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blondeboyfriend · 5 months

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𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Hyakunosuke Ogata x reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This fic is @dolcezzzza's summer horror event, The Cabin! The title comes a Dum Dum Girls song which got its name from A Season in Hell by shitlord poet, Arthur Rimbaud. I'm not a fan, but each section of the fic starts with a line from his poem bc some of his prose kinda slaps. [ SYNOPSIS ] The summer camp you're working at is being terrorized by a unseen force that is picking off your fellow counselors one by one. [ WORD COUNT ] 15.3k [ CONTENT ] DARK CONTENT, cliche summer camp slasher film AU, murder/character death, gore, alcohol (binge drinking), suicide, vaginal sex, size kink (his dick is girthy okay), strength kink, oral sex, rough sex, facefucking, exhibitionism, biting.

Baptism enslaved me

The past week had been a blur. You spent seven days running around in the heat, trying to make an inhospitable boy scout camp into something inspired. Breaking it in was your duty as your group was the first of the season. The trappings of a long, snowy winter and a violently wet spring lingered around the facilities. Your arms ached from clearing out fallen branches and musty piles of decayed leaves. Your clothes were constantly mottled with cobwebs and dust. Every night when you collapsed in your twin-sized cot you debated on running through the woods towards the highway seeking salvation in the form of a kind motorist.

That’s why you hoped you would spend your last child free morning in the comfort of your cabin. And yet there you sat, listening to the camp director droned on. You melted in the midday sun with your back against a tree, a pitiful attempt to shelter yourself under its leaves.

“I’m gonna die out here,” Shiraishi, your partner for the summer, moaned.

He too was slumped by the tree, his head hanging down limply. You flicked him in the shoulder with your thumb and forefinger.

“You can’t die. Mr. Tsurumi still hasn’t told us what group we have,” you whispered.

“I think you can handle them on your own.”

Sugimoto turned his attention towards the two of you. His cheeks flushed from sitting in the sun. He didn’t seem to mind bathing in its rays.

“Can you at least pretend to pay attention like me?”

His words barely registered. You couldn’t stop staring at his face. A dusting of tan freckles spread across the bridge of his nose, elevating his boyish looks. He was the only one who got cuter after a week of hard labor.

“Sure,” you said, mind still occupied with the slope of his nose.

“Unfortunately our lead counselor will not be joining us for the first couple days of camp.” The director wiped sweat away from his brow. “I’m sure all of you have heard about Yūsaku’s unfortunate… situation.”

“We heard alright,” Usami snickered.

Yūsaku had forgotten to reapply sunscreen and got scorched from head-to-toe. The golden boy’s pained groans persisted through the night as everyone attempted to sleep. Yellow blisters ballooned on his skin, marring his pristine complexion. You tried your best not to think about his affliction.

“But I know we will persevere in his absence. I have high hopes for this summer. Let’s make it a good one.” He smiled warmly. “The campers will be arriving in two hours. Your coordinators, Mr. Koito and Mr. Tsukishima, will have your rosters and itineraries for the week.”

Tsurumi said his goodbyes and strided away to his quarters. You stood up slowly, stretching your arms above your head.

“I feel… like we’re missing people,” you said, twisting your waist. “Where’s your partner?”

Sugimoto looked around and shrugged. He was paired with Ogata, easily one of the most enigmatic people you knew.

“Well there’s Tanigaki,” Shiraishi yawned. “Inkarmat’s with him too.”

Tanigaki’s burly form crested the hill. He looked ashamed, like a puppy three seconds from getting kicked down the stairs. Inkarmat followed close behind with a cooler expression. She looked refreshed and practically glowed.

“Did we miss anything important?”

Sugimoto looked at him with big, sad, wet eyes and sniffled. “Camp got canceled. We’re getting sent home with no pay.”

“And it’s all your fault, like specifically yours,” you said with a glare.

Shiraishi mirrored your expression. “Mr. Tsurumi said your name.”

Tanigaki’s eyes briefly widened before adopting a more stern state. You knew he bought it for a millisecond.

“Am I in trouble for anything?” Inkarmat asked, laughing. She was unflappable.

“No. You’re not being held accountable,” you replied.

“Just in time for Women’s History Month,” Shiraishi added cooly.

It was June and the last time you checked Women’s History Month was in March. Inkarmat snickered and grabbed Vasily by the wrist, dragging him off towards the mess hall. The idea of going inside sounded practically orgasmic. There was zero chance you could comprehend what activities were planned for the day if sweat continued to drip down your spine all the way to the crack of your ass.

“Let’s get our shit and go, like, sit down somewhere,” you said, tone somewhat urgent.

Shiraishi nodded in agreement and offered to deal with the coordinators. He could tell you were in no position to talk to upper management. You decided to wait rather than go off on your own even though your impatience was on the verge of having a body count. Luckily neither Mr. Koito or Mr. Tsukishima seemed particularly interested in speaking to him, or any of the counselors for that matter. You were so relieved

There was a collective sigh of relief once you reached the shade. You scanned your roster, familiarizing yourself with the names listed.

“Archery on Wednesday?” Sugimoto said, voice slightly concerned. “That sounds cool, but should we really be giving kids arrows?”

“What?! We don’t have archery. We have knife throwing. Well that explains all the knives…”

“That’s not all we’re doing is it?” you asked.

“One day we’re dissecting owl pellets—Oh wait, there’s archery.”

“Do you guys have judo on Tuesday?” Sugimoto asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” Shiraishi affirmed. “And then we have Russian immersion right after.”

“Russian immersion?” you asked.

“You know, the language,” Shiraishi clarified albeit for no reason as both you and Sugimoto knew Russian was in fact a language.

“We’re doing that too,” Sugimoto said, yawning. “And wagashi making.”

Other activities listed were: friendship bracelet making and various types of yarn-based projects, mushroom hunting, canoeing, swimming, hiking and giant shogi.

Peace had fallen over the three of you. All you could hear was lilting bird calls and a burbling stream. Just as you had grown accustomed to the wondrous sounds of nature, you heard the crushing of twigs and dry leaves.

“It’s a bear,” Shiraishi whispered.

“There are no bears around here,” you said.

“Even if there were bears, Mr. Tsurumi has a shotgun in his cabin,” Sugimoto chirped.

Shiraishi sighed in exasperation. “Great because that’ll definitely save us right now from getting eaten alive.”

Despite there being a lack of bears in the area every hair on your body bristled. What if you all fell victim to a vicious wild boar attack? You weren’t even sure if wild boars inhabited the area either, but logic didn’t matter. All you knew was you didn’t want to die at camp. You didn’t want to have your flesh ripped from your body by an overgrown, ugly hog or any animal to be honest. You were too young; there was so much you wanted to do in life, so much you needed to accomplish.

“Oh. It’s just Ogata,” Shiraishi said.

Sugimoto’s co-counselor emerged from the redwoods, his expression blank and unreadable. He didn’t react to Shiraishi saying his name. It was if he intended on strolling past without saying a word. Usually you found this type of behavior tiresome and obnoxious, but he made it alluring and charming in an absurd sort of way.

“Where are you going?” Sugimoto asked.

“To camp.”

Sugimoto went to speak, but you butted in.

“You should come sit with us! We got our schedules and everything! ” you blurted out.

Your face was burning. You assumed you would’ve been smoother with your approach. Your fumble didn’t seem to phase Ogata as he took a seat right next to you, leaving zero space in between. Sugimoto was left alone on the other side of the picnic table.

“Did I miss anything important?” he asked.

Sugimoto wordlessly slid their group’s information across the table. Ogata looked it over.

“Mushroom hunting,” Ogata muttered as he ran his hand over his undercut, trying to smooth down a rogue lock of hair. “Hm. We’ll have to make sure the kids don’t pick anything toxic.”

Shiraishi groaned. “I figured everything out there would be safe to eat.”

“Wh—what do you mean out there? It’s the woods. Do you think Mr. Tsurumi combed through the entirety of it to make sure every little growth out there isn’t toxic?” you asked.

You found yourself compelled to say as many words as possible to make your presence known even if it was at the expense of your partner. It was shameful, but it was an unstoppable compulsion. Ogata’s presence implored you to take up more space. You laughed louder than you normally would. You smiled when your expression would otherwise be one of indifference. You said the things you would otherwise be too lazy to. Anything to get his attention even if just for a passing moment.

Ogata chuckled and your heart sang.

“I don’t know! Now we’re gonna have to watch them like hawks.”

“Our job is to supervise them,” Sugimoto chided.

“Excuse me for not wanting to do my job,” your partner grumbled.

You wondered how feasible it would be to get assigned a new co-counselor. Shiraishi wasn’t unlikable; you got along well enough. But you had a feeling most of the heavy lifting would fall on you.

Shiraishi rested his chin on his hand. “I just hope our kids aren’t assholes.”

“They will be. That’s just how kids are,” you laughed.

“Not if you scare them into submission.”

“Nope. Not happening. Not a chance,” Sugimoto said, demolishing Ogata’s suggestion.

“As long as we all set expectations early it shouldn’t be too bad. They just need to know what to expect from us. Kids are sedated by consistency.”

“Sedated?” Ogata asked with a smirk.

His voice, rich and gruff, reverberated throughout your body. It seeped through your skin, deep into your bones, saturating your thoughts with unseemly things. Your eyes went to his hands, something you always found attractive, only to be mildly disgusted by his dirty fingernails.

You tried to shake it off. “Domesticated. Placated. Basically they won’t act like monsters.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he replied coolly.

“We should start getting ready,” Sugimoto said.

“I guess,” Shiraishi yawned.

You slapped him on the back. “You can’t be tired yet.”

Your partner whined that he was within his right to be tired which didn’t matter one way or another to you. It was going to be a long day; you could feel it. But not all hope was lost. If you were able to get within close range of Ogata it would be more than worth it.

The horror of my stupidity

The first day went perfectly. Your group consisted of six rambunctious, but generally well-behaved ten-year-olds. Shiraishi managed to overcome his lackadaisical leanings and took a hands-on role, but still deferred to you. You didn’t mind leading so long as he wrangled the more unruly kids. His commitment set you at ease.

The next morning was a quiet one. The kids were usually placid at first. Their cautiousness proved useful while foraging for mushrooms. They kept their hands to themselves and none of them ate anything deadly. The only unsettling thing was Tsurumi’s gleeful reaction whenever a destroying angel popped up.

“Mr. Tsurumi, would you poop your pants if you ate one?” a camper asked thoughtfully.

His dark eyes lit up and he gave the child a toothy grin.

“Why yes! Diarrhea and excruciating cramps are the first symptoms of alpha-Amanitin poisoning.”

Another camper pointed out what they thought was a wild carrot only to be told by an ecstatic Tsurumi that it was actually hemlock. The kids were riveted as he detailed the horrific symptoms of hemlock poisoning. Their horrified gasps when he told them there was no antidote seemed to thrill him.

Upon returning to camp it became clear that all was not well. Shiraishi was the first to notice the white sheet draped over a humanoid shape. It was partially obscured by one of the cabins. Tsurumi’s jovial facade gave way to flat expression and he sprinted off towards the disturbing scene.

“Hey,” you whispered, tapping Sugimoto on the shoulder. “Can you guys take the kids? I’m, uh, gonna be nosy.”

Your partner stood erect beside you. “Me too.”

“No,” you hissed. Shiraishi didn’t budge. “Someone has to be with our group.”

“Why not you then?”

“Be—because I was… I was… okay. Listen—”

“It’s fine. I got it,” Sugimoto sighed. “I wanna know all the details though. If you skimp, I’ll never forgive either of you.”

Ogata cleared his throat. He herded the campers away from whatever was shrouded under the white sheet. They were all clamoring around him, wondering when they’d get to eat fruit snacks. One was crawling up his leg and another was attempting to tie his shoes together. It made your stomach flutter seeing him be so patient with them.

Sugimoto took the hint and headed towards his partner and the gaggle of children, but he stopped midway to reiterate that he wanted all the details much to Ogata’s annoyance.

Once they were out of sight you and Shiraishi crept closer to and saw Nurse Kano kneeling beside what you assumed was a corpse. She lifted the sheet and studied what was under it, her expression a twisted combination of enthrallment and disgust. She stood up slowly.

“He’s dead.”

“We should call the paramedics then,” Tsukishima said.

Koito looked perplexed. “But he’s already dead. Shouldn’t we call the coroner?”

“You can’t just call up the coroner,” Tsukishima sighed.

Tsurumi squatted by the body and lifted the sheet. The director’s curiosity gave you a perfect view.

It was Tanigaki. His face was pale, eyes wide and cloudy. His lips and chin were crusted over with banana yellow bile. A desperate cry got caught in your throat. You wanted to look away and go back to your kids. But you were frozen, lost in Tanigaki’s lifeless gaze.

“Tanigaki,” you croaked.

Tsurumi’s eyes darted in your direction before returning to Tanigaki’s body.

“Otonoshin, go call 9-1-1,” he said calmly.

Koito rushed off to make the call. Tsurumi lowered the sheet. You couldn’t believe that you’d never see Tanigaki again, that he was gone for good. You hadn’t known him long, but you grew very fond of him.

“He can’t… This isn’t happening…”

You struggled to find the words. Seeing the outline of his face under the sheet radiated a finality that ripped your soul from your body.

“I wonder what happened,” he mumbled as you both walked away. “He looked…”

“I—I can’t think about that right now. I don’t wanna think about that right now.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

You wiped your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be fine. Let’s hike to the lake or something. I don’t know.”

There was a sense of relief when you spotted the campers. You couldn’t help but smile when they broke out into a cacophony of questions regarding your whereabouts. In the midst of the excitement one camper launched a fruit snack at Shiraishi’s eye.

“You pull something like that again and I’m sending you to Mr. Tsukishima,” Ogata rumbled.

“Anyway,” Shiraishi said. “Who wants to hike up to the lake? Maybe race some canoes?”

The campers cheered and bolted in the direction of Tanigaki’s body. You and Sugimoto chased after them but they scattered like roaches. You could only stop so many of them.

“Hey! Were any of you dismissed?!”

Ogata’s voice cut through them and they immediately made their way back, heads hanging. You hadn’t expected him to be so firm with the campers. He was kind of withdrawn around the other counselors, or at the very least opaque. He mostly kept to himself though his brother was usually fluttering around him. You felt like you barely knew Ogata despite spending time with him, whereas Shiraishi and his oversharing made him feel more like an old friend or a weird cousin. As frustrating as it was, the mysterious haze that obscured Ogata drew you in. You wanted to know more about him, to pry open his soul and study its contents.

“You all owe your counselors an apology.” Ogata’s sharp gaze turned to the kid that hit Shiraishi with a fruit snack. “You especially.”

The kid looked terrified and quickly mumbled an apology. The rest of the campers groaned “we’re sorry” in unison. With the apologies out of the way the four of you prepared them for their hike.

“Look! More hemlock!” one the kids exclaimed. She knelt beside the plant, her face inches from its toxic, white flowers.

“Don’t get too close to it,” Sugimoto said, his voice like that of a concerned mother.

You could barely focus, but the camper was in your group so you felt compelled to try. “Or just don’t go around it at all. Leave it alone.”

“I’m just looking!”

“Looking that close is enough to kill,” Ogata said over his shoulder. “If you inhale the fumes, you're dead.”

This seemed to quell any remnants of curiosity. The campers spent the rest of the hike spotting mushrooms and imitating Tsurumi’s passionate infodumping. The word “creepy” was thrown around liberally. You chastised them for being disrespectful, but you agreed. His behavior made you uncomfortable, especially in the wake of Tanigaki’s mysterious death.

The lake was calm, the serenity of the scene much needed.

“Look!” a camper called out.

You thought it was cute that they were just as pleased to see the lake as you were. However something was riling them up as they made their way down to the shore. Some ran right back up the hill. Their faces paled, their eyes ripe with fear.

“Saichi, Saichi!!” one said, latching onto his arm. “Look!!”

Sugimoto crested the hill and looked down.

“Oh shit,” he said. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

“Stop swearing around the kids,” Ogata sighed as he joined his co-counselor to survey the situation. “Shit.”

“What is it?” you and Shiraishi shouted.

“Everyone away from the lake!” Ogata called out.

The kids bounded up the hill and cowered beside you, clinging to you for comfort.

“You guys, what is it?” you repeated, patting a camper on the head. “Is it something gross?”

“You could say that,” one piped up.

Sugimoto and Ogata turned to face you, but they seemed unable to speak. You freed yourself from the kids and walked towards them. Your absence caused them to swarm Shiraishi.

“It’s a body!” one shrieked.

“Um, it’s a lady!” one replied in a bratty tone.

Each step felt heavier than the last. Your body was screaming for you to turn around, but you couldn’t. You felt sick to your stomach. Kids made up stories all the time. They played pranks. Maybe they were lying.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“Maybe she’s just sleeping.”

“What are you? Dumb? She’s dead!”

Their voices were all melding into one. Everything began to blur. You knew what was coming. You knew what you were going to see. And yet you kept walking.

It was Inkarmat.

“Shi… Shiraishi. Take the ki…”

You forced yourself to look at the water, trying to ignore her putrefied remains. You leached away its calmness like a parasite. The tranquility you attempted to foster only did so much. You still felt like garbage, like you could vomit at any second.

“What is it?!” Shiraishi shouted back. “And,” he groaned, “I can’t take them all by myself!”

He was right. Being responsible for twelve disturbed children in the woods with terrible cell reception was asking for trouble, but you were too stunned to think up a plan of action.

“Ogata and I will be in the front. You and Shiraishi take the back. I’ll tell Tsurumi when we get back to camp.”

You nodded and started walking back to the group with Sugimoto. Tears welled up in your eyes as you made eye contact with a terrified camper.

“Hey! Ogata!”

He was still on the hill, staring down into the lake

“We have to go!” Sugimoto bellowed.

Ogata didn’t budge, and Sugimoto did not have the time for such antics.

“I’ll wait for him,” you said, wiping away your tears. “I don’t want the kids to see me like this anyway.”

“It wouldn’t kill them to see that you’re human,” Sugimoto said, trapping you in his gaze.

You sniffled. “Gross.”

Sugimoto didn’t have time for whatever was going on with you either. You couldn’t blame him. The kids had to take precedence. All you needed was two minutes to collect yourself and you’d be a functioning camp counselor again.

Ogata was still frozen in time. Everything was so still you didn’t want to speak, let alone move. You felt like the sound of a twig snapping beneath your feet could send the world into chaos.

“Hyakunosuke.” Your voice was soft, any louder and it would waiver.

Your legs shook as you made your way up the hill next to him. You made a conscious effort to keep your eyes on Ogata, nowhere else. You let yourself get lost in him and studied his face. You were curious about his symmetrical scars and how he got them.

“You’re not traumatized by this?” Ogata finally asked.

You thought about Tanigaki.

“Doesn’t that bother you?” he said, pointing at Inkarmat’s bloated corpse.

“Why are you asking?”

“I dunno. Curious I guess.”

Your mind went blank, but you kept speaking. “I’m… upset obviously. But I don’t want the kids to know… so… I’m—I am gonna pretend none of this ever happened and get through the week in one piece hopefully.”

“I know you can do it.”

His support did little to soothe you.

“I saw Tanigaki earlier. I saw his face. It was… He had puked all over himself and it just was so sad, like so undignified.” Ogata snorted, but you were too frazzled to comprehend it at the time. “And now that’s how I’m going to fucking remember him?” You tried to take some measured breaths. “Like was he in pain? Was he scared? Did he call out to any of us? Did he die, like, knowing we cared about him? Or did he just fucking lie in the dirt for hours, wondering why none of us came to help him?”

“Where was he?”

“His cabin. It kinda looked like he was leaving, or maybe he was going back in. He was on his back though.”

You couldn’t say anything more. You needed as much distance from the memory as possible. If Ogata wanted to know more, he would have to badger Shiraishi.

“Let’s go,” he said suddenly. “They’ll probably have to ask us a bunch of questions.”

“They? Who—”

“Maybe Tsurumi. Or his two guard dogs. Or the police. If we’re lucky maybe it’ll be all of them.”

Your bones were turning into dust, your body buckling under its own weight. You saw far too much today and said too much about it.

“Are you going to be alright?” he asked.

“I can’t move.”

You knew that in theory you could manipulate your body in such a way that would create distance between you and what remained of Inkarmat. You were practically screaming at yourself to go back to the group and embody Shiraishi’s laid back nature. But your fear was intangible, unforeseen, and there was no escaping it.

“Get on my back.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll carry you,” he said, readying himself to give you a piggyback ride.

“Are you sure?”

“Probably.”

You felt bad for giggling, considering you weren’t far from a corpse, but the lightness of it set you free. You hopped on his back and made your way through the woods, following the shrill voices of your campers.

“I’m going to need a drink after today,” Ogata grumbled.

“What do you mean a drink? I need an entire fifth to myself with one of those sport caps they have on water bottles screwed on top.”

“I can make that happen.”

Ogata said it with such ease. He was becoming the perfect distraction, a comforting beacon in a sea of blood and vomit.

I believe I am in Hell, therefore I am

You and your fellow counselors decided a night of binge drinking was needed to cope with the day’s horrifying events. Everyone traded stories. Yūsaku joined the party, finally able to walk upright without yelping in pain. He was blindsided by what happened.

“So that’s it? They’re dead?” he asked, face flushed from his sunburn and the copious amounts of watery American-style lager he was drinking.

You took a sip from a bottle of tequila. Ogata managed to screw a sports cap on top making your dream a reality.

“I don’t know. I mean, yeah. They’re dead. That’s for sure.” The alcohol had softened the blow of seeing both of their bodies. “Seeing Tanigaki fucked me up… Not that Inkarmat didn’t… It’s just, like, his was the first I saw, y’know?”

“You always remember your first,” Usami said as he wandered into the woods to relieve himself.

Yūsaku shivered and you washed away Usami’s words with an amnesia seeking gulp of tequila.

“Sucks for you though. You’re gonna have to pick up the slack.”

“I don’t mind. It’s what I signed up for,” he beamed. “The kids really liked Inkarmat though. I have some big shoes to fill.”

“I think you’ll be a hit. They might try to peel off loose pieces of your skin though.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take for the good of the camp!” he cheered.

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed.

“In a bad way?” he said, batting his long eyelashes.

You thought he was a total dork, but his optimism was infectious. Or maybe it was just your intoxicated mind being more open to suggestion. After having such a horrendous day it was nice to indulge in someone else’s dream. You knew deep down that there was no way camp would go on as planned, but it was easier to pretend that Yūsaku’s drive would be enough to pull everyone through.

“No, no,” you said, patting him on the head. “It’s fine. You’re fine.”

Out of the corner of you watched Ogata emerge from the woods and sit on the ground right next to the campfire. He held his hands to the fire. You watched as he closed his eyes, his body relaxing, shoulders lowered.

“You’re so nice” Yūsaku said, giving you a bear hug and lifting you off the ground.

It caught Ogata’s attention and he narrowed his eyes as his half-brother spun you around.

“Yū—Yūsaku, I’m getting dizzy.”

He blushed and apologized. Once your feet were on the ground you joined Ogata by the fire.

“How’s the bottle been working out for you?”

“Amazing,” you said, taking another drink. “Are you cold?” You scooted closer to him. “Where’d your jacket go?”

“I’m not sure. Why all the questions?”

You didn’t think two questions were considered a lot. “No reason.”

You hadn’t thought this conversation through. You were stumped and floundering. You should have known better to attempt to flirt while drunk. Your chance was slipping through your fingers and it made you ill. You needed something good to happen, something exciting. You needed Ogata to figure out that you were charming and interesting and most importantly fuckable.

He closed the gap and leaned against you.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Maybe. I… I have no idea honestly. I don’t know how I feel. Sometimes it’s like,” you took a sip of tequila, “I feel freaked the fuck out. But then sometimes I feel abso-fucking-lutely nothing. Like right now. It feels like it didn’t even happen. Are you okay?”

“I am. I only knew them for a week so they didn’t matter much.” His comments were so callous. “Don’t get me wrong. They were nice people, but that’s all they were to me.”

“Nice people,” you repeated.

“Yeah. Nice people.”

“Would you be sad if I died?”

He stared into the fire. “Maybe. Our groups get paired together for activities.”

“What does that mean?!”

“I’m around you a lot. Your absence wouldn’t go unnoticed,” he said with a smirk.

Your cheeks flared up and found it increasingly harder to hold it together. You regretted all the tequila. Spit was pooling in your mouth.

“Yeah, well. Of course it would. I’m, like, fucking… yeah,” you said, eyes half-lidded.

He chuckled. “Exactly.”

“I think the kids and the—their, uh, inarticulateness is rubbing, you know, off.”

“Oh yeah, that’s it. It’s definitely not because your blood is 90 proof.”

“You want some of it?”

You gave him a sloppy wink. His dark eyes widened, his eyebrows raised. It was the first time you had ever seen him so flustered.

“I—” he stuttered.

“Hey,” Shiraishi barked. “You guys seen Vasily?”

Ogata resumed his usual hard to read demeanor. You wanted to break the bottle in your hand and gut Shiraishi with it.

“Uhhhhh… Not like recently. I thought he was with you and Sugimoto,” you replied politely through a clenched jaw.

“We thought he was with you.”

“He could’ve went to bed early,” Ogata suggested.

“Hmmm yeah. I wouldn’t blame him,” you said.

“We should do that,” Shiraishi said, pointing at you. “We have target shooting at seven in the morning.”

You groaned. He was right, a good night’s rest was necessary. It killed you to say good night to Ogata, but there was always tomorrow. You didn’t need to rush things.

I looked on the disorder of my mind as sacred

You woke up the next morning with a persistent ache near your temples. You rolled out of bed and dug around your suitcase for some ibuprofen. You grabbed four and choked them down with room temperature water. It felt thick as it made its way down your throat. The sun was just starting to rise, the sky a dreamy shade of lavender.

It was weird to wake up alone. You hoped that it would be easier the second time around, but Inkarmat’s absence weighed heavy on you. You couldn’t figure out how she made it to the lake. The last time you saw her she said that she was going to fuck Tanigaki and to cover her ass if needed. She must have gotten lost on her way back from wherever it was she met him. Maybe she took a wrong turn and fell. Or maybe Tsurumi had something to do with it.

“Good morning!!”

Shiraishi’s cheery voice cut through your thoughts. You got up and let him in.

“Tsk, tsk. Still in your pajamas. What am I gonna do with you?”

He handed you an enamel mug full of coffee.

“Tsurumi wants to talk to us in an hour. I ran into him when I was going to take a piss.”

“Did he seem worried?”

“Not really.”

“Weird… I think he has something to do with it. He killed Tanigaki for sure and he probably killed Inkarmat too.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I think Tsurumi poisoned him with hemlock. What we saw lines up with the symptoms he told us when we went mushroom foraging.” Shiraishi didn’t look convinced. “Like do you think this is all a coincidence?”

“Why would he kill him though?”

“People kill without motives all the time.”

“I don’t buy it.”

“Seriously? He’s a creep. Who else would it be?”

“I don’t think it’s a person,” he whispered suddenly. His eyes shifted from left to right. “I think this place is haunted.”

“Oh yeah? Did Inkarmat read some passages out of the Necronomicon Ex-Mortis? Did she release the Deadites? Or maybe the soul of a drowned ex-camper is wandering the woods and picking us off one by one.”

Shiraishi was an idiot. There was no way the camp was haunted. You kicked him out and got dressed. You felt like you were moving in slow motion. You didn’t want to have some group discussion about what happened the day before. You wanted to put it in the past and focus on the kids and their activities. You wanted to finally have a canoe race.

When you walked into the mess hall it was dead silent. You took a seat next to Ogata much to the disappointment of Shiraishi and Sugimoto. There was an empty seat in between them.

“Where’s everyone?” you asked.

“No one’s seen Vasily or Usami since last night. And Koito’s with the kids. We’re just waiting on Tsurumi.”

“What about Nurse Kano?”

“I dunno…”

“Sorry I’m late!” Yūsaku said breathily. His hair was wet and his clothes were haphazardly thrown on.

“We haven’t even started yet,” Ogata groaned. “Sit down.”

Five minutes later Tsurumi came in with Tsukishima following behind like a shadow. He looked tired. His normally neat hair was askew, several strands of hair grazing his face, and his clothes were wrinkled.

“There’s no easy way to begin this discussion. We’re down four counselors. Genjirō and Inkarmat are dead, and apparently some of you are missing. That means there are twelve campers without any supervision.” He pointed at Yūsaku. “Yūsaku, you’re their counselor now. We’re also down a nurse. I received a note this morning from Nurse Kano saying, ‘I’m done with this shit. You’re not paying me enough and if I see you again I’m going to skin you alive.’ Needless to say, I would appreciate it if we kept any and all injuries to a minimum.”

Shiraishi raised his hand. “What if there’s an accident?”

“There won’t be any accidents!”

It was the first time any of you heard Tsurumi raise his voice. He took a deep breath and continued speaking, his tone even.

“The police have been informed about the disappearances. They said,” he sighed, “they’ll keep in touch.”

Sugimoto’s hand shot up. “Mr. Tsurumi, I have a question.”

“Yes, Saichi.”

“Shouldn’t we cancel our activities today and go look for Vasily and Usami?”

“I see no reason to punish innocent children for our failings.”

“Aww,” Shiraishi said quietly. “That’s so sweet.”

“It’s best to leave this up to the authorities. The last thing I want is for one of you to get hurt. We’re short staffed as it is,” Tsurumi said before ending the meeting.

The campers were full of questions, but overall the day was peaceful. Target shooting went well, and the kids loved learning Russian. Whenever Tsukishima wasn’t paying attention Ogata would teach them a few swear words. They lived for it, laughing like hyenas as Tsukishima tried to figure out what was so funny. Things felt kind of normal.

Sugimoto was the one to finally suggest going on a night hike after dinner. He thought Tsurumi was stupid for not utilizing everyone in the search, and it weighed on his mind all day.

“I can’t believe the cops didn’t show up,” he said, turning on his flashlight.

“That’s illegal, right?” Shiraishi asked.

Ogata yawned. “It might be, but they don’t care.”

“Whatever,” Sugimoto said dismissively. “I’ll probably regret saying this, but I think we should split up. We’ll cover more ground.”

“I’ll go with Ogata,” you blurted out.

Sugimoto’s millisecond of confused silence opened a window for Ogata to direct the hastily thrown together operation.

“We'll go further up the mountain and check the trails. You guys stay at this elevation and search the woods. I’m sure they got lost. I’d say let’s bet on it, but I know you’re all broke.”

Shiraishi nodded, but Sugimoto looked annoyed beyond belief. You watched as they melted away into the darkness eagerly awaiting your alone time with Ogata.

“It’s better if we both have one,” he said, handing you a flashlight. “You said my name pretty fast back there.”

Your palms began to sweat. You had been too eager.

“I don’t know,” you said, pushing a low hanging branch out of your face. “Shiraishi’s been getting on my nerves.”

You cringed at your lie. Hopefully Ogata would deem it inconsequential and forget you ever said it.

“Is he really that bad?”

“Uh, well, you know… He—sometimes it’s like he’s just so obnoxious.”

“He is pretty annoying. I don’t know how you put up with him.”

“I’m, um, just really good at tolerating people. It’s hard though.”

“You’re good at hiding it.”

You were good at hiding it because you loved having Shiraishi as a partner.

“Thank you.”

“It’s too bad we weren’t paired together. Sugimoto’s an asshole,” he sighed.

The two of you walked cautiously down the trail. You grew more and more nervous as it got steeper. Every twig felt like a landmine. You kept your eyes on the ground. It proved to be a terrible idea because you ended up walking right into Ogata. He fell forward, dropping his flashlight.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry,” you said, cradling him in your arms.

He looked up at you. His forehead and his arms were covered in swaths of raw skin and blood. He tried to get up, but only managed to roll onto the ground. You pulled off your sweatshirt and put it under his head as a makeshift pillow.

You dug through your backpack for your first aid kit. It was nearly empty already because your group of campers loved skinning their knees. You found a few alcohol wipes and some gauze. You wanted to punch your past self for not refilling it, but now wasn’t the time for self-flagellation.

“It’s gonna sting.”

“I’m not a child. You don’t need to remind me.”

“Damn, okay,” you said, cleaning the wound on his head.

“Sorry…” he mumbled.

It was just a superficial scrape, but of course the urge to spiral was present. Despite your attempts to be optimistic your mind went to the worst places.

I gave him a traumatic brain injury. I cracked his beautiful skull. I killed him and Mr. Tsurumi is going to be so fucking mad at me!

“No. I’m sorry. I’m the idiot that made you fall.”

“Good point. I take back my apology.”

You slapped an alcohol wipe on one of the cuts on his arm. His pained groan was like an angel singing your name.

“What day is it?” you asked, trying to ignore the throbbing between your legs.

“June 8th.”

“What’s the time?”

He paused. “I don’t know. It was around 10 when we left.”

“Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous? Sleepy?”

“No.”

“Do you remember what ha—”

“You shoved me and I fell.”

“Shove makes it seem like it was intentional.”

“It was.”

“No it was not.”

He sat up. “Yes it was. You shoved me because you have a huge crush on me and you can’t stand it.”

“You definitely damaged your brain. Like, you’re so unwell right now. It’s sick.”

He laughed. “Don’t deny it. You can be honest with me.”

“I was looking at the ground! There were exposed roots!”

He pulled his arm away from you and grabbed you by the jaw. “If that’s all it was, why do you look nervous?”

“That’s just my face.”

“It’s a cute one.”

You panicked and tried to think of a cool, couth response, but nothing came. You just sat there, brain filled with white noise. The air was heavy; you felt like you were choking. You kept your breathing steady, but it was a herculean effort. All your energy was going into keeping yourself in one piece. The longer those four words sank in, the harder it was to retain your humanity.

It’s a cute one. It’s a cute one. It’s a cute one.

Your hesitation evaporated and you clumsily kissed him. Despite his words he seemed unimpressed with your agency, giving nothing in return. And in turn you felt nothing. It was like you were holding him hostage rather than sweeping him off his feet.

“Um, we should… go back to camp.”

The relief you felt upon finding Sugimoto and Shiraishi was immense. However your fellow counselors remained missing. You couldn’t help but feel like you were hunting for ghosts.

I found I could extinguish all human hope from my soul

Much to the chagrin of Shiraishi, Tsurumi asked you to help Yūsaku and his twelve campers. It wasn’t ideal. Managing kids you weren’t familiar with was rough. They tested you left and right. They relished in lying about their names, snickering when you’d try to chastise them. They seemed to have a modicum of respect for Yūsaku though.

“How’s it going?” Shiraishi asked during your lunch.

“It’s—”

“Well I’m having a terrible time. These kids hate me. They keep asking when you’re coming back.”

You laughed. “Did you tell them never? Because I don’t see Tsurumi letting the golden boy stuck with a bunch of kids on his own.”

“It’s not like he needs you! I’m dying out there!”

“You have Sugimoto.” You sighed. “And Ogata.”

“They’re barely any help. Sugimoto’s too busy trying to solve a murder mystery like he’s Columbo. And Ogata’s too busy being his weird self. I think he’s pissed off at Hanazawa.”

You cocked an eyebrow.

“I don’t know why. Maybe he’s jealous that Hanazawa is—”

“Working with me?” you asked, your eyes full of stars.

“Psh. No. Part of me thinks Ogata just wants to be Tsurumi’s pet.”

“Oh. No yeah, you’re right.” You stared off into space. “He totally wants to be the golden boy.”

“You’re both wrong.” Ogata silently took a seat next to Shiraishi. Your head was swimming. “I just hate being here.”

“Then why glare at your brother?” Shiraishi asked haughtily.

“Are you an only child, Shiraishi?”

“Probably.”

Ogata smirked and changed the subject. “How is working with him?”

His tone wasn’t threatening, but the flatness of his gaze made you feel like you were being interrogated.

“It’s fine!” you exclaimed a bit too hurriedly. You tried to save face by tempering your tone to match the coolness of Ogata’s. “I mean, yeah, like, it’s okay. The kids like him, which is good because they can’t stand me. I don’t mind him, you know, taking the lead. He is the lead counselor.”

“It looked like he was doing all the work.”

His words were a wasp’s sting.

“You’d be stupid not to take advantage of that dork,” Shiraishi said in an attempt to bandage your wound.

“I’m not taking advantage of him.”

“Shiraishi has a point.”

“No he does not!”

“You can admit it,” Ogata teased.

“There’s nothing to admit. What am I supposed to admit?”

He paused.

“You know you hate being here just as much as everyone else.”

You glared at Ogata. “If I hated being here, I would leave.”

“Sure you would.”

“Yeah! Exactly. I would.”

Shiraishi scurried away awkwardly, though to be honest you barely noticed.

“I don’t know,” he chuckled. “How can you be so sure of something like that?”

“Because—because I know myself? This isn’t, like, some hypothetical thing. If I didn’t want to be here, I would leave. But I’m invested in whatever the fuck is going on… And I like my kids! I care about them! Okay, not the ones I have right now. Honestly fuck those ki—oh god.”

Ogata was trying to hold back a laugh. “Child hater.”

“I don’t hate kids! Even kids that are little shits. I’m just…” You carefully chose your words. “Not fond of some.” You regained your conviction. “Regardless it’s not like I could ever leave any of them behind.”

“It’s so funny.”

You tilted your head, awaiting an elaboration.

“You all say the same thing. The way you say it is different, but—”

“What are you talking about?”

He stood up and patted you on the head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

You thought about chasing after him, but there was only ten minutes left of your lunch and you hadn’t even touched your food. You choked it down and searched for Yūsaku. You found him sitting in the grass, telling the kids one of his numerous summer camp tales.

“And that’s how I learned you should never eat mud.”

You joined their circle. “How was the jigen-ryū class?”

“Boring,” one chirped.

“Lame,” another admitted.

“I hate Mr. Koito.” one said bluntly. “Why does he scream so much?”

Yūsaku nervously chastised the kids.

You giggled. “That’s a great question. But I have an even better one: who wants to have a canoe race?”

The kids were eager for normalcy, typical summer fun, and you couldn’t blame them. You sought it yourself. Anything to shake off your conversation with Ogata. You felt like it poked holes in your brain. You hoped in utter desperation that the laughter of children and the afternoon sunlight dancing across Yūsaku’s precious face would fill them.

And for a brief moment they did. But Ogata remained a looming presence. He was so distracting you came dead last in the race. Your eyes couldn’t focus on anything other than him watching from a distance like a hunter.

A man who wants to mutilate himself is certainly damned

You went to bed early that night though you failed to drift away. You were in a fetal position, snuggled up in your sleeping bag, looking up at the Milky Way through your window for hours. You couldn’t get Ogata out of your mind.

“Idiot,” you murmured as you flipped over onto your back, not sure if you were calling him an idiot or yourself.

You stretched out and took up every inch of your bed. Your joints popped, the satisfaction from the sound soothed your soul. There was the chance this was as worse as it would get. Yes, people were dropping like flies, disappearing mysteriously. Yes, the camp director was a blatant freak. Yes, Ogata was fucking with your head. But the canoe race was normal! It was benign and expected! Those moments were few and far between so far. Maybe this was a good omen, a sneak peak of the placidity that was going to follow.

Pretending to be optimistic successfully lulled you to sleep. But rapid, and somehow pathetic, pounding on your cabin door ripped you from your slumber. You groaned audibly, hoping whoever was in desperate need of your attention would feel a semblance of shame. You got out of bed at a sloth’s pace and sighed before opening the door.

“Are you busy?” Ogata asked.

“I was sleeping.”

He gently pushed you out of the way and entered the cabin, a stiffness and urgency embodied in the swift movement. Your grip on consciousness was tenuous at best so you didn’t protest.

“Everything, uh, good?” you asked.

“If I said I wanted to apologize, would you believe me?”

You scoffed. “Not after asking me that.”

He sat down on your bed, and you struggled to hide your disgust. You couldn’t stop thinking about the fetid remnants of the woods that lingered on his sweatpants. Having him take them off crossed your mind.

“Well I am.”

“You’re what?”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it… All the stuff I said.”

“You sure about that?”

He attempted to smooth down a strand of his hair. A hoarse mhm resonated in his throat.

“You’re so easy to rile up. I couldn’t resist.”

“Well,” you groaned. “Thanks. I guess.”

You figured he’d get up and leave, but instead his presence lingered, growing heavier by the second. His eyes were restless, his body tense.

“Do you mind if I stay the night?” he asked, his eyes fixed on the floor.

It was such an abrupt question. All you could do was choke out an affirmation. You knew kicking him out was the smart thing to do, but his perceived permanence on your bed overwhelmed you. The rational voice in your head grew fainter, your lust forcing its way through your papery veil of self-preservation. You were nothing more than your repressed urges.

“Are you sure?”

Dumb question. You’d never been so sure of something in your life. You couldn’t recall any form of previous trepidation though you weren’t trying particularly hard to do so.

“Yeah,” you answered, sitting beside him.

You leaned in. His sweatshirt smelled like wet leaves and copper. You used his thigh to steady yourself. He turned his head, his dark eyes looking through you. It was unnerving, but not enough to trigger common sense.

“Aren’t you hot?” you asked, laughing as the question tumbled from your mouth. His answer didn’t matter. “You’re making me sweat.”

You tugged at his sweatshirt. It felt dirty, heavy with sweat and earth. He took it off without a stitch of hesitation. Your eyes trailed down his arms, longing for them to be wrapped around you. It was the only way you’d make it through the night.

“I run cold,” he practically purred.

Cliche comments ran through your head.

That’s so funny because I could totally keep you warm, big boy.

I’m burning up, why don’t you cool me off with your stupid, gorgeous body?

“That’s cool.” Your brain shut down. “I want you.”

Your bluntness seemed to please him. His lips curled into a half smile before he pulled you into a kiss. He wasted no time, pushing his tongue past your teeth. He caressed your cheek as his tongue brushed up against yours, soft and warm. He pulled you onto his lap and rubbed the inside of your thigh with his rough hands. You tugged at his shirt, the cotton damp with sweat. He lifted it up and pulled it off, letting it drop on the floor.

“You should lie down,” you said, breath hot against his neck.

“Am I easier to take advantage of that way?”

“Excuse me?”

Your question went unheeded and he reclined on your bed, beckoning you to straddle him. You looked down at his body, muscles perfectly toned like they were crafted by the gods. He looked so pleased with himself, like he’d won an award. His cock was hard against the thin fabric of his sweatpants. It ached against you.

You studied his face. There were a few faint, red scratches across his cheek. You ran your thumb down one, feeling the slightly swollen skin. He winced.

“What happened?” you asked.

He exhaled. “I fell.”

“Like recently or?”

“On my way over.”

“How?”

His right eye twitched.

“I tripped,” he said, words clipped.

“On what?”

You never knew him to be clumsy, if anything he was rather feline in his agility. His fingers dug deeper into your hips before rolling you onto your back and getting on top of you. He pressed his rough palm over your lips.

“Hush.” His tone was nauseatingly sweet.

“I’m serious, are you okay?” you asked, voice muffled by his hand.

He titled his head and stared into your eyes with a calculated gaze.

“Isn’t it a little late for you to be so talkative?”

It was astounding how easy it was for him to shut you down. Granted you weren’t steadfast when it came to Ogata. You couldn’t take a firm stance. How could you hold onto a belief when you couldn’t predict his reaction to it? You wanted to be palatable and if that meant bending like a willow to his incomprehensible will then so be it.

“You’re so cute,” he said, removing his hand. “You’re like a scared deer.”

He lifted up the oversized t-shirt you liked to sleep in and pulled off your underwear. His fingers grazed your folds, coating them in your arousal. You swallowed hard, spit catching in your throat, as he slid them into your cunt. They curled inside you, pressing against your walls. The pressure made your skin tingle.

His gaze was attentive but cold. You felt studied, examined. It bred a twinge of looming uncertainty, one that settled in your stomach. But he didn’t hesitate with a remedy. He pushed his fingers as far as they could go and began fucking you with them. Your concern disappeared as fast as it came. Your eyes glazed over, ensnared by the man looming over you. You tried in vain to hold back your pleased whimpers.

He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re falling apart so fast.” His lips grazed your lobe.

Apologizing crossed your mind, but you kept your mouth shut. You writhed underneath his weight, rutting up against his fingers as they fucked your slick cunt.

Your hands wandered down his back. His skin was soft and sticky with sweat. You let your fingers trail down his spine before settling on the crest of his ass. You yanked down his briefs and dug your fingers into the taut flesh. He flashed an impish smile and pulled them down, kicking them off. The head of his cock was leaking precum. He tugged on it and bathed in your starved gaze.

“You want me so bad,” he said haughtily. “Tell me how bad you want me.”

You sighed as he jerked himself off. “I feel like I’ll die if you don’t fuck me.”

“Oh yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I need you.”

“Then beg for it,” he growled.

“Please. Please fuck me.”

He rubbed his cock up against your folds. “Say my name.”

“Please fuck me, Hyakunosuke. Please. Please. Please.”

He nuzzled your neck and pressed his cocktip against your clit. “More.”

You continued to plead, body aching for him to fuck you. He guided his cock inside you, its girth stretching your tight cunt. He groaned as he pushed it in further. His movements were slow, and he seemed to relish in your whimpering.

“Tell me how good it feels,” he commanded as he thrust into you.

“Really good. Really fucking good,” you babbled.

He let out a pleased sigh and fully submerged his length within you. His tip pressed up against your cervix, sending a shock to your core. You yelped as he pushed against it harder.

“Such a big cock for such a precious little thing.”

His thrusts drove you into the mattress, making your cot creak. His touch wasn’t gentle. He didn’t hesitate to bend your body to his liking, to show off his strength. It was deliciously overwhelming. He laced his fingers in your hair and pulled. He manhandled your legs to get them over his shoulders. You knew his force would leave blooms of bruises on your ankles, bruises you’d have to explain away when your friends inquired about your life after hours.

Being at his will was exciting.

“Do you like getting fucked like a whore?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned.

He grinned. You wanted to lick his teeth, but settled for hugging his cock with your cunt.

“Fuck,” he hissed, jaw clenched. “You’re gonna make me cum.”

His pace quickened and his breathing grew labored. He seemed weakened by his impending climax. His eyes were softer, his words lacked their previous domineering weight. He looked like he was in agony. Seeing him fall apart made your clit throb. It was almost too much. Your body was immersed in euphoria, drowning in an obscene amount of debauched delight. To finally experience something you craved for so long was almost maddening. So many times you dreamt about him lording over your body under the serene light of the moon. And now you were living it out.

You wanted him to come first, to feel his cum flood your cunt, but your body wasn’t on the same page. Your impending climax was bubbling up inside you. Resisting it was a futile feat. What good was it to deny yourself such ecstasy?

“Harder,” you moaned.

He repositioned himself so he could drive his cock deeper in. You felt like you were going to burst. You dug your fingers into your mattress, gripping the tangled up sheets. The feeblest attempt to keep yourself tethered to this world lest you ascend to an Icarus end. Your back arched as a numinous groan crept up from the depths of your being, a simple carnal prayer. A cluster of whimpers followed in its wake.

Every inch of tension melted away as you let your orgasm consume you. You nearly forgot where you were until you heard Ogata’s pained voice.

“Where do you want it?” he asked urgently.

“Inside, inside,” you babbled.

He grimaced and pulled his cock out of your dripping cunt. He straddled your chest and held your head, forcing you to crane your neck. He pushed his cock past your lips and rutted against your face. His touch became gentle, hands almost cradling the base of your skull. He held you like you were fragile, like he could rip you to pieces if he lacked restraint.

“Look up at me,” he groaned as his cum splattered against the back of your throat.

You looked up at him, as he continued to thrust. Spurts of his piquant cum filled your mouth. You thought it would never end. Tears welled up in your eyes as his cum trickled from the corners of your mouth. Once his cock stopped twitching he placed his hand on your forehead and pushed you off. He then rolled over onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling.

“Um,” you said, crashing back into reality.

You hoped no one heard what happened. Your cabin was the one closest to the outskirts of everything, but still. Your cot’s incessant squeaking plagued you. Your breathy moans haunted you. Ogata’s audible grunting was a dark cloud swirling above your head. You missed your fucked out state of mind. You debated on chasing it. You thought about grabbing his semi-erect cock, but the feeling faded from your grasp. It didn’t help that he looked completely dissociated from the situation.

“Hyaku,” you paused, his first name felt too intimate, ”Ogata?”

You rolled over onto your side and placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“Sure,” he said before turning his back to you.

“Okay,” you replied, molding your body beside his.

You expected him to scoot away from you, or retire to the unforgiving floor. But instead he pressed himself up against you. You draped an arm over him and nuzzled your face against his undercut as you drifted away.

Life is the farce we are all forced to endure

Waking up alone wasn’t a surprise though it was still disappointing.

The sun roused you, making you painfully aware of your lack of clothes and the dried cum in the corners of your mouth. Visions of a relaxing shower danced through your mind. You could practically feel the steam surrounding you. However, leaving your cabin was precarious. No one could see you like this, skittering around and clutching your toiletries like they were gold. You’d wither away if perceived.

“I got this,” you whispered to no one in particular.

You stepped out into the morning light. It felt early. You didn’t hear any kids or any sort of chatter which was a relief. The outside world was safe; it was secure. You took a deep breath and took in the fresh air.

“Good morning.”

Your exhale lodged itself in your throat, forcing out a pathetic cough.

“Fuck. I mean good morning, Mr. Tsurumi.”

He looked tired, less triumphant, and part of you wondered if he was going to kill you.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be up this early.”

“I wasn’t expecting to be either,” you said, trying to mask your discomfort. “Anyway—”

He interrupted your attempt at a polite getaway. “How well do you know Yūsaku?”

“Uh. I guess about as well as you can know anyone given the amount of ti—”

“Did he seem unhappy? Dissatisfied?”

“That sunburn made him pretty miserable.”

He studied you. “Anything beyond that?”

“I—yeah no, I think that’s, uh, the only thing.”

“I see. Well I won’t keep you any longer.”

You simply smiled and nodded. Once he was out of sight you sprinted to the showers, eager for the cleanly embrace of its solitude. It was exactly what you wanted, what you needed. You needed to wash away whatever that conversation had been. You couldn’t figure out why he was so curious about Yūsaku. Your relationship with him was friendly but superficial. You wouldn’t know how to describe him in any meaningful way if prompted to, but made an attempt anyway.

He’s Ogata’s half-brother. He can tell two different stories about eating mud as a little kid. He sucks at putting on sunscreen. His eyelashes are pretty. He has a general golden boy vibe that is almost insufferably charming.

You knew essentially nothing. Whereas you could write an entire thesis regarding the random facts about Shiraishi you learned against your will.

You spent the entirety of your shower, wracking your brain over the camp director’s questioning. Unfortunately your brain wasn’t operating at full capacity. The night before lingered around you like a ghostly shroud. Your legs were peppered with bruises and your hips were sore. There were so many random aches echoing throughout your body.

By the time you were done the shrill voices of children flooded the camp. You hurriedly made your way back to your cabin, careful to avoid running into anyone. But despite the painstaking care you took, there was Shiraishi pawing at your door anxiously like a dog.

“Are you okay?” you asked.

He didn’t bother answering your question. “They’re sending all the kids home.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Yup. A few parents have already come by. Tsurumi wants to sit us all down and talk about what we’re gonna do.”

“We’re all going to leave, right?”

“Well we got all this shit here. The canoes. The food. The giant shogi pieces. All of that needs to get packed up probably. Do you think we’ll still get paid even if there’s no kids to watch?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“I heard something kinda messed up though.” You stepped closer to him and he continued, his voice low. “I overheard Koito saying some shit to Tsukishima about another body being found.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yeah. They left maybe an hour ago. I doubt they’re coming back. I saw them pack—”

“Okay whatever. Whose body?”

Shiraishi shushed you. “Yūsaku’s.”

“Shut up.”

“Tsurumi found him hanging in the forest.”

“Like hanging out, right? With his brother maybe?” you asked desperately.

“Nope.”

“ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?”

“Relax! Maybe I heard wrong.”

You took a measured breath and distanced yourself from this loss. “It makes sense. Tsurumi was asking me about Yūsaku this morning. He wanted to know if Yūsaku was sad or, I don’t know, depressed I guess.”

“Did he seem—”

“No, but not all suicidal people act like outwardly suicidal.”

“So you think he killed himself?”

“Fuck no,” you sneered. “I bet Tsurumi did. That’s why he was asking me about him. He wanted to come up with an alibi, or a reason for Yūsaku to have done something like that.”

Shiraishi looked a little nervous. “Whoa, whoa. Let’s not jump the gun.”

You pushed him away from the door and dropped your stuff off. On the walk to the mess hall you watched as kids crawled into massive minivans and sleek electric cars. They were a resilient bunch. You admired their ability to withstand the trauma murder reaped. It sucked to see them go, but this camp was no place for their kind.

You felt oddly numb in the wake of Yūsaku’s apparent demise, especially as you sat amongst the camp’s dwindling numbers. It was just you, Shiraishi, Sugimoto, Ogata, and that freak Tsurumi. You all sat in a circle around an ashen fire pit, sipping coffee. It was bitter, the acidic taste boring holes through your tongue.

“It pains me to say this,” Tsurumi began.

“We all know about Yūsaku,” Shiraishi yawned.

His lack of tact made you want to crawl into your mug and drown.

“Oh, I wasn’t going to start off with that but…” He sighed. “As you all apparently know Yūsaku is no longer with us.”

“Did he go home?” Ogata asked.

“Shut up,” Sugimoto hissed.

Tsurumi ignored the chatter and continued. You struggled to focus. Your mind drifted off into fantasies of catching the camp director in the act and getting the hero treatment for saving the day. They were fun scenarios to entertain, but deep down you didn’t crave glory or even recognition. You just wanted to be right.

To no one’s surprise Tsurumi managed to convince everyone to stay one more night in order to return the camp to its previous barren state. It was depressing to snuff out the last remnants of the camp’s life, but necessary so Tsurumi could get back his security deposit. It was impressive to see how impermanent everything was. What took a week to create was dismantled within a day, a notion that haunted you to no end. You hated to think everything was so transient. It beckoned you to hold on tighter to your memories, to the bonds you fostered. If they were going to be ripped away, they would be marred with ghostly reminders of your feral grip.

Throughout the day you orbited around Ogata, searching for tasks that required you to be near him. Despite your attempts to be discreet, anyone with a brain could see your passive clinginess. You couldn’t help yourself. You wanted to ask if he was okay, but you didn’t want to risk an awkward conversation. When you finally built up the confidence to speak to him he was swept away by a bored sheriff wearing mirrored sunglasses.

“Wonder what they’re talking about,” Shiraishi said, startling you.

“Yūsaku obviously,” you scoffed as you swept the porch of a cabin. “Whatever. It’s not like I care.”

He laughed loud enough to grab the attention of the sheriff. Ogata was undisturbed.

“I feel bad for him.”

“Yeah?”

Shiraishi frowned. “Yeah, like his brother’s dead. He’s a total weirdo with no friends. And he’s short.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re shorter than him.”

“I am, but I’m sexy and have friends.”

Ogata was sexy, but you opted to keep that to yourself.

“Okay, and?” you said bristling with annoyance. “Go bother someone else.”

“I actually had a reason for bugging you. Sugimoto wants to make s’mores tonight because we have a bunch of marshmallows. I was thinking we could turn it into a mini party.”

“A final hurrah.”

“Exactly!” he said as he walked away.

S’mores and cold beer sounded nice, but not nearly as nice as another night with Ogata. You watched as he stared lazily at the sheriff, his posture loose and mildly defiant. He wasn’t naive enough to believe Yūsaku hung himself. He must have caught onto how strange Tsurumi was. There was no way he hadn’t. He was perceptive. You couldn’t help but feel as though you were kindred spirits.

When the sheriff finally left you decided to approach him.

“Hey,” you said gently. “I just wanted to, you know…uh. I’m really sorry about your brother.”

“Why? Did you make him kill himself?” he said, his gaze friendly yet cold.

You laughed and shifted uncomfortably.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay. Is there anything I can do?”

“Hmm. I don’t know.” He closed the distance you kept. “How far are you willing to go to comfort me?”

“A normal amount. If you need to talk or anything, I don’t mind listening.”

“Would you mind choking on my cock again? I found that to be very soothing.”

Ogata’s words were grotesque rather than alluring. You couldn’t help but feel like he was just trying to scare you off. His vulgarity lacked any sort of intensity. The threat was hollow. You swallowed hard and tried to look less timid.

“Don’t be an asshole. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

He looked thoroughly amused. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You patted his shoulder with a platonic, heavy hand and headed off in a random direction. You were too frazzled to think that far ahead, but you walked into the woods with faux confidence.

All filthy memories fade out

You sighed in relief as the sun sunk into the horizon. Making s’mores and getting drunk by a fire sounded like the only suitable end for such a horrific venture. Shiraishi and Sugimoto met you by your cabin and aided you in crafting a fire pit.

“It’s so fucked up we never made these with the kids,” Sugimoto sighed, puncturing three marshmallows with a two-pronged skewer specially made for the act.

You sipped your beer. “We failed them.”

Shiraishi nodded. “We may be the dream team, but we weren’t perfect.”

“The what?!” Sugimoto struggled not to laugh as he crafted a picturesque s’more.

“Wh—who? Who’s the dream team?” you asked.

“Us! Me, you, and Sugimoto… obviously.”

“I had no idea.”

“I never said it out loud until now,” Shiraishi said solemnly.

It was hard to deny. The chaos that was camp proved to be a great conduit for bonding despite the horrors. You never would have made it through without Shiraishi’s humor and Sugimoto’s kindness.

“Dream team, huh?” Sugimoto said with a smile blooming across his face.

You punched Shiraishi in the arm. “Cute. I like it.”

Shiraishi blushed and shifted his gaze to the case of beer.

“How does the dream team feel about shotgunning some beers?”

Shotgunning some beers turned into shotgunning several. Stabbing the cans and chugging like your life depended on it was addicting. By the end of it you were all in a hazy trance. You collapsed down into your chair with too much vigor, sending yourself backwards into the dirt. You cackled like a witch.

“Holy shit! Are you okay?” Sugimoto asked. He was unable to hide his amused smile.

He held out his hand and hoisted you up. Shiraishi watched on, tears in his eyes, and stabbed another beer with his pocket knife. Beer spurted out of the hole and it sprayed all over. A dramatic “noooooooooo!" erupted from him as he tried in vain to suckle the rest of the beer out of the can. Sugimoto could barely hold himself together and lost his balance, sending you back into the unforgiving dirt and landing directly on you. His body was so heavy you thought you were going to suffocate. Luckily he rolled off of you within a second, wheezing with laughter.

The comedy of errors was too much. Not a single one of you went unscathed.

“I’m so sorry,” Sugimoto choked out.

You stood up and brushed the dust off of your body. “It’s okay. I’m alive. I made it. I survived.”

“You know,” Sugimoto said, still sitting in the dirt. “I’m really gonna miss you guys.”

“We’ll have to meet up again before summer ends.”

Shiraishi wiped the beer from his lips. “That’s assuming we live.”

“Dude! Not funny.” Sugimoto threw an empty can at Shiraishi. It missed.

“I’ll probably die next,” you replied thoughtfully. “Tsurumi’s gonna catch on and have to silence me.”

“Stop!”

Shiraishi corrected you. “No, no. It’ll be me.”

“Yeah, you know what. It’ll be Shiraishi, and then you. And then me.”

Shiraishi pouted. “What makes you so sure you’ll live the longest?”

“I’m immortal, dumb ass.”

“If you’re immortal, why not protect us?” you suggested.

“Yeah!”

“I’ll obviously do that! That goes without saying!”

You looked at him, doe-eyed. “Promise?”

He stood up, his balance shakier than ever. It didn’t inspire much confidence in his ability to protect you, but you chose to believe in his conviction.

“As long as I am here, neither of you will die. I… I love you guys s—so much.”

“Don’t cry. If you cry, I’ll cry. And I hate crying in the woods.”

You heard rustling in the distance. Sugimoto and Shiraishi didn’t seem to notice so you chalked it up to your intoxication. You focused your attention on the delightful little bars of artisan chocolate Yūsaku bought for the kids. Your stomach had been growling, begging for something other than beer.

“Gimme the stick thingy,” you barked at Sugimoto.

“Is that any way to ask me for something?”

“You’re talking like a caveman.”

You groaned. “Please give me a, uh,” you gestured towards the skewer resting at Sugimoto’s feet, “that item. Please, good sir.”

Shiraishi applauded your efforts like a real friend and spoke words of affirmation as you struggled to make a s’more. Neither of them stepped in to help you. They appeared to find your tribulation much too entertaining, and you were much too drunk to ask for assistance. However you managed to make four. The sloppiness didn’t detract from the flavor which was all that mattered.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Shiraishi said. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m tired.”

Sugimoto stretched his arms above his head and yawned. “Yeah, I have a long drive tomorrow. I’m not trying to fall asleep at the wheel.”

It was almost painful to part ways. A little sliver of you was afraid to enter your cabin on your own. You knew there was no reason to be scared. It wasn’t as if Tsurumi was hiding inside, waiting for the perfect opportunity to stab you. There was no way he could have snuck past you, Shiraishi, and Sugimoto. One of you would have seen him, or at the very least heard him.

Your heart began to pound. You had heard something lurking about in the woods. It very well could’ve been him. Maybe you were too drunk to be vigilant and maybe Tsurumi took advantage of that. Your hand trembled as you reached for the doorknob. Your fear was heavy and looming. It was like you were slowly being crushed. Every inhale felt like it was catching in your throat. You slowly twisted the knob and pressed your weight up against the door.

“Hello?” you asked as if an assailant would actually respond.

You flipped the switch and your room was filled with soft, incandescent light. There was no one in sight, not a soul. The relief you felt was almost overwhelming. Your terror was replaced by a pleasant drowsiness. Sleeping through the night with no interruptions wouldn’t be a pipe dream.

And it seemed to be going along quite well…

Until you had to pee of course. The urge hit you like a truck. You sprung up out of bed and ran all the way to the bathroom, hoping you’d make it in time. You regretted drinking so much. If it hadn’t been for the beer you might have gotten an uninterrupted six hours.

Luckily you made it to the bathroom in time, but on your walk back you became keenly aware of the fact you were still quite drunk.

“Ughhhhhhhhhhh,” you moaned as you trudged back.

You passed Tsurumi’s cabin and it triggered a deep desire to indulge in some snooping. Moonlighting as a drunk detective seemed like an incredible idea.

There were no lights on in his cabin, which wasn’t odd considering it was the middle of the night. But everything seemed vaguely ominous given your state of mind and your desire to prove he was the murderer. You peeked in his window and saw him sleeping. He was face down, body spread out like a starfish.

“What a freak.”

“You’re the one watching him sleep.”

You spun around and saw Ogata. You opened your mouth to scream but he covered it. His hand was damp and smelled like soap. He looked unkempt, and seemed a little frazzled.

“I can explain,” you whispered.

“Are you drunk?”

“Maybe. Listen!”

He shushed you and grabbed you by the wrist. He dragged you away from Tsurumi’s window.

“Can I talk now?” You didn’t wait for an answer. “I think Tsurumi is killing everyone.”

He looked thoroughly amused. “What makes you so sure—”

“He’s a total fucking weirdo, Ogata! He, you know, like… Okay, I don’t have solid proof. But he did ask me about your brother. He was like ‘Ohhh, do you think Yūsaku was suicidal? Did he seem like a little sad boy with little sad boy problems?’ And I was like, ‘No.’ And he was like all… whatever.” You hiccuped. “Why would he ask me that if he wasn’t trying to find a way to cover up his crime?”

“You did work with Yūsaku. I don’t think it’s weird that Tsurumi would ask you about him. If I were him, you would be one of the first people I’d talk to.”

“Ogataaaaaaaaaa,” you whined. “Don’t be a shit.”

“All I’m saying is the two of you seemed close.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“I think he had a crush on you,” he teased.

“He didn’t.”

“I wouldn’t blame him for having one.”

You gave up on protesting. It wasn’t like he was actually listening to you. You turned your gaze towards the ground. It was then you noticed what looked like rusty stains on his shoes.

“You really shouldn’t wear white shoes.”

He looked confused.

“Yours are always s—so dirty.”

He stared down at his shoes and smiled. “I like them this way.”

You shrugged. “Anyway. I think Tsurumi poisoned Tanigaki with mushrooms.”

“What about Inkarmat? Usami? Vasi—”

“When did they find Usami and Vasily?!”

He paused. “They didn’t. I thought maybe you had an explanation for them going missing.”

“Oh. No. I haven’t really thought about them. Is that fucked up?”

“A little, but I like it when you’re fucked up.”

He leaned in and slipped his tongue into your mouth. You tried to let yourself fall into the moment, to let yourself be enraptured by him once more. But you felt uneasy. A part of you was screaming at you to stop. Your entire body tensed up and you pushed him away.

“Not here,” you sighed.

“Why not?” he said, rubbing the small of your back.

“What if someone sees?”

“There’s no one to see us.”

With your luck Shiraishi and Sugimoto would see you wrapped up in Ogata’s arms and never let you live it down. A greater horror would be Tsurumi catching you. He would have no issue disposing you.

Ogata didn’t share this concern. He simply shoved his fingers down your shorts and rubbed your clit through your underwear.

“You don’t need to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid. I don’t want to get caught.”

“Hmm,” he purred as he nuzzled his face in your neck. “Getting caught could be fun. We could finally reveal our true nature.”

His wording puzzled you.

“Wait, what true nature? That we’re fucking?” you asked.

“Don’t play dumb.”

He let his fingers graze your cunt. His touch was hypnotic. You felt like you were melting in his arms. The world around you faded away, your concerns were nonexistent. Everything was a distraction queued for destruction. He kissed your neck, his stubble tickling you. You felt his teeth graze your skin. A smile crept across your face as he bit into it. Your knees buckled as he bit down a little harder. Your head was spinning.

“I need to taste you,” he said against your neck, pulling down your clothes.

The night air was brisk against the skin of your ass. He kissed the nape of your neck as he hands traveled down your waist, stopping at the dip of your hips. He got on his knees and stared up at you, eyes dark with ardor, before giving your clit a languid lick.

He lapped at your cunt like a starved animal. It was like he was trying to consume you. You felt so desired, so adored. His tongue was dizzying. You nearly lost your balance as he buried his face in between your thighs. He grunted and gripped your ass to steady you.

You gasped as he dug his fingers deeper into your skin. His sweetness was always tinged with a little cruelty. You felt like you were falling in love with him whenever he was rough with you. Your pleasure seemed endless. It was something to get lost in. He shielded you from the tragedy that had overtaken your life.

You ran your fingers through his hair. “You’re so good at this.”

“I know,” he groaned.

His haughtiness was unfortunately warranted. He could work wonders with his mouth. He rolled his tongue against your throbbing clit. Your knees trembled as your orgasm began to bloom. You tried to speak but all you could do was whimper his name. You felt like you were floating away.

Moaning soon became the only thing you were capable of doing. Your body was limp and swollen with lust. The only reason you were upright was because of Ogata’s steadying grip.

“Are you really going to come already?” he teased.

“Yes!” you choked out.

He held your clit between his lips and sucked. Your head rolled back and you murmured a string of obscenities. Euphoria wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the heights you were ascending to. You drenched his face with your arousal as your orgasm echoed through you.

“Sor—”

Your demure apology was interrupted by a pained moan coming from the distance. You crashed back down to earth.

“Did you hear that?” you asked.

Ogata didn’t respond. He simply stood up and wiped his chin.

“Let me walk you back to your cabin.”

“Uh, yeah sure. But did you hear that? It sounded like a person.”

“I didn’t hear anything. Your paranoia is getting the best of you.” He grabbed you by the hand. “Come on.”

He didn’t say a single word on the walk back. He didn’t even look at you. You felt like a ghost.

“Thanks… for escorting me.”

“It’s no problem,” he said with a smile.

You were convinced you would never fully understand him, that he would always keep you on your toes. And maybe that was the appeal. It was a danger you didn’t mind dancing with, something low stakes in comparison to people getting fucking murdered.

With my eyes closed I offered myself to the sun

It was your final day and you jumped at the opportunity to interrogate Tsurumi. It didn’t matter if you were the only one that thought he was the cause of all the camp’s calamity. The lack of faith from your friends didn’t deter you in the least. You knew you were right and soon everyone else would know as well.

“What the?”

You saw a heap in the distance, something keeled over just beyond the trees. The sun sliced through them, drowning whatever it was in unforgiving light. You heard the faint buzzing of flies and your stomach dropped. The familiar sensation of spit pooling in your mouth triggered a lethal anxiety within you.

Every step you took made you more and more nauseous. A horrid smell swarmed your nostrils. You couldn’t help but gag.

“No,” you said quietly, looking down at the heap.

It was Sugimoto, face down. His arms were stretched in front of him, fingers caked with dirt.

“Saichi, get up.” You squatted beside him. A prayer circle of jet black ants surrounded his body. “Get up. You’re supposed to keep me and Shiraishi safe, remember?”

There was no hope and yet you tried to hold onto it. You wanted to roll him over, thinking maybe you could rouse him. You saw it in movies all the time, the classic fake-out death trope. You’d slap him around, maybe yell and cry a bit, and his eyes would flutter open. He would apologize for worrying you and you’d tease him for how rank he smelled.

“Oh fuck!” you screamed as you rolled him onto his back.

His chin was coated with dried blood. His stomach had been cut open, entrails butchered and hanging out. You looked just beyond his body and saw a trail of blood and intestines. You started to sob. Sugimoto didn’t deserve to suffer such a heinous demise. Why couldn’t Tsurumi have just killed him outright? Why did he have to exercise his will with such cruelty? You hated him and his flagrant barbarity. Your rage washed over you. The desire to throw yourself over his mauled body and wail was extinguished.

“I’m so sorry,” you cooed, stroking his hair. “Tsurumi’s not getting away with this.”

In order to properly avenge Sugimoto you needed Shiraishi, but you didn’t even know if Shiraishi was alive. You grabbed Sugimoto’s pocket knife and bolted to Shiraishi’s cabin. You kicked the door in and all you saw was an unmade bed, empty bags of marshmallows, and all of his belongings scattered around an empty duffle bag.

You kept running out of sheer desperation, searching Shiraishi’s usual haunts to no avail. He must have been killed too, another counselor disappeared by that freak Tsurumi.

Your bravado began to melt away. The more you thought about it the more you realized you likely couldn’t hold your own against Tsurumi. You were nothing without the dream team.

There was always Ogata, but if Sugimoto was slain by Tsurumi with such ease then Ogata didn’t stand a chance. You were enshrouded in a sinking loneliness. It made every step an ordeal but you continued your march to Tsurumi’s cabin.

Your head was swimming by the time you got there. You didn’t even notice the door was already open. As you stepped inside you heard a series of loud, wet thwacks.

“Wh—what are you doing?”

Ogata stood over Tsurumi’s twitching body, bashing in his skull with the butt of his own shotgun. Pale foam seeped from his parted lips. You watched in horror as his face gradually became unrecognizable carnage with each of Ogata’s blows.

“Why?” you squeaked.

“What do you mean why? I did this for you.”

“This is not what I wanted.”

“Yes it is. You thought he was killing all your friends and it bothered you enough that you whined to me about it.”

“I didn’t tell you those things because I wanted you to kill him! Fuck! Now the cops are going to think you killed everyone!”

He cocked his head to the side and stared at you. You froze in place like a deer in front of a speeding truck. He looked gutted.

“I did kill everyone.”

You bursted into laughter. “No you fucking didn’t.”

“Yes I did.”

“Stop it! No you didn’t!”

He stepped over Tsurumi’s corpse, gun still in his hand. You backed out the door, trying to keep distance.

“Yes I did,” he said. In the sunlight you saw how much of Tsurumi’s blood ended up on him. He was dappled with crimson splotches. “That’s why you told me about Tsurumi. You wanted him gone and you knew I’d take care of it.”

Your mouth was agape. You refused to believe him.

“You—you’re not serious. Please tell me you’re not serious. Please.”

“I’m se—”

“No! Shut up! You didn’t do it. You didn’t do any of it. You… You couldn’t. Right? Right?!”

His disappointment was palpable.

“Why are you acting like this? You knew what you were doing when you talked to me about him.”

“I never said I wanted you to kill him! I never fucking said that!”

“Stop screaming. I’m right here.”

Your eyes were becoming glassy. Tears were imminent.

“I never said that,” you said quietly.

“You didn’t have to. I knew what you wanted. We see things the same way. You hated all of them as much as I did.”

“What? I didn’t hate any of them.”

“Oh so you liked Usami?”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I wanted him dead.”

He sighed heavily. “You don’t need to pretend anymore. They’re all gone.”

“Pretend? I’m not pretending.”

“Drop the act. I didn’t mind it before, but now there’s no reason for you to hide yourself from me.”

Everything was spinning around you. You couldn’t believe what he was saying. It was absurd for him to think you harbored as much hatred as he did. Sure, some of your fellow counselors got on your nerves, but being annoying wasn’t a death sentence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not hiding anything.”

He tried to pat down his unruly lock of hair. “So you’re saying I’m wrong? You’re nothing like me?”

“Yes! I could never dream of being as monstrous as you! How fucked up do you have to be to decide you can just kill people for, I don’t know, being annoying or stupid or whatever?”

“It’s not like I intended on killing everyone. I just wanted Yūsaku gone, but then I caught Tanigaki and Inkarmat 69ing by the lake and it spiraled from there.”

“Th—that’s why you killed them?”

“It was disgusting, okay.”

“Was it more disgusting than what we did?”

He glared at you. “What we did wasn’t disgusting. Tanigaki and Inkarmat didn’t actually care about each other.”

“You don’t know that.”

“They barely knew each other. You can’t like someone that much after, what, a week?”

“Does that mean we don’t like each other?”

“No!” He took a measured breath and regained composure. “It’s different with us. You know me. You understand me.”

“I don’t understand you at all.”

“But you were… so nice to me.”

Neither of you spoke. The only sound was the wind cutting through the trees. You thought back to old conversations you had with him and tried to see where your ignorance blinded you. There were plenty of times you should have known it was Ogata, but you were so caught up in blaming Tsurumi for everything.

It was hard to reconcile the man you had your heart set on was a cold blooded killer. You wanted your feelings to subside, but they remained despite his horrendous crimes. Part of you needed to fix him, to save him from himself. Maybe if you had caught on sooner you could have stopped him. There were so many what-ifs running through your mind you almost forgot where you were.

“Did it not mean anything to you?” he asked.

“What?”

“Being nice to me. Was it an obligation?”

“No. I think… most people deserve kindness.”

“Even someone like me?”

You tried to ignore the shotgun in his hand. “Yes… especially you, Hyakunosuke.”

“After everything I’ve done?”

“Ye—yes.”

“Liar.”

He aimed the gun under his chin and pulled the trigger. You tried to catch him in your arms, but you weren’t strong enough to carry that weight. You fell to your knees and cradled him. His face was nothing but an open wound. You wept as his blood seeped into your clothes.

“You were never an obligation.”

You wiped away your tears and got his blood in your eye. It burned, but it was nothing compared to the sinking feeling in your heart.

“Holy shit!!”

Shiraishi came barrelling out of the woods. His lip was busted and he had dried blood under his nose.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?”

Shiraishi kneeled in front of you. You looked down and noticed his hand was resting in what used to be Ogata’s face.

“Shiraishi, your hand.”

He fell backwards and kicked himself away from Ogata’s corpse. He wiped his hand in the dirt.

“He, uh, didn’t hurt me. I’m fine… I thought you were dead.”

“Nah. I just let him beat the shit out of me and pretended to be dead. I didn’t think he’d fall for it. Have you seen Sugimoto?”

“He… he didn’t make it.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Shiraishi helped move Ogata off of you. He looked horrified once he saw how much of Ogata’s blood had ended up on you. The coppery scent was impossible to ignore.

You were thankful Shiraishi was still alive. He took charge for a change, deciding your best course of action was to go to the mess hall and contact the authorities. It wasn’t until you got there that he realized his phone was dead. You both sat in silence as it charged.

“Can I ask you something?” he asked after checking his battery life.

You nodded.

“Did you like Ogata?”

You didn’t want to admit it. You couldn’t imagine a world where Shiraishi would understand the complexity of your feelings. He never liked Ogata in the first place.

You tried to slaughter the sentimental romantic inside you. You thought about how mean Ogata could be, the awful things he’d say to you. You thought about Sugimoto and how he tried to drag himself to your cabin despite being gutted like a fish.

“No,” you scoffed.

Ogata was right. You were a liar.

#ogata hyakunosuke x reader #ogata x reader #golden kamuy x reader #golden kamuy smut #ogata smut #reader insert #x reader #.fics #.gk #.ogata

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barananduen · 10 months

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Art Advice: How to Deal with Art Block

Welcome to my Art Advice Articles series! In this issue, we'll talk about the different types of art block and how to break through them.

TYPE 1: I want to draw, but I don't know what!

TYPE 2: I want to & know what to draw, but it doesn't come out right.

2a) I've never been able to draw the way I want

2b) I used to like my art, but not anymore

TYPE 3: I have ideas but no motivation

TYPE 4: I want to draw, but I'm scared my new art won't measure up to my last good piece

Choose your type of art block from the list above the cut, and skip to the corresponding section below:

🌟TYPE 1 - I WANT TO DRAW, BUT I DON'T KNOW WHAT!

This is the easiest type of art block to deal with. DRAW ANYTHING! It doesn't have to be something spectacular; drawing an object on your desk or in your room will do; it will help you break out of this art block. Here are some ideas for you:

Ask people for suggestions. You don't have to draw all of them; just do the ones that appeal to you, in any way you wish.

Draw random objects: decorations, an insect, a slice of pie...

Close your eyes, draw a doodle/random shape. Open your eyes, try to make a creature out of it. Now redraw the creature with purpose.

Draw a scene or character from the last movie you watched / book you read / song you listened to.

Experiment with a different art form, like photography, crafts, dancing, etc. or a different medium (acrylic, pastel, pencils, etc.). This will shift your focus while still keeping your mind thinking creatively. Working with different art forms will: 1) loosen you up, and 2) give you ideas that you can apply to your main form/medium.

The last idea has another benefit. While working with a new art form, you will hone different skills, that will help you with your "main" medium if you have one (or the media you normally do). For example, if you draw and are stuck, working on photography can help you with composition and depth of field, among other things. Scrapbooking or making collages can help you with textures, color palettes, and also composition. Sculpting can help you with volume and angles. Dancing can help you with poses. You see things in a different light and can come up with new, fresh ideas. :)

🌟TYPE 2 - I WANT TO & KNOW WHAT TO DRAW, BUT IT DOESN'T COME OUT RIGHT

This type can take two forms:

a) You've never been able to draw the way you want; or b) You used to like your art, but now you no longer do.

The good news is: both are temporary!

⭐ 2.a - I'VE NEVER BEEN ABLE TO DRAW THE WAY I WANT

Many, many people who are starting with art are under the misconception that art learning is a relatively quick process, that you can get good at art in just a couple of months, whereas the fact is, it takes years to get to the level we want, with art as with anything else.

Exercise what I call The Three Ps:

Patience

Practice

Perseverance

We must have patience! It's important to give yourself time; focus, don't rush, and don't get exasperated when things don't go the way you wish they would. They will, with time.

In the meantime, practice! Do studies (from life or photos, not from others' art so you don't accidentally copy other artists' mistakes). Learn how to use shading to convey volume. Practice different light sources. Learn and practice anatomy. Learn about lighting and colors. Try different subjects, styles, genres - experimenting and learning to draw different things is super important! Branching out will not only aid in building your skill-set, but can also help you find what you like.

Keep going and don't give up! You must persevere!

While you're doing that ...

Focus on the journey, not just on the end goal. It is important to enjoy the process for its own sake. This attitude will help with patience and perseverance, and will keep you happy longer.

While you're doing this, don't feel discouraged when things don't turn out the way you want! EVERYONE makes mistakes! And everyone has had to go through a learning process. Just because you don't see others posting things with mistakes doesn't mean they didn't happen. Take mistakes in stride, have a little humor with yourself, and learn from them.

⭐2.b - I USED TO LIKE MY ART, BUT NOT ANYMORE

Usually, when you feel you've hit a wall, when you feel like you're no longer happy with your art, it's right before you begin to improve again, so don't let that feeling make you quit.

What happens is that your brain (your inner art critic) is no longer satisfied with your current work because you've seen things you like better, and, subconsciously, you're going "my work would be better if I could do _." The thing is, once you become aware of what that blank is (which will happen), you'll start working toward achieving it, and you'll be moving forward again.

Sometimes it's helpful to take a short break to clear your mind a little, like when you've been working on a project/paper too long and need a break from it because you can't think anymore. Take a few days, maybe a week or two, but don't quit entirely! In the meantime, you can use your creativity in other media. Try photography, crafts, decorative cooking, anything! Give yourself some time and approach things with a fresh perspective. Give your brain a break from what's bogging you down.

When you come back, you can do three things:

Try again. Sometimes things just "click" after you've taken your focus off of the matter for a while, like how you can better spot errors in an essay after you've laid it down for a day or two, than right after you've finished writing it

Go back and review the basics again. You don't need to spent ages doing this; it's just a refresher. Sometimes, we get hung up on our methods and forget something we once knew we should be doing. A refresher's always good. Personally, I make it a point to go back and briefly review the basics every couple of years.

You can try approaching things in different ways. Experiment! Do things in ways you didn't do them before. Try different types of lighting, coloring, shading, for example. Maybe you'll find something you like better than what you were doing before.

The important thing here is to realize that this sudden dissatisfaction with your work is a GOOD THING! It means you're about to make a leap and get even better! So, embrace it and don't feel discouraged by it!

🌟TYPE 3 - I HAVE IDEAS BUT NO MOTIVATION

This one might be brought on by other things going on in your life, maybe things that are making you feel down. Sometimes, even music or books or whatever used to get you in the mood to do art doesn't work.

Force yourself to draw -ANYTHING- (See TYPE 1 for ideas). This will help jump-start you, and then you can get back to drawing cool things. The same applies to writing - write anything! A poem, a haiku, an anagram. Do a few and you'll get back in the mood. If you do photography, just take your camera and head out. Take pics of ordinary things from different angles; try a type of photography you don't usually do. Don't worry about the results being good. Just focus on doing the thing.

When I've had this type of art block and did these things, I got out of it fairly quickly. When I didn't, and sat it out hoping it would go away on its own, I stopped doing art for five years, and in the process forgot many things I already knew about how to make art. Different people work in different ways, but I do recommend that if you feel this type of art block has been going on for too long, actively do something to try to get out of it, like the examples I mentioned above. You don't want it to drag on long enough to set you back in your progress.

🌟TYPE 4 - I WANT TO DRAW, BUT I'M SCARED MY NEW ART WON'T MEASURE UP TO MY LAST GOOD PIECE

Lastly, I want to address the mental cage that is choking under pressure. You can feel pressured by external sources (other people, social media) and by internal sources (yourself). Sometimes, you might feel like you have to perform at a certain level, and that pressure may make you perform below what you usually do. In worse cases, it may make you freeze and scared to even try! Don't let pressure play you wrong. Breathe deeply a few times and clear your mind… and draw without worrying about it! Just draw!

It's like how, sometimes, doodles on lined paper come out better than things you draw on a white sheet or on a canvas… it's because you're not putting pressure yourself to come up with a masterpiece.

Draw without worrying about how good or bad the outcome will be. If it's not as good as your last piece - nothing bad happens! Honestly! But you know what does happen if you freeze up because you're afraid you won't measure up to your previous works? You will not create equal or even better works at all! So, let go of the pressure, don't worry, and just draw. You WILL make better works; it's natural and makes sense. More practice and time leads to improvement, no matter what level you're improving from. Just give yourself the opportunity to do so!

Let go of pressure and expectations and just draw for the sake of it! You'll do fine.

Yes, it's important to challenge yourself and break out of your comfort zone to learn new skills, but sometimes (like when you're in this type of art block), going with your own personal strengths will give you the morale boost you need to draw again, and then you can keep moving forward and tackle challenges and new things with more confidence.

Believe in yourself! And remember: don't stop or you won't create the next awesome artwork you didn't know you would make, because your future pieces will always be better than your past ones. Don't forget that!

🌟CLOSING

I hope his article can give you some ideas and motivation to help you plow through your art block, whichever type it may be, and you'll be back on your way to creating beautiful works! 💟

~B~

You can find the index to all Art Advice Articles [here]

#art block #art advice #art tips #art help #art resources #artists on tumblr #art #how to #art tutorial

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kylobith · 2 months

Text

Little Town Tails

Chapter 1: New Beginnings

Summary: After saving up for years, Halsin fulfils his dream and opens his veterinary practice in a quaint little town.

Ship/Pairing: Halsin x Fem!Tav

Trope: Modern AU, Meet-cute, Little countryside town, Cosy

Word count: 1,441

Read it on Ao3 here

Listen to the dedicated playlist on Spotify here

Sunlight pierces through the cherry blossoms, dancing upon the cobblestone of the old arched bridge leading into Heawick. It is a quaint little town, tucked away between rolling hills dotted with hazel trees, a grove, and meandering streams. No modern architecture has defaced its landscape, leaving its traditional limestone facades to stand the test of time, which they did brilliantly.

After all, anybody lucky enough to settle down in Heawick can only fall in love with its old streets and picturesque shopfronts, and this urged most of the inhabitants to care for the outside of their homes almost as much as they did the inside. Those who are too old to tend to them can usually rely on the kindness of good-hearted neighbours, who do not hesitate to lend a hand for anything. Trimming the growing ivy without removing it, plucking juicy fruits from branches, cleaning windows; there is never a task too daunting when it comes to helping out.

It is early on a spring morning and the elderly man who lives nearest to the bridge has already been up and about for hours to water every planter lining up the road and hanging from the old lampposts with their flaky paint. Another project held captive in the neverending pile of documents and forms on Mayor Ravengard’s desk.

The bakery at the corner of the first crossing has long finished its first batches of pastries and bread, filling the air with mouthwatering scents. A few souls are already dragging their feet to its doors, still wiping the sleep out of their eyes as they seek some warm breakfast. On the opposite side of the street, a sweaty young man carries crates full of fruits and vegetables. He sets them up outside the greengrocer's shop, ensuring they are stable enough to sustain the shaking and bumping of passersby and customers.

Near the tiny park at the heart of the town, some owners walk their dogs, waving at neighbours and friends, wishing one another good morning when they have enough caffeine in their veins to wake them up. The barber reads his newspaper on one of the benches, seizing the opportunity to enjoy the first beautiful day of the season before going to work.

All is well in Heawick, as it always is. It is rarely eventful since so few people inhabit it.

‘Come here, Scratch. Good boy.’

While giving the white dog a loving pat between the ears, Halsin turns the sign on the door, officially opening his practice. He leans casually against the doorframe, his gaze fixed on the world beyond his house, a triumphant surge coursing through his veins. So many years of hard labour and sacrifice, this seemingly small victory holds the weight of a lifetime’s worth of dedication and perseverance.

After perusing office space offers on every website known to man and visiting many a wretched place, having found this little corner of paradise to establish himself was nothing short of a miracle. And what a place it is!

Everything is ready for him to welcome his first furry patients. After renovating the place himself, he designed a welcoming surgery for owners and animals alike, creating an environment in which he would not mind staying for hours on end every day. Each nook and cranny has been sterilised for the animals’ well-being and he dedicated a corner for the comfort of his own dog, whom he expects to become his official assistant. Photographs of Scratch and the pets of friends from his hometown printed on canvas are the only decorations in the waiting room, ornamenting the otherwise dull, pastel-blue walls. At the welcome desk, a duck he whittled himself sits on top of the counter between two bowls of treats; one for the pets, one for the anxious owners.

Karlach, his newly hired assistant, insisted on having more decorations brought in, but Halsin was more than hesitant to indulge her. While the young woman certainly is enthusiastic enough for both of them, he can tell that if he does not put his foot down, the practice would have stuffed animals from floor to ceiling.

After giving the place yet another proud look, Halsin walked over to the reception, sneaking a treat to Scratch on the way. He sits behind the computer and plays old-timey folk music from his music library. He stretches his back and spins around on his chair, kicking his feet.

Now he just has to wait.

While one of his favourite songs plays, he browses the latest wildlife photographs on the National Geographic website, smiling at the wholesome snapshots and zooming on each of them to observe any detail capturing his attention. He is halfway through the second page and sipping his cold herbal tea when the door opens and the little bell tinkles. His eyes shoot up and he stands from his chair.

But it is no patient. It is merely Melly, the baker’s mother, who comes to bring him some fruit pastries wrapped up in a small lavender-coloured box topped with a bow. As soon as she catches a glimpse of him, her eyes illuminate and she gives him a wave.

‘Good morning, Halsin, dear!’ she chimes.

Grinning from ear to ear, he bypasses the desk and comes to shake the old lady’s hand. Curled up on his cushion, Scratch looks up, but ignores her arrival and goes back to sleep.

‘Good morning, Melly,’ he greets her back. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Oh, nothing, love, nothing at all! I came to see how you were faring on your first day.’

Halsin gazes around with a chuckle.

‘It has been quiet so far. In fact, you are the first person to walk in.’

‘Is that so? Ah, well, do not worry, dearie. The people in this town have been praying for a doctor and a veterinarian closer to home for decades. They will come.’

The thought warms up the man’s heart. Not that he has been worrying about the lack of patients so far, but he has come to wonder on multiple occasions about how long it would take for the first appointments to come in. He has bills to pay after all, and the renovation of what used to be a woodworker’s shop was not cheap, no matter how many things he did himself to save up on better equipment.

‘Would you like some tea, Melly?’

‘Oh, no, darling, thank you,’ she chuckles with a dismissing wave of her hand. The old woman hands him the lavender box. ‘I brought you this, thought you might need a little encouragement for your first day.’

‘How lovely of you, thank you!’

‘I will not linger, I fear that my old face would scare even the sickest hound away,’ she jokes while patting his shoulder. ‘Would you like me to take some of your business cards to display at the bakery? I’m sure that my son would not object.’

Melly does not even wait for him to respond before grabbing a quarter of the cards neatly stacked on the countertop. She shoves them in her cardigan’s pocket. The garment seems to have survived many decades, yet has retained its charm. Halsin always finds himself smiling at the sight of the ducks knitted around the waistline, complementing the beige diamond stitches all over it.

‘Do you need me to bring you lunch later, love?’

‘No, Melly, thank you. I have already planned my next few meals, but it is nice of you to offer.’

‘Very well,’ she smiles, patting his cheek. ‘You know where to find me if you need anything.’

‘I do. Thank you for everything.’

Out of courtesy, he accompanies her to the door, the pastry box seeming so tiny in his large palm, when it is a normal size in anybody else’s grasp. Before leaving, Melly turns to look at him, running a wrinkled finger underneath her chin.

‘Where is that eccentric assistant of yours? Is she not helping you today?’

‘Karlach? Oh, she is touring the neighbouring towns to leave calling cards in shops and town halls.’

‘Oh, good, good. What a tempest, this girl!’

Halsin laughs, scratching the back of his head.

‘She is, but I am sure that the animals will love her. I can already tell that she will love them first anyway.’

‘Well, as long as she works well…’

Without adding another word, Melly crosses the road, absent-mindedly waving at him while she looks around for cars. Once the old lady has returned to the bakery, Halsin takes a deep breath of countryside air and moves to close the door.

That is when he sees her.

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girlygguk · 1 year

Text

fame - jjk (one)

pairing ; idol!jk x idol!oc.

synopsis ; aera; the main dancer in one of the biggest k-pop groups in the world, Siren. debuting in 2014, it was nothing but immense hard work and perseverance (and being on the absolute verge of disbandment), but she and the four girls that grew to become her sisters pulled through. they did it. now they're performing at some of the most significant arenas and stadiums worldwide. meeting a cheeky, flirtatious and annoyingly gorgeous fellow idol that threatens to break down every wall of protection she's built around herself was not part of the plan. her career has always come first, having sacrificed and jeopardised many relationships and friendships in her journey to debut. so why does this time feel different?

a/n: first two chapters are 3rd person, rest of story will be first pov

story warnings ; smut, explicit language, violent & possibly triggering scenes.

chapter warnings ; explicit language

word count ; 1800+

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

📅 March 2016

📍 PARK ENTERTAINMENT Dance Practice Room

The hot and stuffy air clung to their sweat-covered skin, the large mirror that reflected their stressed and tired figures completely fogged. Ha-Joon fell to her knees when Han-na's phone finished spewing the rendition of Shinee's Replay the girls had recently recorded from its speaker. Looking down to her right, Aera fell to her butt, slinked her arms through Ha-Joon's, and wrapped them around her waist. Her head leaned against Joon's shoulder as they both caught their breath.

"You're doing so good, Joonie", Aera whispered, smushing a quick kiss against the younger's sweaty forehead.

The maknae was still shaking from fatigue, the five girls having practised non-stop in the humid room for almost four hours now. Aera's head never left her younger sister's shoulder, but her vision focused on their two eldest, Han-na and Asami.

Han-na was fidgeting with the settings on her portable speaker, trying hopelessly to fix it as it cut out during the first hour of practice. They then had to resort to just using the phone speaker and barely being able to hear the music over their loud footsteps and heavy breathing. Asami had her hoodie, which she hastily removed once the room's temperature became tepid, clutched in her hands, furiously wiping the large mirror displayed on the wall before them in an attempt to de-fog it.

"We need to eat, Unnie. The room will cool down while we're out of it. It's too fucking warm." Nali grumbled to Han-na from the corner of the room; her head slumped against the wall as she tried to use the tile to cool down her burning skin.

The four girls turned to stare at their leader while she angrily slammed her speaker down when her pursuit of fixing it failed. Using the tie she had on her wrist, she hastily threw her hair into a bun and clambered to her feet. "We've been invited to our first award show. This is important." The eldest blubbered with a shake of her head, her eyes foggy as she stood.

"A half-hour to regain our energy will do nothing but good, Unnie. We can't practice weakly, or we'll perform weakly." Aera chimed in, her hands squeezing tighter around Joon as she felt her tremble slightly in her arms.

"Half an hour." Han-na sighed, wiping the layer of sweat that gathered above her brows.

A quiet noise of glee echoed throughout the sweltering practice room, the members of Siren ascending to their feet and heading for the door. Aera released her hold on Joon and slowly rose to her feet. Grabbing the youngest's hands, she pulled her up with all the remaining strength she had, which was very minimal, and wrapped her arm around hers. The girls filed out of the room, leaving the door open to allow some cooled air to fill the space in their absence.

The chilly, fresh air smacked the members when they left the heat box, enveloping their skin and causing them to harmonise in ecstasy. As they made their way down the hallway of their company, they each stopped and parted ways momentarily to acquire their belongings from their dorms. Aera pulled Joon towards the end of the hall, getting to their dorm and releasing her from her hold to open the door. Walking over to their shared bed, Aera collapsed onto the mattress and stuffed her face into her pillow before releasing a shriek of distress.

Ha-Joon entered the room shortly after and delivered a soft whack to the elders behind. Shrieking for the second time, Aera whipped her head around to face Joon, eyes wide and foot ready to swing and retaliate.

"Get off our bed! You're sweaty, Unnie! So disgusting", Ha-Joon bellowed, quickly pulling her phone off the charger and grasping the half-empty water bottle on her bedside table before chugging the remaining liquid.

Aera rolled her eyes with a slight giggle, obliging and clambering off the bed. Doing the same, she grabbed her phone and the twenty-dollar bill she had shoved in a random trinket holder.

The girls left their dorm in snorts, Aera ruffling Ha-Joon's hair before hastily speeding up to their other members. "I have no energy; not fair!" So cried the maknae, slamming their doom door shut and jogging up to her sisters.

"The corner store is closed," Han-na huffed, phone in hand, as she scrolled through their area map to hunt for an open shop to find sustenance. They made their way to the company entrance, pushing through the heavy doors and into the cool night air.

"Hanjie's is open; they don't shut 'til late." Nali offered, basking in the refreshing temperature instead of the clammy practice room they escaped from.

"It'll take a while for our food to be prepared and then longer to eat. We still have to practice for a few more hours." Han-na cautioned, not bothering to disguise her worry about perfecting their performance.

"Unnie, if we don't eat, I. Will. Pass. Out." Ha-Joon wailed from the front of their group huddle. The elder girls were on the outer edges of the path; their maknae squished in the middle of the horde. Asami chuckled and brushed the stray strand of Joon's fringe that blew in the wind behind her ear as they walked.

"We're going to get laughed off that stage, and I don't want to hear a single peep out of any of you when we do." The leader retorted with a roll of her eyes, stuffing her phone in her pocket as the four younger women cheered in triumph.

Aera stole a glance at Han-na's phone before she tucked it away and discovered it was only half past 9. They had to be up and ready by 8 tomorrow morning for final show preparation, and knowing their leader, they would not be finishing practice until at least midnight. Aera wouldn't admit it out loud, but she was worried too. They had incorporated a dance break for her in their performance, and she was stressed.

Aera is confident in her abilities. She fell in love with dance at a young age, begging her parents to enroll her in dance classes and spending late nights in her bedroom learning the choreographies of her favourite artists' music for hours. In her teens, she had considered auditioning for multiple agencies as a backup dancer, thinking that's what she wanted to do with her life. However, it was the adrenaline she felt when the song hit the climax, and she felt the music seep into her bones that she knew she wanted to be more than a shadow in the back. She wanted to pursue the art and make a proper career out of it. She loves the attention, and she wants to succeed. She had concluded that her mind was simply fucking with her. If she loves the attention so much, why is the thought of her leading the dance break sending shivers down her sweat-covered back? Shaking the cloudy thoughts from her overthinking mind, Aera returned to earth and noticed they were arriving at Hanjie's SikDang.

The five girls flinched as they entered the restaurant, the warm heated air enveloping them as they filed through the door, almost as if the dance practice room had given them severe PTSD. "Annyeong-Haseyo!" They chimed in unison as they flocked to a large corner table, spreading out and scrambling for the menu.

Aera was seated on the double seater with Ha-Joon, their knees bumping in joy, their stomachs fluttering like they knew they were about to be filled. Leaning over Asami's shoulder, she glared at the menu she held like she had a vendetta against it.

"Why do you always look through the menu so fiercely, Era? You always get the same thing." Han-na cackled, doing the same action and reading over the food options.

Offended and appalled at being called out, Aera squinted daggers at the elder girl before huffing and leaning back against Ha-Joon's shoulder. "Spicy ramen hits every single time, and we're broke! I can't risk my happiness and what little money we have by trying a new dish and possibly not liking it." She grumbled, glancing up at Joon through her lashes from her position on her shoulder.

"Same thing, Joonie?" Aera queried at the youngest, that had her eyes shut and her head leaning against the wall behind them.

"Yes, please," Ha-Joon replied with a nod, her eyes closed, but her mouth still bore into a toothy smile to show her appreciation. Aera chuckled and tapped the maknae's belly before making a note to order the buy one get one half-priced special that included two bowls of spicy ramen.

After a few minutes, the girls finished placing their order with the woman who trotted to their table with a jug of water, glasses, and a pad to jot down their demands. Aera was on her second serving of drink before her phone vibrated on the chair she was sitting on. Reaching down, she unlocked the device and squinted at the notification blearing back at her. The icon of her brother illuminated the screen with a text saying how he hoped she was doing well and bidding her good night as he was probably about to turn in for the night. Smiling at her softie of a brother, she replied with an, "I miss you, I love you, and I'm okay. You better be studying hard", ending with a promise of video calling him soon.

She tucked her phone away, joining in the silly word game that her members were captivated by, her competitive side automatically taking over. She suddenly wanted nothing more than to win a pointless, rewardless word game. They played for a few rounds, Aera leading by two victories and Ha-Joon one, before they saw the woman who took their order waddling up with their meals. They all spewed thank-yous at the elder before taking their rightful plates. She placed the final two bowls onto the table before pointing at the dish on the left, saying it was the mildly spiced ramen and earning a thankful nod and praise from Aera.

Aera handed the less-spicy noodles to Joon, sliding the chopsticks to her along with some napkins. "Gamsahamnida, unnie." Ha-Joon cheered, wasting no time before digging into her meal with purpose. Aera smiled at her before doing the same and tucking into hers. The table was quiet, the hunger that the members were trying to exterminate getting rid of any want for conversation.

"So what I'm seeing is, the youngest are the smartest." Aera broke the silence, referring to their previous table game after finishing her mouthful of ramen. Siren erupted into laughter, Aera earning herself a slap on the arm from Asami, who almost spat her rice cake back into her bowl.

"Shut up and eat." Han-na laughed halfway through a mouthful of rice and kimchi.

Aera shrugged with a smirk, shoving more food into her mouth and enjoying the moment of relaxation before they returned to the room that would give hell a run for its money and practised for the rest of the night.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

#jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook drabble #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook #jeon jungguk #bts jk #bts jungkook #bangtan #bangtan sonyeondan #jungkook imagine

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creative-crybaby · 11 months

Text

Second Skin

PAIRING: timeskip!Yamagata Hayato x fem!reader

GENRE: hurt/comfort | smut (18+)

Minors DNI

TAGS + WARNINGS: fingering, nipple play, praise kink, cum eating, creampie

Let me know if I missed anything.

WORD COUNT: 3k

SUMMARY: Some days, you just want your partner all to yourself. Today is one of those days, and that want has grown to a need. All characters are 18+

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Is my codependency showing? Just going back to my smutty roots, okay? I miss my boy :(

You miss him.

It’s embarrassing to admit—not because your feelings towards him are anything to be ashamed of, but because it doesn’t feel like there’s any reason to feel how you do. You’re fortunate enough to have breakfast together most mornings and be home before the other is too tired to stay up longer. Assuming you have dinner together, the atmosphere is a weighted blanket, the two of you exhausted from a hard day’s work, but still more than content to return to the other.

Tonight is no different when you catch the sound of the doorknob jiggling.

You almost forget to send your email before hastily pushing your laptop off your lap and onto the couch, making your way to the entrance of your apartment.

“I’m home—” Your presence is enough to cut Yamagata’s sentence as he shuts the door behind him. A smile immediately eases onto his features as you take his sports bag from his hold, quickly placing it out of the way. He’s already removed his shoes when you pull him into an embrace, one tight enough to have him huff from the force. Not that it stops him from returning the affection. “Good to see you, too.”

The humorous tone makes the corners of your lips twitch upwards, though you further bury yourself into him, inhaling his scent.

“Hey.” The proximity muffles your voice. The libero gently pulls away to get you to face him.

“Missed me?” he muses, his usual boyish grin spreading on his lips. It’s enough to make you melt, your knees refusing to support the rest of your body as warmth radiates from your cheeks.

Your nod is enough to make the corners of his mouth drop. Even with his resting mean face, you know he’s far from upset. Still, you don’t feel like elaborating.

You plant your fingers into his hair, now down and slightly dishevelled without the gel. “Showered at practice?”

Yamagata hums in confirmation, leaning into your touch as you gently play with the strands that stick out. “Have you eaten yet?”

You shake your head. “Feels a little too early for that.”

In all honesty, dinner’s the last thing you want to discuss. You can hardly answer your boyfriend’s questions when your focus keeps flickering to his lips, eyelids drooping as your brain transfixes on what you’re really drooling over.

If you’d look just a bit higher, you’d see that it hasn’t taken him long to catch on to your thoughts.

Another smile makes its way onto his face, this one far more teasing. “Care to share your thoughts with the class?”

You pout, looking away as you tighten your arms around his neck. “You’re full of questions today, aren’t you? Is this an interrogation?”

Your boyfriend’s hold on your waist slides to your hips, his thumbs brushing patterns on your leggings as he tries to regain eye contact with you. Your stubbornness and embarrassment persevere, however, and they’re working overtime to keep your gaze away from his.

Yamagata won’t have it, it seems. One of his hands finds your chin, leading you to peer back at him. His usually arched brows soften, but it doesn’t hide that familiar glint in his eyes.

“This is an interrogation,” his tone is serious before it changes to something much lower, “and I’ll use any methods necessary to get answers out of you.”

Next thing you know, the libero pulls you into him even closer (if possible) and attacks your face with kisses, aiming for any spot he can find. You squeal, shuddering in his tight hold but doing little to escape it.

Eventually, your lover travels his affection to your neck, trailing down your jaw before nibbling on the spot he knows makes you weak. It isn’t until he starts sucking on the area do you release a quiet whimper, and Yamagata freezes. He plants one last kiss on your cheek before pulling back, his arms keeping you in his embrace.

“Talk to me.” When he speaks to you like that, all soft and voice lowered like his words are for no one else, you want nothing more than to dissolve in his arms. Keep him talking to you just like that about anything and everything–you don’t really care–so long as it’s just you two in that conversation. It’s a bedtime story you know nothing about, not bothering to understand its plot or the depth of every character. Having him want to share something with you is what eases you into that vulnerability that you’d otherwise convince yourself you don’t have.

You lean to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I need you to touch me.”

One blink of realization later, and Yamagata’s pulling you in by the back of your neck, slamming his lips against yours. You’re immediately lulled into a haze as his tongue finds yours, swirling around as he carefully leads you to the bedroom. Even with your brain on autopilot, your actions show eagerness as you try to remove his clothes on the way. And with him getting handsy and copying your idea, you know he’s just as enthusiastic, leaving a trail of shirts and pants.

You’re both in your undergarments when you feel the back of your knees hit the foot of the bed and pull away from the kiss.

“Need you close,” you pant, unclasping your bra. “Need to feel as much of you as possible.”

Your boyfriend’s already occupied gently biting the junction of your neck as he helps you remove your panties. “Anything you want, pretty.”

Not a second after you feel your underwear drop to your ankles, you climb the bed while kicking the useless material off you. Yamagata follows suit, leaning against the headboard and settling you between his legs. You lean back in his hold, taking his hands and placing them on your breasts. Ever the soulmate, he takes the lead, tweaking at your nipples while he resumes his handiwork on your neck with his mouth.

You shiver. Despite the warmth, you find yourself pulling your lover closer, his body heat meshing with yours. And yet, it’s not the least bit overwhelming; if anything, it’s not enough. You need him in all five senses—you’d create a sixth one if it meant having more of him. His touch is everywhere you’d let him lay his hands on, and his musk invades your olfactory, making your head spin. And while he occasionally sighs or groans during his ministrations, you can’t see his face from your current position, nor can you put your mouth on any part of him you’d like.

Frustration burns in your chest, and you hunch over to remove his lips from you before twisting your neck to kiss them. Your eyes struggle to refrain from fluttering closed as you let him surround you in every way possible, ignoring the strain on your neck as the libero complies with your neediness.

You don’t miss how he hooks his muscular legs over yours to keep them open, nor the ticklish feeling of one of his hands travelling south. The squeezing and tugging of your breast don’t simmer away as Yamagata brings attention to your pussy, collecting your essence between your lower lips before toying with your clit.

“Hayato!” you gasp as you pull away, your body jolting from his touch as your lungs try to take in as much oxygen as possible. The small, tight circles on your pearl have you rolling your hips in tandem, though your boyfriend is quick to tighten his cage on your legs.

“You trust me, right?” he hums against your ear, planting a kiss below it before you nod meekly. His ministrations don’t falter as he momentarily buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. “Then relax. Lemme take care of you the way you deserve.”

Your bottom lip quivers as his breath tickles your skin, and it isn’t until he finally slides a finger into your entrance that you allow yourself to release whatever noises you’ve been bottling up.

A pleased hum buzzes against your neck as you mewl and whimper at every touch. Soon enough, a warm tongue follows suit, dancing across your skin in appreciation as you grind with the libero’s finger. The light squelching doesn’t help your situation either, adding fuel to the fire and setting your body ablaze every time the sounds reach your ears.

Then Yamagata adds another finger, further stretching you open. Nothing you haven’t done with him before, but even in the clouds, you can feel everything more than one would.

“You hear yourself?” he whispers. You can practically feel his smile while he picks up his speed, the lewd melody between your legs almost masking his words. “You hear how much you need me?”

A nod is all you can offer, embarrassment and lust swirling in your belly as your lover continues attacking your sweet spot. With his hold on your legs, you have little room to buck your hips in tandem. If anything, it feels like the sun is growing closer, sweat clinging to your skin where it connects to his muscular thighs.

Your voice finds you before you find it. “Can’t wait any longer.”

Your words are plenty for the libero as he pulls his fingers out, licking them clean of your slick while ensuring you catch every second of the performance. You barely get to whine at the display before he brings you in for another kiss, sharing your taste. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as they flutter closed, and you want to stay like that forever.

But you don’t get forever. You pout once Yamagata pulls away and aren’t given a chance to complain as he leads you into a new position, having you lay on your back with him hovering over you, his thumbs hooked past his underwear’s waistband. It’s hard to miss the bulge in his boxers, having felt it poke you as your bodies pressed against each other, though watching your boyfriend free his cock of his restraints makes you salivate nonetheless.

He’s using one hand to pump his shaft while using the other to spread your legs, chocolate eyes lidded and cheeks flushed as his gaze wanders your naked body. It’s enough to make you shiver.

“You’ve been so patient,” he practically coos, getting closer to line his cock with your entrance and rubbing his tip against your lower lips. “Gonna make it worth the wait. Promise, baby.”

You’d swoon at his reassurance had it not been for your neediness, hazy eyes watching as he finally pushes in. The familiar stretch makes you sigh, and your arms find their place around his neck, pulling the libero closer.

Normally, Yamagata likes taking his time sinking into your warm cunt, teasing you and getting you ansty. You’re grateful for his mercy, opting to fill you to the hilt fast enough without hurting you. It isn’t until his hips touch yours that you wrap your legs around his lower back.

He chuckles airily. “Ready, sweet girl?”

You nod before pulling his body closer to yours, desperate to feel him more than you already are. Your lover happily indulges in your clinginess, burying his face in your neck as he begins with slow strokes. You moan, your fingers dancing in his locks as you take him in. Even with your body relaxing in his hold, your mind is racing.

It’s not enough. You’ve become one, and it’s not enough.

Your bottom lip quivers—Yamagata seems to notice, halting his movements and nudging your cheek with his nose.

You don’t answer him at first, not when he gently calls your name the first and second times. By then, he’s come out of his hiding spot, and his eyes widen upon seeing your face. You can only guess he knows you’re crying before you do.

“Hey,” he shushes, his brows furrowed with worry. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt? We can stop if you—”

“No!” You don’t want to hear the rest of that sentence, your hold on him tightening. “I need more. I hate feeling like this, and you’re perfect–so fucking perfect for me–but I need feel all of you, all the time.” You finish with a hiccup, your tears blurring your vision and helping you avoid his reaction. Instead, you try to calm your breathing, the occasional sob cutting you off. Eventually, you manage to add meekly. “I miss you.”

You’re hesitant to remove your arms from his neck, but the tears keep coming and wetting every inch of your skin it touches, and you feel like clawing at something. All you can do is wipe them away the best you can, hating that this is all happening now in front of him.

But then your vision returns, and your lover looks at you with a soft smile and an even softer gaze that makes your heart melt and leak out of your eyes some more.

“I miss you, too.”

His lips return to yours once more, slotting together as you wrap your arms around his neck again, and he resumes his thrusting. Faster and deeper, his cock reaches spots that have you seeing stars while his mouth steals every breath in exchange for even more of him. Your chest burns as your cunt stretches and moulds into his shape, and your brain is a mere puddle between your ears.

You’re in heaven.

“‘M close,” you gasp once the libero pulls back for air. The coil in your lower belly drives you mad, and all you can do is pathetically grind along with his movements. It’s enough to make you sob; Yamagata rests his forehead against yours.

“Me, too,” he rasps, his warm breath fanning your face. You try to resume your kiss, but you only plant a peck on the corner of his mouth. You groan in frustration, and he chuckles, shifting to give you what you want. With a satisfied hum, you wrap your legs tighter around his body: an invitation to finish inside. Even with your hold on his body, his languid thrusts remain as deep as before, albeit sloppier as you approach your peaks.

A calloused hand glides down your body and between your thighs, finding your clit and messily rubbing it. It’s the final push, with bliss and intoxication as a veil that blankets you. Your glossy eyes manage to see heaven waiting at the altar. Vows are exchanged through swollen lips, words no longer necessary as the two of you share oxygen.

I do, I do, I do.

Time is slow while your thoughts are reeling. You don’t realize Yamagata’s laying on top of you with his face buried in your neck, having spilled his load in your sensitive pussy, until you feel some of his release slowly dribble out. You exhale shakily, somewhat enjoying his weight on you as you allow your legs to relax on the mattress.

The internal panic sets in when you feel Yamagata slowly pull back, and you hook your leg around his hip again.

“I wanna stay like this,” you mumble against his skin, “just for a bit longer.”

He’s frozen for a moment before his body relaxes, strong arms bringing you closer as he shifts to lay next to you. “This good?”

There’s not a lot of room for you to nod, but the movement of your head is still enough of an answer.

A pause. Not awkward, though you’ve never been a fan of the silence. It’s a chance for the volleyball player to ease up and take things slowly, something you’d always wish for him. For you, no exterior sound means there’s plenty of room for your thoughts to bounce around. Doing something–anything–can be a distraction—even better if it’s one of the tasks clawing away at your precious hours of sleep.

Maybe it’s some kind of afterglow effect, but you find yourself able to do something about the issue, baby step or otherwise.

“Thank you for putting up with me.”

Yamagata’s lips press against your head, and you can practically feel his frown. If at all possible, he tightens the embrace.

“I’m not ‘putting up’ with anything, “ he responds gruffly. “I love you.”

You bite your bottom lip to stop it from quivering, your fingers mindlessly dancing across your lover’s tanned skin. You wonder if he hears you when you whisper an “I love you, too”—feeling his lips plant on your forehead is plenty of reassurance.

“I just don’t want to come off as clingy, you know?” you reiterate. You try to, anyway.

“Maybe I like clingy.” You feel the libero shrug, and you can hear the evergrowing grin in his tone. You find yourself copying his expression.

Yamagata’s known for his energy, especially the aggressiveness that comes with it—the bruises he gives himself from volleyball practice are more than enough evidence. And while you can handle his eccentricity even before you two became a couple, that didn’t stop your mutuals from wondering how you’d keep up.

But the libero won’t break your bones with his hugs, nor do his teeth clash with yours during heavy makeout sessions—his embrace melts your body into him while his lips and tongue take your breath away. He gets giddy when you wear his clothes and keeps you farthest away from the street when you’re both on the sidewalk.

All of that, wrapped in a pretty bow and handed to you with the most delicate expression. Just like the one he’s giving you now, having pulled back from the embrace to examine your face.

Be still, your heart.

“You’re perfect,” you say without realizing.

“So I’ve been told,” he chuckles before rolling you both over to sit up, never letting you go. You offer a puzzled expression, and he kisses your temple. “We’re continuing all this in the bathtub. Scented candles, bubbles, the whole shebang.” your body follows his as he dismounts the bed, slowly leading you to the bathroom while checking if you have the strength to move. Your leaning into his frame is more emotional support than physical, and that boyish smile returns to his face again. “I’m not done taking care of you.”

Be still, your heart, indeed.

#fanfic #fanfiction #hq #haikyuu #smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #yamagata smut #yamagata hayato #yamagata x reader #shiratorizawa

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randomalistic · 1 month

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Rewatched Princess and the Frog tonight: it’s got some GREAT moments, but it’s overall just fine. (With a few glaring issues but . Yeah 💚)

Ok first off the visuals are really great. I’m still sad Disney basically destroyed their 2D animation department after this movie. And also Pooh but whatever. The characters are so expressive and it’s really cool :)

I especially liked this style change during one of the songs :] it was unique!

Very beautiful visually and it focuses on being extravagant and fun! Which yknow sometimes you need something like that. But it’s also really really. Really surface level and sanitized 1920s New Orleans. Cuz like yeah it’s a Disney movie- they obviously care more about making it child appropriate than time period accurate

It had this whole ‘it doesn’t matter if you’re Black or white we’re all equal!’ thing going on and?? Pretending racism doesn’t exist outside of MAYBE TWO LINES is kind of fucked especially when your movie discusses class differences with rich Prince Naveen (who is from a made up country also) and working class Tiana. This is definitely an issue they could’ve dove more into but they were like. “Nooooo only a few white guys landlords are bad and rude... The black guy chef was also mean to her !” THATS VERY STRANGE. STOP PRETENDING LIKE ITS A “BOTH SIDES CAUSE THE PROBLEM” ISSUE GUHHHHHHHH

Not to mention Tiana is an absolute workaholic and they never really explicitly denounce that as a bad thing. Like sure Naveen is like "maybe you should chill out more" but she was working TWO JOBS AT ONCE, BARELY SLEEPS, and almost NEVER spends time for herself 😭 And it doesn't affect her performance at all?? Maybe Shes Just Awesome But IDK. They frame it as "shes such a hard worker! and if you work hard, everything will turn out ok!" which is a nice sentiment but not realistic. It being a kids movie doesnt make it exempt from criticsm cuz little kids watching it might get the expectation that working yourself to the bone is normal, when in reality that can be really dangerous. Basically Tiana Deserves A Fuckign Break

Anyways im dissing this movie way too much LOL. It does a lot right but I'm only focusing on the issues </3 I really admire Tiana's perseverance despite being overworked as Fuck and her ability to refocus on what's important to her, that being her family and her restaurant. ❤️ Also the whole ‘turning black person into cute marketable creature” trope thing unfortunately tries to push that issue away even further. So basically this movie follows a lot of bad tropes and the 2nd half when they become frogs slows the movie down quite a bit. Not that it was bad, it was just a different direction that was Arguably Less Interesting. although it gets points for being furry media (technically) I will not deny that.

this movie is 20% about a working class black woman facing adversity and 80% about frog romance. sorry

woaht the fuck theres4 of them

Best character alert?!?!!⚠️⚠️⚠️ Like yeah obviously it’s Dr Facilier he sort of carries the whole movie. EASILY the best musical number of the whole film and Friends on the Other Side is one of the best Disney villain songs PERIOD!!!!

(THIS MIDDLE GIF IS FUCKIJG INSANE.)

You can tell they had so much fucking fun making this scene and I love that so much 💚💜

Sentient evil shadow that can interact with the real world?? Cool as FUCK. Shady deals with the shadow realm that inevitably turn against him?? SIGN ME THE FUCK UP!!!!!! WHAT A COOL DEATH… Although there is the fact his black magic is a wide & inaccurate mishmash of different cultural practices to make him appear more Spooky and Evil TM. Is he good representation ? Who am I to say. People love him anyways.

(Maybe it was done that way to make him appear like a ‘Jack of all trades’ or like he’s dabbling in multiple practices when he’s not supposed to, getting him in dangerous business with the “shadow realm.” But that still doesn’t justify it)

Very petty complaint but i was watching this together with my friend who does tarot. As far as I know, NONE of his tarot cards Make Real Sense or have any correlating meaning with what number they are (except for The Tower, which was when he said Naveen’s funds were low.) it’s not like the average audience member knows tarot, but would’ve been cool if they went that extra mile :’)

Louis was perfect and I have no complaints. Just a big goofy guy AND he’s so talented ! 2nd best character easily

Ok. OKAY FINE I ended up liking Ray more than I expected. [BOOOOOOOOOOO] HEY. I’m just saying He was a happy little fellow. I might be stupid. I don’t think he ever Caused Problems for the main cast which would’ve made him more annoying . But also how wasn’t he Squashed to a pulp LOL. YOU LITERALLY HEAR HIM SQUISH … THEY SHOULDVE HAD A SHOT WITH HIS GUTS EVERYWGERE ON THE PAVEMENT !!!!!! 🙄 I was not attached to him but I didn’t hate him.

(Gif of him dying infintely anyways)

ALSO bro selfships with a star. And after death him becoming the star next to it … 🥺IM SO EASY.

Those 3 slapstick frog hunters were an absolutely useless threat. Facilier’s shadows were JUST established to be after them and that was enough of a threat!! The hunters ONLY existed for cheap comic relief and for Naveen and Tiana to bond and become heterosexual frogs 💔 WORST CHARACTERS !!!!!!!!!! I HATE CHILDREN’S MOVIES !!!!!!!!!

Naveen kind of sucks but at least he learned how to suck less through mincing mushrooms <3 yeah that’s called a character arc 😲’if I can learn how to mince you can learn how to dance’ IT WAS SORT OF CUTEE OK.

Ok I’m getting tired. Bird critique: when they arrived in the bayou for the first time they played Laughing Kookaburra calls. No offense but I dont think this native Australian bird belongs in southern Louisiana and It’s Actually Quite Lost

Anyways the movie is FINE. I probably wouldn’t rewatch it but Dr Facilier is awesome Also i watched this video and i liked it teehee

youtube

#princess and the frog #the princess and the frog #Disney #movie #txt #movie review #review #film #Youtube

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lovedrunkheadcanons · 1 year

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Chapter Contents

(Arranged Marriage Fic) Read on AO3

Rated M

Satoru was the one who suggested they attend a baseball game together. “Things have gotten pretty shitty around here,” were his exact words. “And I want a reason to make Utahime jealous.” Hannah was in no position to refuse. It was indeed a dark time for Japan. The theater had left a terrible gloom over the country. Sixteen days since the “terrorist bombing” and the public still did not know the truth behind the attack, believing Aum Shinrikyo responsible. Unreal, they thought. The mysterious disappearances of children, gas leaks blowing up schools, and now this? A terrorist attack leaving more than 600 dead. Holy crap, what was this world coming to?

So then. How did Tokyo remedy this depressing gloom, you might ask? Well, they sat down to enjoy a baseball game. That’s what. Yeah, show those terrorist devils that their doomsday plan was a failure. That they couldn’t upend this country’s way of life no matter how hard they tried. Sports offered a way back to normalcy, to heal. And what better way to heal other than baseball?

No, that was not hyperbole.

Other than the matsuri festivals celebrated at the end of the year, seldom was it socially acceptable for people to let their hair down and unwind from the eighty hour workweek and strict school system. So for many Japanese diehards, baseball was its own religion, its own art form, a means of escape where the impossible became possible and dreams of the most remarkable kind came true. Hard work. Perseverance. Athletic excellence. The team sport affectionately dubbed “America’s national pastime” could just as easily be “Japan’s national pastime.” There was no modern sport Japan loved and revered more than baseball. They practically lived and breathed it. Even football, the most popular sport on earth, couldn’t vie for Japan’s heart. This was bēsubōru country, baby, take your checkered soccer balls and kick them somewhere else.

Satoru had opted they go to a day game. The Yomiuri Giants were playing against the Hanshin Tigers, their arch rivals, and as expected the Dome was seated to the brim. Shaped like a humongous egg, Tokyo Dome could house well over 45,000, but the attendance that afternoon felt innumerous, as if the entire city, baseball and non-baseball fans alike, had taken off work to witness the spectacle.

Rival fans uniformed in either Yomiuri orange or Hanshin black and yellow waited behind concession stands, peddling headbands (hachimaki), baseball caps, colorful frying pans, drumsticks, and various other noisemakers. Cheerleaders and mascots danced their routines, waving to the crowd from the field as young “beer girls” in highlighter-yellow uniforms walked up and down the stadium aisles, carrying pony kegs on their backs to serve cold beer to the masses.

Hannah noticed then that she wasn’t wearing Tigers or Giants gear like the rest. Instead, Satoru had lent her one of his jerseys. Emblazoned in all caps on the front was the bold word “SEATTLE” with the eye of a compass centered in front of the “S,” which felt odd because Seattle was an American city. Was there a Japanese Seattle she didn’t know about? The player on the back read “ICHIRO 51,” and the fit was five sizes too big. She had to button it up to keep it from sliding off her shoulders.

Looking out at the field, Satoru had bought them good seats; not too high up, but not too close so Hannah could capture everything. They were sitting on the Tigers’ side. She took a bite out of her enormous hotdog that could easily feed two people and glanced at her husband sitting adjacent, sipping his soda through a straw, dark glasses hiding his eyes as he observed the buzzing atmosphere below. He had his baseball cap on backwards, monickering the Japanese flag.

Evidently, they were both pacifists at this game. Like her, Satoru had chosen not to wear Giants or Tigers gear, nor a Seattle jersey. Rather, his uniform showed two red birds perched on a baseball bat. “St. Louis Cardinals” stitched in retro cursive on the front with a patch on the sleeve cap stamped “2006 World Series Champions.” Her eyes landed on the name lettered on the back in cardinalate red. “TAGUCHI 99.”

“I watched Taguchi Sō play during the 2006 World Series as a teen,” Satoru said, catching her snooping as he slurped his soda. “Not many Japanese players make it to the MLB. Much less, the World Series. But the man did it twice. He’s the first Japanese to have won two World Series rings during his time in the States. An absolute legend.”

Hannah swallowed her mouthful of hotdog, listening intently. “Does that make him your favorite player?”

Satoru grinned and shook his head. “Nah, I don’t have a favorite player,” he chuckled. “Keeps things interesting that way.”

The game was already in full swing by that point and had transitioned to the top of the third. The two teams remained scoreless. Hannah watched as the Giants pitcher stood on the mound, got in his stance, and fully rotate his arm in spectacular motion to deliver his throw, a nasty two-seam fastball clocked at 92 mph, but the Tigers hitter standing in the “batter’s box” had a good eye and swung his wooden bat — CRACK!! — thus making solid contact. And like a shooting star the baseball ricocheted off the slender wooden stick and took flight, soaring higher and higher, beyond the left outfielder’s bandwidth. Now positively electric, half the stadium rose from their seats, thinking it would stay fair, but alas. The buffering wind veered the baseball away from the foul pole and sent it plummeting to the stands. A very distinct groan could be heard throughout the stadium as the Tigers hitter jogged from first base back to home, shaking his head in frustration. It’s not a home run, but a foul ball.

Hannah blinked, not having a clue what just happened and swallowed another biteful of hotdog.

“Honestly, I thought it would be more like cricket.”

Drinking his soda, Satoru froze mid-slurp to give her a blank stare. “You do realize you’ve just insulted both cricket and baseball fans with that sentence, right?”

Ah yes, that was another fundamental Hannah quickly learned. Baseball was not cricket, and cricket was not baseball. They were totally different sports and no fan dared commit sacrilege by conflating the two. However they were both admittedly complex, yet Satoru had done a good job giving her play-by-play as the game went on, making sure he covered all the basics. If she understood him correctly, the rules of baseball were as follows:

Baseball is a game played between two teams, whose goal it is to score more “runs” (points) than the other. After nine “innings” where each team has gotten nine chances to score runs, the team with the most points wins. If the score is tied, the game goes into extra innings. Now, in order to score a run, an offensive player must put the baseball in play by hitting it with a wooden bat; either with a full body swing, or holding the bat horizontally over “home plate” to tap the baseball gently which is called a bunt. If the hitter is successful and manages to hit the baseball and it stays fair, then he must run around and step on the three “bases” (cushions/also called the “bags”) that are evenly spaced like a diamond as fast as he can before running across home to score one run. If the hitter misses the oncoming “pitch” (throw), or he does not swing and the baseball is caught within the “strike zone” then it is labeled a strike against him. Alternatively, if he does not swing and the baseball is caught outside the strike zone, then it is labeled a ball. If a hitter gets three strikes, he is out. But if the hitter gets four balls before he gets three strikes, he is automatically awarded first base. If the batter hits the baseball, but it is caught midair by an opposing player on the field, then the batter is also out. Additionally, if the hitter is running around the bases and an opposing player “tags” him with the baseball in his glove (there are nine opposing players on a field), or steps on the base with the baseball in his glove…

You get the point.

As one might imagine, baseball could be very confusing. There were a lot of rules involved. That’s why it was advised to watch the sport in person. And while she was intimidated by it then, Hannah would eventually fall head over heels in love with baseball that season. In fact, nine times out of ten, the Gojo’s future date nights would be spent eating fried foods at baseball games and cheering on Hannah’s beloved Seibu Lions down at Belluna Stadium. And for their third wedding anniversary Satoru would fly them out to Los Angeles to watch Team Japan take on Team USA in the 2017 Baseball World Classic semifinals. Japan would not advance, sadly, nor retake the championship title for another six years, but Hannah would be cheering passionately throughout the entire game, start to finish; Scoffing when the umpires made the wrong call and leaping for joy when Kikuchi Ryosuke homered in the bottom of the sixth. But as of now, Hannah was a beginner, trying to learn the nuances between a “splitter” and a “cutter.” So far, the pitches looked identical.

For the rest of the game the foreign wife continued observing and listening. She had memorized the chants the fans were clapping to and liked the taiko drums and brass trumpets blaring from somewhere out in the stands. However, she still struggled to know when the baseball was fair and when it was foul. Satoru would lean along his armrest to explain. She could tell he was enjoying himself. His breath tickled her skin.

“See the white lines on either side of the baseball diamond, leading up to the foul poles?” Hannah saw the chalked white lines he was referring to and nodded. “The baseball is fair if it stays within those two lines. Anywhere else, it’s foul.”

“Except when it passes over third or first base?”

“Alright, now you’re getting it,” he nudged her affectionately with his elbow, “You’re catchin’ on quick, Princess. Soon you’ll be calling balls and strikes.”

Hannah smiled proudly at his praise and broke into jubilant applause as the Tigers hitter from earlier successfully hit the oncoming pitch yet again. This time the baseball was a line drive out to right field, staying fair. Her eyes followed the Tigers player as he raced around the diamond, stopping at third base before the Giants' baseman could tag him out. He’s safe, it’s a triple. The crowd yelled and cheered. Then the second hitter in the Tigers’ lineup stepped inside the batter’s box, looking to bring his teammate home from third. Their momentum would carry on for the remainder of the game.

By the end of nine innings, the Hanshin Tigers would defeat the fan favorite Yomiuri Giants: 6 - 2

After their baseball extravaganza, there was still quite a bit of daylight left and most venues were open. Satoru and Hannah decided to explore the area, and of course this meant visiting a garden. Koishikawa Kōraku-en (Garden for Taking Pleasure Later) was conveniently situated right next to the Dome. It would’ve been a cryin’ shame not to go.

Hannah was practically bouncing with excitement. Kōraku-en was one of the three most treasured gardens of Japan. What made it unique to the other two, however, was the blended harmony of Japanese and Chinese elements, which was inspired by a famous poem where the emperor could only rest easy once his people were taken care of; hence the garden for “taking pleasure later.” In the early weeks of spring it was a popular destination to photograph the pink sakura blossoms, and then the vibrant red maple and golden ginkgo leaves come autumn. Like the Gojo’s garden back home, Kōraku-en was centered around a resplendent lake with ducks and koi fish. Satoru and Hannah walked along the large moss-covered rocks and stepping stones, listening to the gentle waterfalls scattered here and there. The fiery azaleas bushes and hanging wisteria were still in bloom. With no June rain to sabotage the mood, walking the pathways made for a lovely summer stroll, and since it was a weekday, the crowds weren’t as heavy. They could hear the birds chirping way up in the trees, blocking out the car horns and sirens of Tokyo. The city felt as though it were miles away.

An hour later, Satoru and Hannah left the garden and stopped near a fancy looking vending machine to grab a quick treat, which was yet another quirk about Japan: The various kinds of vending machines. Want a healthy banana to snack on? There’s a vending machine for that. Need an umbrella on a rainy day? There’s a vending machine for that. Forgot to bring tampons with you to work? Yup, there’s a vending machine for that too. The Japanese were nothing if not resourceful.

Satoru’s vending unit of choice was the much beloved Okashi Gaku’s “Cake in a Can.”

The plastic canisters were see-through, but Hannah couldn't make up her mind on what flavor she wanted, so she allowed her husband to pick for her. She watched him swiftly dial the keypad, numbers 1 and 4, and pay for the cakes with his IC card he used for boarding the metro. Like a soda dispenser, two cans dropped to the bottom. Her husband bent down to retrieve them and handed her the pink one. “Almond Cherry Blossom” it read, while Satoru selected “Chocolate Sponge with Strawberries” for himself.

“Cheers,” he sang, holding up his plastic can. Hannah let out a small giggle and clanged her cake can to his.

“Cheers,” she responded back, and not forgetting her manners added a small, “Itadakimasu.”

They peeled back the aluminum lids simultaneously. Satoru didn’t waste time unwrapping his plastic spoon and dug in, but Hannah paused for a moment to examine the novelty confection. She gently poked the strawberry chips at the top and spooned out a dollop of white cream. She then brought it to her lips, taking her first bite.

“So?” she heard Satoru say. He had already finished half his can. “What do you think?”

Hannah chewed the melted strawberry chips. The first layer of cream was actually mochi mixed with red bean paste, giving it a truly Japanese flavor and on the sides were jellied sakura blossoms made of kanten. The almond cake wasn’t too sweet, nor too rich either. Just how she liked it. Delicious! Hannah gave a hum of approval, which enticed Satoru to coast over her.

“Here, I wanna taste.”

And that’s when things took a dramatic turn.

Every ligament in Hannah’s body came to a screeching halt as her husband leaned over and took a huge, relishing bite of the pre-scooped cake on her spoon. The very same spoon she had also used. He closed his mouth and withdrew the plastic between his lips slowly. Too slowly. Her heart seemed to skitter. No hesitation, he had eaten off her spoon. Gojo Satoru had just eaten off her spoon. Her. Plastic. Spoon. Did that imply, oh God, have they quite possibly shared…

…an indirect kiss?

“Meh, it’s alright I guess,” Satoru said, licking the cream off his lips, as though everything was normal. “Could use more mochi.”

She couldn’t believe it. The Japanese were known for being absurdly polite. They were soft spoken. Reserved. Perhaps a bit shy like herself and conscientious of how their peers perceived them when not inebriated or cheering at a baseball game. Individuality was often frowned upon. They even had a saying for it: The nail that sticks out gets hammered down. But Satoru? Satoru was a huge stubborn nail that refused to yield. He carried none of those polite mannerisms, tending to voice the quiet parts out loud. If he didn’t like you, he said so. If you were looking for his honest opinion, he gave it to you. Brash. Chatty. Arrogant. He was also teasingly sarcastic and coquettish, making it hard for Hannah to know when he was flirting and when he was being his generic obtuse self. Wait, is that what was happening? she thought. Was he flirting with her?

She couldn't help but notice how people, especially women, young and old, blushed when they passed them by on the street, whispering to their friends and giggling. Hannah knew what had them talking. How did a foreigner like her end up with a guy like that? Yes, even with the dark frames covering his eyes, Satoru was strikingly handsome in every breadth of the word. Snow white hair, turquoise blue eyes, and sculpted tall body, he was a magnet for attention.

Earlier when they were leaving the stadium, Hannah watched him stretch out, and as he raised his arms, his baseball jersey rolled up and her eyes focused on the deep grooves chiseled along his hip bones, the muscled abdominals, a happy trail of white hair lining down his naval, before he lowered his arms and the jersey fell back into place. Good lord. Her heart ratcheted in her ears and there was no avoiding the tingling sensation that ran along her scalp, down her neck, and around to the front. A strange warmth she couldn’t adequately describe pooled between her thighs, thrumming. She clenched her legs together and tried suppressing the horrendous flush from creeping up her cheeks, praying he didn’t notice. Merely thinking about it had her blushing again.

Much about their argument whilst inside the Domain had gone unsaid. Her virginity rang out like a distress signal. It still had her reeling, knowing he knew what she looked like without her clothes on. But if he had done it more than once, it meant he liked what he saw, no? Isn’t that what she wanted? They were bound to talk about it sooner or later. You're not a little girl anymore, Hannah. You’re married. Yet the bride felt there had been a glitch. Like some sort of hidden communication was going on between them that her grasp of the Japanese language, or any language, couldn’t translate.

“Yum, that really hit the spot,” Satoru said, eating the last of his chocolate strawberry cake. “Want me to finish yours?”

Hannah, suddenly not making eye contact, shoved the sakura cake can in his lap. He swiped it gleefully, but noted her odd behavior.

“You okay, Princess? Is something the matter?”

“N-No, nothing is the matter.”

“You sure? Your face is all splotchy. Could you be having an allergic reaction?”

“I promise you, I’m fine.”

Unconvinced, Satoru grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around, her cheeks like cherry tomatoes. Hannah forced herself not to squirm as he brought the back of his hand up to her forehead.

“Hmm. It doesn’t feel like you have a fever,” he said, moving his back hand from her forehead down to her burning cheek. “Maybe you need to drink more fluids.”

More fluids. Right. Not the hormonal fluids swimming through her bloodstream. Nope. Definitely not those.

Hannah coughed and turned aside, encouraging him to let go, and quickly got to her feet, relieving the queasiness building in her stomach. “Really, I’m fine,” she wiped the sweat off her palms, “So, where to next?”

Satoru threw their empty cake cans away in the nearest recycling bin. He checked the time on his phone, 4:47 PM, nodded, and started walking towards an unknown destination. Hannah followed his lead and after a few short blocks realized he was guiding her towards the gate entrance of an amusement park. But right as they crossed the gates he turned himself around, slipped her a devilish wink that said “I’m up to no good,” and suavely, effortlessly, wove his calloused fingers with hers and clasped them together.

He brought her inside the park, holding her hand.

It was easy for the average person to forget how big Tokyo was. How big exactly? Well, big enough to fit a grand total of 23 amusement parks. That’s how big.

Satoru waited with Hannah as they stood in line for the Ferris wheel. Phase 1 and 2 of Operation: “Make Sure Wife Had Fun" had been a smashing success. He had taken the day off for it: No missions. No annoying higher-ups to play stupid politics with. No official documents to fill out. He had enjoyed a long overdue break. Finally! Now on to Phase 3.

They hadn’t changed out of their baseball attire. Hannah rarely wore her hair down, but today it was half-tied in a lavender ribbon. He had been enamored all day watching the glossy auburn locks swish around her waistline, brown, gold, and red. His Suzuki Ichiro jersey was way too large for her, but something inside him liked that. Looked a million times better on her than it ever did on him. Best of all, Hannah had smiled more in the last seven hours than she had in the three months they had known each other. And boy, did she have a beautiful smile. Absolutely radiant. The kind that could light up a whole room and make a grown man’s heart jolt into a full-on sprint. Verdant brown eyes. Petal soft lips. Those cute freckles dotting her nose. That ass in those jeans. Ugh, it just wasn’t fair.

This is my…friend I was talking to you about

Friend. A ripple of embarrassment shot through him at the memory, his pride feeling as though it were torn to shreds. He hadn’t forgotten the fact he’d been flatly friendzoned, and knowing he had made her cry because he chose to think with his dick and not his brain made the feeling worse. It was his fault. That’s really what this day was for. Satoru was going to make it up to her. Properly. He only hoped she wouldn’t reject his advances.

The Six Eyes wielder had been more, how would he put it, handsy than normal. (No, not that kind of handsy. Get your mind out of the gutter). More straightforward. Bolder. Testing to see how far she'd let him push the envelope before growing uncomfortable; touching her, giving sidelong glances, feigning ignorance, etc. He thought eating off her spoon made it blatantly obvious. Best piece of cake he’d ever had by the way, and her reaction had been adorable. Baby steps, Satoru. You can do this. Let her set the tone.

Hannah had made a hard pass on the roller coaster, but Satoru was able to persuade her into riding the log flume with him - she enjoyed that part - and more than once she let him snap a pic of her as they explored the park, choosing which attraction to ride next. They rested for a quick dinner and decided on a shooting gallery ride called “Gan Gun BATTLERS” where they wore 3D glasses while sitting on animatronic chairs, shooting various targets with ray guns. Satoru was especially proficient on that ride. The couple rode other stuff, but Hannah did not enjoy the haunted house one bit, and as Satoru expected she gripped the back of his jersey and kept her eyes closed the entire trek. He thought the special effects were rather lame, but liked her clinging to him, wanting his protection, so that was a win, right?

Their final ride for the evening was the huge Ferris wheel named “The Big-O” due to its centerless frame, an engineering feat at the time it was built. However, Satoru had other things on his mind than gigantic rotating wheels. For much of the day, he had been brushing his fingertips against hers in an effort to hook a finger and hold her hand. In theory they had already held hands before inside the Domain, but she had been too scared for it to hold any meaning. He had succeeded when they arrived. He kept trying to push his luck again as they waited in line. Everytime their fingers touched, his eyes would flick back to check her reaction. She refused to look at him, blushing, her cheeks tinted a pretty pink. So cute.

By the time they stood at the front of the line, his hand was prying apart her hina doll fingers to slide them through the openings. Her palm was soft. He worried he would scratch her with his calluses.

She hadn’t pulled away.

So neither did he.

Phase 3 was lookin’ good. Gojo-1, you’re clear for takeoff.

The attendant waved them inside the glass caged gondola and they cozied up next to each other, still holding hands. A couple seconds later, the attendant gave the thumbs up, and the ride cranked and whirred, slowly lifting the gondola forward away from the ground. Too cramped to fit his 6’2 height, Satoru crossed his legs along the empty seats. Hannah admonished him for it. “That’s not safe,” but he wasn’t concerned. The Ferris wheel could break down and collapse on top of them and he could walk out of there, carefree, with his hands behind his head.

The sun dipped below the horizon, transforming day into night. The gondola kept rising higher and higher till they reached the very top. They could see inside the Tokyo Dome and the roof of LaQua spa. Screams and laughter could be heard as people riding the roller coaster roared past them. The inside of the gondola was equipped with a karaoke machine. Anxious by their proximity and the fact they were too high up to go anywhere, Hannah scrolled through the digitalized playlist, pretending to be busy while averting eye contact, which greatly amused Satoru. Note that she had not let go of his hand. He peered out the glass window at the city, mouth curving into a frown. Damn. Thought it would be higher. Then his eyes caught the peak of Tokyo Tower blinking miles away in the distance. Aha, now that’s more like it.

Barely a second ticked by for the Six Eyes wielder to unclasp Hannah’s hand and pull her close, the momentum bringing her flush against his chest.

“Oof. Satoru, what in — ”

“Fasten your seatbelts, ladies and gents. We’re going places.”

“Places? L-Like where?”

“You’ll see,” he said, circling his arms around her. “Hope you're not afraid of heights.”

That was all the warning she got. The Jujutsu sorcerer kicked open the gondola's door, setting off the safety alarm, and in a heartbeat the Ferris wheel and amusement park became a blurring rush. Time and space sped rabidly, but it wasn’t nauseating like a carnival ride. Hannah instead felt weightless as though she were floating in a vacuum, until the cold, biting wind assailed her. They weren’t moving anymore. Satoru had warped them outside someplace, but where? Hannah blinked her eyes.

The married couple stared at each other for a fleeting moment, turquoise blue colliding with moss brown, before both of them diverted their gazes, and that’s when Hannah looked down and saw there wasn’t a floor. Or even the ground.

They were high up. Waayy high up.

Like three hundred meters high up.

With nothing underneath to catch them.

The panic was immediate. Satoru had his forearm wrapped around her lower back, keeping her aloft so that she could stand on his toes, but Hannah grabbed onto his torso as though she were a koala bear hugging a tree, afraid they would fall.

“Where the blazes are we?!” she cried.

She could hear the shrug in his voice. “Tokyo Tower.”

“What?!!”

“I took us to the top of Tokyo Tower.”

Hannah’s eyes saw the red and white latticed steel, illuminated in lights like the Eiffel, the same tower that was once the tallest structure in the world. Satoru wasn’t kidding. They really were at the top. The tippy top. He could’ve chosen to warp them inside the observation deck, but no. The more she looked down, the more Hannah thought her stomach would cave in on itself and forfeit her dinner. Her vision swayed.

“Satoru, I-I want down!” she whimpered.

“You’re perfectly safe, Hannah. I’m not gonna drop ya.”

“Get me DOWN!!!” she cried harder, tears ready to fall. Hannah rarely raised her voice, but her tone was obstinate. She didn’t care that he was the strongest. She wanted down that very instant.

Meanwhile Satoru was at a loss. He had meant the acrophobia comment as a joke. She had no issues riding the Ferris wheel, so he figured why not take his chances; Go big, or go home as they say. He hadn’t expected this to be her reaction (though looking back on it he probably should have). If he wanted to pull off Phase 3, he was going to have to redirect her fear.

Knowing she couldn’t escape or risk falling to her death, Hannah buried her face into her husband’s chest. It was getting cold, the breeze whipping all around them, her hair flying everywhere. She shivered and huddled closer to him for warmth.

Now on any given day Satoru would be over the moon for receiving a hug from Hannah, but there were two issues: One, she was terrified (and maybe a little angry with him). And two, her nipples had hardened from the night chill and were pressing into his chest through the baseball jersey, which had him visualizing other…things. Like those same pretty pink buds rubbing between his fingers and melting in his — Anyway, why did he bring her up here again? Oh, yeah. That’s right.

“Hannah.�� He cradled her buried cheek and gingerly turned it to one side. “Look.”

Hanging onto him like her life depended on it, Hannah drew the courage to pull away from his shirt and open her eyes.

Her mouth parted.

More than three hundred meters below, the city had become a glittering firework. They could see everything, every street corner and alleyway; The trains, the humongous JumboTrons, the white and yellow taxis, skyscrapers looking like Lego pieces, the Sumida-gawa river slicing the capitol in half. They could see Tokyo Dome and the amusement park; The bright red Buddhist temple Sensō-ji in honor of Kannon, the goddess of mercy, next to the Shinto shrine Asakusa-jinja, and Niju Bridge meant for leading guests towards the Imperial Palace with Mount Fuji’s grandeur overseeing all. So much music and noise and color. This was what he wanted to show her.

“Wow,” she whispered, no longer worried about the height. “It's beautiful.”

“Yeah,” Satoru answered, but he wasn’t looking at the view. “It is.”

The ribbon that had tied back Hannah’s hair had unraveled, leaving the auburn tresses to blow where they may. The wind brought her scent to him. Lilies after a spring rain. He could see the green in her hazel eyes, transfixed by all the noise and color, the soft pillows of her lips filling him with unexplained longing. More beautiful than any person had permission to be.

Man, he had it bad.

Satoru had always prided himself on not taking anything, or anyone, too seriously. Then life threw him a wicked curveball he couldn’t avoid. Not that he’d want to avoid Hannah. She was like warm sunshine in this dark, twisted world. She cared about him in ways no one else had since high school and she didn't treat him like an alien from a different planet. She was kind and courageous and beautiful, and so, so smart. For heaven’s sake, she knew how to milk a cow and spoke multiple languages. Three whole months he’d been holding back on her. This woman who he purchased for four and a half billion yen, yet whose value was beyond price. He couldn’t recall the partners who came before. They were nothing more than bodies and faces and hands. The stars, the moon, the sky; they had nothing on this sweetheart in his arms.

He could already hear his subconscious mind warning him to take heed: “She is to be your companion in happiness and enjoyment, but not your companion in the next world.” “She is to be your companion in eating and drinking, but not your companion in experiencing the ripening of actions.” “She is to be your companion in pleasure, but not your companion in suffering.” Imperfect. Unreliable. Temporary. That is how a husband on the Path should view his wife. He’d have to let her go one day, whether it be eighty years, twenty years, or tomorrow. Getting attached would make things worse, but fuck it. That ship had already sailed. It was too late to turn back now.

Cause I don’t want to be your friend.

When Gojo Satoru was born, it was said that the balance of the world shifted, birthing the dawn of a new shining era, the likes of which no one could’ve imagined.

When Gojo Satoru fused Red and Blue to make Hollow Purple, there was nothing in existence strong enough to defeat him. He was invincible. The greatest. History in the making.

But when Gojo Satoru fell in love for the first time, both body and soul, that new shining universe, that invincibility, changed. You couldn’t hear it. It didn’t make a sound: The sky didn’t fall. The ocean didn’t dry up. The earth didn’t quake. A world record wasn’t broken. All it took was one glance, one touch, and suddenly life would never be the same. He had found a weakness, forever woven into the fabric of his heart. Resistance was futile.

Not wanting to fight the inevitable any longer, Gojo Satoru tilted his wife’s chin. Brushed back her long auburn hair. Closed his eyes.

And pressed his lips to hers.

Chapter Contents

#Gojo Takes A Wife #Jujutsu Kaisen #jjk #satoru x oc #jjk fanfic #gojo satoru #original female character #romance #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you

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josephslittledeputy · 1 year

Text

WIP Whenever

Tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @direwombat @detectivelokis @river-ward @adelaidedrubman @inafieldofdaisies @marivenah (ty lovelies!)

I’ve got a few wips saved up, so I’ll start off with Datura in her Mar*el Verse

"Containment breach, experiment 347 is loose. All personnel must immediately evacuate the facility."

The automated alarm monotonously advises while red lights flash around the room, like an ominous strobe light. The sound of gunshots and screams were getting closer, causing one of the scientists to drop what was in their hands, startling everyone when the glass shatters on the floor.

"Sorry!"

"Goddammit Kaitlin, pull yourself together!"

"Yes, Doctor Amos!"

"Containment breach, experiment 347 is loose. All personnel must immediately evacuate the facility."

They were almost done. The room itself now looked as clean and empty as the day they arrived, save for the tables along the walls and various pieces of medical equipment.

“Containment breach, experiment 347 is— Hellooo.” The interrupting crackle of the intercom causes the whole room to pause, the frantic footsteps and rustling and shredding of papers grind to a halt as everyone slowly turns toward the disturbance. “Now, there wasn’t much of a selection, buuut—“ Someone crying in the background causes the speaker pause. “Shhh, you’re ruining everything!” There’s a sickening crunch, followed by the gargle of someone choking on their own blood, and then… silence. “Now, where was I again? Ah, yes, here we go!” The voice cuts off and what follows is music.

“Is that the… Macarena?” One of the scientists at the back dumbly questions.

~~~

Her hips wiggle to the beat as a peal of laughter escapes ruby stained lips and she finally feels free, free, free! Twirling, she does a jump and a slide, sinking her claws into the nearest guards throat. “Ha!” Crimson stains clash against the blue shade of her skin, like splotches of paint on a blank canvas.

“Hey! Put your hands up!” Another guard shouts as they round the corner, gun shaking but pointed in her direction.

“No, you!” She giggles, wiggling her fingers in their direction.

“What the-?” They drop their gun and raise their hands.

“Isn’t this so much more fun?”

They dance to the music together as if they were choreographed and had practiced for hours, and isn’t long until a couple more guards round the corner and get sucked into the commotion.

This one is a bit longer, but Willa’s dark au is finally getting interesting :’)

"Mama, why do bad things happen to good people?"

The seemingly innocent question catches her mother off guard, startling her with its raw honesty. "Well, sweet pea, God likes to test His children."

"But why?"

“Sometimes, when people are having a hard time, they're overcome with doubt." She strokes a hand over her daughters head, watching the unruly blonde curls spring back up after. "That's when He'll test us, so that when we persevere and overcome these tests, we'll know that our faith in Him is real. That He hasn't abandoned us."

"I don't get it." Shaking the hand off her head, she turns around, meeting her mothers blueish-green eyes. "If He loves us, then why doesn't He already know our faith is real? Why do we need to be tested?"

“Oh, my sweet, you'll get it once you're older." She smiles, grabbing her hands in her own. "And then you'll understand why your hands are stained.”

"Stained? But they're not-" Her words stick in her throat when she looks down to see her hands slick, wet, and so very, very red. "Mama!" She cries out, horrified. "What's on my hands?"

"Oh, don't be silly honey." Still the same saccharine voice she remembers from childhood. "You know that’s my blood."

"Don't forget mine."

Her head turns achingly slow, spotting the towering figure in the doorway with a nagging terror lining her stomach. "Pa?"

“Well I’ll be. You remembered!”

Blood oozes from the walls, covering the floors and stretching out towards her, eager to have its taste of flesh. She scrambles back when it gets too close, scrubbing her hands against the material of her dress. But the crimson stains stick to them like paint, never coming off.

"Oh, come now, don't be like that! We can be a happy family again, you just gotta take this knife out."

"What?" She trembles, looking up to see her Father in front of her this time.

"Well? C'mon kiddo, it hurts!" A wide, maniacal grin splits his face.

"Now you're the one who's being silly, dear. You know she'll never take that thing out." Her mother chirps up behind her with a titter. “Not unless she's about to plunge it back in again.”

They both let out full bellied laughs at the same time, the sound ricocheting in her head, and the blood finally reaches her legs. She tries to get up, but it keeps her there, like a fly stuck to a glue trap. The more she struggles, the more it pulls her down, until she's drowning in it.

All she can see is red.

"NO!" The scream tears from her throat the moment she wakes, covered in a layer of sweat.

She can't see, and maybe that should be a blessing, but right now it feels more like curse. She needs to see, needs to make sure the blood isn't still clinging to her like a second skin. She needs-

"Wouldja shut up in there?"

Her head whips over to the door that opens, and she takes the opportunity to sprint toward it, pushing past the person in the doorway and not looking back.

"Hey wait!" Quick footsteps follow the yell and it isn't long until she's tackled to the ground.

"No! I won't go back! I WON'T!" She claws at their face, a futile effort with her gloves blunting her nails, so she goes for the next best thing. Teeth. She latches onto whatever is closest and pulls, coming away with a metallic taste that she hurriedly spits to the side.

"Ah!" The person holding her down reacts, raising a hand to the gushing wound she'd inflicted, their knees pressing down harder to hold her. "I need back up, NOW!"

It isn't long until more footsteps join them in the hallway, but she's frantic now, she can't see straight. No, worse, she can't even think straight.

Where is she?

"Give 'em the bliss, hurry!"

"No, please, I'll be good this time!" Her broken pleas do little to faze them. Were they listening to her? Did they even care? "I'll be good, I promise!" She sobs when her struggling limbs are held down, followed by a sharp prick to her neck. A few seconds later, her movements grow sluggish, her mind slows, and her eyes begin to roll into the back of her head. Garbled voices still come through, and she’s able to pick up what they're saying before passing out.

"They're almost ready to confess. John’ll be happy..."

When she comes to this time, it isn’t from a nightmare or in some frenzied state, not with the remnants of bliss still coursing through her system. Heavy lids open to a darkened room, arms and legs strapped to a chair with the same familiar leather bit tucked into her mouth. She's in the confession room, again. The same one she's grown familiar with over the week that she's been here. Well, at least she thinks it's been a week, since there's no way of telling time in the bunker. Either way, so far there's been a lot less confessing and a lot more torture, especially from the scratchy material of her half ripped shirt, covered in her dried blood. The door behind her opens and, once again, she doesn't need to look to see who it is.

"My, my, you had quite the little incident earlier, Deputy." John doesn't bother to look at her on his way over to the small table in the room, instead he's more focused on setting down his toolbox and getting things ready.

With the bit in her mouth, the best she can do is a muffled insult. "Fuck you."

He turns around with a look of faux shock and a hand over his heart, as if offended by her words. "There's no need to be so cruel."

Neglecting a reply, she rips at her restraints, showing her displeasure over her situation. If that didn't show it, her scathing glare certainly would.

"Now, I know we haven't been on the best of terms, but I think that'll change soon." He walks over to stand in front of her, bending at the waist and watching with satisfaction when she pushes herself back into her chair. "You see, I’m an understanding man, Deputy. I want to know what drives you, what could cause you to suffer from such wrath. So! I did a little digging, and what I found was... very enlightening."

Her blood goes cold and she freezes, her scathing glare quickly turning into a look of hesitance and fear, despite her best efforts to hide it. Her eyes follow him as he stands to his full height and walks over to his toolbox, turning his back to her while he undoes the clasps and pulls out pieces of paper, and not his usual tools of torture. Turning around with a flourish, he holds the papers up with a gleefully menacing grin.

"I know that you had a troubled childhood." He leans against his table, briefly scanning the papers before looking at her again. "That your parents were not the most nurturing. I even know you lost a dear childhood friend in a terrible incident. One that haunts you still, just as your parents do."

If she wasn't strapped to the chair, she knew her hands would be shaking, tempted to wrap her hands around his neck and cut off his words. Her teeth sink into the leather material in her mouth, preventing them from grinding together. She didn't want to remember. She's worked so hard to keep the memories at bay, to lock them up and throw away the key.

"And I know that you used to see a therapist before coming here."

She's shaking her head now, not wanting to listen any longer. She won't confront this, and she'd sooner die than relive it. "Shut uh." She utters, pulling at her binds.

"Now we're getting somewhere." He sighs with a slight smile, satisfied with her reaction. "Let's start with your friend, Deputy. What happened to him? Do you even remember his name?"

She doesn't answer. She's too busy containing her emotions, trying not to let the memories flood her mind. The mix of emotions are too much, so she tries to numb them, to numb herself to the emotional pain. She liked it better when he was torturing her physically, not mentally.

"His name was James Williams, and police suspect that his death was foul play." His eyes flick down to the page then back up. "Filicide. You know the word, yes? The killing of one's child?"

She shakes her head again, knowing what’s coming next.

“But this article in particular was very interesting.” He holds it up and begins to read aloud. “A fire that broke out early morning last Sunday is now being classified as an arson. Sherry Williams, 45, and her husband Jason Williams, 50, died after being taken to the hospital with third-degree burns.” He stops reading, lifting his eyes and lowering the paper, watching her reaction with a tilt of his head. “I think you know what the rest of the article says, Deputy.”

She pulls at her binds, squirming to get loose, to cover her ears and ignore the words being thrown her way. “Shtop!”

But John doesn’t stop, not when he knows that he’s finally getting somewhere. He sets the papers down, picks his tools up, and moves to stand in front of her. Parting the flaps of her shirt that were ripped already, he stares down at the tattoo on her chest that he’d etched onto her skin a few days ago. The words ‘WRATH’ stood out in dark, bold lettering, the skin around them still red and irritated, and he knew his next actions would do nothing to soothe them. But this was the process, his process, and part of her Atonement.

Willa squirms when his fingers caress her skin, tracing over the letters with a sadistic fascination in his eyes, causing her stomach to curdle in disgust. That disgust quickly gives way to a desperate attempt to escape when he brings a knife into view. She only has to wait for a few seconds before the bite of the blade presses into her skin, prompting beads of blood to bubble up as it traces over the lettering of her sin. Her teeth sink into the leather in her mouth, denying him the satisfaction of hearing her make a noise yet. Without a pause, he’s already onto the second letter, then the third, and it isn’t until he’s on the last two letters that she finally lets out a muffled whimper.

John stops, lifting his gaze from his work, causing blue eyes to clash against her own green eyes. “Comfortable, Deputy?”

If she could have spat in his face, she would have, so she settles for the next best thing: a head butt.

“Fuck!” John curses, dropping the knife in favor of clutching his now aching head.

She can’t help but to laugh, even if her head was now throbbing and her chest was burning, the sight of John in pain was something that tickled her pink. The next few moments are lightening quick, he bends down, snatches up the blade, and stabs her thigh.

“AHH FUCK!” Looking down, she observes the knife stuck halfway in, almost deep enough to dig into bone. “Why the fuck woo you do that?!”

“Why would you headbutt me?!”

Breathing through the pain, she shrugs her shoulders. “Touché.”

"I think," He yanks the blade out, taking great satisfaction in her muffled yell that trails off into a pained whimper. "We'll continue this later." Without any further comment, he leaves her alone in the room, slamming the door behind him.

#sorry this has taken a decade and a half... writing has been a struggle but we back on the grind i think #everyone is experiencing the horrors but Dat is just having fun being a silly little guy!#also the number 347 represents a great change and transformation in life 👀#ahhh sorry these were kinda long too. i normally like to keep them short and sweet but yeah... anyway willa is doing just fine!#totally fine!! she'll get out eventually when john makes the mistake of taking her to his ranch bc he thinks shes docile :)#really shes just bidding her time #oc: willa rook #oc: datura #my writing #wips

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majormiles · 8 months

Note

for the fanfic asks, 🚀🥳📗? i love your fics btw, thank you for sharing them with the universe!

Thank you!! Even after all these years, it still blows me away that ppl like my stuff lmao. From Fanfic Writer Asks

Do you outline your fic first or create as you go?

Do I outline? LOL no. It is my second biggest flaw as a writer, after being a shit worldbulider. Hotspur was actually my practice at longer fic/planning and even then my outline was a list of bullet points of things I’ve set up (themes, motifs, plot points etc.) which at some point I needed to pay off. They were roughly organised into chapters and then every chapter I just crossed off anything I’d paid off. And if I didn’t pay it off, the list just moved into the next chapter.

Horrifying, I know. You are allowed to be horrified lmaoo. This is why I’m not very good at judging how long fics will be because they’re simply either as long as it takes to pay off everything, or I get bored. One of the two.

Why did you start writing fanfic?

Why? Wow, that’s a question. I don’t know! I started writing fic waaay back when I was a kid, maybe 8ish. Younger? I honestly don’t remember a time when I didn’t write. How cliche is that? It was a hobby I could do on my own which was cheap and didn’t require any special materials lol. This was back before I even knew what fic was. I just had a TV show or something I liked and I wanted to write more in that ‘verse. Kid me started with self-inserts (naturally) but once I discovered that fanfiction was a “thing” I switched to writing canon characters only, and then basically never stopped! That was going on 20 years ago, wow.

Do you want to write something outside of fanfiction? If so, what about?

DO I. Honey, that’s the dream. I keep trying but I’m just not comfortable worldbuilding. I’m very good at starting ideas as my friends and old classmates will know, but I have never written an “original” story to completion. I’ve spent the last couple of years attempting to write sci-fi pieces but after 10k, 15k (50k, once) or a couple of chapters, I hate everything about it and I scrap it. I’m really my biggest critic.

I don’t know how worldbuilders settle on “an” idea. I just. Have so many ideas! I do, at least, tend to re-use concepts from my scrapped works and try to re-work them into something else. I’m currently attempting to write a story about a father who is unable to move on from the death of his daughter (looking at you, Hotspur) and feels stuck between the past and future. I mean, it’s a sci-fi and there’s, you know, spaceships and aliens and love and stuff, but at its heart, it’s a story about a man who’s afraid to be happy. I was literally writing some of it today. It’s a hot mess. I kind of hate it! But I need to persevere lol.

Another idea I had was something I wrote 50k for last year and then threw out. I know, my friends hate me. Um, it was also sci-fi. It about a man who is unwillingly immortal (grief and resurrection comes up a lot in my ideas) and spends a couple hundred years adrift alone. He’s picked up by another spaceship and I had absolutely no plot. It was all concept. There was a whole religion that I fleshed out and like this big secret on the ship and it was all spooky and apocalyptic. He was just a grump for 50k basically just dad-ing everyone. Ah William, I miss you. Thanks for asking!

#ask #mabledonut

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twothpaste · 1 year

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sneak peek fic snippet from the absolute monster i'm working on. this bit features postgame sheep befriending teenaged claus. actually the teeniest bit surprised i've never seen anyone draw parallels between thunder tower's helmsman (who turns out to be just some decent guy), and the pigmask army's commander (who turns out to be just some decent kid). anyways. 🐑⚡

For Sheep, Lucas was a full scale demolition. A siren's blare still haunts their nightmares. Those scarlet tones, which yanked them from the control station, its knobs and thrown switches. Ripped the lightning right from their singed fingertips. Ashen and quivering, drawing steep smoky breaths through a hoggish mask - the other evacuees couldn't see what'd become of them. Gaze obscured. Trooper, and the rest, were none the wiser. That the embers in their eyes crackled not with vengeance, but with stars. Galaxies, even. Sheerest reverence.

And the dawning inklings of deepest remorse.

When Porky took Sheep, they'd been an upstart electrician down on their luck. One bad week away from eviction. One butterfingered accident away from Saint Peter's gates. Rustled them right outta the hospital bed they couldn't afford, from which - surely, they beg - they wouldn't be missed. Scooped 'em up, in both tender hands, like a sheared, shameful beast. Ascend time's veil, the clouds n' heavens, to the Tower's surging helm. Set this wayward lamb to its assigned post, atop all four wobbly hooves. Pat on the head. Good as new. And say,

"You're Zeus, now." With a Listerine smirk, and a fullmetal handshake. "Get it?"

But Lucas' pensive frown said otherwise. That gray-eyed stare, n' the tired bags beneath. Disarmingly familiar. The sorta perseverance fatigue couldn't crumble. Climb any Babel, or Burj Khalifa. Sheep thought it nothing short of amazing, and said so, too. Kid didn't mutter his reply aloud. Far too polite - to this day. It was his silence that rang in their ears.

"You're just an ordinary fella," came forth the answer, to thwart Sheep's star-studded praise. While Duster n' Kumatora did the talkin'. Lucas' recognition, comparatively, deafened them. The muted surprise, which colored his feverish haze.

"Just like us. Y'could be."

Raze the Tower to its foundation. Plant a seed amidst the wreckage. Huff a dusty chuckle, in retrospect. Funny thing is? Lucas hadn't the faintest idea what he'd left behind to sprout, within the Pigmask's aching chest.

Funnier still, in further retrospect - Sheep's life'd been a hell of a story, thus far. So, really. They shouldda known foreshadowing, when they saw it.

They met the same gaze, after oblivion. Stormy slate, over weary valleys. Eyepatch notwithstanding. Recognition like a pinprick to their throat. An itch, an awkward cough. It's true. Lucas did look an awful lot like the Commander. Ha. Practically identical. Would you call Sheep slower, or smarter, for missing the imposter's memo?

Claus wore sixteen about as gracelessly as anybody. And his guilt, about as well as Master Porky's other lightning-slingin' wind-up toy. When Andonuts' newly-minted apprentice rolled up to the wind farm, in the automaton's stead, he'd ruffled back his ginger cowlicks with a robotic palm. Wavin' a peace sign. Donnin' a slanted grin. Trooper, and the rest, did their double takes. "Y'all need a hand?" was a far cry from the little falcon with the busted wings. The broken kid - just a kid, he was just a kid, for Christ's sake! - who'd emerged from his metal mask. Who'd spent the first year dodging their stares, and hiding every scar. Further yet, somewhere six feet under, resided their dear Commander. That stagnant glower. A toneless order, perched at the merciless tip of a sword. Could almost make your skin crawl. How his comrades quivered, n' hunted for ghosts. Peering around trees, like haunted woods - amidst a Sunshine Forest of summertime freckles.

See, to them, Claus was inconceivable. That their former superior'd swoop on in, to haul turbines n' rotors. Right alongside 'em. Spare some poor reformed hog a fractured shin, at a fallen ladder's mercy, with the same telekinesis that used to inspire awe and terror. Smirk harmlessly, n' shout, "Aw, jeez! That was a close one!" Like. There had to be a catch. Right? A missin' piece of the puzzle? Surely there was something (beyond an impending nonbinary awakening) thunderstormin' beneath the surface. Any trace at all. Some secret, lingering, prickling spark.

Wouldn't you know it, Sheep held the elusive jigsaw chunk. Contemplated it in their zapped-numb fingers, as they sifted generator wiring. Let the embers flicker, behind the imparsable dark of their sunglasses. The weeping roots, n' gnarling bark, grating at their ribs from the inside. Yeah. They knew what it was like, to feign a smile. To loan one's labor so selflessly - no, so goddamn selfishly. Holdin' out the pleadin' hope that maybe, one day, your good deeds'll outweigh the bad. With a few dozen tons of demolished houses boring down on your chest, every ounce counts for somethin'. At least, it damn well better.

They met their fellow revenant in a dark place. Atop a so-called Tower of Love and Peace. Dared not dwell too long on his scrawny stature, or his husklike gaze. Nor the queasy sensation in their guts. Nah. They did as they were told. Couple of zombies, the both of 'em. Just churning the gears to some great, big, undead machine.

But, really? They met him - actually met him - at the base of a tower, instead. Moseyed meekly over one afternoon. Neither cared to share their breaktimes with the riff-raff. Neglected to cram the bustling stables. Leave these lonesome cowpokes to patrol their blustery farmlands. Sheep joined him, peering all the way up at those pearly, swirling blades. They recall their neck popping. The sun challenging their shades. Offered the kid a can of Sanpellegrino. He took it. With a plastic grin. N' the titanium hand his mentor'd built for him.

"C.. Erm. Claus," they stuttered. Earning his perked attention.

Outta the whole pigpen, Sheep's vocal cords, battered too by ash and voltage, were the very first to utter:

"Been… wantin' to tell you, I'm… I'm awfully sorry. 'Bout everything."

And they'd feel the ghoulish quiver, right down their lack of spine, when his facade faltered. His lips twisting, like a wince. Then promptly re-calibrating. Back into that yardstick-straight impassive line. Nerves n' muscles on his leftward side, pulled just as abruptly stiff as the steel on the right. Though the eyepatch, n' the scars besides, halved his mis-matched countenance - one intact brow was plenty to betray the troubled clouds. One gloomy, gray-green iris. 'Bout the color the sky turns, if a tornado's brewin'. His voice'd dropped an octave or twelve, since the good ol' days. Nonetheless. Its hollow monotone rang unmistakeable.

"Why. It wasn't your fault."

N' Sheep braced themself, as if for their infraction. No, no. For the proper apology, pilin' up in their choked windpipes. That it was, and it is. That every single one of 'em - every swinish schmuck who heeded the stolen son's orders, instead of askin', demandin'!, what the hell they did to that poor kid - was just as culpable. And that if they could take it all back, do the goddamn time warp, again, they'd've never fired a single bolt. Wouldda come down like Catalumbo. Stormed the pompous pimple's playroom. Even if it wouldn't've changed a damn thing. Even if it got 'em booted straight outta Eden. Even if it wouldda.. wouldda killed them, they…

.. they did nothing. Said nothing. Just watched the kid blink. His unlocked jaw, drifting ever so slightly to a slack. Pupil shifting about the windmills. As if searching for something. Sheep didn't know it then. Would come to learn, soon enough. The way it sometimes takes a second or two, at Claus' most earnest, for his central processing unit and his "half-a-brain" to reach these sorts of compromises.

"… No. M'sorry," he murmured. With almost his brother's softness. And almost the same smile. Shook his hodge-podge head. Crooked teeth perkin' through that polyethylene veneer. "Haha.. Heheheh…"

Bewilderment slipped past Sheep's shades. Whether the tin soldier noticed, amidst his relinquished chuckles, is anyone's guess. For all the writhing garbage lodged in their throat, brimmin' over their lungs? Not a word of it breached the bright, blue, cloudless sky.

"Thank ya, Sheep," Claus said. Gratitude punctuated by a swift swig of aranciata rossa. "I, uh. 'Preciate it. Really."

#2thprose #osha's eleven

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crispy-ghee · 1 month

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Oh man I could still go on about winning time, it's like, I can see the gold it's there underneath everything, if only it got out of it's own way. Like it didn't need the monologues and philosophizing about basketball, it's a tv show, show don't tell.

Or the way it spent the majority of season 2 on westhead instead of focusing on that magic and bird relationship. Like they squeezed the entirety of the championship year into practically nothing. Season 2 should have been a slow buildup, constantly showing perspectives of bird and magic from both of their sides, pushing them to practice more and work harder. But instead, it's the last episode and suddenly it's the championship, and you're like oh, okay I guess we're here now.

At some point I wonder how unfair it is for me to want it to be about Magic and Bird when it's clearly supposed to be about the Showtime Lakers specifically, and Bird just happens to be a "part" of that era as just one of the many parts of the whole legacy. But also if the culmination of the season was going to be the first time the celtics and the lakers went up against each other in the finals, then it feels like it should've been a little more focused on that.

But I feel that's kind of the problem of Season 2, with its just metric butt-ton of plot threads that you're supposed to be following. It doesn't help that you go from Season 1 being almost entirely about just their rookie year, to season 2 trying to rush through...what, 4-ish years? A lot happens in that time. You have to be really careful picking what you look at.

It doesn't build up properly to this match up finally happening, there's just too much going on. Larry gets his episode but his appearances in the season after that feel like they aren't maintaining the feeling of 'big bad' all the way to the end, there's just too much other stuff going on.

I don't mind the Westhead vs Magic, Pat Riley drama so much as a thought--It was really dramatic and tense! I wanted to punch everyone in the face! But the pacing was so weird it felt like they should've either paid more or less attention to it. I dunno. The pacing really killed the show for me. I'm in that same boat, I could see how this could've been so good, and I could've loved it, but it didn't quite get there and I'm left feeling really frustrated.

I mean, I think I know what they were going for. They were working under the impression that they'd have more than two seasons--they were building up all of the tensions and things happening so that the season would end at The Lowest Point as a result of a bunch of Hubris. Something for the Lakers to deal with and persevere against in the following season. I'm frustrated bc I want to believe it could've turned around in a third season, maybe. But whoops. Cancelled.

But again, you know, I have the things that I find interesting and that I care about. I dunno. But how much Larry Bird is okay to put in a show about the Lakers? haha

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zutraeumen · 2 years

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Surprise Visit

This is a part of my one-shot book about Raiden called: Ceraunophile. You can find the whole book on these platforms: FanFiction, AO3, Wattpad or Quotev. Mortal Kombat belongs to its respectful owner.

Ceraunophile 🌩 Masterlist

Surprise Visit

Sweat ran down your brow as you focused on getting your form right.

As much as you liked to do your daily training routine in the gym, you thought some change of environment would do you good. And you really wanted some privacy during exercise, as much as military men were disciplined at boot camp, it wouldn't stop their eyes from wandering to places they should not wander.

Like your ass, or thigs, or some even had the audacity to ogle your tits. Ugh.

Your standard uniform did a pretty fine job covering up most of your assets, if you could call them that, at the size they were at. I mean, should you feel flattered that they considered your body to be aesthetically pleasing, or...?

Before Raiden, you might have entertained such thoughts, but the thought of someone observing your body with lustful eyes creeped the shit out of you. Unfortunately for them, you were taken.

You only fully appreciated the gaze of one person - that of your significant other - Thunder God Raiden. Although you still, even after one year of being together, questioned just what made you desirable in the eyes of a god-

If only you could perceive yourself through my eyes - that being, eyes that have been granted the sight of your mind, body and soul - you would discover a creature worthy of worship.

He told you that, before he had set out to ravenously explore every nook and cranny of your uncovered body. Aaaand you should probably stop thinking about your last passionate entanglement before you grew hot and bothered.

Seriously, your desire for this man— god —was unsatiable. But that didn't automatically imply that you were constantly horny for him either. Jesus, what a cringe way to word it.

After your first training session with your lover, you had not only gained insight into the art of Bojutsu, but to your initial surprise, also heavily impressed Raiden with your fighting. The giddiness of his words of praise he so seldom gave to Earthrealm's most gifted warriors had yet to wear off of you.

Most predominantly, he had praised your perseverance and intelligence in the face of true danger, whereas in truth, your brain had largely stayed dormant and survival instincts had taken the wheel.

Intuition is proof of the presence of both, practical and theoretical knowledge. It serves only as a testament to your actual experience. I have been blind to your potential, my dear.

With potential came expectations, and there were many people who buckled under them. You didn't count yourself among those, you were, in fact, eager to please the god with your progress, which was the main reason someone would find you spending more time at the Sky Temple than the S.F. base.

Sonya was beginning to miss her sparring partner, but you were convinced she would manage a time without you. And besides, it would feel so rewarding to reset your losing streak against your best friend. Your confidence had taken quite the beating from that streak. Enough.

Determination flooded your system as you proceeded to go through the different moves, slowly but surely integrating them into your muscle memory, sometimes going up to twenty repetitions for especially difficult techniques.

No one bothered you, there weren't many to begin with at Raiden's Sky Temple save for the few monks from the White Lotus who were responsible for security and maintenance.

The White Lotus, you recalled, was a society of Shaolin monks who would dedicate their lives to learning and understanding how to defend the independence of Earthrealm from the threats of other worlds.

They had kept their existence hidden for so long that it had only come to the Special Forces' attention after forming an alliance with Thunder God Raiden. The rest of the populace was left none the wiser, yet inspired quite the amount of obnoxious rumours from occasional witnesses.

While even you didn't know the exact number of members, it was presumed to be reasonably small. But by now you knew how to identify the people associated with it; the white headbands bearing the Buddhist symbol of an eight-petaled lotus being a dead giveaway.

A crunch of leaves was all that you heard before you rolled out of the way from an incoming projectile. Clutching your staff in a death grip, you quickly spun towards your attacker. The tarkatan snarled at you viciously, like a wild animal that unleashed its killer instincts, chafing his bladed hands.

The rows of sharp teeth used to intimidate you the most on the monstrous race of Outworld's, other than the fact that they ate their meat raw. But you have grown since then, you weren't the same soldier relying on the rifle and hoping that you wouldn't run out of bullets.

You had tested your strength against the Lin Kuei, managed to hold your own against a god!

Some measly assassin would not cause you to get jitters when you have already faced much more fear-inducing opponents. The humanoid neared you with ferocity rivalling that of a beast, slashing away at your figure with abandon.

His movements were volatile and difficult to predict but thanks to your lessons with Raiden, your reaction time was up a few notches, making it fairly easy to avoid the assassin. The staff also helped to keep him at a distance if you felt overwhelmed or saw a chance to counter-attack.

You had him run out of stamina soon enough and there was nothing to prevent you from thrusting the bladed tip of your bo staff through his heaving body. You didn't want to sully the Sky Temple's training ground but you had no choice.

Alas, before you could cut him down, it seemed like he wasn't sent alone to kill you, but a whole team of five was sent. The others quickly jumped to help him, taking turns to strike you down. You held your ground but were sadly forced into defence, with no open window to strike back.

The slightest panic began to rise in you as you were starting to feel the strain of being under constant attack, even though they had yet to seriously injure you. The dance of blades continued, accompanied by an orchestra of panting voices and grunts, and you were growing weary.

Wouldn't you have rigorously practised for hours beforehand, you might have outlasted them at some point, but Tarkatans weren't known to be amateurs in combat. They were bred to fight, kill and survive. This race possessed a love for battle. Combat was as close to their hearts as the Bible to a Christian.

There was a smidge of hope as you managed to finally overpower one of them and cut off his whole hand but that only seemed to spur the others into action even more. And you could handle one beast from a savage rampage, but five? Your chances weren't good.

Before you could despair, a hurricane of wind swept your opponents dangerously high up into the air. You watched them helplessly falling until they landed with a sickening crunch on the hard concrete. Most of them died on impact but one held on to life, gushing out agonizing sounds of severe pain before eventually succumbing to his injuries.

It was over. Your life was no longer on the line, yet you still clutched your staff in a death grip, waiting for the rest of your body to catch up to the brain.

"The wind howled of your peril, I am glad to have come swift enough."

You couldn't exactly recognize your rescuer by voice alone, but it resonated on some levels in you. High on adrenaline, your muscles coiled as you rotated your upper body to look who had saved you from being tarkatan dinner.

Your sharpened eyes were met by a man of considerable stature, not much unlike your Thunder God's. His godhood was given away by the white glow of his eyes, but they lacked something detrimental; Raiden's unique blue undertone.

"Lord Fujin." You greeted him with a hint of a question hiding behind it, not quite confident that you associated the name with the right person, after all, you had never had the pleasure of acquainting your lover's brother. You were intrigued by meeting him as much as the prospect intimidated you. This wasn't how you expected to meet the only family of your boyfriend.

The acquiesced your needless worry with the barest of smiles stretching his round face. He was a handsome man with angular features, most notably the squared chin stood out with a pair of round eyes. The bulk of his person was massive in harsh comparison; a gentle giant, with a breeze venting strands of crystalline white.

Outright dangerous wasn't something that would come to the forefront of your mind at first glance when it came to the man waltzing towards you, unlike seeing Shao Kahn from afar, whose mere memory still sent jitters down your spine. The Emperor's bulk could be challenged in size only by the four-armed Shokan themselves, or that giant hammer of his that was bigger than you.

Fujin stopped only when he reached you, his breezy aura tickling your skin, but the contact seemed so faint you almost blamed it on your imagination. It might have felt peaceful now, but you reckoned during combat, it could cut sharper than the blade that dangled in its scabbard at the god's right hip.

"Are you alright, Lady [Y/N]?"

You nudged your head indecisively, "Yes. Sort of... I hope. All scrapes and bruises, you have saved me from the worst. Thank you for your timely assistance, Lord Fujin."

He waved his hand dismissively, "I am glad to have spared you any pain for it would have wounded Raiden greatly. I fear what my brother would have done to Netherrealm if any real harm would have come to your person."

"I must ask, Lord Fuji-"

"-please call me Fujin. I think as my brother's significant other, I consider you family." He interjected softly.

"Fujin," you tested the name out, "did Quan Chi send those assassins after me?"

"We strongly suspect it. The Revenants we have ambushed mentioned a name, but we couldn't be sure if it was you until Raiden confirmed it. He wanted to come to your aid immediately but Liu Kang and Kung Lao kept him from it."

His eyes softened even further as he raked his sight over you, though it didn't elicit the same fondness you would have otherwise gotten from Raiden, it soothed your heart to know that Fujin didn't hold anything against your relationship. it gave you the impression he accepted you. You had heard about enough family disputes among your mortal friends just because of the choice of partner.

Your brows creased in worry out of their own volition, "Tell me, is he okay?"

"Have faith that he is. I trust my brother to come safely home to us."

Us. That solitary word almost brought you to tears weren't it for the desire to check on your lover. Raiden was no light foe, yet you feared what this encounter meant for his mental health. The wounds upon his heart were a long way away from healing, if anyone would know, it was you.

You heard the shuffle of feet and there were two guards running over to you, fashionably late considering they should have been there to help you, but observing their tarnished clothing, you suspected they ran into trouble before they could get to you. On a personal note, they seemed quite young and fresh around the ears.

"Lady [Y/N]! Are you hurt, Lady [Y/N]?"

They called in apparent concern, whether their own or yours was debatable. You were quick to ease their minds, however, the god to whom they bowed as soon as they arrived, admonished them for their carelessness. Stressing the fact that they had been in charge of patrolling the area and keeping you safe only to blatantly fail when it was necessary.

"Accept our deepest apologies, Lord Fujin!"

There was no bite in his words, but his face expressed enough, "Apologies accepted but it isn't me you will have to answer to."

He diverted his sight from them to you for a second, the softly looking bangs framing his face dangling with the small movement, "You may consider yourself lucky that Lady [Y/N] managed to fend off most of the assassins on her own."

They turned to you and sputtered another series of hurried gratitudes, effectively quaking in their boots as the God of Wind addressed them sternly. It got to a point where you were feeling kind of bad for them, but the god wasn't one to be cruel with his words so the two young men were spared a tongue-lashing they would have undoubtedly received from your friend Sonya.

It wasn't until you smelled the faintest hint of petrichor that you knew Raiden was coming. You felt the tension in the air, in the surrounding particles of space that thrummed with the excitement of his arrival. Light flashed your eyesight for a millisecond as the blue giant materialized at the training grounds where much had happened, for a day.

You saw Raiden scrutinise his surroundings, his inquisitive eyes were searching for you. And before you could utter his name and claim his attention, his brother beat you to it, "Raiden, over here!"

The god in question took off in your direction in record time, scrutinising the small group that had formed before him. In your mind, on the other hand, you saw that he paid no real recognition to anyone but you. Well, you certainly looked at your worst, after fending off a group of bloodlusty assassins. Bruised and all, with a bleeding cut here and there.

You knew, judging by the minuscule shifts in his expression only you perceived on his face, Raiden was going to a field day dealing with this. Though you did enjoy (kind of) seeing him warring between his emotions for you and the facade he was trying to keep upright in front of others.

"Lady [Y/N]," he reached for you, not in a clingy way as to not raise any suspicion, although he wanted nothing more than sweep you off the very feet that looked unsteady from his perspective and carry you to his quarters, "are you alright?"

For the thousandth time in this relatively short span of time, you answered with a despondent yes, the strain finally catching up with you. With the Raiden and Fujin at your side, your body recognized safety, which meant that the adrenaline also gradually receded, and your insignificant injuries felt more painful than you expected. The brothers exchanged glances.

"Thank you, Fujin, for protecting Lady [Y/N] in my absence."

"[Y/N] could have handled them just fine without my interference," he winked at you as if he hadn't just uttered the understatement of the century, but okay, "your tutelage comes into fruition, brother. It was as if I was seeing you the way [Y/N] fought with the bo staff."

Raiden's lips twitched ever so slightly, fighting a smile, but his eyes twinkled with unrecognizable emotions. He seemed like he was proud, and your heart soared at the potential knowledge. Alas, as much as you desired to share this moment with him a little while longer, your feet began to take a stand against the hours you had spent training prior to the failed attempt at your life.

You shifted your weight from one foot to the other, trying to elevate the pressure. It didn't escape Raiden the slightest and he quickly dismissed the guards (they were still here?) and Fujin before gingerly separating you from your staff and stabilising you by interlocking elbows.

He accompanied you to his quarters, in silence, cutting short on his typically long strides as your current state didn't allow you to keep up with him. It felt like forever, or perhaps your pace was that slow, when the two of you arrived at your destination. The neatly made bed looked like the picture of heaven for you now, but Raiden stopped you in time from making yourself comfortable at your earliest convenience.

"Please don't go into bed yet, my dear, we need to take care of your wounds first."

You looked like a kicked puppy with how your head dropped, but reason prevailed. He made a fair point. You wouldn't want anyone to jump into your bed full of grime and sweat either.

His voice was ever mild when asking you, "Shall I run you a bath?"

You chanced a glance at him, "Only if you join me."

Wait- what did you say? Your expression grew panicked, and ran hot with embarrassment as you realized what you had spluttered out without thinking. Girl, you were shameless. Raiden seemed to have been taken by surprise as well, your boldness would probably always catch him off guard - to unabashedly suggest such a thing.

It took a second for your lover to answer, "Gladly."

That curbed some of those mortifying feelings from your slip-up. The smile you spotted stretching his supple cheeks did the rest. With that being said, you began shedding your clothing without a hurry, stuffing them in a pile so they wouldn't sully the bedroom.

Once fully naked, a state of undress you became kind of comfortable with in Raiden's presence, you patted towards the bathroom. Raiden's back was turned when you stepped in, the air becoming slightly humid from the water. And man, he was glorious.

You bit your lip as you continued to devour Raiden with your eyes alone, and it became increasingly difficult to keep your hands to yourself. I mean, who wouldn't want to swat that round ass once in a while? Or skim fingers along the spine protected by walls of muscle? What you would have given to tangle your fingers in those long luscious locks of vibrant white hair.

"[Y/N]? [Y/N]?"

You have gotten so distracted that you hadn't heard the god calling for your attention, "I am sorry, what did you say?"

The God of Thunder gifted you with that type of laugh he seldom let the world hear and it pulled at your own lips, "The bath is ready, my dear, come and join me."

Shaking your head at your antics Raiden had surely caught wind of by now, you slowly made your way to the bed of water. Moaning in appreciation as the water enveloped your form. The few open cuts responded with stings at first, but it's nothing you couldn't handle. Periods were way worse than that.

Raiden let you settle next to him without a word, however, between closing his eyes in relaxation, you have met gazes a few times. He seemed to have been unusually quiet the whole time. You didn't want to miss any potential signs. It discreetly worried you as the last time you had given him space, was the time he had probably needed you the most.

"How about you, honey, how do you feel?"

He was always prepared to mother-hen you that you felt it right to exchange roles and ask him about his ailments. Given his godly nature, he would have logically less of them than you, but still, it was a nice sentiment. You would want Raiden to feel cherished too.

Most of the things you enjoyed were only enjoyable if there were two in the equation. Happiness became doubled when there was someone to share it with.

Judging by the way he heaved a sigh you contemplated if it was the right question to ask until he began speaking about his day. You hit the bull's eye in your assumption that it was rough. Quan Chi had made another move to steal Shinnok's amulet that had the God of Thunder on a chase through different realms - namely Netherrealm and Chaosrealm.

You didn't like the sound of that, it was a well-known fact that Raiden's divine power was weaker in other realms, and you feared the true extent of his injuries for that matter. In the end, the god managed to get it back, preventing yet another threat from becoming reality.

You began peppering his neck with kisses, soft and relaxing, not sparking any particular sexual tension. The comfort might relieve some of the stress in his muscles, you figured, and it seemed you were right. He sagged against you in no time, leaning his head onto you as he often did when you snuggled in bed.

Honestly, he was amazing, and you made sure to tell him that often.

"You know Raiden," you began slyly whispering in his ear, massaging his tense shoulders, "why don't we entrust the amulet to Master Bo' Rai Cho?"

A chuckle resembling a rumble escaped the god as he turned his face to you so close your noses were touching, "I don't think that would be the best idea, [Y/N]. I trust Bo' Rai Cho with my life, but not with Shinnok. I don't want to put him in danger."

"But he would be quite the unsuspecting choice, wouldn't he?" You said placidly, not trying to make a point out of it.

"You may be right, but either way, I have entrusted the amulet to Sonya Blade and Special Forces to protect," he finished in a murmur, eyes growing unfocused. You hummed to yourself, glad to have lifted his spirit somewhat.

"Fujin is not what I expected." You began another topic, one closer to home for him, "I didn't expect him to be cool with me from the get-go, seeing as I am dating his brother. I like him already."

"Yes, well, he always held a deeper understanding of mortal tendencies than I have. It didn't take him long to recognize a change within me." Even if Raiden tried to hide it, fairly well might you add, it became quite clear to you how much his brother meant to him.

"I was raised as an only child so I can't possibly say for sure, but I think siblings know to sniff out the smallest of discrepancies."

"I am beyond relieved that he has forgiven me, he has been a tremendous help in defending Earthrealm. I am surprised how long I have prevailed without his help and with Quan Chi seeking ways to free his master, another set of hands is very welcome."

You smiled again before you gave him a big smooch on his forehead, "I am glad that you have worked out your differences and found your way back to each other. You are stronger together."

Content seemed to flow out of him like a fountain and he couldn't help but manoeuvre you onto his lap, smirking at the undignified sound you let out at being manhandled from your spot so suddenly. He caught that hand of yours that wanted to swat his chest and latched his lips onto yours like a viper, making you laugh into the messy kiss.

Despite today's events consisting of failed assassination attempts and catastrophic preventions, you remained happier than ever, basking in the fortune of your love.

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