#golden kamuy fic

[basuralindo]

WIP Wednesday while I can still squeeze it in

(this one's from the Golden Kamuy fic I've been working on, and my first attempt at a psychological horror scene, if this counts)

"Hey, brother. What was it like growing up out in the country? Did you do a lot of hunting?" "...Sure, I guess so. Why are you asking?" Yuusaku was perched on the wall of a trench, carefree and smiling. He was looking out over the red-smattered snow like it was a field of flowers. {You'll get yourself killed like that.} The warning lodged itself in the back of his throat, refusing to be spoken out loud. "You're a good shot, I've always thought it was incredible. You must have had a lot of practice." Ogata followed his gaze to the battlefield in front of them. Carnage and frozen mud. Littered with the heads of young men who'd dreamed of glory and purpose. "Have you ever shot a gun? I could teach you." A breeze picked up, bringing with it the smell of blood. The flapping of tattered fabric in the wind turned into droplets splattering on the ice. "There wouldn't be any point." Red was blooming in the snow where Ogata rested his elbows. Flowing from every crevice of his rifle to form rivulets down his wrists. "You could've tried." He knew what would be waiting when he turned his head, but he looked anyway. "It might have saved you." The dark silhouette of a uniform stared ahead in silence. A stream of blood had stained the front of its jacket, but no longer dripped from its head. The dim light traced only a faint outline of painfully familiar eyes. They would be a warm brown, if he ever saw them again. Deep and soft and smiling that insufferably naive smile. But the profile was strange this time; too angular, almost canine. Sharp in all the ways that Yuusaku had been dull. The air thickened with a feeling like some monster had come to fill the shell that his brother had left behind. The figure lifted its head, shifting to reveal bloodstains where its hands rested. It turned to meet Ogata with blazing orange eyes and a voice that promised violence. "Who the hell are you?"

[seedsofagony]

Tomcat (GK)

Series: Golden Kamuy

Characters: Hijikata Toshizou, Nagakura Shinpachi; in alphabetical order: Ienaga Kano, Kadokura Toshiyuki, Kirawus, Okuyama Kantarou, Toni Anji, Ushiyama Tatsuuma

Summary: I don’t want to let the Hiji-cat-a out of the bag: SFW, fluff, alternate timeline, spoiler free

Word Count: 1,945

Notes: Inspired by the ohiru neko (sleepy cat) prize figures and this comic by tyag53, along with my desire for everybody to be together under one roof. ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Image Credit: Alexander Possingham

Hijikata sat up slowly, blankets puddling in his lap, stretched and yawned. Light filtered in through the windows, cutting golden angles across the tatami mats and walls. He was surprised by the hour. Normally he would never sleep this late - it was a waste of daylight - but his futon was warm and soft, practically begging him to stay just a little while longer. His jaws cracked with another yawn and he rubbed bleary eyes.

No. He slapped his hands to his cheeks and shook his head to clear out the cobwebs. Hair falling over his face, he tucked it behind his ears. The long grey strands fell loose back into his face. Absently, he tucked them back again, but the strands fell into his face. Furrowing his brow, Hijikata swept back his hair a third time only to realize there was nothing to hold it back.

Not a man to panic, he reached up and carefully felt the sides of his head. No ears. That couldn’t be - he could hear the birds outside the window, chittering and singing in a way that suddenly seemed to draw all of his attention. Soft movement on the top of his head amplified the sound. Tentatively, Hijikata smoothed his hands over his hair to discover two triangular ears covered in sleek fur.

His tail bristled - tail?! It stuck out straight behind him, a slender exclamation point with every grey hair on end. Taking a deep breath, Hijikata felt it relax slightly. The fur was still fluffed, but the tail curled around and into his lap for closer inspection. Tentatively, he stroked the raised fur, surprised by the pleasant buzz - not unlike a comb run through your hair.

Frowning thoughtfully, he held the tail - his tail - in his hands. First, he wondered how something like this could happen. Was he dreaming? He pulled a few hairs from the tail and winced. If he wasn’t dreaming, then why had no one else noticed? It was unusual for him to sleep this late, so why hadn’t anyone woken him up? Rousing himself with great difficulty from the warmth of his bed and stretching with markedly feline languor, Hijikata slid open the screen.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

At the sound of the screen sliding open behind him, Nagakura couldn’t help but feel a certain degree of relief. If that old demon wanted to sleep in - if he’d found some woman to spend the night without him knowing - that was his business. But there was always a part of him that worried. Hijkata Toshizou might be a legend, but he wasn’t immune to the ravages of old age. A heart attack or a stroke might take him as easily as any bullet.

He half-turned as Ienaga ladled miso soup into his bowl, knitting his shaggy brows together to disguise his relief. “I trust you slept well?”

The whole lot of them were early risers. It went without saying that Nagakura himself was awake before dawn - he practiced his sword, but the older he got, the less he found he needed to sleep. Ushiyama always got himself up early to train, and Toni was never long after. Ienaga busied herself with cooking breakfast or gathering herbs, and Kantarou had wisely learned to keep to her schedule. Kirawus was up early to hunt or fish - it was only his layabout companion, Kadokura, who couldn’t be bothered to rise in a timely manner. Ogata, well, he came and went and was little more than a stray cat.

Cat. Nagakura didn’t even notice the hot soup spilling over into his lap - didn’t even notice that Ienaga had not stopped pouring, her eyes fixed on Hijikata standing in the open screen. They all stared - chopsticks halfway to open mouths, conversations left dangling in mid-air. It was Ushiyama who finally spoke first.

“Well,” he said, returning to his rice, “I saw that in a brothel once. I just didn’t expect you to go in for that sort of thing, Hijikata.”

Nagakura exploded to his feet, half-foaming with wordless sounds, soup bowl sloshing over in his white-knuckled grip. “Wh-”

Hijikata held up a hand, the triangular ears on top of his head flicking back mildly. “I know this must come as a shock,” he began.

“Shock?!” Nagakura spluttered. “I expect this kind of prank from them,” he jabbed his chopsticks at Kirawus and Kadokura - who echoed a soft and simultaneous, Hey! -”But, Hijikata… you?”

Hijikata pursed his lips in a patient smile and began again. “I know this must come as a shock - to no one more than myself - but this is the way of it until we can find a cure.”

Still clutching the pot, Ienaga crowded around him, squinting at his ears. “They’re real?”

“Apparently,” said Hijikata. “And there’s more.” He coughed softly into his hand, a sinuous grey tail suddenly curling into view.

For a fraction of a second, you could have heard a pin drop - then the room erupted. Nagakura’s eyes rolled back into his head and he hit the floor, soup spraying across the tatami mat. Ienaga wondered if, at some desperate point in time, Hijikata had ever eaten a cat. Kantarou squealed then immediately covered his mouth, eyes wide but sparkling. Kadokura could only stutter and flush bright red while Kirawus banged him on the back, convinced he must be choking.

Only Ushiyama and Toni failed to react. Wiggling a finger in his ear, Toni grimaced. “Can somebody tell me what the hell is going on?”

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

Once the excitement died down and Nagakura had been revived, Hijikata tried to conduct business as usual. He went over the day’s plans, talked strategy, and doled out the necessary funds, but all the while, he couldn’t shake the heaviness of fatigue. All he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and take a little cat nap for, say, ten to twelve hours. After that? Something to eat and maybe a bath before going back to sleep. It was utterly unlike him, but he didn’t pay it any mind - it was instinctively feline hedonism.

The feeling only grew as the day progressed. His men came and went, while Hijikata found himself following the rays of the sun as they moved around the room. When the sun sank below the horizon, bathing the room in cool blue shadows, he nestled up to the brazier, nearly close enough to singe the fur on his ears and tail.

Stifling a yawn, neither seemed all that strange to him now. They weren’t entirely convenient - when Kadokura and Kirawus began to bicker like an old married couple, Hijikata’s ears flattened against his head, tail lashing in annoyance. That shut them up faster than his feline glare. It was becoming impossible to maintain his usual cool facade.

By the time dinner rolled around, the house was full again. Ienaga served up bowls of rice (which Hijikata mostly ignored) with grilled fish (which he devoured). Sake, while not quite as palatable as the fish, was still welcome, and deep into their cups, Hijikata’s new appendages became the center of attention again.

Kantarou sprawled out on the floor, face flushed, entranced by Hijikata’s lithe grey tail. “Can I touch it…?” he asked, words thick with drink.

Before Hijikata could answer, Kantarou circled his hand around the tail, gently stroking it from bottom to top, letting it fall from his loose grip. Hijikata sat bolt upright, struck by that pleasant buzz again, and a soft, deep Prrp! rumbled in his chest.

For the second time that day, you could have heard a pin drop. And for the second time, the room absolutely exploded, everyone crawling over the top of each other to pet ears and tail. Nagakura reacted better this time, emboldened by his sake. Swinging a broom like a katana - deadly if domestic - he chased them off or at least in circles. Hijikata slunk out of the room unnoticed. He’d had his share of the commotion and it was long past time for bed.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

In the morning, Hijikata found himself curled up on the blankets, tail wrapped snugly around his body and over his nose. It was dark still, but he could make out each sleeping shape as easily as if it were daylight. His ears swiveled toward the window, catching the chirping of birds - fascinating stuff. Rousing himself, he arched his back into a full-body stretch and padded toward the shades for a peek. Hands caught him up before he could even make it off the blanket.

“Hijikata?”

Nagakura peered at him, holding him under his arms. Hijikata flicked his tail in annoyance.

“Is that really you?”

Apart from his own name, the rest of Nagakura’s soft sounds were lost on Hijikata, totally unintelligible. He was more interested in those birds, and he’d just about enough of being held. But instead of putting him down, Nagakura hugged his small grey body to his chest, tucking his fuzzy head beneath his bristled chin. He tolerated it, and the longer Nagakura held him like this, the more pleasant it became. A deep purr emanated from his chest as Nagakura buried his nose into his fur.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

At breakfast, no one knew what to say. The old grey cat lay curled in Nagakura’s lap, dozing, purring in its sleep as he stroked its fur. Of one thing, however, they were certain. The Hijikata Toshizou they knew was gone, his nightclothes in a wrinkled heap on his futon, his sword untouched. He had been replaced, every whisker, by this feline and showed no signs of recognition. Although, now that he was a cat, it was hard to tell if he really didn’t know them or if he was just doing as cats are wont to do.

Kantarou was the first to speak. “So… now what?” He stared down at the cat, torn between heartbreak and desperately wanting to hold the little animal himself.

Kadokura rubbed his stubbled chin. “Do we continue the mission?”

“Can we?” Ushiyama frowned, arms folded across his chest. “Is there a mission without him?”

“The gold is still out there,” said Toni. “We have a copy of his tattoo. We could try.”

“Carry on his dream?” Ienaga tapped her finger on her lips. “I suppose there’s no reason why he couldn’t turn back someday…”

Kirawus took a drag on his pipe. “It’s worth a try.”

Nagakura cleared his throat, but his voice was rough with emotion. “If you all want to keep going, then have it. As for me… I'm staying with him.”

He looked down at the cat and scratched it behind the ears, tender in a way he could never have been before. The cat purred louder, stretched, toes splayed, then looked up at him, blinking slowly. Nagakura pursed his lips, whiskers bristling, as he held back tears.

“Then it’s decided,” said Ushiyama suddenly. He rubbed furiously at his nose and sniffed hard. “Kantarou, today you’re coming with me. Kadokura, Kirawus, you two are-”

Assignments and funds were given. Breakfast was cleaned up, the dishes washed and put away. The house emptied out save for Nagakura and the cat, who remained where they sat, bathed in warm rays of morning light.

“If you ever get well,” murmured Nagakura, “I hope you remember this day.” The cat did not stir, but sat in a loaf on the old man’s lap. “Alive or dead, Hijikata Toshizou still commands the hearts of men.”

At this, the cat opened one eye - its slitted pupil meeting Nagakura’s gaze - before closing it again. A deep purr rumbled through its chest, and Nagakura could not be sure that the demon vice commander was not still there, somewhere, in the soft body of a small grey cat.

[grand-line-shenanigans]

Yippee!!

[omo321]

“Are you crying?” Fina exclaims in alarm. Tsurumi is equally startled when he wipes at his face and his hand comes away wet. Not once had he shed tears, not even when he’d lost them. Pulling a chair up to him, Fina dries his cheeks with soft dabs of her handkerchief. With her hand on his shoulder and her beautiful, bright eyes soft with more love than Tsurumi can bear, she waits for an explanation that he cannot give.

gnawing on "theatre" by Saengak again... it's free serotonin to me

[themesis]

[untimelybones]

tiiiiny sketch of the Ogata in my fic as of now 😎👍

[zorionbbq]

"The morning lit his bedroom with tepid lilacs. Wherever light could reach, there were bulging cabinet handles, sallow sheets, flattened carpets; where it couldn’t, there was nothing at all. The pale spots of life, surrounded by pitch-black pits and corners, looked like a poorly printed photograph."

fanart for @cleveradjacent's fic "This Weapon Wants"! :^]

[basilknell]

Usual Vasily dump.

History behind the first piece: Just before the mid 1800s it was popular for cavalry men (hussars) in Russia to wear earrings. There's a lot of letters requesting superiors to make their men stop it, funny. Vasily would look cute in a pair, even if it's anachronistic.

[every-ogata]

I refuse to believe Ogata is as muscular as Noda draws him. He spends most of his time sitting

I'm going to answer this one seriously cause I actually have thoughts on this. I agree about him not being as muscular but he doesn't just sit around. Firing a rifle actually requires core strength, you need it to properly aim and fire with accuracy. We know he's a good marksman, so it'd make sense his core is strong.

He also literally treks across Hokkaido and then some carrying military gear. The Type 30 was almost 9 pounds; that alone would give him a light workout, but also think about the rest of his gear! Japanese soldiers carried equipment that was around 52lbs heavy.

I just don't think he'd have a six pack, but it makes sense that he is strong. Though, Satoru Noda is allowed to draw his men as caked up as he wants. As a treat.

[mrs-bluemarine]

Warm on a Cold Night

YHE UKCING GUY OF ALL TIME

Draw me like one of your German girls. Divider credit goes to @!cafekitsune!

Pairing: Vasily x Franziska

WC: 3k

Notes: Fluff :3 wound kissing, my favorite, and Franziska nearly freezes to death y'know the usual

The moment she and her group took one step out of Russia, it seemed that all hell broke loose.

Winds were howling, snow was getting picked up and thrown in everyone's faces. It was hard to see three feet ahead of you in a storm like this, however they pushed on. Everybody tried to stick together, tried to yell through the wind to communicate, but for someone like the German woman, who never had the luck of finding herself in a growing blizzard, she was falling behind.

Ice stung her eyes, her vision becoming blurry. It felt like any longer out there and her tears would freeze in her eyes. The wind only pushed her backwards despite all she tried. Inside of her hazy vision, black figures became mere specks, disappearing into the storm, and her heart dropped. Where did the rest go?

The blonde looked left and right. She couldn’t hear a damn thing over the howling wind, it stole her voice when she tried to call out. Sugimoto, Asirpa, Siraishi… She even called out for the hooded man, but there wasn’t anyone to be found.

The blonde stopped in her tracks. Was she lost?

No… If she kept moving forward, she’d find something, wouldn’t she? Everyone has to just be up ahead, but with every step forward she took it felt like the wind pushed her back six. She tried her best to keep a positive face as she carried on, but something kept whispering in her ear. This wasn’t the end for her, was it?

Something captured her frozen hand, something big and warm. A mitten-wrapped palm. Her eyes traveled up the arm to find it attached to a familiar body, finding familiar eyes.

The Russian man pulled her close to his chest as he wordlessly began guiding her to the left. Within the pure whiteness surrounding them, something came into focus. A wall of darkness overcame her vision as the sniper continued guiding her closer.

A cave! He’s seriously found a cave in this mess?

The hole in the wall of rock was rather shallow, but big, and it did its job by protecting them from the icy wind. Seeing some dead foliage and tree branches gave her the idea for a fire. Instincts kicked in. Never before had she found herself in a blizzard, but she knew damn well how to make a fire. She immediately got to work collecting all the leaves and dry twigs she could find in a small pile in the middle of the cave. The Russian sniper watched silently.

Trembling hands rummaged through her pockets, finding a wooden matchbox with a measly amount of match sticks left to bounce around in their case.

Soon, a soft orange glow illuminated her face. Warmth spilled into her hands, warming her reddened cheeks and her frozen bones, and the blonde sighed in relief. The sniper came over to sit on the opposite side of the fire. A soft sigh of his own rumbled from underneath his hood as his eyes closed in quiet contentment. A moment passed where neither did anything except soak in the heat.

“Thank you.” His blue eyes looked away from the fire.

The woman opposite to him began caressing her match box, her thumb following the grooves carved into the old wood absentmindedly as fire sparked inside of her dark eyes. They reminded the Russian of the sea at night. He thought they were beautiful.

“I would have probably ended up dead had you not found me… so, thank you.”

He raised his hand to stop her, deflecting her praise, and she laughed softly.

His eyes watched her thumb move. The creature on the wooden box wasn’t like anything he’d seen before. He was sure it was an animal, curling around itself in a confusing way, unsure of where it began and where it ended. The German noticed his intrigued stare, and she offered him the match box. “Want a look?” He took it carefully from her, listening intently as she told him about the trinket. “It belonged to my father. The creature on the box is a dragon.”

She took a pause, “Um, dra-gon. It breathes fire.”

He nodded along, suddenly getting an idea. He gave the box back, quickly finding his bag to take out something; pencil and paper. The redhead scribbled something down, then turned the paper around and pointed at a Russian word he wrote with his pencil. “Ah, let me see… zmeya..? Snake? Well, it is pretty snake-like!”

The man tried doodling the creature underneath its name, failing miserably, still not understanding what was a tail or what was a wing or face. It came out as a jumble of rings and circles, which amused the German woman. He began drawing again, moving away to hide it from her. Then he proudly showed off his monstrous creation; a creature with claws and ferocious teeth with batty wings, multiple heads twisting around each other with scary faces. “That’s certainly one hell of a dragon!” He seemed to take pride in how his drawing affected her. He began writing something else.

“Oye, I’m not too good at reading Russian! I can try my best, but…”

It was another single word. “Let me think… This would make a ‘V’ sound. Vas…. Vasily?” She looked up at him. Since when did they get so close? “Is that your name?”

Pleased, he nodded, and she grinned. “There we go! Vasily…” She repeated it again, and the sniper was terribly afraid that he enjoyed how she said it.

The blonde lightly took his pencil, beginning to write on her own next to his name. “I'm not quite sure how to write in Russian…” She said quietly. His writing was neat and tidy. Her's was smaller, with elegant swirls in her letters that made it look like art, and reminded Vasily of the dragon on her match box.

She finished with curt “a”, giving back his pencil. “...You've probably heard the others calling me ‘Franz’. I guess it is easier for them to say. My full name is Franziska.”

Franziska.

Vasily wanted to repeat it, give it the same affectionate treatment she gave his own name. How unfortunate for him to be stuck in this state.

Suddenly finding the short distance between them uncomfortable, Franz sat back, looking away shyly. Vasily didn't seem to mind, or realize just how close he was. He placed the piece of paper with his doodle and their names on it aside, and began drawing something else. She gave him more space, allowing him to create more art in peace. She watched, this time from the opposite side of the fire.

Evening turned to night, and the storm raged on with no signs of stopping any time soon. The moon illuminated the ice and snow with blue light, giving the cold forest an otherworldly feeling to it. Inside their solitude, paper began to litter the ground. Piece by piece filled with whatever it was the sniper was drawing. Franz couldn’t lie and say she wasn’t curious, but she knew better than to sneak a peek, even if her curiosity wanted her to.

A comfortable silence overcame them as she watched him create. There was a soft furrow in his brow, his eyes staring intensely at his paper. Seeing him so focused… It was charming. For someone so masterful with such an intimidating weapon, she never expected him to be interested in something as delicate as art. He was a skillful hand at that. From far away, she could see one of his sketches. A bird, what species it was, Franz couldn’t say for certain. The realism in his lines was impressive, however… She couldn’t help but notice that it was the only paper facing up. Yes, the rest were placed kissing the ground, so she couldn’t see what it was he was making. It made her curiosity even worse, but she forced it down.

By chance, their eyes meet again. The ocean met the sky. And almost embarrassed, Vasily immediately looked back down, and Franziksa was taken by surprise. His pencil moved even more furiously, pretending as if nothing happened, when an idea dawned in Franz’ mind; was he drawing her?

The idea flustered her. Being the centerpiece of a work of art… Oh, how childish she was, indulging in such fantasies!

She wordlessly began taking off her coat, finding it suddenly too warm to wear it. Vasily paused to watch her body stretch and twist until she neatly placed the article of clothing to the side. Franziska huffed out a sigh of relief once her body was free of the tight wear. Really, that tall collar nearly felt suffocating. Her eyes opened as she brushed back some strands of hair loose from her ponytail. She realized he was staring, and she smiled.

Well… Would it hurt to at least… tease the idea? On second thought, it may.

“Drawing me?”

Vasily stiffened. The woman chuckled softly, watching him shuffle in place and look away.

She rested both of her hands on the ground, leaning backwards slightly. With a light lift in her tone she asked sincerely; “Would you like a new angle?”

Her words caught his attention. Reluctantly, he looked back, eyes widening at the sight. The look in her eye was teasing, but inviting, and Vasily felt his hand moving on its own. The first piece of paper joined the rest, and his pencil touched down. Seeing him begin to draw again, Franziska turned her nose, putting on a placid face for his picture.

She wasn't sure how long it took. Her arms were beginning to tire, however she refused to move, wanting to be the perfect reference for the artist.

Vasily on the other hand took care of every press of his pencil. Every line and curve was delicate, but deliberate. The features of her's he enjoyed the most were given special attention to make sure they looked perfect; her eyes, the curve of her nose, the way the fire bounced off of her cheeks, her hair cascading over her shoulder like a subdued waterfall of golden sunlight. Vasily felt an overwhelming presence telling him that every detail needed to be perfect.

After what seemed like hours for the reference and mere minutes for the artist, Vasily's pencil stopped “Finished?” Franz asked. He almost seemed reluctant to show her.

“Come on,” She purred, crawling closer. “Don’t be a tease…”

Slowly, Vasily offered the blonde his sketch, and she took it gratefully and carefully. Her blue eyes scanned over every inch, widening as she noticed every detail.

Her face pointed away, a side view of her head, her body half resting, half perched on her hands. Lord, he even added the highlight of the fire underneath her cheek. Every press, every line and curve of his pencil was done with care, she could see it, she could feel it. Franz cursed in her mother language. “Vasily, it's… you did incredible.” The man gave pause. He watched a grin split open her face as she refused to look away. A new, terrible idea came to mind, his eyes found the scattered sketches next to him.

Franziska perked up upon Vasily shoving more paper into her face. “Hm? What's this..?” There was more. The bird, a street, a room she recognized as the one she found him and Sugimoto "bonding" in. Most were of her. Quick, messy doodles of Franziska walking, smiling at something one of the other men said. There was a doodle of her crouching down to the ground next to a squirrel they passed by. She remembered that happening just that morning, before they left the city, before they left Russian territory and got thrown into a blizzard. At that point she wasn't aware that he was following them. But the one that caught her attention was one that seemed very recent. Her furrowed brow highlighted by firelight, eyes casted down to watch the flames lick the air. It was hours ago, she realized, when she was messing around with her match box. In that quick moment, before she looked away, Vasily saw her, and he was able to sketch this?

Franz looked back at him with a raised brow and a knowing smirk, “You like drawing me? I’m flattered.”

The redhead huffed, looking away while the blonde laughed, placing the sketches to the side. Franz watched him with curiosity in her gaze. He was so sweet to watch. Vasily, a cold blooded sniper- hell, she was still healing from that bullet he threw her way, and now he was here acting like a child. Oh yeah, that bullet in her leg… Ah, well, all is forgiven. It was hard to be upset at such a pretty face- or more like, it was hard to be upset when he looked at her with those eyes.

She had been able to see his face… but only once. Something inside her wanted to see it again. She wanted to see those lips, his jaw, she wanted to gaze upon those horrible scars of his, and shower them with attention without that pesky hood in the way. Terribly so.

She brought her hand to his neck, the touch making the hardened sniper stiffen. Her eyes were hypnotizing, putting him in a paralyzed trance. Her fingers dug into his layers of clothing, warm digits finding his nape, and Vasily nearly felt faint. He was almost taken under until he saw her other hand, dangerously close to his face. It was then he violently jerked his head to the side, suddenly understanding what Franziska was trying to do.

“Please?” Vasily heard her say, a needy, pleading look in her eye that was hard to ignore. She spoke so sweetly to him in his mother language, coming even closer. “I'd really like to see your face… only if you're comfortable with it.”

She wanted to see him. To see it.

But why?

A voice deep in his mind told Vasily no, he shouldn't. A louder, much weaker part of him wanted to show her, with hopes of more of… this. This attention. Those beautiful ocean eyes of hers only on him.

His hand moved with a mind of its own, his rough fingertips grazing the hem of the cloth shielding his face. How would Franziska look at Vasily now? He remembered the time before, not even a day ago he showed her only once, along with that man with the shaved head. He had reacted in horror. But Franziska… it was fascination.

She said something, Vasily didn't recognize it, his thoughts too occupied with other things. When her lips stopped moving, he finally did it.

He pulled down his mask, taking in his first breath of clear air in a long while, his sigh crystalizing in the air. Along with it he pushed his fingers through his auburn locks, knocking off his hood. His eyes opened again with the softest look of hesitation in his pale gaze, immediately looking to Franziska to analyze her face.

She was staring at him. Or rather, his cheek, noting his gunshot wounds still looked angry and raw. One side was worse than the other, the exit hole. But despite the wounds, there was no hint of anything negative in her dark eyes. Franziska continued to look at Vasily like he held the moon and the stars in his hands.

Her own cupped the back of his head, and the sniper's breath hitched in a shameful way. She was closer than ever before, the woman was silent as her breath brushed against his neck and his jaw. Every little move she made had the sniper's body failing him. He wanted to break, to give into the thoughts poisoning his mind. All he had to do was twist his neck, a simple, easy thing, but her body was rendering him useless.

And then Franziska kissed him. Her lips were like fallen snow against his jaw, cold and soft against a patch of skin where hair refused to grow, toeing the line between skin and scar tissue.

Her lips softly, slowly pulled away only a centimeter, and they traveled across his chin to place a similar touch against his opposite side. This one, the worst of the two, was given two sweet kisses instead of one. And only once she was finished did she pull away. Now Franziska looked at him embarrassed, the softest highlight of pink on her cheeks. She smiled. “Ah… you must think I'm a fool, acting like this… and with a man I barely know. Please forgive me.”

The blonde tried to move away, but Vasily refused to let her leave. With an arm around her waist, his palm against her cheek, Vasily successfully stopped Franziska in her tracks. She looked at him like a deer staring down the barrel of a rifle.

Vasily’s thumb pressed against the corner of her lips. His eyes scanned over every inch of her face. Her porcelain skin was free of any blemishes, untouched by any scars or scratches. Fit for an aristocrat's daughter. When his thumb moved, it uncovered the one thing that dared to litter her face. Two moles, one smaller than the other, like two drops of pen ink splashed against her lower lip.

Vasily moved slowly to give Franziska the option to deny his silent request, but she didn’t. So his mouth pressed a kiss against her chin, chapped lips covering her moles. He heard the softest sigh escape Franz’s lips once their skin touched, the hands still wrapped around his skull pulling him even closer.

His first kiss was followed by another, close to her lips, but not close enough. On his third kiss, it was finally where they both wanted it most. His mouth clashed against hers, nearly toppling the poor woman over and sending her to the ground. The two held each other impossibly close, hands tangling in hair, fingers squeezing cloth and flesh. A deep seated hunger made itself known in Vasily’s stomach, a gaping hole threatening to swallow him whole. And the sniper suddenly realized just how long he had been craving this. To hold, to be held, to taste the lips of another so passionately, to drown in this wonderful, foreign feeling taking a grip on his heart. And for a change his body and mind were not occupied with revenge. He allowed himself to drown in this wonderfully uncomfortable feeling at that moment.

What a fantastic woman he had to spend the night with.

[11chasty11]

my real expierence reading This weapon wants

i'm weak.

[ogatas-beloved]

Knock Knock

Description: A rash of suspicious disembodied knocking has spread throughout the school and Tsukishima is trying to find who's behind it. Written for JanAUary Prompt #8 - College Setting: College AU Ships: Morgan x Tsukishima Warnings: Slightly suggestive, Usami Dividers

This whole thing had started about a week ago. Morgan had been invited over to Usami's dorm on a Friday night for one of their fairly regular meet ups. When it got there, it had let itself in, as it usually did, and made itself comfortable on the couch. It could hear Usami messing around with something in his bedroom, things clattering to the floor and bumps against the wall. He emerged shortly after from the bedroom, carrying a stack of DVDs and grinning like a mad man.

"Every time I come over for girl's night, you tell me 'oooh this movie's supposed to be soooooo scary'-" Morgan poorly mocked Usami's voice, "If one of these stupid movies doesn't make me piss my pants tonight, I'm actually killing you this time."

He snickered and sat the DVDs down on the wooden coffee table in front of Morgan, "Ohhh, trust me, Morgan. These ones are something special. I had to go through a lot of trouble to even get my hands on them."

Morgan grimaced, "This better not be red room footage or some freak shit like that."

"Ooooh that would be something-" He sighed dejectedly as if disappointed that he hadn't managed to get his hands on real footage of murder, "But no. Just banned horror movies."

Morgan crossed it's arms over its chest and leaned into the plush back of the couch, "Well, maybe one of them will be worth while."

Usami took one of the DVDs out of the case and slid it into the player, but before he could even make it back to the couch, there was a loud pounding at his door. He stopped and cut his eyes at it angrily, stomping over to the door and yanking it open, ready to yell at whoever was there for interrupting their movie night.

When it didn't hear any screaming from Usami, Morgan turned around to see what was going on. He was half leaned out the door, craning his neck down the hallway, looking side to side at rapid speeds.

"What the hell are you doing?" It questioned.

"There's no one here!" He pulled his head back in and slammed the door, "The bastard ding-dong-ditched me!"

"Ugh, that's one of the dumb ass pranks in the book," Morgan rolled its eyes, "Whatever, man, let's just get back to the movies."

Usami huffed and pouted but agreed, he returned to the couch and the two began watching the first movie- but not more than a few minutes into it- the same thing happened again. A furious, aggressive knocking at the door, so hard it was rattling the entire door.

"OH, YOU'RE BACK, HUH?!" Usami shot up and investigated the sound again only to be met with an empty hallway once again.

Morgan quirked an eyebrow as it leaned over the back of the couch to watch him, "Damn, how are they getting away so fast?"

"I don't know, but I'm gonna catch 'em if they do it again!" He turned back to Morgan, he was grinning but a vein was also popping out on his forehead. He was pissed off, no doubt, but he also seemed excited about the prospect of confronting the prankster.

Unfortunately for Usami, he never did get the chance to do that. Throughout the night it happened several more times, each time he would be at the door within seconds- by the end of it he was even waiting by the door for them each time- and yet he still found no one. Usami was getting more and more angry, but Morgan was feeling a bit more anxious about the situation. It couldn't understand how someone was doing this and managing to get away so quickly. Usami's dorm was all the way down at the end of the hall and there weren't any other occupied rooms close by enough that someone should be able to slip off into one.

That night had only been the start. This mysterious, disembodied knocking spread like a plague throughout the campus. Each night multiple different people would report the knocking at their door. It hit all over, dorms in completely opposite sides of the campus reported hearing the knocking at the same time- and no one ever found a culprit when they opened the door.

Which brought them to today, Morgan, Sugimoto, Koito, and Usami were sat together at a table near one of the on campus restaurants, eating their lunch and discussing the rumors that were floating around the college.

"I heard it's a big group of people who coordinated this thing," Sugimoto said, crumbs falling out of his mouth from the sandwich he was currently chewing.

"A bunch of little fucks and when I get my hands on them, I swear," Usami's eye was twitching and he was gripping the table like he wanted to break it in half, "I'm gonna have fun bashing their heads in for this."

"You mean you guys believe its people? You don't think its… a ghost?" Morgan asked.

"No, because that's ridiculous," Morgan looked up when it heard the exhausted sounding voice at its side, Tsukishima was now standing at the end of the table looking somehow more tired than he usually did, "It's just a bunch of punks messing with people."

Morgan pouted and crossed it's arms, "Oh, yeah? How come nobody's seen anything then, huh?"

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, "There's plenty of places they could slip off to after knocking."

"Not by Usami's dorm!" Morgan defended, "His is the only one in use down that hallway, the rest are locked up!"

Tsukishima exhaled through his nose and groaned, "So, they might've broken into one, Morgan."

"Why would they do all that just for some stupid prank?" Koito piped up.

"We're working under an assumption the 'prank' is a distraction from something, maybe theft." Tsukishima offered, "Look, if you guys notice anything out of the ordinary- and I DON'T mean ghostly, report it to me immediately."

"Hmm… Hey, has there been any sort of pattern to the knocking?" Sugimoto asked.

"Pattern? Hmm… No, as far as I know it's been random."

"You have a list of the dorms that have reported it, don't you?" Koito asked, "Can we take a look?"

Tsukishima groaned and rubbed his temples, "Can you all stay out of this? I'm the RA, I'LL handle it. I don't want you three pulling some stupid crap on me."

"You're not handling it quick enough!" Usami cried, "You should let us take over for you, I bet we could find the criminal."

"I don't want YOU doing any investigative work," A look of utter disgust crossed Tsukishima's features, "Not after last time…"

"Awww, but Tsukishima, we just wanna help…" Morgan pouted and looked up at him with the biggest, saddest eyes it could manage.

He sighed and reached into his pocket, pulling out a folded up piece of paper and throwing it onto the table, "Fine. Here's a list of reports including times and dorm numbers. Maybe you can figure out if there's a pattern or not."

Sugimoto took the paper and unfurled it, laying it out on the table between them. The three of them all hunched over the paper, inspecting each report carefully. Morgan gasped as it noticed something about the room numbers, Koito seemed to have picked up on it too, but Sugimoto and Usami still seemed lost.

"Did you see something?" Usami asked.

"Yeah! Tsukishima, look there is a pattern!" Morgan cried.

"It's right. Look, they're hitting corresponding numbers on each sides of the building, skipping a number for the next day, and then going back to that number the following day." Koito pointed.

Tsukishima investigated the numbers himself, he squinted at the paper, "Oh… wow, you're right. That is what they're doing."

"Right! So, if we follow this pattern the next dorm numbers to be hit should be…" Morgan calculated in its head which number would be targetted on each side and then frowned, "Oh… my dorm and Sugimoto's dorm."

Tsukishima nodded, "That's good then, now we have an angle to try to attack it from. I'll need both of you to keep an eye out tonight."

Sugimoto saluted, but Morgan whined pathetically and wrapped itself around Tsukishima's arm, "You can't be seriouuuusss!! By myself??"

"Wh- Yes, why not?!" He tried to wiggle out of Morgan's grasp but its grip was just too tight.

"Tsukishimaaaaaaa, you gotta help meeeee!! Can't you come over tonight?! What if it really is a ghost, I'm scared!!" Morgan sobbed, nuzzling its face into his side.

"I- f-fine! Fine, I'll be there!" Tsukishima agreed, "Now… let go."

"Oop! Sorry!" Morgan released his arm and smiled at him, his face was beat red and he refused to make eye contact, looking off elsewhere in the cafeteria, "Thank you, Tsukishima, you're so sweet."

"Yeah, yeah." He waved Morgan off and grabbed the paper up from the table, "I've… gotta go now. I've got other things to take care of. I'll see you tonight, Morgan."

He gave a quick wave and made his way out, the moment he was gone, Usami was immediately pouncing on his opportunity to get involved too. He grabbed Sugimoto by the shoulders and shook him roughly.

"Well, if Morgan's got Tsukishima, you need a partner too, don't you?! Don't you, Sugimoto?!"

Sugimoto pushed back away from the table and grimaced, "Uh- I don't know about that-"

"Of course you do! I'll be there at 7!"

Morgan sighed and shook its head, "Well, I've got to get to my next class, I'll see you guys later."

"Oh, goodbye, Morgan!"

"Don't leave me here with him-"

Sugimoto's protests fell on deaf ears as Morgan stood up from the table and waved, Usami continued pushing in his direction and insisting on 'helping him' when the pranker came to his door. Morgan frowned as it stepped out of the cafeteria and head toward its class. It was NOT ready for tonight.

At around 7:30 that night, as Morgan was in the kitchen making itself a sandwich, it heard a knock at the door. It panicked and froze up- until it heard the voice on the other side.

"Hey, Morgan, you in there?"

Tsukishima. Morgan had forgotten he was coming tonight. It breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door for him. Immediately it threw its arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug, smashing his clipboard into his chest as it did.

"Thank you sooooo much, Tsukishima, I would be so scared staying here by myself tonight!"

Tsukishima awkwardly patted Morgan's back and maneuvered himself out of the hug, "It's… no problem."

"Well, make yourself at home!" Morgan stepped aside and gestured into the room.

Tsukishima nodded and slid past Morgan into the living room and took a seat on the couch, Morgan shut the door and joined him, standing behind the couch and peering over at what he was doing. He was intently focused on a page on his clipboard.

"What's that?" Morgan asked.

"Just reviewing the information about the prankster."

"Or possible ghost."

Tsukishima sighed, but smiled softly, "Or possible ghost."

Morgan grinned and leaned further down, practically laying on Tsukishima's shoulder at this point, "So, when I was at Usami's the knock happened around 8 and then it kept happening for about an hour."

"Yeah, I'm seeing a lot of reports of it happening at those times around the school too." Tsukishima confirmed.

Morgan leaned in further, its cheek brushed against Tsukishima's, its breasts pressed against his shoulder, "Uh… Morgan…"

"Hmm?" It looked over at him, immediately noticing how close it was now, "Oh! I'm sorry!" It shot up and walked around the couch, sitting comfortably beside him instead.

Tsukishima's face was bright red, he didn't make eye contact, just continued to look at his clipboard, "It's… okay." He coughed and decided to change the subject, hoping to aleviate some of the tension in the room, "So, Morgan, do you… really think it's a ghost?"

Morgan smiled awkwardly and rubbed the back of its neck, "Uh, well I dunno. I mean, I don't think I… fully believe in that stuff. But… sometimes my paranoia gets to me, ya know?"

"Oh, I… I'm sorry. That must be tough. I'm sorry if I… was rude about it." Well, looks like his attempt to clear some of the tension had backfired.

Morgan shook its head, "No, it's okay. I get it. It is… silly. I just… you know, my brain was having a hard time grasping how quickly they got away from Usami's door the other night."

"Well, that is odd," Tsukishima agreed, "I… don't know if it'll help to hear this, but we did find evidence this morning that someone had broken into the empty dorm across from him."

Morgan sighed, "It does help, a bit… and you agreeing to come here and sit with me even though you thought it was silly helps too, Tsukishima."

Morgan gently rested its hand over his and smiled at him sweetly. His face flushed and without even realizing it, he began leaning it toward Morgan. It matched his movements, their faces inching closer. Tsukishima pressed his lips chastly against Morgan's, it quickly threw its arms around his shoulders and deepened the kiss. Morgan laid back onto the couch, pulling Tsukishima along with it. His hands traveled up its side, pushing underneath its shirt.

He broke away from the kiss and looked down at Morgan, "Is this okay?"

Before it could answer, a loud banging sounded from across the room- the door. Morgan yelped and clung to Tsukishima in fear. He sat up, Morgan coming along with him- he gently rubbed Morgan's back and eased its arms off of him.

"It's okay, it's fine. I'll go check it out."

Tsukishima stood from the couch and slipped over to the door, he peered through the peephole but saw nothing. Morgan followed, huddling up against his side for protection.

"There's no one out there. They must have run already."

Morgan nodded, "They do it fast. But they'll be back, they did it a lot the other night."

Tsukishima and Morgan waited by the door in silence for the second round of knocking, and when it came, Tsukishima was quick to throw the door open, hoping to confront the pranker. But… once again there was no one. He stepped out into the hallway, looking both ways. The nearest dorm was much too far for them to have gotten inside already- but there was a maintenance closet on the other wall adjacent to Morgan's door. They'd have to be very quick, but it was possible they had slipped into the closet.

Tsukishima approached the closet, Morgan peaking its head out of its own door and watching him. He grabbed the door knob- it was unlocked, that was definitely suspicious. He yanked the door open and found- no one. He stood there in shock and confusion, how was it possible? Where had they gone?

"Well?" Morgan called.

He turned to it and shook its head, "There's… no one in there…"

Morgan slid out of their dorm, and over to Tsukishima's side. They both whipped around at the sound of footsteps speeding down the other side of the hallway- Sugimoto and Usami, with two other boys they didn't recognize in tow. One of the boys was bruised and bloody with a swollen eyes, the other was trembling in fear as Sugimoto dragged him along.

"We caught them!!" Usami was grinned madly as he skidded to a stop in front of Morgan and Tsukishima, presenting the pranksters.

Tsukishima stepped in front of Morgan, glaring at the boys, "Names. Now."

The two boys shakily told Tsukishima their names, he took them down on a notepad and nodded. "Who else is working with you?"

The boys looked confused, the one beside Sugimoto spoke up, "What do you mean who else? It's just us two."

Usami whipped around and grabbed his arm, twisting it behind his back, "Don't lie to us!!"

"Ah!! I- I swear I'm not lying! It's only us!" He cried.

"Let him go, Usami." Tsukishima ordered, "If there is someone else, we'll find out later. I've got to talk to administration about this anyway."

Tsukishima turned back to Morgan to find it trembling like an Italian greyhound and tears welling in its eyes, it grabbed his arm and hugged it tightly.

"It really was a ghost, Tsukishima!!"

Tsukishima patted Morgan's head gently and instructed Sugimoto and Usami on what to do with the two pranksters they'd caught. After the four of them were gone, he carefully guided Morgan back into its dorm and sat it down on its couch.

"Tsukishima…"

"Yeah, I… don't know what to tell you about that."

He thought about the knocking, the empty hallway, and the closet. The two boys had been caught at Sugimoto's dorm, which meant they were on the other side of the campus. It was still possible they were lying about there being another prankster, trying to protect their friend, but...

"Will you… stay here tonight?" Morgan asked, "I- I don't wanna be alone…"

Tsukishima nodded and made himself comfortable beside Morgan on the couch. It cuddled into his side and hid its face in his coat. Well, they might be haunted, but that wasn't so bad if it meant he could spend more time here with Morgan. And if anything else were to happen tonight, he'd be here to make sure Morgan felt safe and protected.

[gk-clips]

s3ep7

[cleveradjacent]

Leave Me Hanging | ao3 link

M | 1.3k words | Ogata Hyakunosuke/Vasily Pavlichenko | Dead Dove: Do Not Eat | No pun intended | Read the warnings and tags on AO3

Vigor drained from him, color left his vision, strategising thoughts scurried off like rats; in a snap, he went from man to thing, ossified and hollow. Ogata’s final trick was the most vicious of them all. He’d left him hanging.

[gumbaigumbai]

[wildknives]

“Ogata leaned into the care. His gut twisted the further he leaned. He wanted to grip Vasily, gain the upper-hand, take the air from him—

But Vasily leaned into him. And Ogata let him.” 

A post-canon recovery AU. A gift for a Vasio comrade, thank you for the idea inspiration