#and were more aimed at disliking the show in general (yeah you can also shove your negativity up in your ass tbh tho)

[ivashkovadrian]

Do you even fucking understand the point of writing a semi-funny caption to a gifset so people can smile/laugh and get to share it or does that fly right over your head? Y��all should really need to learn WHEN to be taking things seriously and when NOT to

Because for sure writing “#fuck mercantilism” would hit the audience (tumblr users in the year of 2023 in the Gregorian calendar)

[tortoisenottortoise]

Am I the only one who likes seeing muscular women in media more than muscular men?

Alright so, this one will probably end up much shorter and a little more ranty than I'd like, but this is kind of personal so be fairly warned. 

 Recently I've seen a few complaints about the new He-Man show and honestly, I fully understand and empathize with them. Whilst I haven't fully seen the show, from what I've viewed I can personally speaking agree (or at the very least understand) where most criticisms come from. I think it's incredibly shitty that the writer basically lied to his audience about how the show would run. Now normally I'd be fine with a twist such as He-man dying, but he's an important part of the show and the way the marketing & merchandising for it was running kind of comes across as him basically using He-Man's name to get people into the show. I also feel like it's fine to view Teela as obnoxious and annoying, nothing about her personality-wise seems likable to me. I also heard a few complaints about Orko's (I think that's his name, don't crucify me) backstory and how his character was handled.Yet as the title suggests one that didn't stick with me was the criticism of Teela and a general trend towards the criticism of women in media as being "masculine". 

I've heard over and over that Hollywood representing strong women by giving them masculine traits is a bad thing and yet... I kind of don't get it? It feels odd to say, almost like I'm the dumbest man alive for admitting something which most people on the internet seem to be so sure about, yet I just don't understand where this is coming from. I've seen this thrown at She-hulk, Wonder Woman, Abby, and many other characters, yet when inquired it usually loops back around to, "Yeah they have muscles", and that's about it. This type of criticism in specific seems to overly focus on the appearance of said characters. It's the one critique I just can't get behind and it feels like at best it's a shallow criticism that fails to get its point across, and at worst it's actively demeaning to women who desire to or show masculine traits. But first, let me break this down into sections.

Section 1: Muscles =/= Masculinity (In my opinion at least)

Oh boy, I feel like this is a section that might rustle some feathers, but I'm going to try and explain myself best as possible. I simply do not view muscularity as a feature that is inherent to or should be inherent to men. I'm not going to pretend as if muscular men aren't more saturated in media and art, nor as if they're societally treated as masculine, but one of the reasons I fail to understand this criticism is that I see muscles beyond the horizons as being just a masculine trait. 

I believe that muscles should instead be seen as a sign of hard work and determination. As someone who's currently trying (and struggling) to stay healthy and fit, it's much harder than a lot of media portrays it to be. It's a test where you push yourself to the limits, not just for the sake of doing it, but so you can improve as a person. Whenever I go to the gym and see a muscular gal or guy walk by, my immediate thought isn't, "how masculine" or anything like that my thought is, "wow! They worked hard to get like that, I should work hard as well!". 

This interpretation tends to feel like it's just simply taking a piss on people who actively work hard to achieve higher levels of strength. Especially when society places and enforces these unrealistic standards onto people. If you don't have a six-quintillion pack nor can bench press a fucking house then you're worthless, of course, that is unless you actually attempt to pursue said standards which in that case you're automatically dismissed as cheating your way to gaining your muscles instead of putting any work in. And that's just for men who often don't have to deal with traditional idiots who are stuck in the year 1950 where I can't walk on the same street as them. My skin crawls when reading tweets from older men talking about how weightlifting women are "ruining their fertility" and I absolutely hate it when people in my life treat these women as if they're mythical creatures from a fairy tale, or when females who have trained to such a degree are simply dismissed as being inferior. 

Obviously, I don't think the people who say this are like that, but whenever I hear this type of critique I can't help but think of the culmination of all these experiences I've gone through. But then again, this might honestly just be because I'm personally attracted to muscular women.

  Section 2: Body type diversity

  Another reason that I tend to like muscular women in media over muscular men is simply due to the sheer oversaturation of muscular men. Don't get me wrong, I have no problem if anybody likes muscular men. I totally get wanting to shove your face in between some man titties or get inspired by their physiques. In all honesty, almost everything I said earlier can directly apply to men, but one of the reasons I bring up body type diversity is that there tend to be much less muscular women than men. I

f anything, I'd have to say that muscular men are almost treated as the default when it comes to things like superhero comics, movies, video games, anime, etc. In a similar vein, the default for women tends to be slim and curvaceous, you get the drill. Whenever someone who doesn't fit into either body type shows up and isn't treated like a joke/gag or a character to rip on, I can't help but be happy about it. As much as I have no clue wtf is going on with TLOU2, I can appreciate that Abby's portrayal doesn't seem to exist solely as a joke meant to demean women for working out. I'm excited when an anime protagonist is a fat character who can go beyond just being a "fat guy" and is treated the same way a normal person would be.

 Regardless of what you think about whatever trait you're criticizing, there's probably someone out there who fits it. If you're not into it or dislike it, then that's fine, but I'd rather have that expressed than it being actively made out as a harmful trope as opposed to just literally another body type that some women have.

  Section 3: Muscular women inspire me more

Ok so, we've now blown into a full-on personal experience, buckle up boys, girls, NBs, anything in between, and I feel like I'm forgetting someone so apologies! But yeah, muscular women in media tend to be a lot more inspiring than people seem to give them credit for. This comes down to a mix of both the qualities I outlined earlier in what makes the characters inspiring but also plays into the idea of body diversity. 

One of the traits that make amazons seem more inspiring is their inherent rarity/lack of screentime. As I stated earlier, whilst I do enjoy my fair share of man-titties, it kind of gets to a point where it's more depressing than inspiring when all you see is just super-models shoved in your face whenever you walk into a theater. If for every Goku I could find ten other guys who were on the chubbier side then I'd be able to take more from when I see Goku and other characters with his body type, yet it's so saturated that it no longer becomes something to aspire to, but simply the norm.  It's not that you can work to become muscular or skinny with hard work and effort, you have to be muscular or skinny unless you want to be deemed a failure. Being chubby often isn't presented as a starting point but just treated as a defect. As someone who spent years battling with my own self-perception, that's just not a good message to get across.

Now, this obviously isn't to say that people can never make muscular characters. After all, it's their story so they can put whatever they want in it. The aim of the game isn't to stop people from making a specific type of character, but to encourage a diverse set of people to make a diverse set of characters. This is the reason why I view muscular women as so inspiring. Instead of coming across as just "the norm" or "the standard" they stand out from the crowd and despite knowing what they have to deal with, are still ready and willing to work out and improve their bodies. They had a goal in mind and set time aside to achieve said goal, that's something I can get behind.

  Conclusion:

This will be another short section, but I just wanted to mention it because it caps off my thoughts on this post in general. What originally started as me just not getting the reason why people disliked Teela's design somehow turned into a passionate rant and I'm A) not sure if it fits on this particular subsection of the community, B) scared I'm going to get ripped to pieces, and C) somewhat unsatisfied with all that I said. At the end of the day, this probably won't be seen by too many people, but to those who do see it, I hope you have a wonderful day. I just wanted to talk about something that was near and dear to my heart and hoped that I made it clear why I view things the way I do. 

P.S: Can we stop having this double standard where we act like women whose arms show the slightest hint of definition are "unrealistic" whilst men can look like tree trunks and be considered normal and healthy? please and thank you!

[rureikia]

Chapter 4

[Previous] [Contents] [Soon...]

The start of high school was a very crucial milestone for me. Because not only did I have a crush on Kita, but I also got accepted to go to the same school like him too. 

Inarizaki High.

When I saw the magical letter of confirmation, my heart blossomed by a large magnitude.

I was so agitated with the thought of having three more years with Kita Shinsuke I thought I was beginning to see stars... I mean, for a young girl whose heart was fully set in stone for a celestial being like him, how could you not be awfully excited? It meant three more years of opportunities that I'd definitely not let go to waste, three more years of seeing his face! All the scenarios occurring in my head, in hopes that one day, these would come true...

I specifically remember on the day the letter arrived on how I was sprinting around the house to show mom and dad.

At the time, my parents didn't know why I was that happy over getting accepted since I used to be pretty distasteful about studying. But they quickly shifted it aside and congratulated me nevertheless.

It was like the scream painting. I can still draw out their faces in my head. Mom and dad were startled as they never expected me to have gotten into one of the top high schools in the prefecture — they ended up jumping along with me regardless of their previous doubts!

So on the first day of school, I marched out of my house in my new uniform, and a satisfied grin widely spread across my face.

The basic philosophy was to try and pass all exams, but the true aim for me was to find Kita Shinsuke, then ultimately confess to him. Next, he'd accept my confession and we would date, he then proposes, we get married, start a family ehehehe... Ah, I mustn't carry on or else I'll get too thoughtful...

But I was really excited (excitement lasted one-week maximum). I wanted to get to school pronto and see all the new people that would be circling me all through the next years. And so my determination was at its top game by then.

Whilst dusting my skirt and straightening it out, I closed my front door, but kept hold of my door handle to wait.

After a minute or two, from the opposite side of my street, I also heard someone else's door open.

I let go of my door handle, appearing as if I just came out of my house too.

In an instant, I knew who it was, hence why I gasped apprehensively to myself and thrashed around to look, "Ah, Kita!! Good morning!"

He sees me, adjusts his bag strap, and walks away without considering my call.

"Kita!" I called out again, assuming he didn't hear me the first time, "Wait for me!"

I was nearly about to run and go get him because he was already walking from a significant reach away. But just then, my mother abruptly forced the front door open with an annoyed scowl face before I had even managed to escape.

"(Y/N)! Why are you yelling so much in the morning? You sound like a stupid person, the neighbors will complain because of your loud mouth!" Her hands were on her hips, and she spoke to me in much vex.

I flashed a swift glimpse at Kita. 

Okay. He wasn't waiting for me.

Mom was still in the middle of scolding me, and I got impatient as she was suddenly like an obstacle I needed to overcome for me to catch up with fast-feet Kita Shinsuke.

"Yeah, yeah I'm in a hurry. Mom, let's talk later okay?" I replied in slight rashness.

"Excuse me? Why are you acting like that? If you are in such a hurry why are you still here? I don't understand!!" Mom grabbed my hand, throwing down 600 yen for lunch then shoved me away, "You forgot this too. Gosh... Who is this hopeless girl? I don't know her. Just leave now!"

Why must this old lady insult me so incredibly fast?

I halted to stare at the money in my palm and solemnly glanced back at her, "Wait, mom... This might not be enough for lunch..." I whined.

"Yes it is. Lunch is cheap there." She smacks my shoulder and I made another whine a tad louder at the impact, "Tsk, (Y/N) don't complain anymore. Just be grateful, have a good day, and go."

My shoulders grieved a bit but I went along with it, "OK thanks...Bye-bye..."

As soon as she closed the door on me, I left.

I tried my best to catch up with Kita who was walking by himself in the distance. And after seeing him in the same uniform as me, once again, I was unbearably excited to go approach him.

This was a period of time where I'd constantly be a hindrance to Kita. However, I didn't really take this into account until much much later.

Since I took interest in him during second-year middle school, that interest only developed from thereon. By the time it was third-year middle school, I full-blown liked him. And then at first-year high-school, it developed into something called puppy love.

Kita, he was rather laid-back about it. He didn't tell me to go away nor to stop talking to him — rather he would just let me do whatever whilst throwing cold logic at me whenever he feels the need to.

Well, I say that he's rather laid-back but in actuality, he'd try and evade me at times by ignoring the things I'd do. I was still childish and quite gullible, so I simply assumed he was bluffing to push me away and to hide his genuine feelings.

With that in mind, I remembered how back then I was wholly convinced that I could win him over in a jiffy. And this was entirely due to my mind being intoxicated from those all dramas, shoujo mangas, and anime's I watched in the past. Subsequently, I thought I owned a special power like no other, which was the power of love and commitment.

15-year-old me seriously believed that she would be able to do anything with the power of love deeply engraved in her soul. I basically believed I was the next generation's Sailor Moon...

For me to express my loyalty towards Kita, I revised everything needed for that entrance exam with extra diligence. And that was more than enough proof to show that the power of love really does work miracles. After all, because of my power, I was wearing the school's crest embedded on my blazer, the same one as whom I strived for.

"Kita good morning, hhh." I greeted breathily, speed-walking next to him.

He nods a response, "Morning."

I straightened my posture and smiled awkwardly at him by accident. Then I tried to strike up a conversation which was probably also accidentally awkward, "Kita don't you think this is such a coincidence? We will be going to the same school again this year. It's uh — it's a perfect match isn't it?"

He carries on walking forwards, without looking at me. "The entry requirements for Inarizaki must have lowered this year if that's the case."

I didn't know at the time, but this guy was totally degrading me here.

"Oh yes, that has happened. By a couple of points, it has lowered actually." I addressed with formality in my speech like some intellectual, "That means the God of fortune must be by my side, don't you think?"

Kita didn't reply and we walked in silence for a couple more seconds.

.......

"Uh......... Kita!" I called out.

The suddenness finally resulted in him shifting his head a little to peer at me.

"Kita, wait for a second." 

Kita listened for once, stopping in his tracks, glancing back at me.

When we were teenagers, he would experience my resilient pestering daily. This was additionally a section of life where relationships and emotions are new to everyone, especially for kids that were around that age — high-schoolers.

I can distinctly pick out the uncountable amounts of times where I'd loiter outside my house early in the morning just before he comes out. And when I hear his door open from across the street I would act as if I just came out too — "Kita, you just got ready now? Oh, what a coincidence, so have I."

There's also the case that would happen in school. I'd pack up all my belongings and shove it in my bag before the teacher dismissed the class. This was so I could have enough time to leave and walk home with Kita, "Another coincidence! I'm going to leave school too!"

"..." Eventually, I took a deep breath and gripped onto my bag straps that were wrapped around my shoulders tightly, building up the fury in my chest. Then studying around carefully I made sure no one was present before I took a few side-steps closer to him.

I don't know why I was such a shameless little girl back then. I have to admit that it's not very good to reminisce about my past, it hurts my dignity a lot.

But with the expression as if I was going to complete a huge quest, I confessed to him.

"I like you," I said.

Kita stared at me blankly for a second, then furrowed his eyebrows and told me, "I don't."

"..."

With that, my life advice is: do not read too much manga.

After the rejection, he blatantly left it at that and continued walking to school as if he forgot about it. I, on the other hand, felt extremely embarrassed and tried to think of what to do. My rational decision was to run off towards a different path like a coward.

Just as I was about to bolt, I nervously called out to Kita for the last time that morning, "I-I guess I'll see you later okay Kita?!"

He didn't acknowledge it since he didn't look back, but neither did I. And so we both departed ways.

Obviously, me being older now, I understand how I was unmistakably not as discreet as I presumed to be. I have been told by many friends that even an elephant wearing a shocking pink dress can do a better job at being discreet than me.

So I know now. Teenage Kita already could tell that I liked him for a very long time even before that terrible confession of mine. But oddly, he chose to not bother spilling to others regarding it, I still don't know to this day why.

As a child I was impatient, that's why I chose to confess on the actual first day of high-school. And that impatience lingered on for a while. I'm sure that this flaw caused me to be a nuisance to Kita Shinsuke; so he probably disliked that part, which is another thing I didn't think about until much later.

Later on, when I arrived at school, I experienced the worst sort of depressiveness where I felt my whole environment turn into a darkening abyss.

Outside the 1st year hallways, I examined the posters where it would tell us what class we would be assigned in.

KITA SHINSUKE: CLASS 7

Okay, that's very good!

(L/N) (Y/N): CLASS 2

That... I hate...

And so I dragged myself to Class 2 where a certain someone saw my dismal brooding.

"(L/N) why do you look like that? You look so miserable on your first day already?!" An enthusiastic voice called me out.

I gloomily averted my gaze up. It was my old friend, Taro.

Taro also went to the same middle school as me. And we became friends over the liking towards graphic novels — it was actually because of that interest of his, he wasn't very popular with the girls haha.

"...I'm not sad. I'm devastated." I sighed out in a daze.

He was eating bread, and talked with food still in his mouth, "Why?"

"Because I was put in a different class to what I think I really deserve. Don't you think the class rank system is a bit unfair?"

Taro snorted contemptuously and shook his head at my idea, "No not at all, you just want to be in the same class as Kita."

"Not so," I argued.

"Is so." He argued back with his head held higher, "(L/N), I don't know why you think this is unfair, you very much deserve it."

I glared at him in disapproval.

Then he proceeds, using the bread in his hand to gesture at me, "Whilst Kita has an IQ of at least 200, yours is way below in the negatives. So you're incredibly lucky that you weren't put in your true class. Class zero."

"Huh...? Class zero doesn't exist... What are you even saying?"

"You get to be in the same class as this intelligent guy instead!" Taro uses a spare hand to pat his chest, "Isn't that great (L/N)?!"

My face rapidly scrunched up in displeasure at those words and actions, "Uwah... Calling yourself intelligent. If you think that I have an IQ below the negatives, you will be the same as me since we're in the same class. Who do you think you are?"

"I am someone that at least has enough common sense to find someone not way out of my league, that's who I think I am."

I briefly grinned at him in annoyance and retaliated with a reply, "Go back to sit on your seat, leave me alone now."

He stifled a quiet laugh and did what I said with an effortless shrug.

I wasn't expecting to be put in class 2 to be honest. I would never expect myself in class 7 either. But I just wanted to be in the same class as Kita in hopes that we'd be deskmates for the following three years.

But as shown, that never happened.

Instead, I had to rely on my individual skills to be around him as much as I could.

I went straight to bed after last night and woke up with the worst possible headache that one could imagine. The headache was so bad in fact that I was concerned whether I had a type of brain disease and wasn't going to survive.

And the throbbing pain only attacked me once I groggily opened my eyes to see the sunshine which wasn't a good idea since I felt dizzy. So I had to cover my face with my duvets to stop any more light from stinging me.

I'm currently in pain right now, but I was quite okay when I was asleep and felt nothing. In fact, I underwent a type of sleep that was so deep, it confused my dreams towards real-life circumstances, making me rather delirious.

I opened my eyes again, reluctantly tossing around to squint at the ceiling fan, and tried hard to recall what happened yesterday.

From what I can accurately remember... I went to a goukon with Sumiko, I met some new people, I ate at least twenty dishes, I drank, I saw a handsome worker, I saw Kita with that handsome worker, I got frightened and quickly hid outside, but suddenly he was outside too(?!?!) so I was forced to talk with him for a minute before I went back inside, I drank some more and incidentally got drunk, I then remembered that he took me home because of how drunk I was......... And then, we kissed.

Oh yes, we k-i-s-s-e-d. Me and my ex-boyfriend.

And I was thinking about the kiss so much apparently I was given a dream about it too.

It was a dream akin to where I was with Kita. An altered memory of that same kiss replaying over and over again for what felt like hours on end. In that dream, we may have used a bit too much mouth work and tongue which isn't very good... Makes me feel quite abashed... Then I woke up with my cheek muscles feeling sore which additionally, isn't very good.

I rubbed my eyes sluggishly when lifting my torso from my bed to regain proper consciousness. I noticed was still wearing my work attire from yesterday, except I looked tenfold scruffier.

Did I fight someone while I was in the zone? Honestly, I'm so tired I didn't care about the context. So I'll just go back to sleep...

...Well, that's what I wanted until I heard a voice sing to me inside my head.

"If you remember... Call me."

"you remember... Call me."

"remember... Call me."

"Call me."

(GASP)

As expected from an unintentional flirt like Kita, his words woke me up.

I frantically attempted to roll out of bed but ended up falling flat on my back with a loud, painful thump. At the impact, I groaned, staggering to my feet and grabbing my phone that was on the top of my neatly folded work blazer by my chair.

Once I accomplished to scamper around like a bug, I turned it on to scroll to Kita's contact information and stared intensely at his name.

Me: "..."

No, I couldn't do it. I clicked on my friend Taro's contact information instead to procrastinate. And to my surprise, he picked up abnormally fast.

......

"Hello, good morning~!" Taro said in English appearing a bit too happy for my liking.

"Hey, it's me..." my hoarse morning voice croaked with a tired sigh at the end.

"Oh... Jesus Christ. That doesn't sound too good... What is it (L/N)? You sound a little dead." He said, "Did something happen last night?"

I nodded my head vigorously as if he could see me, but regretted when it made me feel woozy. "Yeah kinda... — wait, how did you know that something was going on last night?"

"Instagram aha. Well, Sumiko mainly."

"Eh...? Sumiko? Something must've happened with you two then." I scoffed, "Okay, tell me yours first. Go on."

"Alright, I'll be brief 'cuz I want to hear your story. But to summarise, Sumiko-chan broke up with me and she wanted to prove that she can find someone very quickly." He begins to explain, "I then checked Instagram last night to see some of the posts from the goukon you two were at."

Ah, their romance is a little confusing I should mention. This is probably the fourth time they "broke-up" this month.

To others, this might seem a bit neglective and unhealthy, but I know the most that these two care for each other strongly. Last night, I noticed that she didn't even bother flirting with any of the men. Instead, she talked with the women throughout the majority of the event.

I switched my phone from one ear to another, "So I've heard from herself that the two of you have broken up again. What's it this time? Did she get angry over something silly?" I asked, "Is that why she accepted the goukon invitation?"

"Pfft, obviously. Of course Sumiko got angry over something silly." He laughs, "But... She didn't run off like that to seriously break off with me. You know how she is. Sumiko just tried to prove me wrong in something because of how prideful she can be. Sometimes, she even has the same competitive energy as you."

I breathed out a chuckle, feeling a little more calmed down, "Impossible. I'm nothing like her when it comes to that sort of stuff. I'm not as confident."

"No way. I think you guys are definitely similar in that aspect. I've been with the two of you since high-school, I think I know the best." He affirms, and I shake my head at his claiming words, "Anyways, back to you. What's up (L/N)? Why'd you call?"

He reminded me why I wanted to call. And all of a sudden, I became remarkably hesitant. I was so hesitant actually I almost bit my tongue when opening my mouth to speak.

"Uh — Taro... You remember Kita, r-right?"

"Mhm, of course, yeah. Your ex-boyfriend, Mr. Perfect."

"Well... Me and Kita met last night..."

"Eh?! —" His tone jumps by four octaves in surprise, then deepens, "— Uh, Okay...?"

"And I wasn't really expecting him to be there..." I trailed.

Taro paused and inhaled sharply before filling words between our silent space, "(L/N), you're kind of scaring me now..."

Don't worry, I'm scaring myself too.

I swallowed the nervous saliva that built up as I struggled to speak, "And kinda...We maybe uh — kissed."

......

"WHAT?!" He loudly exclaimed. His side of the audio turned distorted and my eardrums burst.

"A-Ah yeah hahahaha..."

"LAST NIGHT?! Are you sure?! How come I didn't see him in any of the goukon posts though? Did Sumiko invite him purposely just to mess with you?! That's pure evil!! I'll scold her for you when she gets home... Wait unless... Are you guys back together then?! After three years, I thought you two would never be together ever again! But what the heck (L/N), you and Kita really kissed? What the actual fu-"

I can't do this anymore.

I hung up. His voice is quite annoying to listen to with a hangover like this. I'll let Taro try to figure out everything himself.

I scrolled through my contacts once more and attempted to call Sumiko but was immediately left on voicemail to my disappointment. So now, the only remaining person I wanted to call left was... Kita Shinsuke...

For some reason, when my finger hovered over his name it felt like I was being punished with the death penalty. And to make matters more nerve-wracking, once I clicked on his contact information, my hand was shaking whilst I raised my phone to my ear.

It took another couple of seconds, but his phone started ringing. Hearing the ring made me so scared to the point I shuddered and started pacing around my room.

......

Kita picked up and spoke first, "Hello?"

"Ah." I jolted.

Oh god, why did I make this phone call? I should have practiced what to say at the very least.

His voice stayed nonchalant, "(Y/N), what is it?"

Okay, I think I got something.

I stopped and took a whole two seconds to build up the confidence needed for the next thing I'm about to say.

Then, after a big breath, I began my rambling; "Okay Kita, listen here. I am very unhappy with you right now. You kissed me last night while I was drunk and you did it without my permission, it's not good to do that to someone in that state! Kita why? What on earth were you thinking?! Your actions were very wrong, and you need to think thoroughly about what you did, and you shouldn't do that to me again. In fact, you shouldn't do that to anyone!! Consent is very important to people, and if I was drunk you should haven't taken advantage! You're rather lucky that I am a nice person and that—"

He cuts me off, "(Y/N). Don't yell. I can hear you even if you speak normally."

I shut my mouth at his scold straight away and quietened by a significant volume, "Oh... Was I being too loud? Sorry about that... But still, you shouldn't interrupt so suddenly, I am trying to tell you something important..."

"You shouldn't be loud nonetheless, you'll feel light-headed if you have a hangover."

I was going to ramble again, but I had to stop myself when I sensed something peculiar in my environment.

Something wasn't right.

For a brief moment, I pressed my phone to my chest and silently glanced around as if trying to wait for an event to occur. When I became even more suspicious, I put my phone back to my ear, "Hold on, say something."

Kita, "Like what?"

I could hear two voices. Both unquestionably belonging to my ex-boyfriend. And to make matters worse, I also smelled something bad coming from outside my room. Hence why I hastily sped out of my room like a professional athlete.

The reason I could hear two different Kitas was because I saw him in my kitchen from the open living room. I panicked and ran straight there.

So it seemed that he really was in my apartment, therefore I wasn't experiencing complete hysteria. And he was also cooking something too (not a good sign), the phone still to his ear.

The only thing was, it smelled like pretty bad burning.

Fumes were coming out of my kitchen and I couldn't believe the fire alarm hadn't buzzed off violently by now.

I hurriedly ran inside my kitchen, my first animalistic instinct was to turn the stove off. My second animalistic instinct was to hold back this huge urge to do something to Kita. I really wanted to throw an object at him, maybe my cushion or my lamp because of what I had just witnessed.

For a man that is known to be good at everything, he doesn't seem to know a single damn thing about the kitchen, does he?

"Kita Shinsuke! What do you think you're doing?!" I exclaimed, taking the wok he grasped by the handle. I swear if I woke up any later my apartment would have fallen into a crisp.

He turned to look at me with the most innocent expression on his face, "You're up earlier than usual." He said, ignoring what he just did, "You used to sleep until 11 on weekends."

In return, I ignored his statement and stared at my precious wok, seeing charred eggs that were now an indescribable dark matter.

 I was using my index finger and thumb to carefully take it off, but it was stubbornly stuck to the material... It wasn't glamorous at all.

Ahhhhhhhhhhh, this guy forgot to put oil and burned everything... Ahhhhhhhhhhh I'm going to have a mental breakdown now... My wok!!! He ruined this one-of-a-kind wok I ordered from Beijing!!

I crouched down and placed my wok on the kitchen's tiled floor. Then very aggressively, I was scratching the top of my head, showing my painful distress, "Kita, why did you try and make eggs without oil? I have taught you in the past that you must put oil when making stuff like this, did I not? And I don't understand why you're in my apartment either!"

"I couldn't find your oil, so I used water." He said with a perfectly straight face.

"..."

I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it since I had nothing to say. And at this moment I felt utterly incompetent. Hence why I was sitting down on my kitchen floor, wanting to collapse and go to sleep right on this spot.

I have come to understand that I cannot understand Kita Shinsuke.

He then continued, "Last night you told me that you didn't want me to leave. That's why I'm here."

I looked up at him with a frown, "No. You're lying."

"I'm not."

"How come I don't remember that and remember everything else?"

"Maybe you were drunk." Kita shrugs and cracks a teasingly small smile, "What do you remember then?"

That question was atrocious because I knew what he was hinting at. So I had to hold my voice down even though really wanted to wail aloud, "How... drunk was I?"

"Hm. Do you really not remember anything?" he asks, crouching down to pick up the messed up wok and rose back up.

I remembered the kiss, after that everything truly was a blur, I couldn't seem to recall anything. No matter how hard I try to think back, nothing comes into my mind. Therefore I needed to check myself again. 

What happened? Is there anything different about me?

I'm still wearing my work attire, however, the blazer I had on last night was not on me anymore, it's neatly folded on my chair, which Kita must have done. I'm not wearing my stockings either and my blouse was untucked too...

Oh.

That's when electricity struck me.

I stood up with great suspense, wrapping my arms around my torso protectively, "You... —You didn't do anything to me, did you? I remember this kiss, but you haven't done anything after, right...?"

Kita's brows pinch in irritation and he pushes my forehead back with his index finger where I made a sound of struggle at the action.

"(Y/N) are you dim? What is going inside that small brain of yours?"

"A-Ah! I'm just asking out of worry..." I said slouching back, finally relaxing a bit, "You don't have to speak to me like that..."

Kita puts the wok in my sink whilst I slumped, gave up, and decided to go to put some water in my kettle to make tea. When doing so, I asked him another question.

"Were you here all night then?"

"Yeah." He replied.

Why?

"You should have woken me up," I chided, "I had a spare futon you could have used."

He shook his head modestly, "Your couch is comfortable too, so I was okay."

"I see."

"But what about you, did you sleep fine?"

I took a mug out of my cupboard and exhaled a little, "I slept fine as well. My head kinda hurts, but there's medicine in the bathroom, so I'll leave to go take that and wash myself up soon."

"That's good."

There was a lot to process already, but I decided to push that away for now.

One of my main concerns however was what he said to me some moments ago.

Kita claims that I told him I didn't want him to leave, which is the reason why he stayed. And I began to question what I might have said to him exactly for him to do actually listen to that supposed request.

He was washing the wok he ruined as I was now heavily debating what to do by eyeing him every couple of seconds or so.

I felt quite conflicted. I hated to think about how Kita was utterly handsome during those stealthy glances I did.

His hair was messed up, his eyes were more doe than usual. He wasn't wearing his jacket or sweater from last night but was presently wearing his T-shirt and jeans... And we were both standing here. In my kitchen. Where I sensed no discomfort coming from his body language as mine was astonishingly rigid.

Still, despite my negative demeanor, I couldn't help but contemplate while making a cup of tea. This is where the inner-conflict comes into play. 

I didn't know whether to hug him from behind like what you'd see in the movies. Or maybe secretly stand up on my tiptoes and deliver him a kiss on the cheek, or carry on watching his concentrated side profile while crying really big, salty tears.

In the end, I just called out his name, "Kita. Your tea is here."

He didn't answer verbally, but nods.

I tapped Kita's shoulder this time, "It'll get cold, drink fast."

To that, he takes a short glimpse at me then goes back to washing my traditional Chinese wok, "I'll clean this up first. It won't take long."

Hmm, perhaps he feels bad for the mess he made and is trying to make up for it.

"Okay," I said, "If it gets cold, you can just reheat. I'm going to wash up now."

He nods again in reassurance, and I give him one last glance before getting out of the kitchen to grab stuff for the bathroom.

[Previous] [Contents] [Soon...]

[writingsofmyimagination]

Conjecture |11|

Idol Reader Au, Enemies to Lovers AU

Summary: Your management refused to renew your contract unless you collaborated, so you ending up working with Min Yoongi. A guy you’d disliked from before both of your debuts. There is more to their past than meets the eye.

Links to other parts:  | 1 |  2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 

May do one more after this, we’ll see. 

Words:5049

Rating:18+

Warnings: SMUT!! (BDSMish themes, Yoongi Switch, Masturbation, Slight exhibitionism maybe) Swearing, mentions of eating issues, alcohol comsumption. General sass.

Permanent Tags: @msunnsstuff  @rosey-roseu @eyelessmin @backtonormalthings

Reblog, Like, Comment pwwwweeasse :)

//

As the coffee machine was whirring away crushing away the strong beans, he remembered the way your eyes flitted when he’d said those words. It was panic. Was it panic because you didn’t feel the same? Or was it just because when he said it? Or was it both? He hated that he didn’t know.

“Are you growing the beans yourself?” He heard you call from the bedroom. The coffee had been sat ready steaming for minutes.

“Sorry baby, I just got distracted” You were sat up, sheet pulled up around you; legs almost pressed to your chest as you took the cup from him. As he stood to leave to start the shower you tugged at his hand, pining. He smiled weakly bending down to give you the kiss you wanted.

“You better not have been heading to the shower without me Min Yoongi”

“And what if I was?” he countered.

“Then I’ll have to you show why it’s better to shower with me”

“I’ll be honest then, I was heading to the shower” he confessed, smile adorning his lips as he grabbed a towel from the side.

“So I’ll see you in a minute then? He added.

“You know I’m a woman of my word” He would never get enough of the teasing smile you rewarded him so often.

//

“Sharp scratch” the nurse warned puncturing your skin with a needle. The long tubing snaking its way into a bag filled with liquid loaded with vitamins. Your reflection staring back at you as the makeup artist was puffing powder all over your face. Your manager and his assistant were stood observing the whole process. His PA was your favourite person right now. You were running on minimal sleep, no food and you felt like crap; she had amazingly managed to call out a nurse out for you last minute.

“Okay so the plan is you will be on the red carpet straight after BTS, Yoongi will hold back so the press can get photos of the people behind the collab of the year” 

Your reflection smiled at the compliment. For the show you will be sat at our section a few tables behind the boys until you get called for you performance and your presentation.

“Got it, please don’t go over the plan again”

The heated leather seats of the car contributed to soothing your pre-event nerves. The bright natural white light flashes seeped in; even through the tinted windows.

“They’re ready Miss YL/N” The driver said before leaving the wheel to hold the door open for you. You smiled in thanks as you stepped out onto the carpet with full grace. The muttering and shouting of the press increased. Probably with the excitement that Yoongi is still stood on the red carpet and they are finally going to get pictures of the two of you together. Yoongi was wide eyed staring at you, trying his best to not let his jaw collapse to the floor. 

He’d realised why you’d kept the outfit away from him. The slit of your dress teased the front of your thigh under the royal blue dress. Your thigh was decorated with a leather strap wrapping round attached to a heart shaped metal ring. The dress ruffled neatly, delving into a v at your cleavage. The middle of the dress sat tight enough to reveal your figure but you made sure it was loose enough so you had some room; there would be lots of alcohol consumed throughout the night. It was long brushing lightly against the surface of the velvet red carpet beneath your feet. Your hair was in a pony tail which was curled to perfection, your fringe quaffed round into a wave shape, pinned and secured with copious amounts of hair spray.

Your red carpet smile was on show instantly; greeting the flashes. With elegant steps you took up poses at the ‘photo spot’. For the first time in a long time you was riddled with the pinch of nerves. These would be the first proper public photos of you together and actually ‘together’. Today that ‘together’ was his hand snug to your waist. His fingers digging in gently enough to not be detected in the photo evidence.

“I know why you kept that dress away from me now” leaning his head to your ear; both your smiles refusing to falter.

“Yeah and why’s that” you replied, still staring outwards innocently at the crowd.

“Because you knew for one that I wouldn’t believe how beautiful you look” Roles reversed he was now facing forward and you was leaning in to his ear

“Did I?”

“And two you knew I’d damn well be impatient to fuck you in it” The filth through the sweeter than sweet gummy smile had you turning to face him with a bright happy smile shrouding the absolute shock you felt internally. He mirrored your smile turning to you. The perfect red carpet couple shot.  The onlookers were probably begging to see a kiss. As much as you wanted nothing more; you would not give them the satisfaction. Both of your managements would also probably not take kindly to the action. He took your hand and you moved from the spotlight to the reception of the venue.

“Jesus they went nuts” Hobi chuckled slapping an arm at Yoongi’s shoulders when you re-joined the others. The flurry of noise reverberating around the whole room

“Kpop’s hottest couple” Jin toyed.

“Alright guys, calm your tits” You laughed, your eyes clapped onto another artist from you label and waved to get their attention.

“I’ll see you guys later when you win artist of the year yeah?” Aimed at the guys

“And I’ll see you for our performance” You left him with a gentle squeeze of his hand to join your agency to finally be ushered to your seats.

//

The buzz backstage oozed chaotic energy, runners running on their last legs searching for anything anyone needed last minute. You stood in the right wing in the same outfit as the music video; sound from the stage pushing your senses to their limit with the bass. Past the energetic fire of the Monsta X performance you could see Yoongi waiting in the other wing. The static of the radio of one of the stage directors buzzed behind you.

“Y/N” you turned to the call

“Erm Yoongi says you’re going kill it” She stood silent waiting for your response.

“Erm tell him I said to stop being a dweeb”

The stage manager had a smile on her face while communicating your professional message to the other manager. Your legs felt the weakness first, energy draining from your muscles.

The cheers erupted as the performance finished, half the boys heading towards you; Wonho included. The sweat glistening off them walking past you with warm knackered smiles. Wonho had just reached you with an even warmer smile placing a clamming gentle hand on your arm when you collapsed.

Your eyesight still non-existent; a constant blackness. You were conscious; you could make out all the scuffles of shoes scurrying around you.  You recognised the panicked tone of Yoongi, it was harsher and angrier than you remember ever hearing. The words not picked up by your dazed state. You felt a rush of air beside you move as a figure left you and was replaced with another. The blackness turned to fuzziness with colour and clarity finally returned to your vision. Yoongi was staring at you with fierce concern, pupils blown. His hand was stroking your head and brushing your cheek. You’d been moved to a small dressing room and set down on a low sitting sofa. Only Yoongi and the stage manager were present; she was avoiding eye contact leaning against the door finger pressing against her ear piece muttering. The brightness of the room had you squinting as you adjusted to your vision. The desk below the illuminated mirror was littered with an array of bottles powders and god knows what other beauty products.

“5 minutes until you’re up, are we going ahead?”

“Of course not she need medic…” Yoongi snapped

“I’m fine, we’re performing!” you interjected sitting up. You were met with daggers

“We are not” wide eyes looking at you with defiant glare.

You stood almost knocking him back.

“We’re on” Evil stares shooting at Yoongi. You brushed yourself off, gulping down the glass of orange juice which had been placed beside you and walked briskly towards the door. The manager opening the door and following you out. You knew you should have eaten but you just couldn’t; you couldn’t bare the thought of any negative comments about your body. The internet was cruel.

Yoongi’s going to be furious

Eyes welling up; but you had to push them away. The look of the absolute worry was shoved on his face; he may have looked angry but you knew that wasn’t how he really felt. No words were spoken as he was escorted in a rush to the other side of the stage.

Your stage persona fit over your face as smoothly as silk. So did his. He said nothing as you rested back to back waiting for the lights to illuminate. It was awful, the comfort you’d swoon at normally when he was close felt a million miles away.

The fighting and harsh words at the start of the song were strongly meant coming from his mouth; it was the emotion of the start of the song through and through. It hurt. The disagreement in the lyrics transformed into words of reconciliation. This was where your sincere words were laced with apology rung true. The audience were stunned with the secret authenticity of the performance. You’re harmonising with his softer rap even melted Yoongi’s demeanour. The closeness of your bodies singing to each other his hand in yours, fingers locked. You’re final note you hit perfectly, diaphragm giving you all the support it needed. As the lights dimmed, you both partly breathless in your finishing position your head resting on his chest and his hand cupping the back of your neck.

You really felt like the situation had calmed. The pair of you both finding comfort through the work you both lived for. It didn’t stop you briskly walking off in the opposite direction to him, more in shame than anything against him.

You ignored the multiple vibrations on your phone as award after award was given out. In your sight you noticed his head turn to you on multiple occasions moments after you felt another vibration, he was a few tables in front of. Far enough to not have any face to face contact. You finally got the signal to go to backstage. It’s not that you didn’t want to reply you just didn’t know how to talk to about it; so you played safe and avoided it. Temporarily.

“And the artist of the year award goes to” Taking your time building the suspension, the smile reached your face before you spoke

“They’ve achieved a phenomenal amount this year…BTS” you announced with pride blooming through every inch of you. They were all humble in their approach to the stage. You bowed to them one by one, first handing the award to Namjoon. Being closer to the boys they all came in to give you a hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek. Congratulating each one in turn.

“I’m sorr…” you began

“I love you” He whispered before following the others in landing a kiss at your cheek. Your head snapped away with a huge shocked smile you couldn’t depress, unsure how to react. He just smiled as normal as anything compared to your expression.

The twitter memes are going to be priceless.

//

“God I love the after party” You sighed relieved slumping yourself onto Yoongi’s lap who was sat a table with his brothers all laughing away. There had been way too much alcohol to thankfully avoid any serious conversation that was overdue and necessary.

The after party was always a place artists and managements could truly relax; all media were not permitted. The lack of nosey eyes allowed artists to relax and be more themselves. You’d see couples that the Kpop world knew nothing about; there was even gay couples which the industry certainly wouldn’t approve of. It was the best part of the MAMA’s for sure. You certainly wouldn’t be able to be on his lap with his hand parked on your bare thigh.

“Bet you didn’t think you’d be think you’d be handing out the award to your boyfriend did ya” Jimin asked, cheeks flushed out with alcohol.

“Actually I had no doubt you’d get it, you’re smashing this industry with a sledgehammer and It couldn’t happen to a better bunch of guys”

“Thank you Y/N but please go back to being the sarcastic, high maintenance woman we know and love, you’ve had way too much to drink”

You shoved Jungkook knocking the cheek out of him. You got yourself up and made your way to the ladies room. Evil plan ready for you to execute; stepping out of your thong and scrunching it in your hand before heading back to the buzzing room, the live band filling the room with all the songs from the last few years. Side stepping and dodging through the sea of inebriated idols you finally got to your table. You resumed your position on Yoongi’s lap pushing your behind down into his lap harder than you needed too; shielding your hand shoving the underwear into his hand like it was normal as you carried on talking to Hobi about god knows what. Yoongi stole a glance as to what’s been gifted to him. His grip on your thigh tightened at the recognition. His hand slid in his pocket exchanging your underwear for his phone. You opened your phone at this vibration

-If we’re not back in our room sharpish I will not be responsible for my actions-

Another vibration.

-I need you in that dress-

You read the texts, not replying on purpose plonking your phone on the table. Yoongi’s hand that was nursing his glass grew tighter. His hand moved further up your thigh unapologetically. You grabbed it standing up removing any more temptation.

“Well I’m going to call it a night guys. I can’t deal with Jin’s dads joke anymore” you teased, Jin flipped you off in retaliation.

“I can say I agree” Yoongi agreed standing up holding your hand; Jimin noticed.

“Yeah sure, we all know why your checking out early” Jimin teased. You were too influenced by alcohol to be embarrassed.

“And what Park Jimin? I can tell you now his hips would even give yours a run for your money.

“ooooooooooo” Jungkook oooed with the others joining in. Jimin shrugged back leaning on the table defeated erupting in giggles. Yoongi shook his head concealing the chuckle funnelling through his lips practically dragging you away before you embarrassed him even more.

“I’m just going to go apologise to Wonho, I’ll meet you by the elevator”

Apparently when you passed out Wonho was the one to catch you and take you to the side room. When Yoongi had rushed in you were conscious again but only just; you were still unresponsive. Yoongi had asked immediately what was wrong and what happened. Wonho knowing you and exactly what it probably was responded ‘She’s fine, she just wouldn’t have eaten’ to which Yoongi snapped back ‘Well that’s not exactly fine is it, get out!’ You remembered hearing a harsh tone which you now know belonged to Yoongi.

//

“You did not compare my hip movements to Jimin’s”

“It… it just came out, I’m sorry” You laughed stepping into the elevator. Giggles carrying on as you leant against the back on the mirror.

“You definitely will be” Flushing his body against yours as the doors dinged shut.

“What? You going to get those hips working?” you teased smirking at each other before he punished you with a hot kiss. You pulled at his shirt needing every part of him as close to you as humanly possible. The heat that flooded every inch you when he was flush against you.

“Aren’t we going to talk about earlier?” His forehead leaning on yours, hands cradling yours.

“Leave that until tomorrow plleeaaasseee” you whined.

“I promise we’ll talk about it, I just need you first” you added.

“Well I better make you sure don’t have the energy to get out of bed for a while then”

//

You dragged him into you by his tie pressing you against the desk in the hotel room. His lips showering yours with attention, his hands preoccupied smoothly gliding up the outside of both of your thighs dragging it over your behind.

“You smell and look sooo good” Inhaling at your neck, the exhale heating your skin already flushed with heat; result of the alcohol and the need for him. His fingertips now up the inside of your thigh. The anticipation had you gripping harder your already balled fist entangling the chest of his white shirt. His jacket already shed on the floor. You hand gripped his wrist.

“Uh uh” you teased

“Not yet” His eyes rolled, bottom lip pushed out.

“Don’t pout” you scolded. You pushed him giving yourself room to escape to grab a chair round the oak wood table and placed it facing the bed. He waited obediently for you to fetch him by his tie; shoving him into the chair stepping yourself over one of his thighs. You began fiddling his tie un-done; his eyes following your movements with a diligent gaze, hoping to get a glimpse of where you were going.

“Hands behind your back” Eye flashing excited gazing up at you. You tightened the tie at his wrists.

“I’ve happily imagined having you tied up to a chair since you released Agust D” you confessed. His head shot up contorted with a raised eyebrow

“I can think you’re an asshole and still want to fuck you” justifying yourself. He smirked with approval.

“You know when I’ve had a drink my patience and control over myself sucks, please tell what you’re planning, I’m already desperate …”

“Well this will be frustrating for you then” straddling one of his thighs teasing each and every one of his button undone. Giving you access to the milky skin beneath. Nails scratching down his torso; faint red trails down his stomach.

“You really are a tease you know that”

“Would you want me any other way?”

He responded with silence.

“Thought so, you’re going to watch me get myself off” His head shot straight to your direction as you sat on the edge of the bed crossing your legs.

“Wh…”

“But you’re going to tell me how to do it” you interjected as you stood

“Dress on or off” already clasping at the zip.

“On” your eyebrow cocked in response.

“If anyone’s going to strip that dress off you it’s going to be me” You shrugged your shoulders loosely and slid yourself on the bed, holding his gaze tightly with yours.

“Shall I start here” placing your hand on the inside of your thigh

“Mmmhmm go slowly higher” you did. Depending on how desperate he was will influence how much he will tease and torture you. Generally when he’s tipsy he’ll torture you until you’re near enough crying with desperation for any contact which he normally denies you; when he’s past tipsy he’s impatient. It’s a dangerous line you love to walk.

“Tell me how wet you are for me”

So he’s way past tipsy

His eyes were raging with nothing but fire yet the way he was fidgeting told you he was struggling. And you hadn’t even done anything yet.

“How desperate are you to know?” Teasing yourself, you were so wet; and he’d hardly done anything as well as you.

“Please baby” he whined

“I need to know”

He was right

“Wet enough for you to come and fuck me right now” your words dousing the fire in his eyes with petrol

He was not expecting that.

You ran your fingers slowly through your arousal, not patient enough to have no contact but patient enough to go slow until he’d finished picking his jaw up from the floor.

“Go in slow circles baby, I love watching you get impatient”

He kept you doing slow circles for far too long. The asshole always did it, seeing you slowly build, craving anything harder and faster; he thrived on it. You’d curse and whine but when the orgasm ripped through you, all that slow build released in an instant always had you thanking him.

He said nothing; eyes fixated on only you. You’d fully laid on the bed doing as he asked.

“Yoongi” you whined, the fabric of your dress becoming uncomfortable at your heating skin.

“Mmmhmm” he replied

“Please give me more” You didn’t need more, the spring at your centre was already tightening; you  wanted nothing more.

He ignored your request and remained silent. Eyes taking everything in; how your back was arching off the bed, how your whines became longer and more breathless. He let you carry on until your legs began to quiver

“Stop!” You did but more out of surprise than actual obedience.

“I’m not giving you that baby, you know that’s mine”

           You’d never tell him but you loved how selfish he’d become; every orgasm he wanted to steal from you. He wanted each one to be caused by him. It killed him to go away and you made damn sure you teased him and drove him crazy when he was; he made damn sure he got you back when you were home.

“You’re cruel!” you panted in defeat hauling yourself off the bed. You straddled his waist the bulge in his trousers pressing against your throbbing core and rocked a few times; stealing a soft moan past your lips.

“And you’re not? He countered.

Fair point

“Tell me why I should untie you?” sucking in your bottom lip

“Because you love it when I fuck you so hard that you scream my name and I can’t do that if I’m tied to a chair can I and I’ve been good for you”

He was not wrong and he knew it.

Kissing him you went behind him and pulled at the knot releasing him. You slid the shirt of his shoulders. He left and made his way to the balcony door unclicking the lock.

What the fuck, now is not the time to get some air

“You coming?” his expression gave nothing away, looking as calm and stoic as he does when resting.

In a huff you crossed your arms pouting

“I thought you were going to fuck me? You’re making me regret untying you”

“I am…on the balcony, so get yourself out here before I drag you out” You stood their blank, your body preparing for the adrenaline you felt start to heat up. You took a few seconds of pondering the consequences of getting caught, before your body took over and went out putting its needs above your better judgement. The sea of still orange hued lights mingled with the specs of headlights moving slowly through the streets.

If you wasn’t so desperate you’d have felt the chill of the breeze lazily swaying in the air. The second your foot hit the cold stone floor you were dragged and pushed hard against the rails, his frustration apparent. Nails biting harder through your dress; hands running up the slit of your dress less than delicately. The tips of your hands tugging at the base of his hair at his neck keeping his lips harsh against yours.

“You’re so wet for me, and you didn’t let me have it” He purred into you.

“It’s all yours now” you dragged his hand through how much you needed him. Your sigh was captured in his mouth, he pressed himself against your body harder pleased with the result.

“You’re just so impatient” you teased. His hand switching and taking control of yours and near enough threw you round pressing your stomach firmly against the cold barrier; hands automatically bracing round the bar as he shoved your dress up and over your ass.

“What if someone see’s, our neighbours have balconies to you know” your voice pitching higher at the end when his hand came down harsh; stinging your behind. Part of you was too far gone to care who saw, but your rational side knew it would be an absolute media shit storm.

“They’ll only see if we take too long, and there’s no way that’s happening baby” his belt brushed against your behind unhooked and undone as he relieved himself from his trousers.

“Don’t you dare ask me if I’m ready Min Yoongi” you warned needing everything from him right now.

“Done” he obliged pulling your hips backs; perfect angle for him to thrust into you.

“You feel so fucking sweet” he panted through a heavy breath.

“Shut up and just make me cum already” you commanded, pushing back into him. You were met with a violent tug your neck was strained, hair pulled back.

“Now who’s impatient” You wordlessly responded clenching around him. His head knocked into the top of your shoulders; faltering.

“God you’re going to end me one of these days” he gurgled at your neck. Time was a non-existent factor, neither of you needed long, the anger, the passion, the alcohol saw to that.

“Tell me your close, cum for me” he panted; knowing he was not going to be able to keep going for much longer.

“Ask me again” you whined, releasing your hand from the rails and ran them up to your clit. His hips starting to buck unevenly.

“Please fucking cum for me, I want to feel you shake around me as you cum…undone” he stuttered.

You were done, crying out expletives into the brisk night whining his name.

“Jesu…”

You were both done. Adrenaline pouring out you. You’d just let one of the biggest hip hop idols fuck you on the balcony of your hotel; and you didn’t get caught.

“I take it we’ve made up fully now” you enquired in a half chuckle.

“I could never stay mad at you. I just want you to be happy, with me and within yourself. Promise me we’ll work on this”

The pair of you looked less like animals and more of a couple enjoying the ethereal skyline together. You were in his arms, gazing into his blown out eyes. Both of your chests slowing down bit by bit.

“I love it when you’re soppy; if only army knew just how much” you toyed. He nudged you from the side.

“I promise I’ll try, be patient with me” finally accepting now you was in the unit with him you needed to sort your shit out.

“Well never stop being a complete closet softie and fucking me like that and we’ll be fine” quickly coating over the seriousness with cheek and humour. Your star move.

“I better start making sure I leave my studio a bit earlier then, can’t have you going without  what your incredible ass deserves can I” he tucked your hair behind your ear, resting his forehead against yours.

“Well if I knew all it took for you to say that was me slipping some underwear to you in public I would have done it sooner. You pushed your hands against his chest. Your body fully drained of adrenaline; the pinch of the freeing air was beginning to feel harsh against your skin. He shot you a defeated smirk as you walked past heading in to the warmth of the room.

“I’m going to replace this dress with fluffy pyjama’s seeing as you can’t resist me in it”

He Followed your footsteps into the warmth.

“Baby I can’t resist you in anything, especially! your pink unicorn pyjamas”

“If your hinting for round two you can forget it, I’m exhausted” His hand pinched at your zip unlatching the metal teeth with the other hand edging round your hip.

“I thought that was a pretty good try for me” You Slipped out of the snug dress, it pooling at the floor round your ankles.  You unhooked your bra and quickly snuggled yourself in your fluffy top. A mocking wolf whistle left his lips. The daggers you shot him were broken down by your lips which couldn’t do anything but find his sarcasm amusing.

“Fuck you Yoongi” you sniped. Your bag thudding on the floor. Knowing the fake seriousness was non-existed in your pyjama top and nothing else

“Yeah?” He closed the space between you with rapid predator steps. The lack of time stole you your chance to defend yourself. You squealed as you were shoved onto the bed hands pinned above your head.

“I know you’re tired you so I just want you to lay back and let me take care of you, I do promise you’ll be even more tired after you’ve had me between your legs. I just want to hear you whine for me once more” Your eye’s shone brightly absorbing the sparkle that danced in his.

“God I love you” you breathed. His hand trickling over your chest under your top blossoming the goosebumps in a trail of where his hands had been

“But if you don’t hold me all god damn night after this I’ll…” He cut you off, the kiss was hot, hard but full of need and want with a undertone of softness he’d reserved only for you.

“If you take this off I will” He tugged at your jumper lifting it up giving him access to clamp his lips over one of your buds.

“I thought you couldn’t resist me in it?” You teased, his kisses going lower.

“Your skin against mine though feels much better”

“Fine! Now are you going to make me victim of your tongue technology or not”

“You know damn well I will”

[kvhottie]

“By the end of their 3rd year, they had lost count of everything. They’d kiss too often—stolen in between classes and even in dusty closets—and had gone much, much further than just exchanging breaths and clothing."

Snapshots of Kageyama and Hinata’s deepening relationship, and the many things they’ve shared and borrowed.

Rating: Teen |Pairing: KageHina |Tags: Slightly Canon Divergent, Spoilers for Chapter 378, Fluff and Humor

[Ao3]

________________ 

It was a freezing cold day in the middle of winter during their first year. The uncovered tips of their hands, nose, and ears turned a painful and throbbing red as they bared the icy breeze on their way home. Hinata buried his face in the teal scarf around his neck, the light-yellow hoodie under his uniform barely providing enough warmth. His brittle fingers held on to his creaking bike beside him. Yet, even while he was shivering himself, he poked fun at the trembling Kageyama next to him who was bitterly suffering because he had forgotten his scarf at home. 

“You can walk closer to me for warmth,” Hinata snickered.

Kageyama shook his head, hugging his arms closer to his chest, “I’m not cold.��

“Yeah right, I’m sure even your snot is frozen.”

“And I’m sure your hands will be stuck to your handlebars,” Kageyama said with a darted glare at Hinata.

“Shut it, only one hand is stuck.” Hinata unraveled one side of his scarf from around his neck and offered it to Kageyama. “I’ll share it with you until the station. And don’t be stubborn—we can’t have you getting sick.”

Kageyama gave a short grunt but inched closer, wrapping the end of the scarf around his neck. There was a visible sense of slight relief showing on his face, which he did a very poor job at hiding, and he muttered a low ‘thanks’. Hinata gave him a smug but satisfied grin and they continued quietly walking to the station.

Their steps in time with each other, there was something reassuring in the warmth trapped between them.

________________ 

During the spring of their 2nd year, clothing was never offered but often borrowed—mainly by Hinata, who would leave his head at home if it wasn’t attached to his neck. This time around he had forgotten his gym uniform and had to drag his feet to ask Kageyama for his extra pair...yet again.

“I should start charging you,” complained Kageyama as he shoved his folded gym jersey and pants into Hinata’s hands. He slammed his locker shut. “You should just get an extra pair of your own.”

“You know I’d probably also forget that at home. I make sure to wash it when I give it back right? So don’t be so sulky,” Hinata nudged Kageyama with his elbow as he tried to appease him with his usual toothy, bright smile.

Kageyama covered Hinata’s face with one hand and squeezed a bit. “You think just because you flash me that smile, I’ll happily do what you say.”

“Ow. It works half the time, right? Just admit you’ve grown weak to it.”

Kageyama released Hinata’s face with a sigh and ruffled his already messy orange hair, “Whatever. Go have fun looking like a toddler dressed in adult’s clothes.”

“Hey!”

Kageyama was right…every time Hinata wore his spare uniform, he looked like the clothes were swallowing him. He had to roll up the sleeves of the jacket and the legs of the pants to account for the extra inches of fabric and though he mostly looked ridiculous, Kageyama sometimes caught himself thinking he also looked cute.   

Well, honestly, it had become more often than just ‘sometimes’. Those mushy thoughts about that rambunctious ball of energy had begun occupying whatever was left of his brain when volleyball wasn’t on his mind. And he didn’t hate it—okay, he also didn’t like it because who actually enjoys a heavy heart or unnecessary doses of adrenaline just because someone is standing close to you—but none of this was all that bad.

These unrequited feelings had yet to cause any pain. It helped that the feelings were still fresh and uncomplicated. Kageyama enjoyed the scent of Hinata’s detergent on the clothes he returned, the feel of Hinata’s longer hair on his fingers, and that stupid smile he always used to try to get Kageyama to do what he wanted. But above all, Kageyama loved that Hinata always picked volleyball, and in turn him, before anything else. He was always by Kageyama’s side during lunch, during practice, after school, and they’d even started meeting here and there during weekends. Kageyama was perfectly content…at first.  

But as summer lolled closer, his feelings also warmed up and morphed.

The ever-friendly Hinata was growing in popularity. The girls around them would whisper “Hinata-senpai” this and “Hinata-kun” that. The guys around him wanted to be his friend and steal him for a game of basketball during lunch. Hinata was oblivious to all of this, and still preferred to spend his lunch inside the classroom or practicing with Kageyama, but the few times Hinata agreed to the requests of these newcomers Kageyama could feel his stomach turn.

There was distance growing between them. As they thought about their future, Kageyama slowly planted roots of legacy and reputation in Japan and shot up like a tree with recognition. Hinata looked at the expanse of the sky, like he always did, and aimed his sights very far from Kageyama’s side: Brazil. At first Kageyama didn’t think too hard about it. How typical of Hinata to take the scenic but hard mountain trail to his goal. Yeah, so what if he was going to go to Brazil to play beach volleyball. He’d return soon, anyway.

Right?

Because it felt wrong if they were apart for too long.

This was all jealousy, of course. He wasn’t that stupid—by this point he had a decent, though still lacking, grasp on his own emotions. He knew adoration, he knew anger, and now he very clearly knew jealousy. The thought of Hinata being by someone else’s side, receiving other people’s serves, made his eye twitch, hands ball up, and throat go dry. It pricked his heart with a wave of hopelessness that wouldn’t be alleviated until Hinata was back at his side.

And it never went away.

No matter how much Kageyama shut his eyes and wished it away, these feelings persisted, slowly simmering in his chest. Until they boiled over…

It was a humid, rainy day late in the summer. Kageyama and Hinata had gotten soaked on their way to Hinata’s house for a last-minute study session (neither of them had done their summer homework, unsurprisingly). No one was home so the two boys waddled to the closet near the first-floor bathroom, a trail of water behind them. Hinata gave Kageyama a towel, took one for himself, and led them to his room as they pat themselves down. Hinata was the first to pull off his uniform shirt, the wet fabric sticking to his skin as he brought it over his head. Kageyama caught himself staring too hard at his lean frame and pristine back and quickly whipped his head away as he took off his own shirt.

“You can borrow some of my clothes for now, though they’ll all fit you small,” Hinata said as he tossed Kageyama some grey joggers and a red t-shirt.

Kageyama shuffled into each, sighing when the shirt only went as low as his belly button and the joggers were too high on his legs. “I look ridiculous.”

Hinata bit back a laugh and muffled between involuntary snickers, “What? No, not at all. The crop top really suits your abs.”

“Forget this.” Kageyama furrowed his eyebrows and grabbed the hem of the shirt to start taking it off.

“Eh! No, fun. Keep it on!” Hinata yelled as he grabbed at Kageyama’s arms with enough force that they fumbled backwards to the floor. Hinata scurried around and mounted Kageyama’s hips, pinning his arms down. “My win. The shirt stays on.”

For a moment, all Kageyama could think about was the difference in temperature between the cool hardwood floor against his back and the spot where his hips met Hinata’s inner thighs. But before his mind could even process their current predicament, Hinata leaned down until his face was way, way too close to Kageyama’s.

“Do you ever think about kissing me?” Hinata murmured, staring down into Kageyama’s eyes without an ounce of hesitation. Kageyama was usually the one looking down at him, so if his heart weren’t trying to jump out of his mouth at the moment, he might have even found this angle refreshing.

“Wh-Why would I think about that?” Kageyama huffed, eyes flittering between looking at the low table beside them and Hinata’s earnest face.

“I do.” Hinata’s eyes landed on Kageyama’s lips. “It only started recently, but I think about it all the time. I know it’s weird, but I just—”

“It’s not weird,” Kageyama said as he met Hinata’s eyes once more, this time with determination of his own. “At least…not to me.”

Hinata’s face melted into a smile that was both a bit playful and also relieved. “Then, can I kiss you?” Hinata said as he let go of Kageyama’s arms to lower himself onto his elbows at either side of Kageyama’s head.

Kageyama brought his right hand to Hinata’s face, index finger slowly running against his cheek and then to his ear. “Yeah,” he managed to say despite his pounding heart and headrush.

Hinata dipped his head further, his full body pressed against Kageyama’s. Softly, their lips met in a curious peck. Hinata smiled against Kageyama’s lips, withdrawing for a moment to look at the flushed expression Kageyama was sure he was sporting, and then pressed their lips together again. This time their mouths gently glided against each other and though Kageyama was a bit stiff and unsure of what to do, he eased into Hinata’s lead.

Kageyama disliked how the floor restricted his head movement so he pushed himself up with his left arm, right arm snaking around Hinata’s lower back to keep him on his lap as he sat up. Hinata laughed—maybe at Kageyama’s eagerness or maybe at the general clumsiness of this all—and wrapped his arms around Kageyama’s neck, hips flushed against Kageyama’s.

“I like this better,” Hinata whispered into Kageyama’s ear.

A shiver ran up Kageyama’s spine and he let out a shaky, strained breath. His left hand hesitantly rested across his right hand on the small of Hinata’s back, itching to dip fingers below the hem of his shirt. “We’re never getting our homework done.” Kageyama said without real conviction.

Hinata leaned a bit back so they could see each other’s faces. “You want to stop kissing?” he asked with his lips twisting into smirk.

“No.” Kageyama grumbled, leaning down to take Hinata’s lips once more. The warmth of Hinata’s mouth and body against his own, and the comfort it brought his heart. He was sure would be perfectly content kissing Hinata until the end of time.

And, if only for this sweet moment, there was no space in his mind for volleyball.

________________ 

By the end of their 3rd year, they had lost count of everything. They’d kiss too often—stolen in between classes and even in dusty closets—and had gone much, much further than just exchanging breaths and clothing.

The large majority of borrowed clothes were shirts: some that fit too big and some that fit too small, some held on to on purpose, and too few returned. Come graduation there was very little that they hadn’t shared with each other, but at the same time, there was so much they were keeping tucked inside their hearts—much like the other’s clothing they kept in a corner of their closets for no better reason than it bringing them comfort.

Hinata was going to take a year to prepare for Brazil and then live there for two years.

Kageyama was staying in Japan but leaving Miyagi to join the V. League.

Those were facts they both had let silently sink in for the last few months, reaching more often for each other’s lips and bodies to fend off the sadness that came with thinking they’d be so far apart. They’d be fine. Three years was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Afterall, the most important thing they shared was a promise.

“Hey…” Kageyama muffled around Hinata’s lips, pulling himself away for a second to look into those honeyed eyes he’d grown to love so much. “Instead of making out outside the gym, want to practice a bit for the last time?”

Hinata sighed, giving Kageyama a tender smile. “We said we wouldn’t do that, Kageyama.”

Kageyama pressed his lips to Hinata’s forehead, hand diving into his now longer nest of hair. Kageyama didn’t want to admit he was anxious, but he knew that the strain in his voice would betray him.  “I know. I promise, just one final time…”

Yet, no matter how big the lump in his throat was becoming, he was determined to see Hinata off with a smile.

They threw their bags, diplomas and gakurans in a corner—the removal of the gakuran being particularly easy since they had given away all their buttons to their admirers and gifted each other the 2nd button. It was unbearably cheesy, and their embarrassment mixed with all the other emotions swirling in their stomachs was what prompted their earlier make out session.

“I want to receive your serve,” Hinata loudly stated inside the storage closet.

“That’s it?” Kageyama asked as they pulled the net outside.

“That’s it.”

After they set up the net, Kageyama walked to the corner of his side of the court with the ball in hand. He felt happy holding any volleyball he could get his hands on, but something about holding this one on this court and across from this beautiful person in this very moment, was a feeling he probably wouldn’t ever be able to perfectly replicate.

He spun the ball like he usually did and served it at full power. In a split second Hinata had position himself right in front of the ball and perfectly received it, bouncing it to where the setter would stand. The echoes of the ball bouncing on the floor reverberated in the air and Kageyama felt his heart contract painfully.

“See you later, Kageyama” Hinata said with that bright smile of his. Even though they had agreed on this, it felt sudden, as if he wanted to run away.

“Yeah. See you later,” Kageyama replied with an attempt at a smile. “And hurry up and cut your hair. You look like a bush.”

Hinata grabbed his belongings with a chuckle, though the end of it died in his throat. “I was just going to do that, okay?! Geez.”

And that was supposed to be that.

But with every step Hinata took toward that open gym door, the stronger the prick in Kageyama’s heart. As if there was just one more thing to do—just one more thing to say.

“…Wait!” Kageyama yelled.

Hinata spun around, eyes wide and glossy. “Y-Yeah?”

Kageyama rushed to his bag and took out his black Karasuno jersey. He marched up to Hinata and shoved it in his hands. “Here. Keep this.”

Hinata grabbed the jersey and slowly brought it to his chest to hug it. “…I’ll borrow it.” He searched his own bag and passed Kageyama his Karasuno jersey. “As long as you borrow mine.”

Kageyama squeezed the fabric of Hinata’s jersey in his hands and tried to keep his voice steady. “I’ll hand it back next time I see you on the court.”

Hinata gave a soft laugh while rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s a promise.”

What does someone say to the person they’ve loved from a distance for the past three years? A person who was their best friend, their best teammate, and their first love. A person who never stepped down from a challenge, who was competitive to a fault yet warmhearted, and whose sleeping face he had countlessly kissed across his phone screen on a video call.

Kageyama had always pictured how their reunion would turn out but actually running into Hinata on his way to the bathroom certainly wasn’t it. And he’d never planned what to say either. So, he just spat out whatever his wired mind produced.

“Not going to have any bowel issues today, are you?” Kageyama yelled out. Not the most romantic first line for a reunion, but whatever.

Hinata stopped in his tracks and turned to face Kageyama with a grin. They shared a short-lived moment of silence which was interrupted with Hinata rushing to Kageyama and giving him—well, the part of his torso he could reach—a bear hug.

“Woah,” Kageyama said in surprise, a hint of amusement in his voice. “You sure have gotten strong.”

“I can probably lift you,” Hinata bragged as he squeezed a bit harder and then let go. “But I don’t want to risk doing anything stupid before our match. I don’t want to give you an excuse when we beat your team fair and square.”

Kageyama smirked and looked to the right and left of them. He then swiftly dipped down to give Hinata the shortest of kisses, left hand sliding down to link their pinkies as he pulled away to set some distance between them. “I missed you so much I’m not even annoyed by that statement. Even though it’s obvious my team is going to win.”

Hinata laughed, his cheeks blushing faintly as he met Kageyama’s eyes. “Who knew you’d be so ballsy…I missed you too. More than I thought possible.”

Kageyama squeezed Hinata’s pinky with his own. “You kept our promise.”

“Of course. Did you keep yours?”

“As if it was hard to keep…” Kageyama looked off to the side, his free hand rubbing the back of his reddening neck. “Your jersey practically lives in my sports bag.”

Hinata’s lips pulled up into a toothy smile. “I did the same. Let’s switch after the match?”

“Okay.” Kageyama let go of Hinata’s finger. “See you after the match. Go use the bathroom.”

“Oh, yeah!” Hinata turned to walk to the bathroom but turned right back around, catching Kageyama’s arm. “Ah, hold up.”

“What?”

Hinata lowered his voice so only Kageyama could hear him. “If I win this match, I’m going to propose to you.”

“H-Hah? Wait, Hinata—”

“If you hate the idea, just don’t lose,” Hinata said with a playful salute before rushing into the bathroom.

Kageyama stood frozen in place. In his mind he had no doubt that his team would win.

…But for the first time in Kageyama’s life, he didn’t completely detest the idea of losing a match.

[unadulteratedrebelrunaway]

AN ORIGIN STORY

[8/21/18].

Alexander W. Benson II

             Horace Teton was walking through the woods.  He wasn't sure what the future held for him , but he was dead sure he was leaving his past behind him.  Civilization was no longer doing it for him.  He has grown to dislike people in general.  The few he did get to know pretty well left a bad taste in his mouth.

             "God's greatest blunder, that's what they are," says Horace.  "All of them.  I hope I never see one again, and I don't count myself as a person."

             He paces through the forest searching for his quarry.

             "If I don't find something before it gets dark I swear I'll starve to death," says Horace out loud.  I don't think I'll starve.  I sure wouldn't want to go that way.  I saw what those rebel bastards did to our boys in blue down in Andersonville.  Too bad they only hung the Kraut.  They should have got a lot more of them.  Sure am hungry, though.  I'd eat a skunk right now if I had to.  Looks like that would make me GOD's greatest blunder.  He chuckles.

             Horace makes it into a clearing.  He notices a cave at the other end of the small opening.  The sun is directly overhead.  Hm, it looks like I might have some time.  I doubt if anything lives inside that little dump.  It's not like I'll find Fred Flinstone and his family hiding in there.  Five minutes later, Horace Teton is inside his new home, even if it happens to be a dump.

             Damn it's dark in here, thinks Horace.  It'll have to do for tonight.  Sure beats the rain.

             One of the shadows move.  That wasn't a shadow, thinks he.

             A deep guttural blows past Horace.  No human can make that sound.  He braces his rifle and notices his fingers are a little shaky.  Lucky thing I used to be a soldier.  I'm shaking pretty bad, but at least I know how to control it. Might not be able to if it weren't for that battle at that town in Pennsylvania where our late President gave his address. It was a name Horace would never forget because he saw too many of his friends and comrades die there.  He also knew what happens when you hesitate in the moment of truth.  Survival of the fittest.  Let morals be for those who spend their Sundays in a church, but what counts is right here, right now.  Justice doesn't go to the man who is pure in the LORD's eyes, but to he who fires first and true.

             The shadow lurches forward so fast Horace doesn't have time to react.  Before he knows it, his body did what he trained it to do.  The gun fired and the shadow fell as it raced toward him like Shelob the giant spider in the darkness.  It rammed into him but lost almost all of its momentum before it connected.  Horace got slammed against the side of the cave but didn't feel it because he was numb from the adrenaline.  The shadow turned out to be a large Brown Bear.  It had the silver tipped hair, too.

             A damned Grizzly!  It looks like if the devil wanted to take me he was a few seconds too slow.  Fortunately for me, close only counts in horseshoes. Looks like I won't have a problem finding supper tonight, but first I'd better check this place out or I might wind up being the next course.  Never know if mama, or papa here has vengeful relatives.  I know if a family member of mine got killed I'd want to send the bastard who did straight to hell.  It wouldn't matter if he was right or wrong because family comes first.

             He chokes back for a minute.  I seemed to lose everything in that damned war.

 ***

             The sun comes up to find Horace stretching out inside his new home.  That was the best night's sleep in a long time. Now to open up that barricade so I can take in the real estate.

             The makeshift door lands with a hollow thud, and the newest tenant exits. Ah, the skin is drying out nicely. That'll sure make a good hide.  It looks a little rougher than buckskin, though. At least it'll feel more comfortable than these mangy rags I've been wearing.  Sometimes those haberdashers just don't make 'em like they used to. First things first.  I'd better get that fire started before I set out and explore my newly found territory.  Oh yeah, I know what I should have done once I killed the lone occupant of this country.  He says out loud:  "I declare this cave and all the land I can pace today to be my land.  This is my country now, and I'm appointing my self its Emperor."

             Horace is walking through the woods to the north.  He comes to an open field.  "Wow, the expanse is so great this might be one of those fields that’s all the way north without end."  He shudders at the thought.  Sounds like the afterlife the religious people tell me about.  Day and night forever and ever.

             He sees movement on the horizon.  A cloud of dust rises.  They look like ants under that dust cloud.  I'll go and have a look.  Could be buffalo.  Now there's a feast without end.

             After an hour's walk he comes upon the source of the commotion.  He sees several men in war paint gathered around an altar. At the center is a giant with a wolf's head.  The wolf person is holding the ugliest knife Horace ever set his eyes on.  The wolf man raises the knife high in the air.  It doesn’t take him long to realize what's going on.  He's about to sacrifice a young virgin on that altar.  I'd better do something fast.

             He levels his rifle and takes aim.  The head of the wolf person goes flying through the air.  The other guys scatter, but then they regroup.  I hate to do this, but I better make an example of one of them so they know who's boss, and it ain't going to be them.  He pulls the trigger, and down goes one of the young warriors, a broken arrow lancing the ground.  The other braves scatter when they see what happens to their compadre.  They mount their horses and hightail it.  Horace can hear them whooping as they retreat. "Whoop whoop whoop yourselves."

             Horace arrives at the altar and sees both the wolf person and the young warrior who tried to solve him of his living problem.  Looks more like an evil clown with all that makeup.  I'm not sorry he's dead.  He shouldn't have been trying to ruin a young woman like that.  I don't care what she did.  There's no way she deserved this.

             Horace turns to the altar and jumps back.  "I thought you were a woman."

             The man on the altar murmurs something unintelligible.  Sounds like a mummy trying to talk. Blue eyes and freckles with a reddish tinge to the hair.  Might be Irish.  Must have been kidnapped as a young pup and raised by the captors.

             "I guess it's just the same," says Horace.  "Glad to be of assistance.  Now let me help you out of those before those crazy bastards come back.  They might have been acting drunk, but I got the funny feeling they are really like that."

             Horace helps the young man off the altar.  The young man seems grateful, but he keeps running on in some tongue Horace couldn't understand.

             "Sure wished I could understand you.  Hey, judging by what I've seen, I'll assume you don't have any friends. If those guys were your friends, you don't need any enemies.  I've got this cave.  It gets a little lonely there since it is just me.  How about you come with me?"

             The man walks up to Horace and raises his arms to shoulder height, palms up. He keeps shoving his hands toward Horace's face.

             "Get those hands out of my face," says Horace.  "You want to be handcuffed again?"

             Horace slaps the man's hands down, the young native keeps forcing his hands up. Finally, he says. "Okay, you convinced me.  You must be a war prize or something.  Well, as soon as I can teach you some of my language, and maybe you could teach me some of yours, we'll finally know what each other is saying.  Anyway, you've convinced me.  I'll cuff you and you follow me back to the cave.  Then I'm removing them."

             They get back to the cave.  Horace turns to the young man.  "I'm glad I don't have neighbors, or they'd get the wrong idea.  People talk, you know."  Horace cuts the rope from the man's wrists.  Horace walks him to the fire and tells the guy to have a seat. The guy just stands there. "Oh, I forgot.  Here.  Have a seat, and I'll serve you."

             Horace starts serving the young man, but the Indian shows his dislike for this arrangement.  The young man beats his chest, points to the fire and says something else Horace cannot understand.  It takes Teton some time, but then he figures the native is adamant about serving dinner. The young man gets the food for Horace and hands it to him, and he gestures from himself to Horace.  Then he squats next to Horace

.

           "Look," says Horace.  "Don't you want to eat?"

             The man points toward the sky, then points to the altar, points to his own chest and embraces himself.  Horace's eyes bulge a little.  The native moves one hand toward Horace was he holds his other hand to his chest.

             "Don't get the wrong idea, Tonto," says Horace.  "Only a woman gives herself to a man.  And I've done that already.  Then I lost her.  I don't want to do that again."

             The man doesn't appear to be taking no for an answer.

             Horace restates his point.  "Listen mister.  I appreciate that you're grateful, but I'll assume you would have done the same thing for me."

             The young man doesn't move, so Horace gives up trying to convince him.  What is it with these savages?  They have some of the strangest customs.  They give haircuts with tomahawks.  Now I got one that thinks he shouldn't eat because I saved his life.  As for that, you know what they say.  You can lead a horse to water.

             Horace eats his meal, but his new friend sits there and looks at him. Horace is really starting to get nervous.  He turns to the guy.  "I'm turning in for the night.  I know you can't understand me, so I'll show you."

             Horace walks the young man over to the cave and shows him that he needs somebody to guard the cave for the night.  "And whatever you do, no funny business.   You hear me?  Because if you do, I'll finish the job those friends of yours started."  Horace turns in for the night.

             The following morning when Horace wakes up, he gets a surprise.  "What the hell is all this?"  He is buried underneath a mat of grass.  It runs out his friend tried some funny business after all. His friend made him a blanket of grass so he wouldn't freeze to death.  The only trouble is some of the grass got into Horace's mouth.  He spits and it is all green.

             Horace rises.  "First things first, I need to know what your name is.  My name is Horace."  He reaches out to shake the young man's hand.

             The native starts away from the extended hand.  Horace realizes the young man doesn't know how to shake hands so he manually forces it.  After a few tries, the young man figures it out.  The native grunts in appreciation.

             "My name is Horace.  What's yours?"

             The man shakes his head.

             Horace points to himself.  "Horace. Me Horace."

             "Hoor-us," says the young man.

             Horace nods.  "Horace."

             The man repeats it.

             Horace points at him.  "You? Name?"

             The man shakes his head.  Horace points to himself again and says, "Horace.  What's your name?"

             The man can see Horace seems to like himself so much he has to point to himself and say what he is.  The young man mutters something Horace couldn't understand.  The guy could have been speaking in tongues for all Horace knew.

             Horace gets frustrated and points at him.  "Until I get it right, I'll call you Chris, as in just like Jesus you rose from the grave."

             The other man just shakes his head.  Then he repeats that name Horace couldn't figure out.

             "Look, I saved you," says Horace.  "See this gun I'm holding?"

             The other man drops to his knees and covers his head for he has seen what that fire stick can do.  Horace pats him on the shoulder and says, "No.  I won't hurt you.  I saved you with my rifle.  Understand?"

             The young man nods and slowly rises since he can see Horace means him no harm.

             Horace points at him again.  "You're Christopher for now.  Just Chris. Understand?"

             The young man pats himself on the chest.  "Me Chris.  You Horace?"

             "Yes," says Horace.

             They spend the next half hour learning the basics of communication.  It would take nightly lessons before they understood each other.

             After a few days, Horace says, "What bothers me is you seem to be attached to me like glue."

             "You save my life," says Chris.  "I must follow you.   You Great Spirit.  Me never imagine you come down to save a wretch like me.  Here you are.  You bring fire stick with you."

             Horace looks at his gun and smiles when Chris calls it that.  Horace starts thinking.  You know.  This guy thinks I'm GOD, or some other god.  Maybe I should just go along with it.  I wouldn't have imagined committing a sacrilege some years back, but that war changed me in a lot of ways.  One of those ways is pondering existence itself.

             He looks up and feels like something invisible is watching him.  He swears he can almost hear. "How dare you?  If you play me, I'll cast you into the Lake of Fire where you will suffer a fiery torment day and night, forever and ever."

             Horace shudders at the thought.  Chris notices this.  He looks at Horace in wonderment.

             Horace ponders for a moment.  After all the needless cruelty I saw in that war, and all the horrible things man can do to man, like slavery, and what price he was willing to pay for it, then why didn't GOD come down and do something about it?  If there was going to be an apocalypse then it should have happened in that vast field in Pennsylvania.  After all the things I've seen GOD let happen without any repercussions then he shouldn't mind me playing him for a little while.  Hey, this might actually be fun.  I'll think about this matter further tonight.

 ***

             Horace and Chris hunt down a deer, kill it, and drag it back to camp.

             "Why you, the Great Spirit with the yellow hair and beard with white streaks," says Chris, "why you have to make me drag this back to camp?"

             "Just call me Horace, Chris," says Horace.  "You wanted to drag the thing back to camp.  I was going to help but you wouldn't let me. Remember?"

             "You Great Spirit, though," says Chris.  "Why you make me call you name like that?"

             "Chris, just call me that," says Horace.  "For now, until I incarnate into my new form."

             "Me know better than to talk back to Great, I mean Horace," says Chris. "Me still have question."

             "Go," says Horace.

             "Why we have to drag this back to camp?" says Chris.  "Why cannot we just eat where you bring food?"

             "I don't understand," says Horace.

             "I mean, whenever my people hunt and fish, we thank you for whatever we catch," says Chris.  "Now you down here."

             "So that's why you fell to your knees and treated me like I was the Grand Poo Bah or something," says Horace.

 `           "It like you make me work and suffer dragging this deer back to camp," says Chris.  "It almost as if I your son and you make me suffer in your name.  Me glad you don't expect me to die for you.  You save me from that."

             "As time go on, I mean as time goes on, you'll speak better English, Chris," says Horace.  "In the meantime, I'm willing to do my part with the work, if only you'd let me."

             Chris laughs.  It almost sounds derisive.  "Don't make me laugh, Great, I mean, Great Spirit.  All these years we call you Great Spirit.  Now you make me call you Horace.  Please forgive me father spirit, but it take me time to get used to it. Anyway, me grateful you funny."

             "Funny how?" says Horace.

             "Great Spirit not work," says Chris.  "He do all work in beginning.  You know, when you created the world."

             "Yeah, when I created the world," says Horace.  Initially Horace wasn't going to set things up this way, but a sense of power changes that.  The last time he felt like this was the first time he got laid.  He felt like a man that day.  Now he can't quite figure out what he feels like.  "GOD," he says aloud.

             Chris hears him.  Hey, wait a minute.  I don't think Great Spirit that calls himself Horace can read my thoughts.  Of course he can because he create this world and everything in it, including me.  It could be a test.  Yes, test. I be faithful.  Me could end up finding out what Lake of Fire really is. It strange habit of Great Spirit to talk about things like that when he sleeps.

 ***

             The next day, Horace is making Chris sit in the cave.

             "It is Sunday," says Horace.  "We will rest today.  You will simply give thanks to me.  First I'll tell you about me.  I came down from the sky when your people weren't looking."

             Chris leans forward with intense focus.

             "How did I know you weren't looking?" says Horace.  "I'm the Great Spirit.  I know everything."

             Chris nods real fast.

             "I am vast," says Horace.  "I am mysterious.  Do not ask too many questions of me because it is all a mystery.  I will let you know when the end comes."

             Chris's jaw drops as he shudders.

             "I am in the form of a person so I am your Pope," says Horace.

             "Pope?" says Chris.

             "Don't interrupt me while I'm delivering a sermon," says Horace.  "This is your first Sunday school so you'll learn everything you need to know from me, right here.  Listen.  Learn. And most of all be faithful.  You must always be faithful and long suffering.  You understand?"

             Chris nods.

             "From now on my name is Pope Michael," says Horace.  "You are to look at me like I'm the infallible Great Spirit."

             "Yes sir," says Chris.

             Horace raps a switch across Chris's hands.  It doesn’t hurt, but Chris is surprised the Great Spirit suddenly seems to be somewhat petty.  I won't question it, though.  I don't want to question, is it, Pope Horace, or-."  Chris raises his hand.

             "Yes, my son?" says Horace.

             "What you want me call you now?" says Chris.  "Sorry.  Me not being disobedient.  It just you confuse me.  Me not know what name to call you now?"

             Horace rubs his chin.  "It's okay.  Just try. All you could do is try.  I'll forgive you."  Horace locks eyes with Chris as he points directly at him. "You just remember that I'll know whether you're trying or not.  I'm the Great Spirit."

             Suddenly there is a look of terror in Chris's eyes.

             "Relax," says Horace.  "Just relax.  If you fear me then life will be good.  Just remember what it's going to mean when I say I'm going to put the fear of GOD into you."

             Chris still looks scared but he nods.

             "Just call me Pope Michael I," says Horace.

             Chris nods fast.

             "Yes, that's me, alright," says Horace.  "Pope Mike the First."

             Chris feels his chest tighten.  Oh man. This guy can do bad thing to me. Me want to please him.  Why he tell me call him Michael?  Now he want me to call him Mike the First.

             "Let's take a break," says Horace.  "Just lean forward, kiss my ring, and call me Pope Michael I."

             Chris thinks, that good.  If I remember Pope Michael I.  I pray he keep it Pope Michael I.  Great Spirit already have too many names.

             Chris leans forward to kiss the blessed ring when Horace says to him, "After break, I'll tell you your purpose.  Then I'll tell you what the consequences are when you disobey me. I'll finish today's sermon by telling you how much I love you.  Don't doddle now.  Make sure you’re back in five minutes."

             Chris shrugs his shoulders.

             "It means hurry back," says Horace.

             Now Chris is even more confused.

             Horace raises his voices a little.  "It means come back.  Quick. Soon.  Better yet, don't bother going anywhere because recess is now over."

             Chris sits down Indian style.  Me hate to think these things.  Pope Michael tough GOD to worship.  He never seems to make up his mind.  Sometime I swear he not even know what he doing, but obviously he do.  He Great Spirit.  Me hopes it worth it.

             "Now, I created the Earth in six days," says Horace.

             Chris's eyes widen.

             "Then on the sixth day I rested," says Horace.  "Then on the seventh day I proceeded to rest."

             Chris raises his hand.

             "Not now, Christopher, please," says Horace.

             Chris lowers his hand, but Horace notices Chris looks bewildered.

             "Yes, Christopher?" says Horace.  "What is it now?"

             "What you mean by, on this day, and the sex day?" says Chris.

             "I see I'll have to teach you math, too," says Horace.  "Don't worry because I'm here to take care of you. I created you, so don't you think for one second that I'll let you hang.  Remember that I saved you from those bullies."

             Chris smiles and nods his head.

             "I'll teach you everything, you know," says Horace.  "Now, I created you in my image."

             Chris frowns and looks at his red skin and feels his face.  Then he looks at Horace.

             "I know," says Horace.  "You don't exactly look like me.  Wouldn't that kind of be boring if everybody looked exactly like I did?"

             Chris nods in acknowledgment.  I don't want to offend Pope but I always like way my people look.  I try to ignore thought.

             "Have you ever wondered why you can't remember all of this?" says Horace.

             Chris nods.

             "You were reincarnated," says Horace.  "In your past life you were the first man and your name was Adam. I put you in the Garden of Eden where you were going to live for all eternity.  Then you were lonely, so I made you a woman.  I took one of your ribs and created Eve.  You were going to live forever in paradise.  Then the devil showed up.  He misled you and Eve.  I told you not to eat the apple from the tree of knowledge of good and evil.  The devil tricked Eve, and then Eve tricked you into eating it.  Do you remember?"

             "Yes," says Chris.

             "No you don't because you died," says Horace.  "Now you're reincarnated.  It would be cheating if you remembered all this."

             Chris turns white for a second.  Oh oh. I might have offended Great Spirit when I lie to him.

             Horace waves his hand nonchalantly.  "Don't worry about it.  You didn't mean to lie.  You aren't perfect.  Anyway, when you and Eve ate that apple I banished the two of you from the Garden of Eden.  You became aware you were naked.  Eve learned the joys of childhood.  You learned all the pleasure of hard work and endless toil.  Then you lived a thousand years and had countless children.  The down side was you brought sin and death into this world through your disobedience.  You will learn in time that I am hard but fair.  You understand, right?"

             Chris nods in acknowledgment.

             "Good," says Horace.  "Well, this devil character I told you about.  He used to be my top angel.  That is, he was until he disobeyed me.  I cast him out of heaven along with the other angels that sided with him.  All the evil in this world is caused by him and his minions. You got that, right?"

             "Uh huh," says Chris.

             "Anyway, I reserved a special day that I like to call Judgment Day," says Horace.  "First, there will be Armageddon.  There will be numerous wars that will climax into world destruction.  All those who are faithful to me will be spared.  They will get to clean up after the war to end all wars. After a period of a thousand years, I will let the bad guy loose for a day, and that will be the final test.  Anyone following him will be caught and I will deal with them personally.  You following this?"

             Chris has his arms folded and zeros in his focus on Horace.

             "Do you understand?" says Horace.  "You're just looking at me like you're a wooden India, pardon the pun."

             "Yes, yes," says Chris.

             "Do you want to know what I will do with those who don't worship me?" says Horace.

             Chris pauses and looks upward searching for the answer.

             "I shall cast them into the Lake of Fire where they will be tormented day and night, forever and ever," says Horace.

             Horace looks out the cave entrance and notices it is now dark.  "Well, I think we should turn in for the night. I want you to think about what I said today.  Better yet, I command you in my name.  You got it?"

             Chris nods real fast this time.

             "Now, pleasant dreams, but first, secure the entrance to this cave," says Horace.  "I'll give you the sermon about my son next Sunday.  In the meantime, I think I'll teach you the three R's.  You have really got to work on your speech.  I want you to talk more sophisticated.  If you follow me good things will happen to you. Good night."

 ***

             Chris muscles the ax.  The trouble is he isn't getting anything done.  Horace walks up to him.

             "You don't know how to swing an ax?" says Horace.

             "White man ax feel strange," says Chris.  "Me think ax is wrong."

             "At least your English is getting better," says Horace.  "Slowly but surely.  No.  It isn't the ax.  Let me show you."

             Horace takes the ax and raises it slow, then comes down smooth.  "Just let the weight and the blade do the job. Easy does it."

             Chris tries but to no avail.  He grips it so hard it looks like he's trying to squeeze the life out of the wood.

             "Let me show you again," says Horace.  "Pay attention.  Grip it like this."

             "Okay," says Chris.

             "Try to keep your body in alignment," says Horace.  "See how I'm doing it?"

             "Yeah," says Chris.

             "Now, let the weight of this ax just fall," says Horace.  "Remember to bring it down the middle so you can split these here logs."

             "Me think," says Chris.

             "I think so," says Horace.  "Repeat after me.  I think so."

             "I think so," says Chris.

             "Good, good," says Horace.  "Now give it another try."

             Chris tries his best to follow the instructions.  Horace works with him on the fundamentals.  After three tries Chris hits pay dirt.

             "That's much better," says Horace.  "Now, just keep doing that, and if you need me you'll know where to find me."

             "One thing," says Chris.  "What should I call you?  You have many name."

             "Names," says Horace.

             "Names," says Chris.  "Me. I mean, I am confused by the many names you have.  What should I call you?"

             "Just call me Pope, or Pope Michael I," says Horace.  "Sound good?"

             Chris nods.

             "Now get to work before you forget what I taught you," says Horace (hereafter known as Pope).  "Use it or lose it."

             "One more thing," says Chris.  "You talk about this Lake of Fire.  It sounds bad.  Could you describe it?"

             "This place smells like rotten eggs," says Pope.  "It is hotter than fire itself.  Ever burn yourself?"

             "I learn not burn myself when young," says Chris.  "Me not imagine, I mean I can't imagine anything hotter than fire."

             "How did it feel?" says Pope.

             "Hurt," says Chris.  "It hurt real bad."

             "It hurts real badly," says Pope.

             "It hurts real badly," says Chris.

             "Anyway, it is hotter, hurts worse, smells real bad, and is filled with your worst nightmares," says Pope.  "Follow this?"

             "Yeah," says Chris.

             "Now imagine there to be no beginning and no end," says Pope.

             Chris stares into oblivion.

             "Understand?" says Pope.

             "Mike?" says Chris.

             "Pope Michael I," says Pope.

             "Pope Michael I?" says Chris.  "Me never.  Sorry. I'll get this.  I, never, hear or see anything like this.  I always told about Shadow Lands and Great Hunting Grounds in sky.  Me, I mean, I am confused by all this.  Me think, I mean, I have to think about this.  I will understand."

             "Make sure you think about it all day," says Pope, "and I'll keep reminding you to make sure you think about it.  I'm sure you'll have it figured out by morning."

 ***

             All through the night, Chris kept waking up in starts. These starts gave way to cold sweats by morning.  Chris's dreams gave way to nightmares.  Chris has never felt such terror before.  Pope noticed this.

             "Sleep well?" says Pope.

             Chris just shakes his head.

             "You want to tell me about it?" says Pope.

             Chris shakes his head again.

             "No matter what it is, I can help," says Pope.  "I'm the Great Spirit."

             Chris is silent for a few minutes.  His red skin starts to turn white.  "How can you help?  I feel like I'm condemned, yet I never did anything bad."

             Pope thinks, excellent.  This is exactly what I wanted.  Now I can be his savior.  "I haven't told you this yet, but you inherited sin from your parents.  This goes all the way back to Adam and Eve.  Inherited sin is the reason everybody dies.  Then I sent my son down here to be a ransom sacrifice for your sins.  That way you can get to heaven; when you die of course.  I'll tell you about Jesus next Sunday.  Don't go anywhere.  You were born into sin so you were condemned to go to the lake of Fire right from birth. Your only chance for escape will be through my son Jesus.  You can wait for that, can't you?"

             "I would rather not, but I will," says Chris.  "I wait only because you order me to.  It can't be soon enough."

             "Goody," says Pope.  "I'll give you the good news Sunday morning."

 ***

             It is next Sunday, and Pope is giving another fiery sermon.

             "This is Pope Michael I presiding," says Pope.  "Today I will tell you, my faithful follower, about Jesus and the Ransom sacrifice."

             Chris smiles as he nods.

             "You were born into sin, so you are already damned to go the Lake of Fire," says Pope.  "You got that?"

             Chris's eyes pop.

             "That's the look I want," says Pope.  "I sent my only begotten son down here to die for your sins.  He was born when I got his mother Mary pregnant. I did it all without any whoopee. So you tell me who got cheated. At least, Joseph, the dad, didn't have to get his hands dirty.  Anyway, I did this so Jesus wouldn't inherit any of the sins Adam and Eve brought into the world.  He was born without sin so he would die when he became an adult.  His death would cover the sins of anyone who accepts him as their savior.  If you accept Jesus as your savior you will inherit eternal life in Heaven.  You would like that, right, Chris?"

             Chris nods as his grin turns into a frail smile.

             "Okay," says Pope.  "Do you take my son, Jesus, as your savior?"

             "I do," says Chris.

             Pope looks at him and mutters, "Smart Alec."  He raises his voice and says, "Okay Christopher.  Tomorrow I'll teach you all the other things.  For right now I'll give you an initial blessing. This way, if you should die after this sermon, your soul will leave your body and you will instantly go up to heaven."

 ***

             Pope is out in the woods.  Chris is chopping some trees down.

             "I am teaching you some basic carpentry skills, my son," says Pope. "You are learning how to build a house the same way my people do."

             Chris does a double take and stops swinging the ax.  "Father Michael.  What do you mean your people?"

             "Oh, I meant to say angels," says Pope.  "Yes.  What you would call people down here you would have to call angels from where I come from."

             "Angels?" says Chris.  "What are angels?"

             "You ask a lot of questions, kid," says Pope.  "Remember, it was curiosity that killed the cat."

             Chris gives a dumbfounded look, then immediately sets back to chopping down some more trees.

             Later on, Chris is sitting in the small chapel that Pope made him build. He is sitting Indian style before the altar.  Pope walks up behind the podium.

             "Pope Michael I presiding," says Pope.  "Remain seated.  Today, I will begin by telling you the only way to salvation is through acceptance of Jesus the Christ, Our Savior.  The only unforgivable sin is through rejection of the ransom sacrifice. Understand?"

             Chris nods

.

           "My son laid down several rules," says Pope.  "The first is to accept him as your savior.  You know the second rule, right?"

             Chris is racking his brains.  So many rules.  Why so many of them?  It will be worth it if it can get me out of that Lake of Fire.

             "Then my son established a code of conduct for you to follow," says Pope.  "That means the second rule is blind obedience to the Lord.  The third rule is blind obedience to authority on this planet. I am both the Lord, and the authority on this planet.  At least I am until I fly back to heaven.  The fourth rule is never to question my authority.  The fifth rule is to disown yourself and follow Jesus. That means you have no rights since you are a humble slave.  You got that part, right, my son?"

             This sucks, but I guess I have no choice. Chris agrees.

             "I see you've grown quite fond of me," says Pope.  "A son should love his father.  What rule am I on now?  Let's call this the seventh rule.  You must give away all your Earthly possessions to the Church.  That would also be me.  The eighth rule is to love your enemies better than yourself. The ninth rule is to pray for the salvation of your enemies.  That way I don't have to spend all eternity punishing them.  I've got better things to do.  I should be creating other worlds and filling them with other men in my image. That is it, for now.  Any questions?"

             "How am I supposed to remember all these things, Father?" says Chris.

             "Didn't you here my rule about not questioning authority?" says Pope.

             Chris thinks, Oh damn.  I'm screwed.

             Pope Michael I recognizes Chris's body language.  "You're good.  You're good. You didn't do anything bad.  I was just joking about no questions.  Being unquestioning simply means you will follow orders without hesitating.  I think maybe you should be writing all this down.  Then you can read it over and over until you understand.  Get a pad and pencil ready and I'll repeat the whole sermon. Don't worry.  I'm not mad.  Actually, I enjoy dressing up and delivering these things.  You did a good job when you built this chapel.  Then again, you had a great teacher.  We make an excellent team, don't we?"

             "We sure do," says Chris.

             "We're going to accomplish great things, you and I," says Pope.

 ***

             The following Sunday Pope is behind the podium again.  "Please be seated.  Oh, you already are.  Now I have to explain how forgiveness works.  The first part is when you have a sin to confess, you have to go in that closet I had you build.  I will be sitting on the other side of the screen in there.  You will tell me your deepest secrets.  Don't try to hide anything from me because I will find out. Then you will pay me whatever you have. I'll instruct you to say a certain number of Hail Mary's, and you will be forgiven."

             Chris raises his hand.

             "What is it, my son?" says Pope.

             "What if it is really bad?" says Chris.

             "It doesn't matter," says Pope.  "Only rejecting Jesus will condemn you.  Anything else?"

             "Naw," says Chris.

             "Okay then," says Pope.  "There is another form of forgiveness, and that is the Last Rites.  If you are dying, I will read those to you, and you will no longer have to worry about the Lake of Fire, or Purgatory."

             "Purgatory?" says Chris.

             "Yes," says Pope.  "Same thing as the Lake of Fire, except Purgatory is only temporary."

             Chris shrugs his shoulders.  Interesting, but there is an awful lot of stuff to this.  Sometimes I wish I could have the ways back, but this the Great Spirit is telling me a whole new way of worshiping him.  I hope I get this so I won't make him angry.

             "If you are understanding this, then there is only one more thing to really know about this," says Pope.  "Care to find out?

             Chris raises his hand.

             "Yes?" says Pope.

             "I mean I want you to tell me what it is I need to find out," says Chris.

             "Okay," says Pope.  "Tomorrow I'll start you off on your Rite of Passage so you can be confirmed as a member of my Church.  Sound exciting?"

             Chris leans forward on his elbows as he smiles.

             "Okay," says Pope.  "Tomorrow, it begins."

 ***

             Chris feels trepidation as he enters the chapel.  He sees a masked man standing next to the altar where Pope delivers his weekly sermons.

             The masked man speaks.  "For the remainder of this week, until Sunday next, you will eat nothing.  Do you understand?"

             Chris raises his hand.  "Where's my friend, my father, who is Pope Father Michael I on Sundays but is known as Horace Teton to all the others?"

             The masked man booms.  "Silence.  You have no friends now.  You will have to earn them through this Hell Week.  Right now you will only speak only as directed.  Do you understand?"

             Chris nods.  That man standing there with his arms folded on his chest looks an awful lot like my father.  Maybe he has just shape shifted.

             "Speak!" says the masked man.

             "Yes," says Chris.

             "For the remainder of this week you will call me Boris," says the masked man.  "Understand?"

             'Yes Boris," says Chris.

             "You will not eat of the remainder of this week," says Boris. "First, you will strip down to nothing.  Then you will go down on all fours like a dog.  You will stay there while I smack you where you sit with this paddle.  Look at this a minute.  Come on up here, don't be shy.  Noticing anything about it?"

             "Why are all those holes in it?" says Chris.  "This wood can't be that strong."

             "It is really strong," says Boris.  "Your butt is going to find that out in couple of minutes.  This is the same paddle my priest used to teach me about obedience when I was in Catholic School.  You'll find out this wood sings, and then it stings.  The rule is that you are not to cry out or you will fail.  Understand?"

             "Yes Boris," says Chris.

             "One more thing," says Boris.  "After I'm through paddling you, you will enter that barrel full of rusty nails.  You are to stay in it until I order you to leave it.  And you must not cry out.  If you can do that then you will become a member of my priesthood.  Do you understand?"

             "Yes master," says Chris.

             The initiation lasted for about five days.  When Sunday arrived Pope wasn't certain if Chris survived.  Please, make sure the guy is still alive.  I'll be kind to him.  That man was like a son to me.  I want him to feel a commitment to this.  Pope looks up.  "You know that ever since the war I've had my doubts about whether you existed or not. Right now, I need you more than ever. Please, bring me back that boy. If you do, I'll do anything.  I'll go to Church every day.  I'll be the most Christian guy outside of the Vatican if you bring him back.  I'll give to the poor.  I'll shelter the homeless.  You have to bring him back.  I'll never use the barrel full of nails again."

             "Who are you talking to?" says a faint voice.

             Pope jumps up and looks around.  "Who said that?"

             "I did," says the voice.

             Pope looks to the ceiling, turns white, and faints.  He wakes up.  There is a rotten smell in the room.  He slowly opens his eyes and the room is all fuzzy.  It takes a minute for his eyes to focus on Chris.  He sits up.  "What is that horrible smell?"

             "It is an ancient remedy my grandmother taught me," says Chris. "It eliminates that sleeping spell. For a minute I thought you were a goner. I didn't know GOD could die."

             "Oh, I didn't die," says Pope.  He pauses a minute.  Think something up.  Fast. Damn it or I might lose my only convert. Oh, I know.  He sits completely upright.  "I was just testing you.  I didn't die.  I just needed to find out if you were faithful enough to save your GOD if he was in danger."

             "But you are the Great Spirit," says Chris.  "How could you be in danger?"

             Pope smiles as he holds his index finger to his lips and whispers, "It's a mystery. The LORD works in mysterious ways."

             "I need to understand," says Chris.  "Oh, wait a minute.  I'm not supposed to question you."

             Pope pats Chris on the head.  "Good man.  Good man. Now help me stand up.  Thank you."  Pope exits the chapel.

             "Wait a minute," says Chris.  "Aren't you going to do, what is that, condemn me?  No, what was that word again?"

             Pope looks at him and furrows his eyebrows.

             "That word," says Chris.  "It isn't condemn.  It's supposed to be a good thing."

             Pope puts his hands on his hips.  He is trying to focus on Chris's question, but the room is spinning.  Damn, I wished I had some wine right now.

             "It was the whole reason for this Hell, I didn't mean to swear, I mean Heck Week," says Chris.

             "Hell Week!" says Pope.  "Yes."

             "You were going to do something if I survived," says Chris.  "Make me a member of your Church."

             "Come with me to the cave," says Pope.  "I need to sit and meditate for a while.  You look like you could use something.  You're looking rather famished."

             "I haven't eaten all week," says Chris.

             "Really?" says Pope.  "Why not?"

             "A strange man wearing a mask told me not to," says Chris.  "Or were you testing me through him?  If I didn't know any better, I would have sworn it was you wearing a disguise, but you Great Spirit, so you cannot lie."

             "I haven’t the faintest idea what you are talking about," says Pope. "Come join me in the cave."

             After an hour in the cave Pope's memory comes back.  I almost killed the poor sap.  That's right, I need to accept him as a member.  "You remember what you asked me back there?"

             "Yes father," says Chris.  "You were supposed to commend me."

             Pope slaps the makeshift table in the cave.  "That's right.  You're confirmed."

             "That's it?" says Chris.

             "Didn't you prove your manhood to me?" says Pope.  "You almost died.  Then I almost did, except I can't die because you know who I am."  Pope chuckles.

             "I feel this glow I never felt before," says Chris.

             "That the spirit," says Pope.  "I filled you with it.  I saved you. And now you can fight for me."

             "Fight?" says Chris.

             "Yes," says Pope.  "I'll have to teach you about the knighthood.  That way, if we have any problems with the infidels, I'll bless you first and then you fight for me.  If you win, you will be glorified, but if you die you go to heaven.  You should win, though because you are on my side, and I'm the good guy."

             "How do you know?" says Chris.  "Wait.  It's not that I keep forgetting.  It's just that I cannot figure out how it works, except you keep telling me not to. I should just take it in blind faith."

             Pope puts his hand on Chris's shoulder and says, "Chris, my son. Consider yourself my convert.  As the first member you will acquire riches, right after I take my share.  You are interested, aren't you?"

             Chris frowns.  "Let me see if I get this.  First, you tell me that I must give you everything I have.  Now you tell me I can have riches.  Now I'm even more confused."

             "You will get what I tell you can have," says Pope.

             "Now, what are riches exactly?" says Chris.

             Horace's eyes trace the cave walls, and then they move toward Chris: "Do you like girls?"

             Chris sits for a moment.  I always felt weird around girls.  I don't know why.  I know I'm supposed to do something with them, but I don't know what it is. "Yes."

             "Do you know what you do with girls?" says Pope.

             Chris blushes.  He can't look Pope in the eyes.

             "I get it," says Pope.  "Hey, it's perfectly natural.  I'll just have to teach you.  Better yet, I'll hook you up, and she can teach you.  It's better that way.  I'll find you one."

             Chris is too embarrassed to speak.

             Pope nudges him in the arm.  "Come now.  I'll fix you up with one.  I know. I was horrified my first time.  I was real young."

             Chris's eyes are like saucers.  "Father, you can't!"

             "Yes I can," says Pope.  "And I did.  I can do anything.  You remember who I am?"

             Chris looks over at the wall and tries to hide face in his hands.

             "It is okay for now to conceal your face," says Pope.  "For right now, though, your whole world is going to change now that you've become a man.  You will seek glory, and you will have it bestowed upon you.  Seek, and you shall find.  I'll make sure of that.  Now eat."  Horace points at the plate of food.  "Eat. Don't make this your last supper."

 THE END