#it is absolutely impossible he'd have the damned spikes

[porceelain]

Based on danganronpa, can you write a oneshot featuring Ishimaru with public nudity and humiliation please? In the fic, he loses his speedo at the beach and can't access his clothes. So he has to go back to his apartment without being caught. As he dies, he realizes thst hes getting hard from being naked in public. What do you think?

content warnings: public nudity, humiliation, masturbation, 18+ content

character: kiyotaka ishimaru

OUT OF LINE

The ocean was louder than he'd expected. Thunderous waves rolled into the shore, foaming white against the sunlit sand. Kiyotaka Ishimaru stood waist-deep in the water, arms crossed tightly over his chest like he was guarding something sacred.

Well. He was.

“This is no time to slack off…” he muttered to himself. “Ten laps against the current. A proper workout even while on break!”

The rest of the class was scattered across the beach. He could hear Leon’s obnoxious laugh somewhere near the volleyball net, Mondo shouting about who had the better spike. Naegi’s voice — soft, concerned — came and went with the breeze.

He’d made a point to keep distance. The others relaxed too easily. Too irresponsibly. He needed discipline. Even at the beach.

But the ocean—god, the ocean was pure. Cold and biting and cleansing. When the idea came to him — quick and shameful — he tried to shove it away.

But it stuck.

What if… you weren’t wearing anything?

He checked the shore. No one watching. The waves were tall, the water dark enough to shield his lower half.

With a breath caught in his throat, he slipped the speedo down his thighs.

Gone.

Just like that, he was naked in the water.

It shouldn’t have felt good — it was a blatant violation of every rule he respected — but it did. Saltwater wrapped around him, slick and unfiltered. Nothing between him and the sea. His body, normally so rigid, trembled with something he didn’t have the vocabulary for.

It was only when he swam a little farther out — letting himself float just once — that he noticed the suit was gone.

Not tucked between his fingers. Not around his ankles. Just gone.

“Oh no. Oh no no no no no—!”

His voice caught in his throat. He couldn’t yell. Someone might hear. Someone might see.

⸻

The crawl back to shore was something between stealth and desperation. The beach seemed impossibly wide now, the sand hotter and louder beneath his feet. His bag, where he’d left his clothes, was not where he remembered.

Or maybe it was. But now it sat directly between Mondo and Leon’s beach towels.

Damn it.

He ducked behind a boulder, chest heaving, wet hands trembling against the stone. Every breath came with another surge of shame. He couldn’t let them see him like this.

Not… so exposed.

But something about the fear only heightened it. Each second stretched tight, tension crawling up his spine. His face was burning. Lower down, something else was beginning to stir.

No.

Absolutely not.

He shut his eyes, willing it to go away. But that heat just stayed — warm, stubborn, insistent. He felt alive. Terrified. Out of control. And underneath it all, the throb of something deep, dangerous.

⸻

It took nearly an hour of sand-dodging, bush-crawling, and wall-hugging to reach the nearby boardwalk without being seen. Taka pressed himself into every shadow, ducked every glance, praying for clouds that never came.

When he finally made it off the beach, wet and trembling, the city loomed before him like a dream.

He couldn’t go through the main street.

Not like this.

He ducked into an alleyway between two restaurants, breathing hard behind a row of trash bins. His skin was cold now, but somehow he was still flushed.

And worse… he looked down.

He was somehow hard. How had he managed that?

“No no no—this is indecent!” he hissed, his voice cracking. “What kind of shameless…!”

But he couldn’t look away. The exposure, the shame, the thrill of it — it was too much.

Was this what it felt like? To be truly free?

He hissed through his teeth and wrapped a hand around himself — tentative, reluctant, but too far gone to stop now.

The touch made his knees buckle. He pressed his back harder into the wall and bit the inside of his cheek, dragging his palm slowly, carefully over the shaft. His breath hitched — not from shame anymore, but from need.

“This is wrong… I shouldn’t…” he whispered.

But his hand didn’t stop.

The thrill of the air brushing his skin, the danger of the street just meters away — it had his heart hammering, his blood hot. He imagined what would happen if someone turned the corner right now. If a waiter stepped out to dump trash and happened to see him — flushed and panting, stroking himself in a filthy alley like some kind of degenerate.

He let out a quiet whimper at the thought.

His strokes quickened. Not slick, not practiced — desperate and clumsy, like he was trying to chase the shame away by making it worse.

His other hand came up to cover his mouth. The heat in his gut tightened, and his thighs tensed, his face contorting as he tried — tried — to stay silent.

“Just… need to calm down,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “Just need to… to stop being… like this.”

But he didn’t stop.

He came quietly, shuddering as his vision blurred for half a second. His body trembled — more from disbelief than pleasure — and he slumped against the wall, gasping like he’d just run a mile.

The post-orgasm haze hit harder than expected.

The guilt came faster.

He stared at the ground for a long moment, then at his hand — sticky, shaking, betraying him.

“…What is wrong with me?” he whispered.

His legs threatened to give out.

He was disgusting.

He was exhilarated.

He was still alone.

⸻

Eventually, after cleaning up with a crumpled fast food napkin and trying (unsuccessfully) not to cry, he remembered the problem that had started all this.

He was still naked.

And still had to get back.

He turned to the trash bins — hesitating only for a moment before plunging his hands into the nearest one. Bottles clinked. Something squelched. His stomach turned, but he kept going.

“A shirt,” he whispered. “Anything—shorts, even a towel—anything would suffice—”

He paused, then pulled something out.

“…A mask?”

A standard blue disposable face mask. Crumpled. Lightly used. Probably safe enough.

He stared at it.

Then, slowly, like a man accepting his own damnation, he tied it around the top half of his face.

It did nothing to help his nudity.

But somehow, psychologically, it helped.

If they couldn’t see his face, it wouldn’t count. That’s what his brain told him. The anonymity made him feel less like Kiyotaka Ishimaru, Class President, and more like some faceless sinner lost in the underbelly of society.

He didn’t know if that was better or worse.

But it let him move.

⸻

He made it back eventually, wrapped in a beach towel stolen from a forgotten chair. No one asked questions. No one saw.

But later that night, lying in bed with the lights off and the crumpled mask hidden in the bottom of his backpack, Taka stared at the ceiling and realized something truly horrifying:

He wanted to do it again.

authors note: sorry if this isn’t exactly like what u were expecting but i did just copy down what u wrote in the request! (•᷄- •᷅ ;)

[sofiadragon]

If he didn’t, he said he did. I've always thought that part of Snape's radicalization would be his mother's death. We know at minimum he owns their house as an adult, and they weren't the kind of wealthy where he could inherit anything before they both died. I've imagined that Eileen, with the suggested depression she had, died in Severus's last two years of school and then his father drank himself to death - either alcohol poisoning or walking into traffic while drunk. Did Severus spike a bottle with something extra to hasten his end? Unclear, but he absolutely told the Death Eaters he did, and Voldemort would see parallels between himself and Snape. Poor, useless muggle father, weak mother that died of her own poor choices, magically powerful half-blood, and naturally skilled at dark magic.

This is how he becomes so trusted, but also I think this would be the start of him learning to lie with the truth. It fits far more than just their absence from Spinner's end. He couldn't be a spy if he didn't have the skills necessary to start when he goes to beg Dumbledore to protect Lily. He would become better at it after, put more work in and do it more often, but he had to survive the first week or two didn't he? So taking credit for his father's death when he may have only meant to keep the man so drugged he wouldn't bother Severus fits as a first step down that road.

More waffle about circumstances:

How Eileen dies, be it her husband's violence or lack of self care progressing into illness with no money to pay for the needed care, is anyone's guess. I really do think she dies while Severus is at school, and then his father tells him he isn't welcome back in the house now she's gone, which puts Severus in a position of great need of protection.

Narcissa Malfoy nee Black and Lucius Malfoy were probably prefects when Severus was a first year in dire need of help to not embarrass Slytherin house with him wearing his mom's old clothes and all. I think k this is the origin of his connection to them, a bit of kindness that he never forgets. Perhaps he reaches out to them, through his peers who are radicalizing him in the dorm or directly, and they give him a leg up with a very specific string attached.

Now marked, now fully and honestly a Death Eater in every way, he won't let his muggle father bully him. He returns to Spinner's End and makes his father let him back into the house. Potion, spell, perhaps even Imperio. His old man is on the dole again, and keeping him alive keeps that money coming in. Being a Death Eater doesn't pay, but it does give him contacts who wouldn't dare deny him work with heir Luvius Malfoy as a referance on his CV and the endorsement on his arm.

Tobias dies. Maybe he was too dazed to notice the lorry he stepped in front of. Maybe Severus, tired of all the money being drunk, forced Tobias to get sober all at once and the withdrawal killed him. He was magicked up to the eyeballs, but Severus knows it is an even chance it wasn't directly his fault. In Tobias' state of health, it is simply impossible to tell.

He takes credit for it because he is congratulated for getting rid of the old man, just not contradicting anyone's assumptions and thinking a lot about the spells/potions he put Tobias under. Voldemort, still handsome if a bit unworldly and strange with his red eyes, takes great interest. Bellatrix becomes jealous of all the attention their lord lavishes on this unworthy mudblood. Severus thrives, preening under the attention and offering up his most deadly inventions. He's gifted better tasks, rewarded with spoils taken from the homes they raid and paid work, and forces the last of his Black Country accent out of his normal speaking voice. He's living well, and damn the cost.

Then the Dark Lord targeted Lily, and the sweet cream he'd been sipping curdled.

This is very much my personal theory based only loosely on sparce canon details and inferences I've made.

Do you think Snape killed his father? I always sort of headcanoned that he did because we know his father treated him (and his mother) badly. Plus his father was a Muggle and Snape was legitimately a real Death Eater for a while. And Voldemort is pretty open with his Death Eaters about having killed his Muggle father so it could be something Snape might even view as a shared bond.

And killing undesirable family members to "purify" their family tree seems to be a bit of a thing among the Death Eaters. I think if he did he regretted it later. Idk. Just something I always imagined.

[witness-protection-official]

Warning! Lots more cussing this time, mention of doing drugs, and god tier acting from both parties

Also very long this time I spent a sold three hours writing this

Witness Protection - An Eyeless Jack x Female Reader Fanfiction

Chapter 3

You felt as though you were going insane. The man hadn't said a single word to you since the weird field area. Only lord knew if the ancient vehicle you sat in had a working radio. Asking was out of the question, you still had tape over your mouth. Couldn't check, you had tape gloves that went all the way up your arms, rendering them useless. With half lidded eyes, you stare at your disheveled figure in the side mirror. Dear god, you looked like shit. The blood on the side of your face had caked into a gross brown and was beginning to flake off, leaving you looking like you were a burn victim. You wince internally. You had mangled hair, with strands sticking every which way. Bags under the eyes displayed your lack of sleep and slowly depleting sanity. With a nearly inaudible groan, you tap your head against the glass. 'Can't he just kill me and get this over with? I don't know how much sitting in dead silence I'm going to be able to handle.' You slouch heavily, slowly sinking to the floor of the truck.

"You'll hurt your back sitting like that," his monotone voice stated off handedly. You huff and remain there. He sighs and grabs the back of your shirt, tugging you up to sit properly. You groan. Apparently sitting weirdly isn't even an option. He remains facing foward, not even glancing in your direction. Unable to spit insults at him, you level a heated glare at instead. He either doesn't notice or doesn't care. Maybe a good mix of both. It wasn't easy to tell how long you sat there, giving a dirty look to a man that probably couldn't even see you past the hood he had been wearing this entire time, but you assumed it had been about ten minutes or so. The truck suddenly stopped. You break out of your hate filled trance and look around. Why did he park in an actual parking lot? Was he going to let you go? The thought filled your heart with hope. He popped open the center console and pulled out a large bottle of what sounded like pills. Christ, was he about do just pop a few pills to deal with your bullshit? He pulled his mask off, placing it in the back seat. The cap popped off and he dumped a few out, throwing them into his mouth and closing the bottle. He pulled the hood down, giving you a clear view of the side of his head. You voice your distress at his appearance in muffled screams. He sighs heavily, leaning his head back against his seat, not seeming bothered. The screaming grew louder as his features shifted.

He opened his eyes and glanced at you, letting you get a clear view of his eyes. The screaming ceased in shock. How had you not seen them under his mask? With how bright the blue of his iris was, one would think they would glow in the dark. He pulled the visor down to examine his face in the small mirror embedded inside. He licked his teeth, turned his face from side to side. It finally clicked why he sounded familiar. He was the weird guy that had been staring at you when you changed out shifts with a coworker. You sigh internally. No point in thinking about it now, you guessed. He had murdered someone and kidnapped you, you had bigger things to worry about. His buckle clicked and you snapped out of your thoughts.

"I'll be back," he said simply, clicking something on the side of the door and closing it. Did- did that fucker just turn the child lock on?! Where the fuck were you gonna go in blood soaked clothes and taped up arms?! You send a hateful glare at his retreating form. He went into a store. A very large store. The fuck was he doing?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

He bit the inside of his cheek as he entered the store. Did she really have to scream like that? Probably, not everyday you see a man with grey skin. And it's also not everyday you see him suddenly become a shape shifter after popping some pills. Either way, it really wasn't a boost of confidence for his already weak self esteem. Whatever. He had a reputation to uphold, and that meant keeping his cool, constantly. He'd already almost lost it on her while she was being annoying the night before. No point in risking it now. Jack sighed and rubbed his eyes. He began his journey towards the clothes section of the store before he paused. He forgot to ask what her sizes were. He facepalmed. And she had been wearing heels too. He grumbled, figuring it'd be easier to deal with that later. Right now he had to focus on getting her clothes that weren't stained with blood. He debated on heading to the woman's section, guess her size. No, bad idea. Someone is bound to try to talk to him. He was a tall man, he had no reason to be in the woman's section, and people were bound to wonder. Both his pride and crippling social anxiety told him to not risk it. Avoid talking with people was a priority. With a deep breath, he swiveled on his heel, headed towards the mens. He'd just grab some smaller sized jeans or something. There was a time where baggy jeans were popular right? He furrowed his brows as he thought, as he did a lot. His mind continued to wander until he reached the clothes. He eyed the jeans and opted to grab a pair of skinny jeans, in a random size that looked like they would fit her. He wasn't exactly staring at her legs, so he hoped that brief mental image he had in his mind was enough. He turned to the shirts. Any of them would work, they just couldn't be too big. He really wasn't in the mood to listen to her bitch and whine about him being a 'pervert' because it dipped too low and showed her bra.

He grabbed a basic black tee, looking to be maybe a size smaller than he got his own shirts. That'll do. He got a second pair of pants and a second shirt, just for good measure. He bit his tongue. He knew a little bit about the hygenic needs of a woman, but he hadn't smelled any blood or hormonal spike on her, so he figured she'd be fine for now. As he made his way to a different part of the store, he passed a shelf of hoodies. He backed up. Should he get her a hoodie? That would be awfully nice of him. She had done nothing to deserve any form of kindness from Jack. Letting her live was the extent of his mercy for her. 'But if she isn't cold that's less things she'll have to bitch about…' he mulled it over in his head before deciding. He'd get another hoodie for himself and let her wear it passively. 'What a fucking genius you are, Jack, absolute genius' he congratulated himself, grabbing a dark colored hoodie that was in his size. He nodded, satisfied and went to get a few more items.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You had been pretty confident he up and died in that store, he took so long. But alas, he had to return. You watched his form make it's way to your side of the truck and reflexively shifted away. He swung it open, placing the bags he held ontot he ground while he stood onto the step to reach your seatbelt clip. He tore off the tape, unclipping the restraint. The tape on your mouth went next.

"Spit an insult at me and I'll cut off your tongue," he quipped. You closed your mouth. "Good girl," he himself seemed to cringe at what he just said, judging by the sigh he released. You scrutinized his face as he worked on the tape on your arms with intense concentration. He had tiny freckles all over his face. They were so small it was impossible to see them from a distance, but they were everywhere. His nose, his cheeks, even the top of his neck and between his eyes. You would've found him attractive if you didnt know it wasn't what he actually looked like. Tanned skin and soft looking auburn hair helped him sell the whole 'fucking gorgeous' thing.

"What's with the whole 'pretty boy' get up?" you murmur. He pauses and looks up at you, confused. "why did you choose this look to be normal?" He searched her face for any underlying intentions. When he found none, he shrugged.

"Didn't get a choice," He finally managed to get the tape off of your hands and arms.

"You got damn lucky with it then, you coulda been ugly," you shrugged. He took a deep breath and didn't respond, instead reaching into the bag and pulling out a package of what appeared to be baby wipes. "I'm not a baby,"

"I noticed," he opened the package and pulled out a wipe. He gripped your jaw and turned your head to the side.

"I can do this myself,"

"Don't trust you," as usual, his response was simple. He wiped the dried blood off of your face rather harshly.

"Hey, hey! Be gentler! I'm not dead yet!" He growled lowly and held your face tighter in his hand, wiping the rest of the blood off of any currently visible skin. He took another wipe and used it to wipe off any tape or dirt residue off of you. "What gives with the mini bath?"

"You'll see," He pushed your head down, bending you so that your chest was pressed tightly against your thighs. He threw what you assumed to be the wipes into the back before letting you sit up again. He picked up the bag from off of the pavement and handed it to you. "Change," he closed the truck door. He must've gotten you clothes so you wouldnt be covered in blood constantly. You pull out a pair of jeans and a shirt, followed by an extremely oversized hoodie. You quirk a brow but peek out the window. The man was scrolling on his phone, back pressed against the car door. You deemed it safe to change and stripped down, pulling the new, clean clothes on. You rummaged through the bag some more and came across a hair brush, dry shampoo, and deodorant. Questionable items, but you put them to use. You felt like a human again. A soft knock on the window startled you. There he was. You blink dumbly at him. He points down. You look down. You had locked the door. With a sigh, you unlocked the door and he opened it.

"You didn't stare at me while I was changing, did you?" you narrow your eyes in suspicion.

"I've got no reason to," he took the hoodie out of the bag and threw it at you. "Wear it if you want," he threw the bag in the backseat. You huff and pull the sweater over your head. He closed the door and moved to the drivers side. He strapped in and started the truck.

"Why'd you make me freshen up and stuff?"

"You need food. I don't know what you want," He made the short drive to a gas station that was only about five minutes up the road. He unstrapped and went to your side, opening the door. "Out," You unstrapped and slipped out of the truck, a little wobbly from not standing for so long. The heels didn't help.

"You're coming in with me?"

"I'm the one with money,"

"There's another reason, isn't there,"

"That one is obvious. Now listen. You go in there, grab anything you need, and if anyone asks, I'm your boyfriend," he briefed.

"Why do I have to say you're my boyfriend?"

"You won't have to if you don't act suspicious, now lets go, I've spoken to much,"

"You got a word limit or something?"

"Mentally," he ushered you inside.

"You gonna act all boyfriendy?"

"Boyfriendy?"

"Are you gonna act like my boyfriend?"

"Yes, and you'll have to deal,"

"Ew, but why,"

"There won't be any kissing," he rolled his eyes.

"What if you need to?"

"I won't" he guided you to the hot foods area. "Now get your food," He stayed close as you grabbed two slices of pizza and a hot dog, putting them in mini bags. "Its a long drive, go get yourself some snacks," you nod and sort of hand him your hot food, which he holds with no complaint. His eyes hold a glimmer of warning, telling you not to do anything stupid.

You're examining the chips on the different shelves when some girl about your age comes up to you.

"Did you hear?" She leans in close.

"Hear what?" you tilt your head.

"About the murder at that hotel. Apparently the murderer took a hostage with them, one of the staff," you pretend to be shocked and that the hostage was 100% not you.

"Really?" top tier lying this was. You just hoped it was believable. She nodded.

"By the way that guy has kind of been staring you down this entire time," she whispered. "Hey, creep! Why don't you go bother some other chick-!"

"Wait! It's ok," you subtly gulp and turn to your kidnapper, acting as natural as possible. "Babe, are you gonna keep standing there like a stalker?" He shook his head.

"S-sorry," he chuckled awkwardly, moving to stand next to you. He somehow managed to look bashful, blush and all. His posture was slouched to look more weak and not as standoffish. He probably took an acting class at some point.

"Oh, you're dating," she seemed relieved. You nod. "Can I have proof?"

"Why- why do you need proof that we're dating?"

"With the whole hostage thing I just wanna make sure he isn't the murderer, or you aren't, you never know,"

"It does make a bit of sense," your abductor agreed, somehow flying through this whole interaction look weak and pathetic, and making it look like he was completely off the list of possible suspects. She raised her eyebrows, waiting. He looks down at you and you look up at him, seeming to have the same idea. He lean down and you meet him halfway in a short kiss. The taste of iron and blood you expected never showed up. When you two pulled away from each other, the woman visibly relaxed.

"Alright, sorry for being weird. Have a nice day!" she waved. You waved along with the man. He grabs your hand.

"She made a scene, we gotta keep up the appearance," he whispered as he leaned down, followed by a kiss on the cheek to cover it up. You notice some people were definitely staring.

"Got it," you whisper back. Pulling your hand away from his you grab a bag of chips. "Do we wanna get chips or something else for the trip?"

"You'll be eating them more than me,"

"Yeah but I don't want you to think I'm greedy for eating them all,"

"I won't think you're greedy,"

"Yes you will," you put the chips back.

"You can get the chips, babe," You whine.

"But-!"

"You're fine," he took the chips off of the shelf and placed them in your hands. He mouthed something to you. 'Jack'. You assumed that was his name.

"You sure, Jackie? You're 100% sure?"

"Yes," You shrug and grab the collar of his hoodie and yank him down, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you," you coo. He hums and pecks your lips. The line is fairly short as you two go to pay. Jack pays and before you leave the guy manning the register bids you farewell.

"Be safe, you two lovebirds,"

"We will, have a nice day!" The moment you're both in the car you place the bag down and go to fetch the wet wipes to wipe your mouth off. They wer to far back and you sighed. "You're a really good actor," you comment. "Your affection felt real," he hums.

"Likewise," he seemed greatly uncomfortable, and it made you wonder what he meant by metal word limit. Either that or he just really did not like pretending to be dating his hostage. You shrug. Best to ask once you've eaten. You unwrap your hotdog and take a bite.

[kazxraval]

"Mhm," a hum to agree. Someone once told Kaz: when nature goes silent, it means a predator is around. Orion moved with an equal vigilance, as though he also recognized the dread of meaning in absolute quiet. Made eerie by the fact they could see long empty stretches of open fields around them. Granted, the world had been turned inside out for the last few years. So he stayed watchful.

Kaz usually worked cut and dried on runs. But a little extra time had been padded for a quick test and even faster decision to return with this (hilarious) bounty for the grooms. Orion took on the suggestion of a test for the fireworks, which also served as an excuse to fire some off. "Yeah," Kaz drawled, "Exactly. We got a second to make sure it's all in order, don't we."

Kaz walked outside with the other raider. Big fireproof rainbow dick under one arm and a fistful of fireworks. We should have done this at night. "Do you want to be out here at night? Pretty sure I don't." A quick gesture to the sky as it turned pale pink and a watered down orange over a blue that began to deepen. "It's dark enough. Maybe we'll have a few leftover to play with back on the island. Shoot 'em from the Tower, yeah?"

He looked on as Orion fired up one of the dicks. The lid of his lighter opened with a slick, impatient press of his thumb. Shring. Not his Zippo, but a fancier one taken on a different, recent raid. Orion's fireworks teased them with the anticipatory slow burn of the fuse (would it light, was it dead?). Then, the satisfactory take off and subsequent, colorful bang!

He grinned, small and pleased. Eager to fire his own rockets. Kaz noted Orion cracked a smile too. "Yeah, gotta make sure yours wasn't a fluke huh," feigned seriousness, because of fucking course Kaz would fire another.

As he set up the cock-fireworks, Kaz heard it. A step too close to a hidden animal that growled at them. Kaz had crouched down to light the fuse of the rocket, but with the vibrations under his feet he rose cautiously. "No. Not good at all," he said low with a mouth that barely moved.

The focus turned on the lake in front of them. The water had become sticky, tar-like, and opaque. The only way to get a visual hold on its borders was when it trembled, like brittle leaves that refused to be swept from a branch in a winter wind.

"Fuck no," he replied in a hushed tone. Never saw anything like it. But it was mesmerizing-- he couldn't look away. 'A star dies. A magnificient, beautiful, violent death. It becomes the ghost of a star, Kaz.' Reminded him of all those times he asked Nana about forces in the universe. What would happen if he fell into a black hole-- that was an example of his young mind asking impossible questions.

His grandfather answered in that matter-of-fact desi way. 'You would be pulled apart and die. No more Kazzy boy. Goodbye, I will miss you. But now, you will leave me alone, hey?' A protrusion rose up. Water similar to wet clay. Unseen hands molded it into a ball shape. "Slowly," and he counted on Orion to pick up the hint. To step away without any sudden movement. The closest shelter was the barn with the boxes they'd travel back with, when the teleporters reached out shortly to take them away.

A face formed in the water-ball. Three dimensional features with a mouth, a nose. Eyes blinked open-- "Shit. That's you," and how Kaz managed to whisper the horror of what he saw, hell. He had no idea. The 'face' of Orion whipped up and out towards them on a thin 'neck', a stretch of black water.

Oh, fuck no. Slowness be damned and Orion wasn't an idiot, he'd take off too. As Kaz ran towards the barn, the thing from the lake chased them with mouth open, black ice-spikes for teeth. The jaws snapped at his heels. Kaz had grabbed the fireworks and still clutched the lighter. He slide to a halt at the barn door, lit the fuse, and aimed the fireworks at the encroaching creature. "Almost there!" he shouted at Orion.

"I have. Though not anywhere near this isolated." Orion let his gaze wander around the perimeter, taking in the lake and fields surrounding them. It was reminiscient of the farm, in a way. The raider was quickly reminded why he usually sought out urban areas. Both because there was simply more to loot there, and the sense of discomfort settling inside his chest as he followed Kaz across the grasslands.

Something wasn't quite right here. It was quiet. Way too quiet. Not even the buzzing of insects, the incessant calls of birds, anything. Then again, that wasn't unusual, and not the first place Orion had been in that was devoid of any sign of life. Maybe all the animals had simply died, or been driven out. He chalked the uncomfortable feeling in his gut up to the fact that he wasn't quite as used to this level of silence, and followed Kaz into the barn. From the outside, the building looked abandoned, red paint flaking off from the walls, but the insides were indeed lined with neat, new looking boxes. Which were, indeed, filled with genital-shaped fireworks.

He was about to suggest to Kaz that they grab as much as they could and leave, before Kaz turned around to him, a grin on his face that reminded Orion a little bit of Emre - the grin that was about to suggest something fun. Orion paused, contemplated. He normally would have suggested getting out quickly. But... "Alright. We have to see if they work after all. Would be a waste to bring them back only to realize that they don't work."

Orion grabbed some of the fireworks and headed outside, expecting Kaz to grab a few of his own and follow. "We should have done this at night." The raider commented as he set up the firework on the dirt path in front of the barn, away from any dry grass so he didn't accidentally cause a wildfire. Reaching for the lighter he always carried with him, he lighted the fuse, which immediately sprang to life with hissing sparks. Stepping back, Orion watched as it burned down. For a moment, nothing happened. And then - a bang. Colorful sparks shooting high up into the sky, leaving trails rainbow-colored smoke behind them. Even without the advantage of the night sky, it looked quite pretty. Orion found himself smiling, just a little, tugging at the corners of his mouth. This was fun. A little bit more than he had expected.

"They seem to work. You should also light one, to be safe." Orion turned around to face his fellow raider when he heard something. A grumble. Low and guttural, as if right below their feet. An earthquake? Orion's eyes wandered around, quickly stopping at the lake. "That isn't good." The water was moving. Not in the way water was supposed to move. More like it was shaking, bulging up, as if something was trapped inside and trying to get out. And it was black. Pure black. To the point that it looked like someone had cut out a piece of the land, leaving nothing behind. As if all the sunlight was being swallowed up.

"Any idea what that is?"