some creepy SessKagu feels for halloween! Read the whole ficlet below the cut. Also, if Riku can be a horn, anything is possible...

Happy Halloween!

Rated: M || Graphic Depictions of Violence

~~~

Setsuna did not sleep because she could not dream.

She did not dream because her family had robbed that from her.

Setsuna did not know her mother's name because her father refused to look at her.

Her father refused to look at her because she looked like her mother and always had the wind on her blade.

Setsuna was, above all things, unnatural.

She was unnatural because her parents were unnatural, and the way she had come to be was just the same.

Kagura is the wind. Her mind, her consciousness, and her heart all disintegrated and became the wind when Naraku killed her.

As the wind, Kagura can watch. She can act. She can protect. She can follow those that interest her, and what interests her is Sesshomaru.

Sesshomaru does not seem to know she's there, but sometimes she pretends he does.

(Sometimes, he looks at a rustling breeze for just a moment too long, and she hopes.)

One day, as the wind, Kagura gusts over a battlefield of dead men and remembers puppeteering the corpses of wolves.

She wonders.

She learns that the wind can inhabit empty bodies the same as a soul. (The wind is her soul; her soul is the wind.)

Kagura walks among the living again, but she walks as a corpse.

And she remembers that Sesshomaru can unmake corpses. The sword that could not save her then may be able to save her now.

So Kagura, wearing the corpse of a man, tries to find him; but he avoids humankind and their squabbles, and is too far away for this broken body reach.

The wind leaves the fallen samurai to the crows.

Kagura tries again in the body of a woman in a village not so far from where Sesshomaru travels. But humans do not take kindly to a corpse walking away from burial, and they overcome her.

Kagura tries again. And again. And again. A lord's daughter. A failed priestess. A commoner. Beautiful creatures, at first, but now she settles for whatever woman can walk free of a village. Sometimes, whatever man.

None of them make it to Sesshomaru.

Then one day, there's a woman wading into a lake, succumbing to melancholy.

Sesshomaru is not far.

So Kagura waits.

Soon, the wind breathes life anew into water-logged lungs, and then aching feet run.

And there he is.

And he stares.

And she's done it.

And he doesn't believe her.

Not until he withdraws a red-striped fan from within his armor and holds it out to her, challenges her to prove she is the wind he'd once known.

So she does.

And Sesshomaru draws Tenseiga, revives the body, summons a heartbeat, and Kagura destroys the human soul that attempts to return— forever.

The wind has a body. A human one, but it wil do, and that is enough. Sesshomaru certainly thinks so.

In time, Kagura bears him two daughters. Twins. He does not care that they are hanyo; he cares that they are hers.

But the body is weak from the strain. Rin is helpful, and so are all her former enemies, but it is not enough. The body dies, the wind gusts out from its shell, and Sesshomaru takes the children.

Kagura tries again. And she does not have to try hard; Sesshomaru slaughters a pretty young woman for her and waits, holding their children.

They are together again on the same night of her death.

A wetnurse is employed. Kagura and her human body live in the Castle in the Skies. It feels like home.

Sesshomaru's mother likes her quite a lot, and the sentiment is mutual. She wonders if one day Kagura will be able to find a demon body to call her own.

But that is a matter for another time.

When the children are old enough, they travel with him. All is well. The children are happy, they are free, and that is all that matters.

Eventually, the human body grows weak again. Sick. It perishes, as humans do, and Sesshomaru sets out to find her a new form. He leaves the children alone with the toad for two days.

When they return, one is missing. The forest is burnt black. Setsuna is inconsolable. Jaken is dead.

Kagura hates herself, but Sesshomaru hates himself more.

They live on.

Well.

Enjoy some late-night smut under the cut, everyone.

Tag List:  @liz8080 @superpixie42 @dawnrider @thebishopkate @lavendertwilight89 @sistasecbhere @thornedraven @ladycelestite @clementinesgulag @keichanz @zelink-inukag @heathersmusings @horriblehowl @animeandfilmotaku @bulba-baby @heavenin--hell @rightoveryonder @hopidoodle @itsyogirlcaitlin @digitl-art-monstr @all-my-cuffs-have-buttons @cammysansstuff @glow--bunny @cyncyn981 @nellyvampdragon @sticky-llama-perfection @karina-inuphantom @neutronstarchild @nartista @omgitscharlie @caribmiko @fawn-eyed-girl @animelove1313 @cookiethewriter @black-kit3 @sacred-arrow @four-letter-girl @inu-ndermyhead

art by @heavenin--hell (full uncensored image here)

Stormfront: Chapter 2 - Read on AO3!

After being hidden away in a lonely manor for six years, tensions finally reach a breaking point.

To finish off this story, have some father/son bonding and sweet family moments. Also, Toga in a yukata.

For first time readers, keep in mind Chapter 1 is very NSFW. Part of @inuparentsday 2021!

Preview

“Papa?”

Toga glanced down at him, squeezing his hand softly.

“Hm?”

“Do you think Sesshomaru will like me?”

He pretended to think about that for a moment.

“Perhaps not at first,” he answered honestly. 

InuYasha scrunched his nose at that, but eventually shrugged.

“Mama says I’m too cute to hate. He’ll have to like me.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, amused. His son nodded enthusiastically.

“It’s the ears. That’s what she told me.”