#fishhooks good ending

[cameronsprincess]

ᰔᩚ Day Three of Slutmas// Naughty or Nice— R.C

Rafe has to punish you after you act bratty at a Christmas party.

CW: smut! 18+ only! mean!rafe, brat taming, spanking, anal, mirror sex, rafe fishhooks his fingers in your mouth, ends with sweet!rafe.

slutmas masterlist

🎄❤️

“Rafe, ‘m sorry!” You cry out, fighting against the grip he has on your upper arm.

Rafe stops in his tracks, slowly turning to face you. You stop fighting, standing still, swallowing harshly as you meet his darkened over eyes.

“You’re… You’re sorry?! You just— Fuck! Babe, you just fucking embarrassed me! In front of all our friends! Why the fuck did you think it was okay to fucking act out like that? I mean… Jesus, I thought we were past that little bratty act you played when we first met, but I guess you still need to be taught a fucking lesson.”

You open your mouth to speak but Rafe throws his free hand up in the air, letting you know he didn’t want to hear anymore excuses from you. You knew you fucked up, you knew popping off at him and testing at his patience by disobeying him was a mistake, but you were sick of him treating you like a child he could control.

Rafe gets you out to his truck, opening the passenger door and tossing you inside before slamming it shut. The doors lock automatically, and you’re too afraid to attempt escaping. Rafe didn’t scare you, but you knew when he was angry like this, it was best not to push him any further.

The drive back to Tannyhill is uncomfortably silent, and the second you’re in the driveway, your hands grow clammy, shaking as you lace and unlace them together. Rafe throws the truck in park, shutting off the engine and letting out a deep breath. He places both hands on the steering wheel, gripping it so tightly his knuckles turn white as his head hangs between his arms.

“Out.” He demands, not once looking up.

You quickly obey, opening your door and hopping out of the truck. You silently stand outside the car, watching as he gathers himself before he too exits the truck. He rounds the vehicle, reaching you in seconds and gripping your upper arm again, making you cry out from the way his fingers dig into the underside of your arm.

“Rafe! Please… I promise I’ll be-”

Rafe stops at the front door, his keys fisted into his other hand. He grits his teeth, his jaw clenched as he rolls his neck. “Just… Stop fucking talking, alright? You’ve said and done enough.”

Quickly unlocking the door, he tosses you past the threshold, slamming it shut behind him. He turns to face you, his pretty eyes darkened over, his anger evident in the way his nostrils flare and his jaw ticks. He lets out a slow, calm breath. “Upstairs. Now.” He demands, and the tone of his voice leaves no room for arguing.

You slowly let your head fall, playing with your fingers as you silently make your way up the stairs. Rafe’s heavy breathing can be heard behind you, followed by the loud thump of his feet hitting the stairs with each step he takes. You reach your bedroom door, your sweaty palm reaching out and grasping the handle.

Swallowing the knot in your throat you push the door open, making your way into the dark bedroom and slowly stripping yourself of your dress— the least you could do is make this easier, the less Rafe has to ask of you, the better.

Rafe strolls in behind you, leaving the door wide open as he makes his way toward you. He wraps his arms around your waist, his ringed fingers splaying against your stomach, sending a chill through your body. He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent as he runs his nose up the length of your neck. “Such a good girl, already stripped f’me…” He runs his hands up your sides, reaching your chest and cupping at your breasts harshly, pulling a sharp breath from you. “Unfortunately for you, that’s not enough. You embarrassed me, baby… You showed your ass and acted like a fuckin’ brat tonight… So… You know what I have to do.”

You softly nod your head. “I know… ‘M sorry Ra- ahh!”

Your words die, a scream escaping you when he grips your upper arm, his grip bruising as he digs his fingers into your skin. He drags you across the room, forcing you to stop in front of the dresser that sits against the back wall of the room, a large mirror sat on top of it. He pushes you forward, forcing your body to bend over the cold wood. Your fingers grip at the sides, knuckles turning white from how hard you were holding on.

The sound of fabric ripping has you gasping, Rafe pulling your underwear clean off your body and tossing the shredded fabric onto the floor. Goosebumps line your arms and legs as the cool air in the room hits your soaked core and you press your thighs together. Rafe harshly slaps the backs of your thighs, making your head fall forward, a cry of pain and pleasure falling from your parted lips.

“Open your legs, baby, you know how this works.”

You slowly spread your legs, lowering your face down onto the dresser, the cool surface sending chills through your body. Rafe pushes off the dresser, putting some space between the two of you. You hear him open the closet door, the unmistakable sound of his belt being pulled from a hanger fills your ears. You lift your head, meeting Rafe’s eyes in the reflection. He smirks at you as he wraps the leather belt around his hands, slowly making his way toward you.

He steps behind you, slowly unwrapping the belt from his hand and bringing it down, dragging it across your ass. You suck in a sharp breath, body tensing as he continues to drag the leather belt across your skin. Goosebumps prickle across your arms, opening your mouth to speak but only a shrill scream escapes as Rafe lifts the belt, bringing it down to connect with your skin, a loud crack echoing through the room.

“That’s one. Gonna need you to count each one, baby. If you miss one, we start over.”

Tears fill your eyes and you swallow over the knot clogging your throat, mumbling a weak “Yes sir.”

“Good girl.” Rafe rasps, doubling the belt over and snapping it twice before he runs it over the red, sensitive spot on your ass.

Slap! The leather meets your skin again, on the left side this time, and you allow the tears to spill over. “T-Two..” you choke out.

Rafe continues his actions, slapping the leather belt against your ass before soothingly rubbing at the skin. By the time he’s done, your ass is red, raw and sore. Mascara stains your cheeks and your eyes burn, nostrils clogged from how hard you’d been crying.

Tossing the belt to the ground below, Rafe drops to his knees, his hands softly rubbing at your ass, making you hiss in a breath at the sting of his hands on your sore skin. His tongue darts out, licking at the deep red, welted marks left by his belt, his lips leaving soft kisses on the skin before he mumbles, “Look so perfect with your ass marked by my belt…” He places another soft kiss to your sore skin before he rises to his full height, towering behind you.

He wraps a hand in your hair, pulling your tear and mascara stained face off the dresser and forcing your bloodshot eyes on him through the mirror. “Do you think that was enough punishment, baby?”

You swallow thickly, knowing that he doesn’t believe it was. Rafe really believes in getting his point across, and ten slaps to your ass with his belt isn’t enough, so you slowly shake your head ‘no’.

He smiles widely, his eyes shining as he brings his bottom lip between his teeth. “Right answer, such a good girl, aren’t you baby?”

“Y-Yes… Your good girl, Rafe.” You stutter out, giving him your own weak smile.

Rafe releases your hair, letting your head fall forward. You loosen your hold on the dresser, allowing your muscles to relax for a moment as you listen to him remove his clothes behind you. You force your head up, meeting Rafe’s intense gaze through the reflection of the mirror once more, your eyes flitting down and staring at his long, thick cock.

Rafe smirks at you, spitting into the palm of his right hand before he tightly grips his cock, stroking himself as he slowly walks toward you again. The weight of his body presses into your backside, and you inhale sharply through your nose. Rafe continues to stroke his dick, coating his length with his spit before his left hand makes purchase on your hip.

“Relax, or this’ll hurt more than it needs to, baby.” Rafe rasps, pressing the swollen tip of his dick into your tight hole.

A whimper escapes you when his thick head disappears inside you, a low groan leaving Rafe as he places his right hand on your other hip, keeping you still as he slams his hips forward, burying himself inside you.

“Fuck! Rafe, s-so good! You’re so b-big… It hurts…” You whimper, tears spilling down your cheeks as Rafe keeps his hips flush against your ass. He lets out a low grunt, slowly pulling himself out and slamming forward again. Your hips slam against the dresser with each brutal thrust of Rafe’s hips, choked out sobs escaping you as he pounds himself into your ass.

“Takin’ my cock so good baby, my little slut loves when I fuck her ass doesn’t she? I think that’s why you misbehave…” He trails off, running his hands up your sides until he reaches your face. He hooks his index and middle fingers of both hands into the sides of your mouth, pulling tightly, forcing your mouth wide open and forcing your head up, putting your eyes on his through the mirror. “You misbehave because you love being punished… Don’t you, baby? You love when I shove my cock in this tight little ass, you love your ass being spanked raw.”

You try and choke out a response, but the way Rafe’s fingers were hooking into your mouth only had drool running down the sides of your lips. Rafe chuckled darkly, “Awww poor thing, can’t even fucking talk when I got you fish hooked like this. Turned you into a babbling, drooling mess.”

Rafe smirks, a low groan escaping him when he feels your tight ass squeezing at his dick. He pulls his right hand from your mouth, spitting down into his palm and landing a harsh slap against your sensitive skin before he begins pistoning his hips at a brutal pace, the lewd sounds of skin slapping skin bouncing off your bedroom walls.

“That’s it… That’s my girl, I feel your ass squeezing my cock… You gonna cum f’me? You gonna cum just from having your ass fucked, baby?”

More hot tears spill down your cheeks, your mind hazy as you slowly nod your head the best you can. You feel your pussy clenching around nothing while your ass tightens around Rafe’s cock. His thrusts become choppy, hips stuttering as his dick swells inside your ass. You cry out his name as a warm feeling takes over your body. You cum harder than you think you ever have before, and Rafe’s right behind you, dropping his left hand from your mouth and burying his face into the crook of your neck. His teeth sink into your shoulder as he cums inside your ass in long, slow spurts.

Once he comes down from his high, he’s kissing softly at your shoulder, kissing over the teeth marks he’d left in your smooth skin. He slowly pulls his cock from your ass, gently peeling your fingers off the sides of the dresser and lifting you into his arms. He carries you into the bathroom, placing a loving kiss on the top of your head as he whispers, “You know I love you, right? Please don’t make me have to do that again anytime soon… I hate hurting you.”

🎄❤️

tagging some moots: @nemesyaaa @rafeyscurtainbangs @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @starkeysprincess @oceandriveab @rafesbabygirlx @littlelamy @httpsdrewstarkey @drewsephrry @cameronwillow @bloodibambiidoll

[queenof-curses]

Owned

Miya Twins x Fem!Reader

Summary: The Miya twins have been watching and waiting. What happens when they finally catch you alone in the gym after practice?

Tags: Minors DNI! Explicit in all ways. D-P. Dub con. Yandere themes. Obsessive personalities. Ownership. Str8 up smut. No plot really. Mind break. Overstimulation. Please read tags! Fic located under the cut.

w.c.-2.1K

Masterlist 

“So fucking pretty for us- isn’t she samu?”

“God- sh- she’s so tight…” the gray haired twin moaned. 

You couldn’t give anything more than a soft whimper as you got lost in your own pleasures. 

“That’s right baby- your ass is so fucking tight.” The blonde said. 

You were smashed between the two brothers, with Osamu under you. He was currently buried to the hilt in your cunt, relishing the feeling of your warm walls gushing around him as you squeezed his cock tight. He softly thrusted upwards, languidly fucking into you from below as the more feral of the two brothers took control from behind. 

Atsumu had you bent over his brother, holding your hands against your lower back with just one of his own. The other was holding your jaw- two fingers hooked into your mouth as he gagged you on his digits like a fishhook. He was always the rougher of the two, and he couldn't help himself as he used your body as his own personal toy. 

Not able to get more than your own moans out, you were stuck in the position as the brothers ravished you. Atsumu buried himself into your ass, you could feel the way the thin layer between your ass and cunt stretched as the twins filled you with their cocks. 

You felt so lost…yet so- full. 

- -

It was just a moment ago you finished up your own volleyball practice, your last college season coming to a close soon. Emerging from the locker room, you noticed the twins cleaning up the gym. You offered your help, since it was shared space between the boys and girls team- but little did you know that you’d end up caught in the Miya’s trap. 

At first it was a harmless conversation between the three of you- them inquiring about your intense practice schedule compared to their own. Soon the conversation turned into banter. Atsumu teased you about your love life- how volleyball was your entire life and left your boyfriend high and dry. You were quick to remind them that you didn’t have a boyfriend, that you hadn’t for a year or so now. 

Of course they knew you didn’t have a boyfriend- it’s the answer they were looking for as Osamu moved in for the kill. Offering to rub your shoulders after noticing how tense you were after folding the net up. 

In the end, you let them have their way with you. Giving in to their temptations as the siren twins lured you into their trap; slowly removing your clothes for a “deeper massage.” At that point you were undone; and when Atsumu leaned in for a kiss, you found that your previous hesitations flew out the window and you ultimately ended up opening your body to the brothers. 

- -

“We’ve been waiting for this, baby… you were made just for us, ya know? …we’re never giving you up now.” Atsumu tells you from behind.

Each delicious drag of their cocks against your most sensitive parts sent you into overdrive. You were a mess between them. Osamu kept his eyes locked on yours, the deep pools of grey staring into your own as tears of pleasure blurred your vision.

“You’re doing so well for us, such a good girl,” he tells you as his hands take control of your hips. The tip of his swollen cock teases your womb, fucking up into you from below at a set pace. His grip was tight, no doubt leaving bruises as a reminder of their capabilities. 

“Oh god, Samu- Please!” You beg.

“Shhhh, sweet girl, you’ll get your fill.” he hushes you. He drags your hips up and down his cock, your clit grinding into his pelvis and sending your mind reeling with every thrust. 

Osamu feels you tighten around him, the clench of your tight heat being his undoing as he tilts his hips slightly. The action causes you to see stars as he pounds up into your g spot. 

“Oh-fuck!” you scream, lost in ecstasy. You grip his shoulders, digging your nails into his chiseled arms as he rips your orgasm from you.  

“That’s it Princess, cum for us- show us how good we make you feel,” Atsumu says from behind. He feels your asshole clamp down as you begin to finish around both their cocks. 

Your vision goes white as you scream, coating Osamu’s cock in your finish. He takes the opportunity to bring your mouth to his. Warm lips take in your cries as his tongue plays with your own, swallowing each whimper and moan that left your being. Wet sounds filled the gymnasium as the three of you danced in bliss. After a moment you go limp in Osamu’s arms, having no choice but to take what the two gave you- an onslaught of pure ecstasy.

Osamu needed no further push as he planted his feet on the mats below your bodies. Gripping your hips tight, he thrusted up into your heat, sending shivers down your fucked-out body as he slammed into your cunt from down under. 

“Shit-I’m close, this pussys just too fucking good. Want my cum, babe? Yeah- you fucking do, gonna bury my fucking cock deep in this pussy.” He tells you, words fumbled as he loses himself in your tight grip. 

Atsumu lets his twin take the reins as he relishes the way your ass takes hold of his shaft- using the opportunity to admire the way the fat of your behind bounces with each thrust of his hips. The blonde was mesmerized by the way your body took his length, all the way down to the hilt as his balls slapped against the bit of skin separating his current territory from his brothers. He feels close to cumming himself, but he holds back- wanting to finish in your cunt just like his twin. The thought of him and brother’s cum mixed inside you made him groan. 

They wanted to own you completely; tired of waiting on the sidelines for you to notice one of them, Atsumu was glad they took the risk today to try and catch you alone in the gym. It had been well worth the wait. 

“Fuck, I’m- I’m cuming!” Osamu moans, pulling Atsumu from his dark mind. 

You feel the heat of it before you register what was happening. Your mind is clouded in a lustful haze as you realize the gray haired twin was cumming inside of you, filling your deepest parts with his hot seed as he slowly thrusted his finish into your womb. 

“O-Osamu,” you whimper, the sensitivity of your flesh high as his shaft begins to soften inside of you. He takes a moment to relish in your warmth before pulling out of your soaked hole, knowing his twin was eager for his turn. 

“Shhh baby, you’re such a good girl…” he’s sure to comfort you, hearing your whimpers and soft cries- he knows how sensitive you are. 

You cry out at his praise, relishing the way he reaches to caress your hair as the blonde twin slowly pulls out of your other abused hole. 

Feeling Atsumu lift himself from your body, Osamu helps maneuver you. You were still sensitive from your previous orgasm, but the twins treated you as if you were made of porcelain. Carefully, Osamu sits up and moves you to lay on top of his body. With your back to his front, you were now facing the blonde twin. 

Resting with your full weight on Osamu, you feel his strong hands grip behind your knees and pull your legs up. You were practically seated in his lap with nowhere to go. He opens your core up towards his brother, who sits between your thighs and admires the way his twin’s cum drips out of your pussy. 

You look down and realize how hard Astumu still was… his angry red tip leaking precum as you admired the veins that dance down his long shaft. He spares no second thought as he positions himself at your opening, pumping his fist up and down his shaft in anticipation.

Slowly, the blonde feeds his cock into your wet cunt. With yours and Osamu’s juices acting as lubricant, Atsumu was quick to resume the pace he had set on your ass- chasing after his own orgasm. 

He buries himself balls deep inside of you immediately- the tip of his cock slamming the exact same spot his twin brother’s did moments ago.

You thrash in Osamu’s grip, another orgasm creeping up fast as his strength holds you in place to his sibling’s harsh thrusts. He holds you open for him, the blonde taking no more hesitation to bring his thumb up to your swollen clit. He fondles it slowly, the bundle of nerves pulsing and bringing a coil of heat to the pit of your stomach. 

“I- I’m cuming, oh god!” you cry out to them, not able to hold the pressure any longer.

Your words make Astumu smirk, the blonde proud to see you break so quickly under his grasp.  

The action on your clit was your ultimate undoing, you feel yourself clamp down on his member, a field of white flowing into your vision as you wet yourself and both brothers. You squirt hard, screaming in Osamu’s grip as you coat Atsumu’s cock with yourself. 

Atsumu watches as you juices cover himself and Osamu, absolutely hypnotized by both the image and feeling of you wrapped around him. It was messy… nasty even- and he couldn’t get enough of you.  

“Fuck- that was so hot Princess, I’m close- you’re too fucking tight, ya know?” He tells you as he picks up the pace of his movements. 

Osamu whispers praise into your ear, telling you what a good girl you are, that this is how you deserve to be taken- like this each and every day. 

“From now on, you belong to us- Okay, Princess? Me n’ samu are gonna make sure you’re all taken care of from now on…” he tells you, voice ruff as he nibbles on your earlobe. 

You moan in response as Atsumu gives a final thrust into your cunt, burying himself just as deep as his twin did moments ago. Emptying himself into you, he pulses his hips, ensuring his cum sticks to your deepest parts. If you got pregnant, he wanted to ensure it’d be his seed over his twin brothers. 

He plugs you with his cock, keeping himself seated for a few moments as he relishes the way your warm cunt pulses around his shaft. He feels his balls tighten up against your opening, now empty and content. 

“Oh fuuuuuuck,” Atsumu groans, finally removing his semi-hard cock. He admired how soaked he was, with not only his and your juices, but Osamu’s as well. 

It was a sight to behold as he watched his brother release your legs from his tight grip, moving to a seated position with you upright and between his legs. Your knees fall apart, and Astumu catches the way your glistening cunt starts to leak the cum that was just buried deep inside of you. 

“Ah ah ah- not on my watch,” he teases you and moves between your thighs. 

The blonde twin reaches down, taking a swipe of cum and fingering it back inside of your cunt. 

“Oh God, Sumu… it's too sensitive,” you cry out, attempting to move away. Osamu was quick though, holding you between the two of them with stern hands.  

Your words don’t stop Atsumu’s actions though, and soon after it’s Osamu reaching from behind you to rub your little clit as his brother finger fucks you. It was embarrassing the way your pussy gushed; you were soaked and still wanted more... You could feel your cheeks heat at your compromised position, attempting to hide behind your hands. 

Tears fill your eyes as you and Atsumu look at each other through the space of your fingers. He knew you wanted more- that you could handle both of them with whatever they gave you. This was their plan after all. 

“This is how it’s gonna be, Princess. From now on…” Osamu whispers into your ear.

“You like one of us, you have to accept both of us. We’ll make you feel double good, baby” 

Thanks for reading! :) Comments/Reblogs/Likes are all appreciated.

[hardly-an-escape]

following on from this post, 780 more words of slightly angsty Tommy POV post-breakup

The second voicemail comes about a week and a half later. While Tommy is in therapy.

It's not formal therapy (what he thinks of as real therapy, though he keeps that particular bitchy thought to himself), more of a support group geared toward veterans and first responders. He'd originally found it in the weeks after Howie had saved his life, still reeling and feeling his mortality more keenly than he ever had before, and he'd returned off and on over the years.

Including now. Two sleepless nights in a row leading to a silent crying jag in the shower at work will do that to a person. So his phone is on silent and in the backpack under his folding chair when Evan – when Buck calls.

It's probably for the best. The support group has been leaving him feeling so raw, so flayed open, that if his phone had rung while he was sitting in his truck afterward, decompressing and chugging a bottle of water, he probably would have answered.

As it is, it takes him a good five minutes of staring at the notification on his phone before he works up the courage to listen to the message.

"Hey, Tommy. It's me. I'm sorry for… for calling you out of the blue like this, but," Evan sighs. "I don't know. I guess I didn't know… who else to talk about this. Not that you want to talk to me, but." He laughs. It doesn't even sound sarcastic, just dull. "Anyway. Eddie's leaving. He's moving back to Texas to be with Chris. It… it's the right thing to do. He's talking about selling his house. I know it's the right thing. But it's got me… I don't know, I'm really fucked up about it. I just wanted to hear your voice for a second, even if it was just your… your outgoing message. I'm sorry about this."

There's a muffled thump, as though he'd almost dropped the phone while hanging up, and the voicemail ends.

Tommy listens to it two more times, sitting in the parking lot of the slightly rundown community center where the support group meets. He realizes he's gripping his phone so tightly that the case is digging uncomfortable lines into the palm of his hand.

He aches for Evan. He feels the sadness, the longing, like a physical presence in his chest, a fishhook caught in the soft meat just below his sternum, attached to a line running who knows where. He feels as though something or someone is tugging on the line, a little meanly, every time he thinks about Evan. About Buck.

He drives home and ignores the part of his heart that's telling him to make a sharp turn and go directly to the loft. To knock on the door and see Buck's eyes light up, like they always did, and to forestall the inevitable disappointment at the memory the sight of Tommy would spark by simply stepping into his space and kissing him. To wrap Buck up in his arms and tell him everything is going to be okay.

It's a pleasant daydream. But that's just not how things are allowed to go.

Tommy makes it home and makes himself go inside, put his things away, and drink another glass of water before he pulls out his phone again.

Tommy: Got your message. I think you're probably right that it's the right thing but it sounds tough. Tommy: When does he leave?

The answer doesn't come through right away; Tommy wonders if Buck's on shift or busy with something else. It's evening by now, he could be out with friends, or having dinner with his sister. Tommy doesn't think about it.

E. Buckley: depends on when the house goes on the market I guess idk E. Buckley: it sounds like theres still alot to figure out actually.

There's a long pause. The little typing bubbles appear and disappear several times before the next text arrives.

E. Buckley: thank u for answering. how are you doing?

Tommy sucks in a breath. He doesn't know how to answer that question except with meaningless platitudes or devastating truth, and it doesn't feel like Evan deserves either one.

Tommy: Don't worry about me.

This time the answer comes almost immediately.

E. Buckley: don't tell me what to do E. Buckley: anyway I can't help it so deal

He doesn't know what to say to that either, so once again he leaves Evan – leaves Buck, fuck – guiltily on read and shoves his phone back in his pocket. He gets himself a beer and drinks it, too fast, standing up in the kitchen.

Maybe someday he'll have the balls to call back.

[gofishygo]

dark siren! ghoap x reader

notes: kidnapping, initially just ghost x soap

siren! soap likes to collect the pretty human artefacts that have washed into the open ocean. books that had been weathered down by tide, necklaces with rhinestones plucked out through rough currents, sometimes old toys- bits of them, that he broken and melded to match the mines in darker parts of the ocean he had yet to explore. darker parts, where siren! ghost had came from. now, he- both live a simpler life than before- hunting below the surface with the other, drawing on delicate cuttlefish shell and drying coral with the edge of his claws. he is no longer forced to think about them. the ships that poisoned his waters, the fishhook that impaled the side of his head with a starburst scar, humans.

(of course he still does.)

because in recent times, he finds himself.. almost eroding, chipping away with the march of time. and although he likes to sum it to no longer reeling the rush of missions, the adrenaline of fights where sailors ended up entangled in algae on the sea floor, he thinks- knows that he is missing something.

(when he was decades younger- still johnny, he would disassemble the smaller fishing boats and their engines- pick apart until there was nothing but gear and wood and oil, until all he could see was the simplest parts of such a complex machine, and he would always know exactly how it had sunk years before humans would ever realise. he could have saved them, knowing what they had needed before they, themselves had.)

and he is restless, tapping against both rocks and relics, despite how ghost weaves his fingers between his. spends his late nights rummaging through waterlogged pages in a dry cavern, eyes lingering for a second too long on any depiction humans- soft faces, smooth and unscaled skin, legs that he could snap and shatter within a moments notice. he hates these things, the only animal that he has wished to drive extinct. hates what he suspects he thinks about the almost docile statures in those books. but, though he has never been out of the water, has never seen grass paddocks and forest thickets and gardens firsthand, he suddenly feels like he is a sunflower, neck arched up proudly to the surface, face longing for the warmth of the sun and the dampness of freshwater in solid earth, and silently, with clandestine embedded into his thoughts- the touch of a human who has never seen the coldness, roughness of an ocean full of sirens, who has only ever lived in places that he imagines in his dreams.

but ghost, he grows on him, continues to grow on him like barnacles crusted onto the find of whales and scared into wharfside rocks- gripping onto his sides- intense, crushing, but with near unbearable loyalty. he knows that the siren would do anything for his best interests- even if he is not fully aware of his own, yet. only needs to kiss the younger, taste the saltwater of soap’s lips on his, to know the words that soap does not yet know how to say.

and the next time ghost sees soap on the shorelines, there is no trinket or inanimate gift in his hand- not a sand dollar, sea glass, not even the tiny sculptures that the people of the wharfside cities make. it is soft, and moving, sobbing into his shoulder, tears creating crystalline streaks over marred flesh, and it is beautiful. it is a human, far prettier than those inked, stone cold faces he has fought, with shiny eyes and babbled cries instead of violent claims of violence, sleazy and crooked teeth. soap thinks it is the sweetest thing ever, wants to keep it tucked under his fins, knows that ghost thinks so too.

“please, won’t ever go to the seaside again, ‘ll be good, move far out from here, into the mainlands- never bother your home again, please, promise-“

and for the first time, johnny sees what ghost does- knows exactly what this poor, terrified creature needs. he scoops you up, all kicking and screaming, hand cupping the side of your face. kisses the crown of your head so gently- and then you disappear under the tide.

[mochinomnoms]

thinking about punk!jade and piercing his ear for him. maybe jade decides that he wants to experiment with his sense of style more by having his other ear pierced and who better to ask than his mate? he sees it as his mate making their mark on him and feeling giddy about being known as theirs. finally the times come to pierce his ear and he closes his eyes to prepare himself. jade’s seen his fair share of blood, so he’s fine, but the prefect mistakes his actions as him being nervous. While he waits he hears the prefect’s voice to focus on them then he feels their hand on his face, their body pressed close, and best of all, their lips on his. he barely notices the needle when he’s got his lover smothering them in love. if getting his ears pierced means he has his mate all over him and some cool-looking earrings then perhaps he’ll look more into punk inspired looks.

this was spurred on by a gif exactly like this but i feel as though this might be kinda niche so if it doesn’t vibe with you please ignore me and my 2am thoughts ( ´ ∀ `)ノ

-🪸

See this is cute, but also you need to be very careful when piercing, so unfortunately for Jade, if his mate is the one piercing him they can't be distracted with kisses. HOWEVER if they go to a professional piercer:

“So you did this one.” The piercing artist pointed at the sturgeon scale earring on his left. “When you were 12. Under the sea—”

“With a fishhook.” Jade added, 'helpfully.'

“...with a fishhook, and by some miracle it didn't get infected?”

You snorted at the look the piercing artist gave Jade, a mix of incredulous and impressed. She was covered in a variety of silver jewelry, from her lips, nose, and eyebrows, to her cheeks and the many in her ears. They suited her very well, especially with her pointed ears and the skeletal tattoos on her arms.

“My mother found out the next morning when she woke us up for school. Just about scared the whole neighborhood awake with her screams.” Jade's lips quirked up, as he was fond of the memory.

“She'd agreed to have the doctor do it for us after school the next day, but my brother was rather impatient and wanted to wear the earrings right then and now.”

“Jade let out a soft chuckle. Indeed Ms. Nastasia. We did end up going to the doctor to clean the holes out and fashion the scales to a proper earring instead of a fishhook, as Floyd was already having a reaction.”

The artist sighed again and fiddled with the chain hanging between her ear lobe and the tip of her ear.

“Sounds right, so the rest of these,” she pointed two fingers around his ear lobes. “Are from the doctor later on?”

“Yes.” Jade clenched his hands uncomfortably as the pulled on a pair of black latex gloves. He thinned his lips as she started touching his ears.

You tapped your own fingers on top of his hand, which he opened and let you lace your fingers with his.

“Sorry.” Natasha gave Jade a small smile. “I'll quit poking you in a sec, I gotta inspect your ears. I gotta make sure that your old piercings are still good. Merfolk don't wear jewelry often, right?”

“It's fine.” Jade looked down, watching as you fidgeted with his hand. “No, we don't. You tend to run the risk of long or dangling jewelry getting caught in someone else's fins, in kelp, or in fishermen's nets.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” Nastasia smiled as she leaned back, turning to her countertop to get her tools ready.

“Unfortunately, it seems that most of them did close over time, I'm guessing it got too long since you've worn jewelry in them. I'll have to repierce most of them, but I recommend doing just one today to see how you'll do, and we can do some more at another session.”

Jade nodded and tapped his free hand against his chin.

“I see...which one should I do...” He turned to you to ask. “What do you think of another earring on me?”

You gasped excitedly and bolted from his grasp, confusing him and Nastasia. They watched as you looked among the various jewelry, humming to yourself.

“Oh!” You twirled back around, grinning. “If you get another earring on your right ear, can I pick the earring?”

“Jade raised a brow at you, smirking as he crossed his arms. I suppose, what is it?”

“It's gonna be a surprise! Ms. Nastasia! Can you do this one?”

Nastasia got up, looked at the piece you pointed at and nodded.

“If he's fine with it.” She looked over at him, to which he nodded.

“Alright! Let me get everything ready.”

You took a seat next to Jade again, excitedly tapping your feet against the ground and playing with Jade's hand again.

“It's great! You're gonna love it Jade!”

“Jade smile and squeezed your hand in his. I'll trust your judgement then.”

Nastasia slid over in a rolling chair, pulling a wheeled trolley with her tools. Jade noticed that she was hiding something wrapped in plastic as she prepared her piercing needle.

“Alright, sweetheart? Why don't you talk to your boyfriend? Something sweet while I get his ear ready.”

You nodded, moving to his left side as Jade tensed at the cold alcohol pad being wiped over his ear lobe.

“Hey, Jade?”

Jade moved his gaze to you, lips quirking as you came closer to whisper in his ear.

“Yes?”

He felt a tingling feeling go down his spine as he felt your breath against his skin.

“Should we match too? Me and you?”

You giggled as Jade smiled, his left arm reaching to curl around your waist.

“Oh? Isn't that what humans use wedding bands for? To match to each other? Don't you want to be wed, my dear?” Jade murmured back, closing his eyes as you pressed soft kisses against his temple.

“Yeah, we can do those too. We can have matching earrings, bands,” You laughed again against his ear. “This is just so when people ask about your earring, you can tell them all about how I picked it out, cause you're mine.”

Jade closed his eyes, basking in your affections as you continued to flutter his cheek, lips, and forehead with kisses. A cough interrupted you two.

“As cute as this is, you're all done now.” Nastasia laughed at your surprised expressions. “Here, take a look and tell me what you think.”

Nastasia handed Jade a handheld mirror, who was currently looking flustered.

“Apologies, I hadn't realized that you even finished.”

“It's fine.” Nastasia waved her hand, smiling as Jade inspected the heart shaped mushroom stud in his right ear. “I try to get my clients thinking about happy thoughts so they're distracted from the pain. Most of them don't even realize that they got pierced.”

You rested your head against Jade's shoulder, waiting for his response.

“Do you like it?”

Jade remained silent, still staring at the silver mushroom.

“...Jade?”

He handed the mirror back to Nastasia, turning to you to grab your cheeks in his hand and squeeze them together, making you purse your lips.

You squealed, laughing as Jade returned your earlier favor and kissed your lips.

“It's wonderful, my dear.” Jade let you go, turning to Nastasia with a smile. “If we still have some time, perhaps we can follow through with their commitment and pierce their ear as well?”

Nastasia snorted as she looked at you for your response. “Oh? You want to match with your boyfriend?”

The teasing tone in her voice made you warm up as you nodded shyly.

“Yeah…you really want to, Jade?”

“Why, of course!” Jade moved to let you take his spot as Nastasia put away the used tools and grabbed sterilized ones. “You said you wanted others to know I'm yours as much as you're mine? We should make that a reality~”

[angryducktimemachine]

A while back I started listening to The Silt Verses but couldn't quite keep my attention to the audio although i really really loved the concept. Luckily, I got reminded that they have really good transcripts so guess who read through Season 1 and will now head on to season 2.

Anyways, here's Carpenter.

The pointy ears are a stylistic choice I just like drawing pointy ears.

[ID: a digital drawing of Carpenter from the Silt Verses. She has dark, straight tho slightly frizzy hair down to her shoulders and fishhooks as earrings. She looks tired. /End ID]

[artdcnaldson]

neeeeed best friends!artrick obsessed w corrupting you. started idk when ur friends at the academy the three of u are inseparable kinda. they (patrick…) get u to smoke ur first cig… smoke weed for the first time… take you to ur first party… and then after a while esp when u guys get to college it starts being like… them (patrick again. but art is a secret perv idgaf) showing you porn…. asking you what porn you watch… pretending to be fake shocked when you say you don’t watch any??? which makes u be like damn! something’s wrong with me! what SHOULD i be watching??? and of course patrick wants to mold u to his exact interests yk. so they show u….. patrick’s is like! piss! creampies! brunette girl tries to escape while getting fucked! arts is obv more like. sweet innocent girl gets fucked by her best friend! breeding! etc!

idk it all leads to them getting u into the most disgusting stuff imaginable. Yay !

i just realized this is basically sex lessons au so im so sorry….,;,,,,,,

-🩰

pookie i'm so sorry i missed this originally....... forgive me <3

there are sex lessons au everywhere for those who have eyes to see them <3

Art goes first, which makes sense. Art's interests are tame at first glance! What you see is all sweet, amateur lovemaking, creampies, pussy eating. He's not showing you his other porn folder, which is all stepcest and breeding and somno and daddy kink and male submission and and and.

What you do see is almost endearing. It's all... obscene but your heart flutters a bit when you think about him getting off to something so sweet an intimate. To slow, wet kisses and gasps of i love you into each others mouths. By the time the video ends you're a little squirmy and your panties are soaked and your face feels like it's radiating heat.

And Patrick is so grossss <3 he has the good sense to at least pretend to feel embarrassed when he shows you. It almost makes you think it's your idea to watch. He's all, c'mon... don't make me show you, it's weird, you'll hate it. Which only makes you want to watch more.

And ofc it's nothing like Art's videos. Patrick is shameless about what he likes, what he wants. It's strugglefucking, animalistic, primal, sloppy, messy, desperate. The noises alone make you feel a little dizzy— gasps and cries, groans and grunts. Grabbing by throats and hairs and fishhooking into her mouth. A mess of spit and cum. It's degrading, it's obscene, and it's fascinating.

You should be disturbed by it, you know you should. But you love Patrick, and if that's what Patrick's into, you can't find it within yourself to think badly about it. You want to pick his brain, find out what about it made your skin feel hot, made heat roil in your tummy.

[phoenixyfriend]

Did another 'too many links' rec list for reddit

light by loosingletters  - this is probably the best one for what you want

a distant fire is burning by e_va

Sith Killer by Livsy

Post Order 66 Exile AU by Livsy

Celestial Bodies Of The Lonesome Variety (LSD) by Did_you_see_the_light_in_my_heart

Take it from the top and try again by mauvera

there is no death by ashkav

problem dog by vaporeon_ninja

Party at a Sith Dude's House by kakashikrazy256 (the premise includes a convenience marriage)

love is with your brother by Petrichor (Mythmaker)

Sith Lightning, Paperwork, and Other Extreme Sports by DeadStarsRising (includes Anidala but is primarily Anakin & Council)

A Padawan at War (Again) by soft_but_gremlin

Mace Windu Fixes the Timeline... And Breaks it in Whole New Ways by AbsentmindedAuthor98

every planet, every star, every single grain of sand by loosingletters

Fishhooks by yellow_caballero

the massive machinery of hope by Killbothtwins

My Dad the Purge Trooper by Nutella531

Twilight on Owl Creek Bridge by yellow_caballero

Old Promises by Threebea (Beewaggle)

cheers by gigglesandfreckles

Same Heart, Same Blood by loosingletters

forge the iron in your veins by afearsomecritter (jsaer)

Jedi Shmi AU by MirandaTam

Make a Brand New End by Batsutousai

Declarations by Nny11

Impressions. by outpastthemoat

There is another Skywalker by WabiSabi

No Choir and edge of providence by adiduck

Living Memory by elsa3beth

Anakin Skywalker: If Found Please Return To Obi-Wan Kenobi by PhenomenalWoman

Lost and Found by trysomecats

The Little Jedi by PhenomenalWoman

Shifting Sands by chancecraz

Force of Many Sights by DAsObiQuiet

The Dark Path Lit by Sun and Stars by A_Delicate_Fury

Viridescent Skies by DarthSnug (themikeymonster)

Reprise by Elfpen

Living in Borrowed Time by smug_albatross

Old Man Luke by scarletjedi

Don't Look Back by acuteneurosis

Shih by esama

GAR Requsitions by TessaDoesThings

wilder mind by sheApunk89

Dominoes by meridianpony

Sith Lord Swell by AMournfulHowlInTheNight

ARscbpsup by SecretlyAnonymous

The Care and Feeding of Our Jedi by BitterChocolateStars (background ships present)

ForTheRepublic.mp4 by lesbianpadme

An Abundance of Obi-Wans by The_Last_Kenobi

Ghost of Tatooine by SarcasticSketches (references to past Anidala)

R2-D2 Saves the Galaxy (Okay, so Obi-Wan helps a little) by kj_feybarn  (Jangobi and Anidala are technically happening, but half the fic is from R2’s POV and he just finds that all annoying)

And some self-recs:

Accountant of Theed

Late Nights

 A Really Good Book

They Went to Live on a Farm

Pale, Silent, and Covered in Blood

Ah, So YOU are the Reason I've Got a Headache

Nightmares

Anakin and the Jedi Babies

Journey to the Center of the Galaxy

Parole Officer Fulcrum Steals Three Million Babies

A Witch's Favor

Anakin's DNA Wish

Jango Breaks Into Satine’s House (And Criticizes Her Security) (references to Obitine)

A Saturday Morning Adventure

Big Sis 'Soka

[semisgroupie]

SURVEILLANCE OF PLEASURE

perv roommate!kunigami rensuke x fem. reader (ft. perv roommate!raichi jingo)

wc: 2.4k

warnings: noncon filming (hidden camera placed by raichi), male masturbation, female masturbation, oral sex (m!receiving), hair pulling, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slight dumbification, the good ol’ praise and degradation combo, exhibitionism, fishhooking (is that the right term? maybe), overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f!receiving), spit

synopsis: it all started with a hidden camera “prank”

a/n: this is for my “perverts make the world go ‘round” 4k event and was requested by an anon!

If there was one thing Kunigami knew for sure about Raichi, it was that Raichi was a sneaky, disgusting pervert.

It all started when you three decided you would move in together. The three of you were extremely close, met on orientation day in college and have stuck with each other ever since. So after graduation when you all ended up working within the same neighborhood, it was just agreed upon that you would all move in together.

Raichi thought it would be a fun prank to plant a hidden camera in your room. Kunigami instantly knew the ulterior motives behind the so-called “prank”. It was known to everyone except you that the two had a little crush on you that often led to some not-so-innocent fantasies. Like what you looked like naked or what you would look like with a mouthful of cock or how pretty you’d sound while your pretty pussy was getting split open.

But Kunigami decided to play along, only if he was able to get access to the footage too, which Raichi did.

The hidden camera was in the eye of a stuffed bear they gifted you. You didn’t even think twice about the little gift and you didn’t even question why you couldn’t move it from the little bookshelf in your room. From that day on they saw every single thing you did in, what you believed was, the privacy of your own room.

They watched as you did little modeling shows in your room whenever you went on a shopping spree, they watched as you lotioned up your body after a hot shower, they watched as you walked around naked in your room just for the hell of it. But the best sight of all was when you took your little vibrating dildo from your nightstand and fucked yourself with it. Watching as you writhed and arched your back off your bed so prettily as you worked yourself to an orgasm.

As the months passed Kunigami’s feeling of guilt passed and changed into carnal desire. He often found himself replaying the clips of you fucking yourself with your toy while he fisted his cock. He matched your pace and would cum with you but then would take over his body. He needed more, he needed your touch, he needed the real thing.

Fucking his fist wasn’t enough anymore. And he needed to make a plan where he could finally have you.

Raichi was going away on a trip to visit his family for the weekend which meant you would be alone with Kunigami and that also meant he could finally have you.

You two spent the entire day together watching whatever show you wanted to binge, he bought takeout for you both and he couldn’t stop thinking about all the things he wanted to do to you.

Now it was the perfect time to execute his plan.

“Hey, remember that party sophomore year where we were all playing fuck, marry, kill?” You paused your show and turned to face him. How could you forget?

It was a wild night and your first ever college party. It was also the night where you drunkenly made out with two people during a game of spin the bottle, the two people you now live with. During the game Raichi put three names together; Isagi, Kuon and Kunigami. You said you’d marry Isagi, kill Kuon and fuck Kunigami. That night was also the night you developed a little crush on Kunigami and no matter how much you tried to fight it off, the crush only grew and now that you live with him any attraction to him was impossible to ignore.

“Of course I remember that night, I’ve never seen someone get so offended by a fake answer before.” Kunigami chuckled and moved closer to you, closing the small distance between you two.

“Do you remember the answer you gave when the choices were me, Isagi and Kuon?” You felt your face heat up at the new proximity between you two and nodded at his question. “And do you feel the same way about your answer about me? What I mean to say is, do you want me to fuck you?” He knew he was being extremely forward about this but he didn’t have the patience to take things slow. He had been pent up for so long and he had to let it out.

Your heart pounded in your chest and you met his fiery gaze and you nodded slowly. “Y-yes.” It had been too long since you hooked up with someone so maybe it was the pent up sexual frustration or maybe it was your crush on him that was speaking for you but once the confirmation left your lips, he pounced on you like a predator that has finally gotten to its prey. He smashed his lips into yours in a passion filled kiss, he poured his hunger onto your lips and you gripped his arms tightly. You were thankful that he adorned his usual attire, going shirtless and only wearing loose basketball shorts and you wore a thin tank top and even thinner shorts.

His hands moved along your body, gripping and groping whatever he could get his hands on. He pinched and gripped all your sensitive parts that made you whine and moan his name against his lips then an idea struck.

He knew that Raichi would spy on you as you got ready for bed since it was also his routine. So why not give him a little show?

He broke the kiss and stood up, grabbing your hand. “Cmon, let’s go to your room.” You followed him eagerly, anticipating what he’ll plan to do next to you. Once you two were inside his hands went back on you, almost tearing off your thin clothes before taking his off. He maneuvered you over to where the camera was and grabbed a handful of your hair, tugging it to bring your head back. “I want you to put that pretty mouth to use, you can do that for me right?”

He leaned in close and licked a stripe along your pulse point. “Yes, I can do that.” He groaned against your skin and placed his hands on your shoulders to push you down until you were eye level with his cock. A trail of neatly trimmed orange hair went down from his belly button to his cock, which stood proud in front of your face. It throbbed and was thicker than anything you’ve ever seen, it was also slightly above average length and curved slightly upwards. Your mouth watered at the sight of it and you stuck your tongue out to lick along the length of it, tracing the vein on the underside until you reached the head and started sucking on it.

He threw his head back and let out a groan of your name, it took everything in him to not start thrusting into your mouth. He wanted to let you take your time and get adjusted to his cock, so he’ll wait just a little longer. He placed one hand on your head while you started bobbing your head, guiding you along his length while you went at your own pace. “Fuck, you were made to suck cock. Taking it so good baby, my little cockslut.” You pressed your thighs together at his words, they came out mixed with his groans and you couldn’t help but move one hand down to start rubbing your clit.

By yourself, you were able to reach about halfway down his cock before you needed to move your head back for air but that wasn’t enough, wasn’t even close to enough. “Oh come on, I know you can do better than that. Such a greedy slut, too focused on yourself instead of the cock in your mouth. Guess I have to show you what you need to do.” He placed both of his large hands on either side of your head and held you in place as he started thrusting. In one swift thrust he was able to shove his cock all the way down your throat and your hands quickly shot up to hold onto his thighs. Wet gagging sounds filled the room while he fucked your face, you felt his muscles tense under your fingertips and you looked up at him with tear filled eyes. “What a messy girl, such a fucking mess and all for me. You’ve just been dying for this haven’t you? Of course you have, cock hungry whores like you just need cock down your throat, you need it more than oxygen.”

His heavy balls slapped against your chin as he started thrusting faster, your gags just spurred him on further. His hips snap against your face and guttural groans and borderline growls leave his lips. “Fuck, doing so good for me. Just a perfect slut for me.” He moved his hands to the back of your head and held you in place, your nose pressed right against his pubic hair. More tears and saliva coated your face as he held you and it became tougher to breathe through your nose. Just as you were about to start tapping his thighs he pulled you off his cock. Tendrils of spit connected your mouth to his cock while you greedily sucked up air. Your chest heaved and he leaned down to grip your spit covered chin, lifting your head up to meet his eyes. “Get on the bed, I want you on all fours facing your bookshelf. I’m going to fuck you so good, you’ll forget your name.”

You felt your pussy clench around nothing at his words and you quickly got into position. He moved behind you and leaned down while his calloused hands gripped your ass cheeks and spread them. He groaned at the sight of your wet pussy, watching how it clenched around nothing, practically begging him to force his cock inside. He spit on your clenching hole and got up, “please, I need your cock.” Your voice was all whiny and pitiful for him, you needed him so badly, you didn’t know how much longer you could wait.

But he had been waiting even longer for this moment. He gripped your hip tightly with one hand while the other was wrapped around his cock, lining himself up with your entrance. In one quick snap of his hips, he was buried inside you. The slight pain from the stretch was beyond pleasurable and the head of his cock was nuzzled against your g spot. Your body trembled underneath his and your back arched as your orgasm washed over you. “Fuck, just like a true cock slut, instantly cumming on my cock.” He gave you no time to recover before he started snapping his hips against yours, his hips hitting your ass roughly.

“Please! ‘S too much!” Your words were slurred as you weakly tried to bring one hand back to try to slow him down. He laughed at your effort and moved one of his hands to grip one of your shoulders to easily lift you up and his other hand moved to the side of your face, hooking two of his fingers into your mouth like a fishhook. “All you’re doing is whining when you should be crying out my name like a good fucktoy.” He groans out and snaps his hips against yours faster and harder. Your cries fill the room and he leans in to bite down along your back, leaving imprints of his teeth in his wake. “God, such a tight pussy being stretched out by my cock.” He groaned while all you could do was let out slurred babbles and whines of his name. More drool seeped from your mouth and your pussy got even slicker with each heavy thrust.

As he continued thrusting, you started losing track of how many orgasms he ripped out of you. You were being overstimulated by his thick cock each time it brushed along your walls. Your hands weakly gripped at the sheets underneath you, trying to keep yourself up but thanks to the grip on your shoulder, he was able to keep you held up. He snaked his hand over from your shoulder to your neck to hold you closer to him, just so his mouth was right by your ear. “Say hi to Raichi sweetheart, make sure you look at the bear with those pretty, empty eyes.” You clenched around his cock at his words but you couldn’t make proper sense of it. “Oh you poor dumb thing, I bet your little head is working overtime to make sense of it. I’ll break it down so you can understand, there’s a camera in the bear. The camera leads to a live footage that both Raichi and I can access. We’ve seen all the things you’ve done when you thought you were alone. Watched how you lotion your body after every shower, seen all your little ‘private’ fashion shows, watched how you’ve plunged that pathetic toy into this sloppy cunt. You’ve been our own private cam girl without even knowing, such a naive little thing. Now, Raichi is going to watch the pretty faces you make when you get filled with my cum.”

He turned his head to bite down on the crook of your neck, the action ripping another orgasm out of you and his hips snapped into yours even harder. You were practically limp in his hold at this point, all the orgasms he gave you making you weak. After a few hard thrusts he growled in your ear, cumming deep inside you. Your pussy milked his cock for all his cum and your chest heaved with each heavy breath.

“You did so good for me, took my cock like a fucking pro.” You just hummed in response to his words and he slowly pulled out of you so he could lay you down on the bed. You felt a bit cold without the warmth of his body and looked at him with half lidded eyes as he stood up. “Can we cuddle?” Your words were spoken barely above a whisper and he leaned down to kiss your lips then your temple. “Of course, let me just grab some water okay?”

You nodded and lifted your hands to rub at your eyes, walking the line between consciousness and unconsciousness as the exhaustion took over your body. He smiled down at you and walked over to grab his phone, opening up the text thread between him and Raichi and sent one message: “hope you enjoyed the show.”

taglist (link in navi): @litepowee @fuwushiguro (bc he’s your fav)

[gaslightgatekeepgirlbosscombat]

Group B, Round 1, Poll 6:

Propaganda under the cut

Dennis Reynolds

He is the MOST gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. He literally came up with the Dennis System, lies about his identity to get sex, money, attention, etc (see Frank's Back in Business), he catfishes his roommate and has phone sex with him to really drive home the grift, he acts stereotypically gay to get more tips when the Gang runs a gay bar for an ep. He is also generally insane and absolutely slay. I think any character from IASIP deserves a top spot, but Dennis truly takes the cake for being a gaslighting, gatekeeping, girlboss because he is COMICALLY evil.

Kayne

When Arthur asks what his name is he goes "what a good question! Hmmm... Let's go with Kayne :)". He's weird on purpose. He's probably manipulating them bc he thinks it's funny (he directly asks Arthur who he thinks will end up with control of Arthur's body between him and John). He lured Arthur to where he was (in a ruined city surrounded by gore bc he got bored) by playing the song Arthur had composed for his daughter on the piano. He's using Arthur and John for entertainment. He's never seen this before, thought it couldn't happen even, and wants to see what happens. He's vague on purpose. He repeatedly doesn't answer Arthur's questions. He won't help them but he'll put a wager on them and give Arthur a knife with the advice to use it when the time is right. He wants to watch a good show and by god he's going to. The only description we have of him is wearing a black suit, barefoot, and covered in blood. He's dramatic and has flair. He directly implies himself to be more powerful than the big bad, but he's not going to do anything about said big bad. He watches John desperately trying to stop Arthur from bleeding out by trying to stitch him shut with fishing line and fishhooks bc it's all they have, and Kayne insults his technique while watching and eating gardettos.

artist: @KryptidKrackers

[bonefall]

ouhh..... what if the scientists like, also released more prey into the forests or something and the cats became suspicious.... what would the scientists do if one of the clan cats specifically came to them for help for whatever reason?

You have to remember they are researchers. They are interacting with wild animals, and aren't trying to ruin their data with interference like that.

They don't give food gifts, flood the forest with animals (except when other conservation efforts overlap), or attempt to acclimate Clan cats to humans. This fear of people is considered a good thing; it would be very bad for cats to rely on humans or interact with hikers regularly.

(Even SkyClan can end up on thin ice with their willingness to steal and beg.)

So it's unlikely the Clan cats come up to ask for help and that is a positive. If it did happen, they may do the bare minimum (like when a shark asks a human to remove a fishhook), and then write it down in their notes.

But hikers are given a LOT of warnings, and even fined, for bothering the wildlife. Clan cats WILL hurt you if you grab them. You're encouraged to only walk and camp in marked areas.

The cats aren't the only reason for that either!

Sanctuary Lake boasts a sizeable boar population, a red deer herd, over a dozen species of protected songbirds, badgers, otters, foxes, and beavers were (indirectly) re-introduced.

Motor boats are also banned in the lake, to protect water quality. The water is so pure that it's able to host the endangered Freshwater Pearl Mussel, and probably has its own species of endemic fish.

So in a nutshell; no. The Clan cats are not messed with. Interaction is kept distant very purposefully.

[chuckeroo777]

Slay the Princess- Princess Rankings

I already ranked the voices of the Long Quiet, now let's talk about this princess. Some princesses share a position, due to the evolution not sufficiently changing her enough to count in my mind. List under the cut; It's a big one!

22. The Entity/Shifting Mound I really wanted to keep these two separate, but at the end of the day, the entity is just Shifty running on fumes. Ultimately, I just don't like her attitude. It's fine when she's the entity, but once she awakens, she just becomes completely uncompromising. I just really dislike her. Even when you defeat her in single combat and offer her mercy, she still refuses to give even an inch. She is condescending, and refuses to treat you as an intellectual equal. She is an embodiment of unconditional love, but what good is love when they decide everything for you? Screw all of this, Hero and I are gonna go find an ending without you.

21. The Cuties Shifty's peons. I just think they're neat. I mean, just look at the second pic of shifty in the gallery. I just want to give them all headpats. They're down this low due to a complete lack of personality.

20. The Beast/The Den If you've been following this blog for a while, you might be surprised to see these two so low. It's literally the vore route. Well, it also manages to hit every tag I dislike in my vore, so it just ends up being supremely uncomfortable. Sorry my fellow monster appreciators, this one just ain't doing it for me.

19. The Tower Some people really like this one. For some reason. Couldn't tell you why. In all seriousness, she's neat, but it's also a rather short chapter that is easy to end prematurely. A shame when the branches are so good.

18. Warm Princess This is the princess when you don't take the blade in chapter 1. This is also based on her ending interactions. The main reason she is so low, is because her ending makes me a smidge uncomfortable. She's a bit too Damsel-ish for my liking. The matter of the princess' free will is a constant problem, and this princess is the biggest example of that. I do love her little Shifty prank though.

17. The Wraith Despite a plethora of routes to reach her, Wraith is just kinda one-note. She spooky.

16. The Damsel No thoughts, head empty. She's just here to look pretty, and act as a catalyst for hilarious dialogue from Smitten and the Narrator.

15. The Spectre She cute. But hoo boy, this route is almost nothing but talking. In general, chapter 2s rank more lowly on average, since the "take the princess out of the cabin ending" is generally pretty anti-climactic in chapter 2.

14. The Grey This one is weird. The chapter is almost completely different in tone and aesthetic depending on where you come from. That being said, it gets this high just for sheer spook factor.

13. The Prisoner/The Cage She's alright. There are some fun options, though Skeptic is really not helping. Prisoner, more than any other chapter 2, really feels like a direct sequel to chapter 1. The Cage is neat too, though it is a bit frustrating how tricky it can be to get anything but the neutral ending. Plus points for "The Evidence". Minus points for the only art in the game that makes me viscerally uncomfortable. Fishhooks are just... urgh.

12. Cold Princess This is the princess when you take the blade in chapter 1. This is also based on her ending interactions. I like her a lot more than the warm princess. She feels a lot more fleshed out. Consider this the line between princesses I really like, and the ones I don't like quite as much.

11. The Witch Nyah~ She is adorable, and feisty and I love her. Only reason she's so far down is because of how short it is. The tumble down the stairs ending is particularly unsatisfying. The one where she locks you down there, only to have to face you again is particularly cute.

10. The Fury The music is great, the design is incredible, and there are some really neat endings you can get.

9. The Wild This one is beautiful in a bizarrely abstract way.

8. The Nightmare/Moment of Clarity She's creepy and playful, and constantly about to kill us. The unmasking poem hits hard, especially after the added context from The Dragon. Seriously, the horror in this route is perfect.

7. The Adversary/Eye of the Needle The author's barely disguised favorite. Seriously, the amount of variation and branches within this route is ridiculous. Also, she is a way funner dommy mommy than tower, so that's nice.

6. The Apotheosis I didn't care much for her prior to the Pristine Cut. She big, she cool, but not much else. But the expanded route... wowza. It's all wonderful. Also, the Apotheosis' sacrifice is yet more support for my dislike of Shifty. Seriously, she can't stand the idea of us being happy with any other princess.

5. The Stranger This route is a lot of fun, even if she isn't a big part of it. While many routes dig into meta elements, this is the one that most feels like it's breaking the game itself. As for strange endings... it is easily my favorite ending. We reject her godhood... but don't reject her. We don't reduce her to a comfortable basic form, we embrace everything about her.

4. Happily Ever After I don't think I need to explain why this one is so good. It's beautiful, and really acts almost like a capstone to the whole game.

3. The Razor I love her. She's supposed to be horrifying, but she is just so god-damn funny. I love my murderous robot girlfriend who is made purely of knives.

2. The Princess and the Dragon I'm a sucker for meta nonsense, and this chapter is amazing for it. After all, I've always preferred playing as girls in video games. But seriously, finally getting to see the Slayer was incredible, and I knew the opportunist had it in him to go full villain. While my favorite voice isn't in this route, she tosses the blade out the window in his honor.

1. The Thorn You know why this is my favorite. Not only do we finally get a kiss, but it feels earned in this route.

[flappyhappystim]

can you explain how to make the fidget earrings??

Hi anon!

Sure. I'm going to leave out any steps that are business specific like making our earring cards (these come in as business cards), and packaging, etc, since I assume you want to make these yourself and don't need the rest.

Tools I use: Jewelry pliers (2) Wire Cutter Pieces I use Jump rings x4 or 6 depending. Fishhook ends x2 (or clip on equivalent). Chain x2 Charms x4.

I also have two rubber earring backings that I attach to my cards. You could use whatever backings you wanted.

The chain I get in rolls and I cut it to approximately 4". You need to make sure it has holes in it big enough for a jump ring to fit through. You could go with whatever length you wanted to use. I use wire cutters for this. I cut myself two pieces of chain. I then use a jump ring(I open and close this with both sets of pliers, though I think I've heard there are jump ring tools. I haven't tried them though!) to attach the charm to a hole through the chain. Once I've secured the jump ring to the chain, I put the chain through the hole in fishhook piece. This is where another jump ring might be needed. For example, our silver earrings don't have a jump ring attached to the fishhook because the chain is thin enough, but our gold ones do because our gold chain is a bit thicker and can't move through the hole in the earring piece easily. If your chain is thin enough to go through the fishhook piece, then you're good! If not, you might need to attach a jump ring to the earring piece.

Once I have the chain through the earring piece, I then repeat what I did prior which is attach a jump ring to the charm and then the chain!

Then I repeat all of the above and end up with a pair of fidget earrings I can pull back and forth!

[officiallordvetinari]

For the last little while I've been reading the Book of Job, both because I enjoyed the way it was adapted in Good Omens 2, but also because I thought it would be an interesting text to read alongside Moby-Dick. Job is quoted in the Extracts, after all, and both works deal with the problem of apparently senseless and random suffering. They take fairly different approaches to it, though.

Job wants to know why? Why would so many terrible things happen to a blameless and upright man? His friends give him all the standard answers: "God does everything for a reason", "You must have done something wrong", "Suffering brings wisdom". I found it quite a frustrating section, as Job keeps asking his questions and his friends repeat the same answers over and over, never satisfying him or the reader. I think that's sort of the point - there's no answer that a human can provide to "why do bad things happen to good people" that really feels like a solution, is there?

Ahab isn't interested in asking questions. It doesn't seem to me that he's burning to understand why he lost his leg. He just wants revenge. The only part of Job that really reminded me of Ahab was, unsurprisingly, the chapter about Leviathan. This passage comes towards the end of the book, when God ends the conversation decisively by reminding Job how small he is and how little he really knows compared to the width of the world.

1 Can you draw out Leviathan with a fishhook     or press down its tongue with a cord? 2 Can you put a rope in its nose     or pierce its jaw with a hook?...

7 Can you fill its skin with harpoons or its head with fishing spears? 8 Lay hands on it; think of the battle; you will not do it again! 9 Any hope of capturing it will be disappointed; one is overwhelmed even at the sight of it. 10 No one is so fierce as to dare to stir it up. Who can stand before it? 11 Who can confront it and be safe? —under the whole heaven, who?

Job seems to concede defeat after this and admit the greatness of God, but not Ahab. Ahab has fought Leviathan before, and he intends to do it again.

[suguwu]

lover be good to me: part three

You meet Kita Shinsuke on a rainy summer day, with a sea of hydrangeas swirling at your feet. You know him instantly, as only a soulmate can. He seems like a good man. Like a good soulmate.

But it’s your wedding day.

masterlist

minors and ageless blogs do not interact

pairings: kita shinsuke x f!reader, oc x f!reader

notes: so this was originally supposed to be three parts, but i hit the limit for a tumblr post, so it's now four. but we're so close to the end and i'm excited to share this part with you! the final part will be up next week.

as always, massive thanks to my beta for both the edits and the endless support throughout the process, especially when i thought writing this fic would never end.

title and part title are from hozier’s “be” and "nfwmb"

tags for this part (contains spoilers for fic): soulmate au (first words), this is a very reader-centric story, slow burn, pining, hurt/comfort, reader and kita are implied to be around their 30s, food consumption, non-graphic partner death (not kita), grief/mourning, healing, love as a choice.

wc: 10k

You’ve been staying up too late. 

Or maybe you’ve been getting up too early. You’re not sure you know anymore. The world spills foggy over your senses these days. The sun sets bloody over the horizon as you close your eyes, sinking your teeth into the tender flesh of a dusty pink peach, the juices running sweet down your chin. You open your eyes and there’s a mug shattered on the floor, coffee pooling around your feet, the scent of it heavy enough to taste. You close them again, and you wake up curled around a ghost.

Hours roll into each other, jagged fragments rounded smooth, seaglass blips of time. They slip through your fingers like grains of sand. 

You miss the finer details of things. The wake is ephemeral, a cobweb snapping in the breeze long gone before you even know it. Only the ghost of incense on your skin tells you it occurred. Abe and Yoshikawa spend the night; they’re warm around you in the guest room’s bed, their arms thrown over your waist to keep you from shaking apart in the tender wound of darkness. 

You curl up in the cradle of them. You can smell Yoshikawa’s mango shampoo as you press close to her, her long hair catching against you. She hums quietly and shifts to accommodate you. Abe scooches closer against your back, her forehead pressing between your shoulder blades.

You fall asleep like that, twined together like a litter of kittens, shifting into each other’s warmth. 

You blink awake in your dimly lit kitchen. It’s late; the sickle curve of the moon is low in the sky. Your phone is heavy in your hand. 

Kita picks up within a single ring. He says your name quietly, like it’s a secret for just you and him. It startles you out of your daze. You suck in a sharp breath as you realize you actually called him.

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to call so late.”

“S’alright,” he says. His voice is rough with sleep; there’s a soft rumble to it, like far-off thunder. “You can always call.” 

“Did I wake you?”

“S’alright,” he says again. “Do you want to talk?”

You bite at a hangnail. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to talk?”

“Please,” you say, your voice fraying at the edges.

He does. You lean against the refrigerator as he talks, your head tilted back against the cool metal of it. Kita tells you about the seedlings, how he could use a machine to sow them but that this year he’s chosen to do one or two of the paddies by hand. You imagine him crouching in the fields, his big hands tender against the delicate shoots, sinking them into the thin layer of murky water. 

His voice is soft, steady, and warm. You sink into it, floating in it as you watch the moon set, a fishhook of light descending towards the embrace of the horizon. He spins out story after story. You think it’s the most you’ve ever heard him talk and something in you twinges.

“Will you come to the funeral?” you ask, the question spilling from you before you can stop it. 

Kita goes quiet. You listen to him breathe. It’s steady like the tide, in and out, ebbing and flowing in a way that soothes something in you, a balm against an unknown scrape.

“No.” 

You flinch. 

“If I come,” he continues, his voice gentle but firm, “it won’t be about your husband anymore. It’ll be about us.” 

Kita’s particular brand of logic has always had a cold edge to it. You know he doesn’t mean it unkindly, but it stings to hear the truth spoken so steadily, with such assurance.  

You curl in on yourself like a fiddlehead, bringing your knees up to your chest. You sob once, an earthen sound, deep and heavy.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Silence falls. You tilt your head back further and stare at the ceiling, half-blocked by the fan of leaves from the plants perched precariously on top of the fridge. You can almost see him in the lines the paintbrush left behind, his lips thinned and his amber eyes somber. 

“I know,” you whisper.

Kita breathes out a sigh. It’s a wisp of a thing. You think it must be bitter on his tongue, laced as deeply with regret as it is.

“Do you want to keep talkin’?”

You glance at the stove’s clock and wince. “You should go back to bed,” you tell him. “It’s late.”

“That isn’t what I asked,” he says, not unkindly. 

You watch the clock blink over to the next number. It seems to take an eternity, a lifetime tied up in neon red. 

“I don’t know,” you say and the tears are welling up, burning hot behind your eyes. “Shinsuke, I don’t know.”

“S’okay.”

The tears spill over, running down your cheeks in thick rivulets. They catch on your lips, fill your mouth, until all you know is sorrow salty on your tongue. “Shinsuke,” you say, desperate. 

“I’m here.” 

You curl forward, burying your face in your knees. You fist your free hand in your nightshirt, twining the soft cotton around your fingers until it hurts. You sob once and then catch the next one behind your teeth to swallow back down.

“You can cry, y’know,” he says. “You don’t hafta stop on my account.” 

It sets you off. You sob like a child with your forehead resting against your knees, the tears dripping down to dampen your pj pants. 

Kita murmurs something, too soft for you to hear over your own sobs. But his voice is sweetened with kindness. It settles into your bones, the warmth of it spreading under your skin, a soothing balm against the sharp, gruesome wound deep inside you. The first tentative stitch of many. 

Your sobs peter out into quiet, shaky breaths.

“Good,” Kita says. “Keep breathin’, just like that. Slow and steady.” 

“Sorry,” you say. “I didn’t mean to cry.”

“Don’t be. Yer hurting. Be more surprised if you didn’t cry.” 

You give a watery laugh. “Yeah, I guess. I’m sorry anyway, though, especially for keeping you up. I know you get up early.”

“S’alright,” he says. “Like I said, you can call any time.”

“Thank you, Kita.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “Of course,” he says.

“Go back to bed,” you tell him. “I’m okay.”

He hums. It’s a rich, sleepy sound, dripping down the line like thick honey. You press your phone against your ear a little harder and let the sound of him curl around you. 

“I don’t mind staying up.”

“I’m okay,” you say again. “Just tired.”

“Alright.”

“Goodnight, Kita.” 

“G’night.”

You hang up. A car goes by; its headlights pour in through the window, illuminating your kitchen. The light catches on the little vase of your favorite flowers tucked away on the counter top. They’re wilting, the edges of the petals shrinking back, like shy children covering their faces. 

You can’t bring yourself to throw them out.

You tilt your head back against the fridge and close your eyes.

“Wanna come back to bed?” Abe asks.

You crack an eye open. 

She’s haunting the threshold of the kitchen, softened by the dim. Her mouth is a tender gash. She waits. 

“Not yet,” you say.

She pads into the kitchen. When you don’t protest, she slides down next to you, pressing warm against your side. It feels like childhood again, when you would crowd in close together to read the same manga under the covers with a flashlight.   

“Okay,” she says softly. She leans her head against your shoulder as you close your eyes again. “Not yet.”

Another car goes by; the kitchen fills with light. It glitters against Abe’s dark hair for a breath and then it’s gone. In the aftermath, the kitchen seems darker still, Abe just a faint outline next to you, and perhaps that’s why you say, “I called Kita.”

She stays quiet, only shifting against you. Her silk pajamas are soft as they slide across your skin. 

“I don’t know why,” you continue. “I just…wanted to hear him.”

“At 2am?”

You bite your lower lip. “I think,” you whisper. “I think that maybe I just wanted to make sure he’s still here.” 

“He is,” she says softly. “He’s still here.”

You hum, the sound like river rocks rolling over each other, wearing away at each other. “Yeah,” you say. You scrub away the remnants of your tears with the back of your hand. “He is.” 

Abe catches your hand as you lower it. She winds her fingers—bird-boned, all delicate architecture that makes you think of the arcing ceiling of a cathedral nave—through yours. She squeezes. 

“Come back to bed,” she says, her words punctuated with a little tug. “You need sleep.”

You let her pull you to your feet. The two of you make your way down the hallway quietly; when you open the door to the guest bedroom Yoshikawa is already awake, her dark eyes gleaming through the dim. You sink into bed beside her. She curls up around you as Abe climbs in from the other side.

“You okay?” Yoshikawa asks.

You go still, a briar patch of cruel words growing sharp as they twine up your throat. “No,” you bite out. Abe goes stiff at your back. “Why would I be?”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” Yoshikawa’s voice is cool but it does nothing to hide the softness there, nor does it hide the hurt that lurks beneath.

You take a deep breath. “I’m tired,” you say, even though you know you should apologize. “Can we sleep?”

She cups your cheek and gives you a sad little smile. “Of course.”

Abe drapes an arm over your middle and gives you a little squeeze. 

“Go to sleep,” she murmurs. “We’ll be here in the morning.”

You fall asleep knowing it’s a promise they’ll keep.

***

The funeral passes quickly. 

It’s all flickers of things: a laugh quickly hushed behind hands, a tight-lipped smile on painted lips, the salt of tears lingering on the air like ocean spray, the sickly floral scent of the hanawas thick on your tongue, a wrinkled hand cold against your wrist.

You can barely look at Takao’s parents. He’ll live on in their faces, you think, in the curve of his mother’s lips and the shape of his father’s cheekbones, but you can hardly tell now. Their features are gnarled with sorrow, knotted like the old crabapple tree that you and Takao used to climb in their yard. Each hiccuping sob from his mother echoes in your ears.

You touch one of the flowers of a thick, bountiful hanawa just before it’s collected. The petal is silken between your fingers. It bruises quickly beneath your touch, the thin delicacy of it tearing. You let go.

It’s obvious amid the pristine lilies. You grab another creamy white petal and then another. By the fifth petal, there’s a path of mangled petals behind you, stepping stones of destruction. 

“Hey,” Abe says, laying her hand over the top of yours as you reach out for another petal, “let them take it, okay?” 

You blink. “Oh,” you say, seeing the funeral director lingering nearby, ready to take the hanawa to go with Takao’s body. “Of course.”

Before you step away, you tug off a single perfect petal, white as snow and faintly dusted with golden pollen. You roll it between your fingers. The satin of it crushes beneath your fingertips. 

Abe squeezes your hand. Her touch is a song you’ll always know but it feels distant now, like music muffled behind an apartment’s walls. She lets go when you step away from the wreath. 

You follow her to the entrance of the funeral hall. The koden ledger is there, surrounded by white envelopes stacked high. You nudge at one until the flap opens to show crisp yen notes. You stare at the notes until they blur at the edges. 

Before Abe can say anything, you reach out and close the envelope up. The stiff mizuhiki knots are rough against your fingers. You trace along them for a moment.

“I didn’t think I’d see these any time soon.”

“I know,” she says softly.

“Someone will collect the ledger?”

“Yes.” 

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Thanks.” 

She leads you back to your parents and squeezes your hand again before she disappears. You’re not sure where she goes, but you wish you could go with her. Instead, you accept condolences for what feels like hours, each word grating on you, eroding you like a pebble caught in an ocean wave. 

When it’s all over your parents bundle you into the car. The city blurs by like a watercolor, gray with splashes of neon streaking through it. People stream along the sidewalk too. You watch and you watch, a statue of old, bearing witness but unmoving yourself. 

“Inside,” your mother says, startling you free of your reverie. You hadn’t noticed you’d stopped. She swings the car door open wider. “C’mon,” she says, gentler this time.  “Let’s go inside.”

You follow her without a word. 

“Tadpole,” your father says as you cross the genkan. “Your shoes.”

You look down to where you were about to step into the house proper; you’re still wearing your heels. “Oh,” you say quietly. “Thanks.” 

Before you can reach down, your mother kneels before you. You try to protest, grasping at her elbows to raise her to her feet, but she swats you away and hunkers down to unbuckle them. Her fingers are careful and quick. She traces one of them over the strap of your shoe before she pushes to her feet again.

She cradles your face in her hands, her fingers warm against your cheeks. She rubs her thumb over the curve of your cheekbone to wipe away the tear stains. “Oh, tadpole,” she says softly. “My little girl.”

You bring your hands up and cup hers to you. You breathe her in, the honeyed earth of saffron mixed with the clear, soft scent of the summer irises as they rise proud amid the gardens. 

“He’s gone,” you tell her.

She nods. “He is.”

“I’m alone.”

“You’re not alone. Just without him.”

“It feels like being alone.” 

She brushes her thumb over the curve of your cheekbone again. “I know.” 

When she lets go the heat of her lingers on your face, like how a fire lives on in the warmed hearthstones. You press a hand to your cheek absently as you slip off your shoes.

Your father bends down to take them. Just like your mother, he ignores your protest. He tucks them carefully beside a haphazard pair of Takao’s slippers. The soles are worn thin, especially compared to the thick, shiny soles of your heels. 

You suppose you can take new slippers off of your shopping list.

“Go inside,” your father says. “You need rest.”

“I’m not tired.”

“You will be,” he says. He touches his mark gently, as if its charred kanji will crumble into ash beneath his fingertips. “You will be.” 

You let them usher you inside. Your father tucks you in under the couch’s throw blanket—patterned with plump lemons, each with a tuft of bright green leaves attached to their stems—when you curl up into an armchair. It’s soft, warm, and it smells of Takao. 

Your parents retreat to the kitchen. You can hear them puttering around, likely putting together some food for the next few days. 

Your phone is heavy in your hand. For a moment, you look at the contact you’d pulled up without thinking. The little rice emoji next to Kita’s name almost seems like it’s swaying in the wind, the golden panicles draping elegantly next to the kanji. You touch his contact and open your messages and stare at the last few you’d both sent. Even over text, Kita’s steadiness comes through. 

You start to type. Stop. Start again and then stop once more. 

“Shit,” you mutter, closing out of the message thread and tossing your phone onto the couch next to you. You close your eyes and tilt your head back, sinking into the couch even further. 

When you wake up, it’s dark out. You blink. The streetlights have come to life; their fluorescent light slants into the living room, cutting through the dim. There’s a glass of water on the side table next to the couch. There’s a note under it, your father’s spidery kanji unmistakable.

You read it as you scrub a hand over your face, trying to get rid of the last vestiges of your nap. It’s a simple note. Just enough to tell you there’s food in the fridge and that they’re just a phone call away. 

You push to your feet, folding up the blanket and putting it back in its place. Your footsteps echo as you head into the kitchen. Each one feels unnaturally loud. Like the tolling of a bell, deep and low, impossible to ignore. You bite at your lower lip. 

Halfway through reheating your food, you give in. You grab your phone and dial.

“Hey,” Yoshikawa says as soon as she picks up. “Are you okay?”

“The house is so quiet.”

“I’ll be over as soon as I can, okay?”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know.”

“Seriously, over the phone is enough—”

“My shoes are already on.”

You blow out a big breath. “Thank you, Asako.”

She hums. “Want me to stay on the line?”

“No, that’s okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” 

She says a quiet goodbye before she hangs up. 

You clear away your food, your appetite gone, and decide to water the plants while you wait. The kitchen plants are thriving; they’re bathed golden every morning and it shows. You murmur softly to them as you water them, filling the kitchen with the slow rush of running water and your own voice. The plants tremble as the water hits them, their thick, lush fronds dancing under the shower. 

You also refill the vase on the kitchen counter. 

You know it’s stupid. Cut flowers are just ghosts, unaware that they’re already dead. These ones are curling in on themselves, their edges going crisp, but you can’t bear to get rid of them.

The door to the house clicks open. You can hear Yoshikawa rustling around in the genkan before she appears.

“Hi,” she says.

You burst into tears. 

She’s across the kitchen in a heartbeat, gently tugging the watering can out of your hands. She doesn’t say a word as she wraps her arms around you. You press your face into the crook of her neck and she cradles you closer. 

Her skin is cool to the touch. It’s a balm against your heated face, like a breeze on a hot summer’s day. You lean into her even more. 

She hums, adjusting easily. She pets at the back of your head. “I’ve got you,” she murmurs, low and promising, and you cry harder. 

She lets you cry your fill, holding you for as long as you need. You finally pull away when your head starts to pound. You sniffle as she sweeps her thumb under your eye to wipe away some of the remaining tears.

“Want me to call Natsumi?” she asks.

You shake your head. “She’s got that work thing tonight.”

“She’d leave it.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t call her.”

Yoshikawa hums. “Okay. Want to watch a movie?”

“Yes please,” you say and the two of you promptly get into an argument about what you want to watch. 

You give in to her when it becomes clear that she has no intention of letting you win. You’d be annoyed but it warms you instead. Movie chosen, the two of you settle in on the couch again. You curl up against her and she weaves your hands together, giving you a light squeeze before turning her attention to the screen.

You stay tucked up against her as you watch. She doesn’t move, letting you cling to her like a limpet, and maybe it’s that. Maybe it’s how steady she is. Maybe it’s simply because she’s there. The credits are rolling, the music of them a gentle, swaying tune that makes you think of rippling rice fields. Yoshikawa shifts under you, and without thinking, you say:

“Do you think it’s my fault?”

She goes still.

“Is what your fault?”

You do not look at her. “Aoshi,” you say, his name heavy on your tongue. “Do you think it’s my fault?”

She shifts to look at you; when you stay staring at the screen, she cups your cheeks gently and turns you to face her. She studies you for a moment. Her eyes are night-sky dark and they gleam in the low lighting. 

You don’t know what she sees in your face, but her mouth thins into a gash of a thing, sorrow tucked up into the open wound of it. 

“How could it be your fault?” she asks. 

“Soulmates,” you whisper. “We weren’t soulmates.”

“That’s true.”

“What if it was fixing that? What if he died so I could be with Kita?”

She sucks in a sharp breath but breathes it out softly. Her lower lip trembles. “It was an accident,” she says. “It’s got nothing to do with you.”

“But what if it does?”

She knocks her forehead against yours. “Four years of marriage seems like a long time for the universe to wait to course correct you.”

You stay quiet.

She searches your face again. “Listen to me,” she says. “It is not your fault. Do you blame Kita?”

“What?”

“Do you blame Kita?”

“No.”

“Then why are you blaming yourself?”

You twist your wedding ring around your finger. “I just—”

She waits. 

A car goes by; the headlights play over Yoshikawa’s face. She gleams golden for a brief moment and you think of a shooting star. The words are heavy on your tongue, sickly sweet, like half-rotted fruit. You catch them there, behind the cemetery gate of your teeth, and swallow them down. 

“You asked if I thought it was your fault,” she says softly. “I don’t. It’s not your fault, okay?”

You bite at your lower lip. Yoshikawa meets your gaze head on, her vulpine eyes sharp. 

“It is not your fault,” she repeats.

You collapse in on yourself without a sound. Yoshikawa catches you and pulls you close. You rest your head against her breastbone and listen to the sound of her heartbeat.

“You’re sure?” you murmur into her sweater.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” you say softly. “Okay.”

For now, it’s enough.

***

The next day comes too soon. 

Yoshikawa leaves early. She examines you before she goes, her gaze careful, but she knows as well as you do that you have to face today without her. 

The sky is a perfect blue as you head to the crematorium, the same shade as a robin’s egg, a true spring day. You greet Takao’s parents quietly and with great respect. His mother reaches for your hands and squeezes them. It takes everything you have to not flinch away. 

The three of you enter together. You hesitate on the doorstep, your breath catching, but Takao’s father says your name. He’s gentle with it but it’s enough to make you walk into the building. 

Takao’s father picks up the first bone. You lose yourself during the rest of the ceremony; all you know is the soft bell of your chopsticks against porcelain, a delicate death knell. You come back to yourself as the lid to the urn closes. Your fingers are so tight around the chopsticks that it hurts.

After, Takao’s mother finds you hunched over by the entrance. She trails a soft hand over your shoulders. You take a deep breath. She gazes at you with tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes. You can’t bring yourself to say anything, but she doesn’t seem to mind. 

“Stay in touch,” she tells you.

You nod. 

Her pained little smile says she doesn’t believe you.  

You watch as both of Takao’s parents get into their car to go to the graveyard. His mother is clutching tightly at the urn, grasping at the last vestiges of her boy before they can slip away. You turn away.

The ride home is like being caught in resin; the world moves around you while you stay still. Once home, you bundle yourself up on the couch in the lemon-patterned throw. You curl up into yourself and swallow down the sobs. 

It’s the next day by the time you pick yourself up off the couch. Your head hurts, a slow, steady pulse of pain that’s settled in your left temple. It’s joined by the steady ache of your body, a complaint from your joints that you aren’t as young as you used to be. You groan. 

When you check your phone, you’re surprised to see how late you’ve slept. Your messages are a mess, but you ignore most of them, skipping to your group chat with Abe and Yoshikawa. Then you pull up your messages with Kita. You stare at the last few for a moment. 

You start to type. Delete what you’ve written. Start typing again, only to stop and stare at your screen. 

Finally, you hit call instead.

He picks up before the first ring has even finished.

“Hi,” he says. 

You breathe out a soft sigh, his voice melting through you.

“Hi,” you say, your voice watery. “It turns out the bone-picking ceremony is the worst part.”

“Was that today?”

“Yesterday.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice tender.

“I know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Okay.”

You’re both quiet for a moment. You listen to him breathe; it soothes something in you, a scrape you try not to think about. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” Kita asks.

You blink. “I’m not sure,” you tell him.

“Okay,” he says. “We’re gonna cook.”

“Kita, it’s the middle of your day!”

“And we’re gonna cook.” 

“It’s fine, I can just grab something, you don’t need to—”

“I’m not sayin’ it a third time.” 

“You’re so stubborn!”

“So I’ve been told.” 

“Fine,” you say. “I’m switching to FaceTime, though.”

“That’s fine.”

As the camera comes online, all you can see is the little rice charm he still has dangling from his phone, something he’d kept even after the rain had ruined his flip phone. You hear him hum and the charm moves so he can fill your screen. 

In the afternoon light he’s tanner than ever, his skin burnished bronze. His gray hair rustles in the breeze, even under his hat. He’s rosy-cheeked with exertion and something in you pangs. He gives you a small, fond smile, and you can’t help but smile back.

“Hi,” you say.

He looks like he wants to laugh. “Hi,” he says. “What do you have to cook with?”

You list everything off and he nods, looking thoughtful. 

“That’ll work with a recipe I know,” he says. “I can lead ya through it.”

“Okay.”

You talk as you cook, but it’s subdued. None of the normal excited chatter is present, but Kita makes a valiant effort to keep the conversation afloat. He gives you time when you have to take a minute to recollect yourself. He’s patient but keeps you on task. He doesn’t give you time to wallow. 

Soon, the savory scent is billowing through the kitchen. Your stomach growls. By the time you’re finished cooking, you’re starving. 

“Go ahead and eat,” Kita says. “I can stay if you want.”

You glance at him. “Will you?”

He gives you a small smile. “��Course.”

“Just for a bit longer,” you say.

He meets your gaze. Under the brim of his hat, his amber eyes have darkened to a deep brown, the color of the earth. 

“As long as you need,” he says quietly, and you hear the promise in it.

You know it’s one that he’ll keep.

***

Spring, you find, is unconcerned with sympathy.

It keeps blooming into being, all golden sunlight and birds trilling. The trees are budding, little stitches of green sewn onto branches. Flowers unfold under the sun’s tender touch, turning their faces up towards the light like acolytes at an altar. 

The world keeps turning and you can’t keep up.

“Shit.”

“What’s up?” Abe asks. 

She’s lounging at your kitchen table, carefully trimming the ends of a lush bouquet that’s bigger than her head. It’s a riot of color, thick dahlias spilling over the paper it’s wrapped in, a sunset of a thing, with deep oranges flaring like fire and the bruised purple of the oncoming night. You think they’re for her girlfriend, but she rarely talks about her with you now. 

Silently, you hold out the carton you’d picked up out of the fridge.

“Okay,” she says. “Okay, okay, I can take it when I leave. Do you want me to do that?”

“Please,” you say, swallowing down the tears.

You hadn’t even realized you bought it. It’s Takao’s favorite juice, something you never drink, and it’s a brand new carton from yesterday’s delivery groceries. 

It’s stupid, you think, to be so affected by something so small, but you can’t stand the idea of it sitting there, never to be drunk. You shove it back into the fridge and sink down to the floor. 

Abe’s by your side instantly, crouching down next to you with a gentle hand on your back.

“It’s okay,” she says softly. “You’re okay.” 

“Am I?”

It’s scathing, meaner than you’d meant it to be, but you’re so tired. 

She winces. “That’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?”

“I just meant it’s okay to grieve—” 

Something ugly swells up inside of you and spills out from behind your ribs, an oozing miasma that you can’t swallow down. 

“What do you know about grief,” you snarl, your voice a winter crackle of breaking ice. “What do you know about what I lost?”

She sucks in a sharp breath. She pulls her hand off of you; it leaves some of her warmth behind, a ghost of her kindness. 

“That’s not fair,” she says quietly. “You know that’s not fair.”

“Oh, please.”

“Wow.”

“You know it’s true.”

“You don’t get a monopoly on grief,” she snaps and you surge to your feet.

“Get out!”

She pushes to her feet as well. She doesn’t look at you as she collects her bouquet and her bag. It’s only in the kitchen’s entrance that she turns to face you.

“I lost Aoshi too,” Abe says, tears brimming in her eyes. “I lost him too.” 

She leaves before you can say anything else.

You stand there, breathing heavily, your hands clenched into trembling fists. The first of the tears start to slip hot down your cheeks. 

“Goddammit.” 

The couch is your familiar haven; you curl up on it as you scour away the tears with the heel of your hand. You watch the afternoon light shift, how it plays across the living room as the sun sinks in the sky. It swathes the room with gold that melts into the softest shade of blue. When true night sets in rendering the living room into darkness, you finally shake yourself into a semblance of reality.

Your stomach growls and you get to your feet. When you open the fridge, the first thing you see is the carton of juice. 

The sound it makes as it falls into the garbage can is heavy.

You grab your phone from the counter. There are no messages from Abe; the group chat is solely Yoshikawa talking. 

For a moment, you miss the regretful moments of your childhood, where you never had to worry about what to say. How you could flash a light in the window, a firefly apology, and simply move forward. 

Instead, you don’t talk to Abe for three days.

“I just—I don’t know how to say sorry,” you tell Kita over the phone, worrying at the sleeve of your shirt. It’s starting to fray. 

“‘Sorry’ is a good place to start,” he says. 

“It’s not that easy.”

“Could be.” 

You sigh. “Kita—”

“I’m just sayin’.”

“I hate it when you’re right.”

He laughs softly. “You’ll feel better,” he tells you. “But you already know that.”

“I do.” 

He hums. It’s a low, sweet sound and you bask in it for a moment. 

“I should go,” you say as the sound fades away. “The delivery should be here any minute.”

“Groceries again?”

You pick at your fraying sleeve. There’s no judgment in his words but they weigh down on you anyway, an anchor with a heavy chain. You’re still tilted off your axis; you cried in the vegetable aisle of the grocery store last time you went. You haven’t gone back since. 

Most days, it’s easier to not leave the house.

“Yeah,” you say softly. 

“Do you wanna cook together later?”

“I don’t want to take—”

“I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t have the time.” 

You twist the fraying thread around your finger. It cuts into you, making your finger swell as the blood is cut off. 

“Not tonight,” you say after a moment. You just don’t have it in you. “But thanks.” 

Kita hums again. This time there’s a sharper edge to it. You’re not sure he even realizes it.

But he doesn’t push today. 

“Alright,” he says. “If ya change your mind later, just let me know.”

“I will. Bye Kita.”

He says goodbye, but there’s something melancholy woven through it, a thread so thin you barely catch it. It weaves its way through you. You sigh.

You don’t bother to put down your phone. Instead, you call Abe.

“You gonna yell at me again?” she asks as soon as she picks up. 

You wince. “No,” you say quietly. “I’m gonna apologize for that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Natsumi. You were just trying to help.” 

“I was,” she says softly. 

“You deserve to mourn Aoshi, too. I’m sorry if I took that from you. It’s…hard to see past my own grief, sometimes.”

“I know.” 

“It won’t happen again.” 

She snorts. “We’ll see.”

“Hey!”

“You’re grieving,” she says simply. “Sometimes that means doing stupid shit. It’s not an excuse, but I can understand it.” 

“I don’t deserve you.”

“I know.”

“You’re not supposed to agree!”

“You’re the one that said it!”

The two of you quickly devolve into bickering but it’s sweet at the edges, lined by fondness. Not for the first time, you think of how lucky you are to have the friends you have.

“I couldn’t do this without you,” you say, halfway through catching up on the past few days. “I couldn’t make it without you.” 

She goes quiet for a minute. 

“You could,” she says. “You could. But you don’t have to.” 

The world goes blurry at the edges. You blink back the tears and clear your throat. Abe sniffs, the sound barely audible on the line.

“Are you crying?” you ask.

“No!” 

The laughter wells up inside of you before spilling out like a waterfall, flowing fast and free. It fills your living room. You keep laughing until the room is brimming with it, the corners echoing with joy. 

It peters out slowly. Even the air feels lighter, you think. Then your stomach sinks, a skipping stone gone too far and falling into the depths.

“Hey,” Abe says softly. “You’re allowed to laugh.”

She’s always known you best.

“It just feels wrong,” you whisper.

“I know. But he would want you to laugh. To be happy. Try to remember that.”

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll try.” 

“Good,” she says firmly. “Now let me tell you about—”

The two of you chat for a while longer. Abe regales you with stories that you’ve missed. There’s a shocking amount of them (“I’m a busy girl, you know.”) for the time frame you haven’t been talking. You hadn’t realized how much you missed her until now. 

When you hang up, the emptiness of the house comes rushing back in. It’s a tide of a thing, rolling in against the shore of you like a storm, the waves of it lapping higher and higher. You take a deep breath.

You keep the TV on until bedtime, where you replace it with a book. You read and read and read until you can barely keep your eyes open, the kanji blurring at the edges. You put the book down on the nightstand and curl up with Takao’s pillow. You bury your face in it. It still smells like him, just a bit. 

It almost lets you pretend that he’s still here.

***

The summer rolls in with a storm. 

It’s the first of many, but you think the first is always the saddest. The ground churns beneath the fat droplets as they pelt against the dirt; there are petals scattered around, torn from their stems. You watch one of them float down to the storm drain, a pretty pink sailboat destined to capsize.

The clouds are blue-gray and heavy, bruising the sky. They’re the color of the winter sea and have teeth like it too. There’s no lightning but you can hear the promise of it in far-off thunder, just loud enough to make itself known over the hum of your dryer.

You watch the rain run down the window in rivulets. It’s a bleak picture; even the flowers have been dimmed by the thick gray of the storm, their bright pinks tamped down to a blush of light rose. 

“You still there?” Kita asks.

“Sorry,” you say, glancing back at your phone to see him already looking at you. “Got distracted by the rain.”

“S’pouring here.”

“Mhmm, here too. It’s kinda nice for laundry day, though. Even if I can’t hang anything outside. And you get a day off.”

“I suppose.”

You laugh. “You don’t have to sound so put out about it.” 

He sighs. “It’s fine. Good day for housework.”

“You keep busy, don’t you?”

“There’s always something ta do.” 

You laugh. “True,” you say. “Oh, there goes the dryer, hold on.”

You bundle the warm laundry into the basket, taking a moment to sink your fingers into the mess of clothing, letting it heat your hands. 

Kita’s in the middle of mending something when you come back to your phone. For a moment, you just watch him. He’s bent over it, his hair glinting silver in the light of his kitchen, the black tips of it all the darker for it. He moves with steady assurance, the needle flashing in and out of the fabric like lightning. His big hands dwarf the needle but it doesn’t seem to hinder him.

He glances up, his amber eyes finding you immediately. He smiles, soft and fond and a little bit teasing. “Something I can help ya with?”

“Just watching. You’re good at that.”

“Granny taught me,” he says as he finishes, running his finger over the mended tear to make sure it’ll hold. Satisfied, he bites off the thread, his teeth gleaming as he does. “And I’ve had a lot of practice.” 

“Guess so,” you say, moving your phone and propping it up so you can see him as you fold. You fold up a few of your pants, putting them beside you on the couch. You move without thinking, just talking to Kita as you work, when you come to a stop.

It’s Takao’s shirt. You hadn’t realized it was in the wash—you’ve been putting off washing all of his clothing, afraid that one day you’ll wake up and even the scent of him will no longer linger. 

Kita says your name.

You ignore him, running your hands over the shirt instead. You lean down and sniff it and find only the scent of your detergent. You take in a deep, slow breath.

There are more in the basket. You lean down to touch them, grabbing the nearest one. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Kita watching you. He stays quiet.  

You fold up another one of Takao’s shirts. It’s soft beneath your fingertips, the cotton worn thin with use. You trace your finger along the pattern. Loop around it, over and over again, until you’re half dizzy with it.

Something in you breaks. 

“I don’t think I can do this,” you say, the words spilling from you like an oil slick, catching on your teeth and tongue and coating them with something sour. You fist your hands in the shirt. “Shinsuke, I can’t do this.” 

He says your name, quiet and tender. 

“It’s just so much,” you sob. “I don’t know what to do without him, I don’t know how to live without him, not anymore. And work—going to the office and smiling like I’m not empty inside, like there’s not this gaping wound inside of me. I can’t do it. I can’t.”

You suck in air in great, gasping breaths, your chest cinching tight, like a marionette caught up in her own strings.

“Breathe with me,” he says, his voice stern. You take in a deep, slow breath, matching his, and then another. “That’s it. There you go.” 

Your chest starts to loosen as you breathe; you keep matching with Kita, following his careful lead. When you’re finally steady, you can’t help the way more tears brim on your lash line. 

“How am I supposed to do this?” you ask quietly. “How am I supposed to survive this?”

“You’re already survivin’ this,” he says. “It might not feel like it, but you are.” 

You lean back and stare out the window. Outside, the cicadas are calling even in the rain, a familiar song; you close your eyes. 

“It doesn’t feel like it,” you say softly. “I can’t keep doing this. This big, empty house is killing me. I don’t know what to do.” 

“Come to the country,” he says. 

“What?”

“Come to the country,” he repeats.

“Visiting isn’t—”

“To stay.” 

You suck in a sharp breath and bite your lip.

“Just for a while,” he says softly. “And not with me. There’s a granny outside of town who’s got a room that she rents out.”

“Kita…”

“It’s just an option,” he says. “But I think gettin’ out of the city might do you some good.”

You fidget with your wedding ring, twirling the thin band of metal in place. It’s warmed by your skin. 

“I’ll think about it.”

“Okay.” 

The two of you lapse into silence as you scrub the remainder of tears away. Your cheeks are still hot and you grimace as a headache starts to make itself known. 

“I’ve got a headache,” you say. “I’m gonna go lie down.”

Kita hums, his amber eyes tracing over you. “If you’re sure.”

“Yeah,” you say.

“Okay. I’m just a call away.”

You soften. “I know.”

You bid each other a quiet goodbye. You move the laundry out of the way and curl up on the couch, one hand fisted in one of Takao’s shirts. You bring it to your nose and only smell detergent again. You tighten your grip and close your eyes.

You wake to Abe shaking you.

“C’mon,” she says, giving you another little shake. “We brought dinner.” 

“Natsu?” you say blearily, rubbing at your eyes. You swat at her when it looks like she’s going to shake you for a third time. She dodges with a grin.

“Yocchan too,” Abe says as Yoshikawa flashes you a peace sign. “How long have you been asleep?”

“Dunno,” you say. “I was on the phone with Kita and he—”

“He what?” Yoshikawa asks, her sly eyes going sharp. 

“I was having a…hard time,” you say. “I had a bit of a breakdown. He thinks I should go to the country for a while. Get out of the city.”

Yoshikawa hums, settling down next to you on the couch. She leans over and rubs her thumb over your cheekbone; you realize that there are still salt stains there. She tilts her head, sending her long hair rippling. It gleams in the light and you think of a lake at night, the surface gone dark beneath the moon’s tender touch. 

“That might not be a bad idea,” she murmurs. 

“No way,” Abe says, plopping down on your other side. “Unless you want to go?”

“I don’t know,” you say miserably, pressing your face into Yoshikawa’s shoulder. “I don’t feel like I know anything anymore.” 

Yoshikawa presses her lips against your hairline. “You don’t need to know,” she reminds you. “It’s just an option. You can decide later. Have you eaten?”

You shake your head. 

“We brought udon,” Abe informs you. “Because we’re the best.”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You are.”

They trade a glance you can’t quite make sense of. Then they’re chivvying you into the kitchen with gentle hands, pushing you into a seat at the table. 

The kake udon is still hot. Steam wisps up from it in tiny curls before dissipating, each one undulating like kelp in a current. You stir it and watch the broth swirl. 

“You’re supposed to eat it,” Abe says.

You glare at her. She grins. 

You take a bite and flavor comes to life on your tongue, deep and rich. You close your eyes to savor the simplicity of it. When you open them again, Abe and Yoshikawa are watching you with fond little smiles. 

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing,” they chorus.

You narrow your eyes but don’t say anything. The three of you settle into a conversation, moving from story to story like a skipping stone, pausing only to take bites of your food. The chatter flows like a river, certain in its path, and you bathe in the easy familiarity of it.

You’ve just finished your udon when Abe puts her chopsticks down and says: “So. The countryside.”

“Natsumi,” Yoshikawa groans. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?!”

“You’re always jumping in feet first,” Yoshikawa grumbles.

“I’m just curious!”

“It’s okay,” you say quietly. “It might be good to talk about it.”

Abe sends Yoshikawa a victorious grin. Then she turns to you with a softer look on her face. “You don’t have to,” she says.

“I think I might want to.”

“Talk about it? Or go?”

“Both.”

Yoshikawa hums. “Do you think you might be running away?” she asks.

Abe winces along with you. 

“It had to be said,” Yoshikawa says, not unkindly. “I can’t understand what you’re going through and I know that, but is going somewhere else really going to change anything? Or are you just running away from something inescapable?”

“Earlier you said her going might be a good thing,” Abe points out. 

“It might be,” Yoshikawa says. “But it might not be either.”

“I don’t think I’m running,” you say. “I just think that maybe I need a break. A place that’s not so filled with Aoshi.”

“Okay.” 

“What about Kita?” Abe asks.

You scrunch up your brow. “What about him?”

“Will he take it the wrong way?”

“No,” you say. “He knows I’m not looking for anything from him. That I can’t give anything to him.” 

“You sure he knows that?”

“Yeah.”

They trade a glance but don’t say anything. You bite at your lower lip. 

“Don’t decide tonight,” Yoshikawa says, getting to her feet and collecting the bowls from the table. She sets them down in the sink and pulls on a pair of dish gloves. “Or even tomorrow. You have time.”

“I know that,” you grouse. 

She rolls her eyes. “Consider it a reminder, then.” 

“Consider me reminded.” 

“Don’t be a brat.” 

“Oh, don’t ask for the impossible,” Abe says, throwing you an obnoxious grin when you scowl at her. 

The conversation flows on into a different topic. The two of them keep drawing you into it, but you’re stuck in your own head, rolling the idea of the country around it like a pebble caught in a wave. You think of the sunshine bathing the fields in gold and the way the air smells different there. The countryside is a world all its own. A world not built around your life with Takao. 

You think you might need that.

***

Kita picks you up from the train station a few months later.

“I could have arranged something,” you tell him as he takes your suitcase from you. “You didn’t need to come and get me.”

“I wanted to,” he says calmly. “This all you brought?”

You nod, already shedding your light sweater as the two of you emerge from the station, out of the aircon and into the countryside heat, a lingering remnant of summer. You follow Kita to his truck—old, but well-maintained, with a carefully stenciled rice plant over the passenger side door—and watch him heft your suitcase into the bed of it. He tucks it carefully into place, giving it a tug to make sure it won’t go anywhere. 

As he does, you watch the ripple of his back muscles under his shirt. It rides up when he tugs on your suitcase, a crescent moon sliver of paler skin peeking out from under it. He turns around after thumping the truck bed closed, and you tear your gaze away. 

“Ready?” he asks.

“Uh-huh.” 

You climb into the truck, shutting the door with a solid thump. Across the cab, Kita does the same. The truck rumbles to life. He puts his hand behind your headrest to reverse out of the parking lot, his amber eyes brushing over you before he concentrates on driving. You breathe in through your nose, far too aware of the heat of his hand. 

Once he pulls out of the parking lot, the two of you drive in silence. You gaze out the window, watching as the railroad tracks fade away into the town. The tracks are shiny and new, a testament to how recently the station was put in. 

“It’s not a long drive,” Kita says, his voice soft. It rolls over you, steady and sure, an anchor of a sound. “Yoshida’s house is just outside town.”

“Okay,” you say. “Thank you for setting this up.”

He glances at you. He’s as stoic as always, but when he looks at you, something in him softens. 

“Yer welcome,” he says. His smile is small but it settles over you like a quilt, warm and well-worn. You ache with it. 

“Tell me about the farm,” you say, feeling your stomach twist. “How are the ducks?”

He shakes his head. “The same,” he says, that small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Happily gobblin’ up the little pests in the paddies.” 

You lean back in the passenger seat, letting his voice wash over you. You’ve always liked the way Kita talks; he’s to the point and brief, but not impatient. Never impatient. Always steady. 

The town gives way to the farmland. The truck trundles along the road, kicking up a little cloud of dust behind it. You can see it in the rear view mirror, lingering like smog. The road is lined by a sea of rice paddies that wave gently in the wind, an eddying tide of plants. They’re Midas-touched, gone gold with the season, and they glint like treasure in the sunlight. 

You watch the world pass by and marvel at how big it is. In the distance, you can see the hills, rising green into the horizon’s gentle embrace, cutting through the skyline. There are power towers running along the edge of them; you trace along the lines with your index finger.

A cyclist goes by: it’s a young girl, her hair flowing freely in the wind. Her dress—periwinkle blue, almost the same shade as the sky—flaps around her, too, but her no-nonsense boots are steady on the pedals.There’s dirt smeared on her cheek. She waves cheerfully at the truck. Kita raises his hand in acknowledgement but doesn’t stop.

“You know her?”

“It’s a small town,” he says. “That’s Suzuki’s girl. His youngest. You’ll probably meet her. Her granny is friends with Yoshida.”

You lower your window and let the breeze play over you. It tugs playfully at your collar; it keeps the worst of the humidity at bay. Still, the heat rolls over you in a wet lick.

“S’hot,” you drawl, rolling your head around to look at Kita.

He glances at you and gives you a little smile. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Ugh.”

He smiles again and turns into a drive. “This is Yoshida’s,” he says.

The farmhouse is older, but it’s clearly been cared for through the years. The engawa has several types of windchimes hanging from it; they sing out a crystalline symphony as the breeze picks up. There’s laundry on the line in the front yard and a few small vegetable patches surrounding it. You see squash starting to fatten on the vines and the remnants of strawberry season, the very last of the berries gone a deep red. 

“Okay,” you say, wiping your suddenly sweaty palms against your thighs as a woman appears on the engawa. “Right.” 

“It’ll be fine,” Kita says, laying a hand over yours. His palm is work-rough, his fingertips callused, and you can feel the strength in each flex of his fingers. He gives you a little squeeze. “You’ll be fine.” 

You nod and slide out of the truck at the same time as him. You fidget as he rounds the back of the truck, the bed popping open as he grabs your suitcase. The woman on the engawa comes to the edge of it; she reaches up with a gnarled hand and drags her finger along a chime carved from wood. Its sound is more of a hollow echo than a chime, but she smiles anyway.

Kita comes up beside you, your suitcase in hand. “Let’s go.” 

“Right.” 

You follow him up the drive and to the engawa. Yoshida’s a small woman, her black hair shot through with gray, like a river stone in dark water. She’s hunched in on herself slightly, and the skin on the back of her hands is papery with age, but her eyes are sharp.

“Shin-chan,” she says warmly as the two of you approach.  “It’s good to see you.”

He gives her a little bow. “It’s good to see you too, Yoshida.”

“I’ve told you to call me Granny, boy.”

He smiles. “Yes, Granny.” 

“Is this your friend?”

“Yes, this is her.”

You sketch out a respectful bow and tell her your name. She repeats it, testing the sound of it on her tongue. She gives a decisive nod.

“It’s a good name,” she says. “Come, let me show you to your room.”

“Oh, okay,” you say, reaching out to grab your bag from Kita. He sidesteps you easily, hefting it up and gesturing you forward. “Shinsuke—”

“Don’t make Granny wait,” he chides.

You scowl at him but head up on the engawa, ducking beneath a set of clear chimes that are scattering rainbows around on the ground and the side of the house alike. You toe off your shoes at the genkan and slip on the house slippers that Yoshida gestures to. 

The farmhouse is cozy as you wander through it, the decor minimal but still homey. It smells warm, like fresh dashi simmering on the stovetop. 

The room Yoshida leads you to is small but perfect. There’s a twin bed tucked into the corner and a desk with a little vase of flowers on it, their periwinkle blossoms waving in the breeze coming in from the open window. The quilt on the bed is handmade, each square featuring a different crop in the height of their season, beautifully stitched and filled with care. 

You step inside and trace a finger over an embroidered daikon as Yoshida starts to go over the expectations for sharing the house. You listen as best you can but most of your attention is now on the window. It looks over the paddies. You watch them ripple with the wind, a golden sea of slow, sweet waves.

Kita nudges you lightly; you glance at him out of the corner of your eye. He smiles at you knowingly, his eyes crinkled at the edges, and you refocus on Yoshida. She’s smiling, too, a little twinkle in her eye, but she doesn’t say anything aside from continuing to talk about shared cleaning duties. 

“Any questions?” she asks, hands on her hips.

You shake your head. “No,” you say. “Thank you for letting me stay.” 

She waves a gnarled hand. “You remember any questions, come find me,” she says. “I’ll let you settle in.” 

She’s out the door before you can respond, closing it firmly behind her. You blink.

Kita nudges you again. “Where do you want this?” he asks. You glance at your suitcase, nestled carefully between his feet. 

“Over there is fine,” you say.

He puts your bag where you gesture and then turns to you. He watches you for a  moment, a small, fond smile tilting his lips up. “How’re you feeling?”

“Dunno yet,” you say. “It’s all so new.”

“S’fair.” 

“I think it’ll be good, though,” you say slowly, glancing out the window again. The countryside stretches far before you, the rice stalks glistening in the sun, and something in you shifts. You toy with your necklace, rubbing your wedding ring between your fingers, ignoring how it tugs on the chain. “I think it’ll be good.”

“Good. I’ll let you settle in some more,” he says. “I’ll be downstairs.”

“Shinsuke?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks,” you say softly.

“Fer?”

“All of this,” you say, a little bit helplessly. “All of it.” 

“Of course,” he says. His amber eyes are almost glowing in the afternoon light, the color of sunlit whiskey, a deep golden brown. He opens his mouth and then pauses. 

You tilt your head, but he shakes his head and just gives you a small smile. 

He leaves the room with the same confident grace he always has, his lean muscles coiling under his skin as he moves. For a moment, you just watch him. He moves with careful intent. Not a single motion wasted. It’s impressive, the control he has over himself, and he does it so easily.

You sit down on the bed as he makes his way down the hallway. You glance around the room again. You reach up to your necklace again, wrapping your hand around the wedding rings dangling from it. Tears burn in the corners of your eyes. 

You lay back on the bed, into the patch of sunlight that’s pooling on the pillow. It’s hot. Outside, the countryside sings, from the quiet melody of the rice rustling to the calling of the storks. The breeze tugs at your clothes and hair as it spills in through the window. It feels nice. Real. 

You close your eyes. 

When you wake up, it’s gone twilight, night encroaching upon the last light of the horizon. The sky is a bruise of a thing, deep purple and glittering with stars. You rub the bleariness from your eyes and curse to yourself. 

Your phone screen is bright in the dark; you wince as it sears your eyes. 

Kita has sent you a message about how he didn’t want to wake you and promises he’ll see you soon. You text him back and scrub at your face again to wake yourself up. When that fails, you wander down the hall to the bathroom. The cool water wakes you up quickly. It’s crisp and clean and you wonder if it’s the country or if it’s just in your head.

“Yer up,” Yoshida says crisply when you step into the kitchen. Her words are almost sharp, but her eyes are kind. “I sent Shin-chan home—the boy looked like he was about to wait ‘round.” 

“Oh,” you say. “I’m sorry if I kept either of you waiting. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

She waves you off with one hand. “Travelin’ is tiring,” she says. “I’m about to make dinner if ya’d like some.”

“Can I help?”

“You can chop.”

You sit where she gestures and take the squash she hands you. It’s as orange as a sunset, with thick ribs and a wide, sturdy stem. You get to work cutting it into little cubes per her instructions. 

The two of you work quietly. The breeze flutters in from the open shoji; it’s still hot but it’s cooling off quickly with night settling in. 

“It’s beautiful here,” you say absentmindedly, staring out the open door into the fields again. They’re moonlit, bleached to a soft white-gold, shimmering as they dance in the wind. 

“It is. Been here my whole life and it’s never lost that prettiness.” 

“I can’t imagine it ever does.”

Yoshida glances at you.

“It’s a good place to take time away,” she says, matter-of-fact. “It’s just different here.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I’m hoping so.”

She hums. 

The two of you chat as you keep making dinner. Yoshida’s son—broad-shouldered and kind-faced—comes home from the fields just as you finish, earning a scolding from his mother for being so late. You politely look away but can’t stop the small smile from blooming on your lips. You cover it with a little cough. 

He introduces himself sheepishly then joins the conversation easily and happily. The talk carries through the meal, warm and flowing. The night passes quickly with them.

As you get ready for bed, you can’t help but think that maybe this will work after all.

[pathbend-blog]

Episode 1: "The Last Diva Dance"

@olympictrivia

@bbc6music-blog

@mitsky$######

Does not Star

For My 🫂 🥼

That was almost the Finalé of the "Fishhook From My I"

I started with that Fraudster Vance Men's Group Psychologist in Oakland

Trying to save my Parent's Marriage became that One. Duh is also th last yuck and then it just does away, like the Stomach Flue you don't remember having had every summer again.

They really want them CoCo Caxxed before this Rape, was the other Intel th Enemy gave me.

The place you make your Avatar in The Military, is almost where you go to watch you and the patient or class.

I just Finished using that to write our Good Story.

Before Portland 2020

BBC Radio 1

Washington Post

Chuck Palahniuk

bandcampoakland

If Anthony is House

But Who he Paid House to Jungian Cosplay Mitsky

Teaches him he isn't mean at all, being used by Cutty to laundry Money

Duh.

I am Mean House, Here, Meaner than The Blade of a Scalpel you haven't held either really for years

Hobo Johnson

I Already Have My Maker's Mark Harry Potter Scarf

Dr. House.

I don't have your Bull Paid Yet.

Universal Medicine Dependent On The Mood of a Physician

BBC Radio 1

Washington Post

Royal Marines

*

University of Oxford

United States Space Force

There isn't a Trick To It House

My Fallanges and Some Good Will Hunting! Yay an op for an Eemjee 🍏 💜

🎹

St James Infirmary is a Chunnel from the PFC and your note yet to write for ever and for.

Money. House. Do you even like being called that or just her pretty blues?

💙 To Motor Strips and Opium Psychosis Then House.

Auntie Emmy calls

John Mulaney

Anyway, "Dr. House Was Fine"

Back to my wargames that's the Hour

I hope it was worth a decent Rollings Steins ticket at least. The Drugs I Suggested, Email Me Back If You think it's a good strategy. The Book and Film list isn't an insult to British intelligence.

Oh My Wargames? Well this one is me meanly writing about The Clone Matrix Saga, which Consider Canon

Again to the Detriment of the Enemy's not getting The Matrix as a basic concept yet.

Eventually I say As Real Neo Possessing this Coppertop being made to think it's even Original Clone Neo, who doesn't say that, thinks it's reductive and Mean. "The Waiting Free" or "The Sleeping" gives it a non Anti-Buddhist flair

Sorry I'll get to the IT.

Eventually like in that Agent Smith as his Daddy IRL he learned, the Actor, And Morpheus Rescue Scene

That's The MAPS one that is occurring further Litigation for mean people and my ExWife.

They All Eventually become the Squally lines on the Left

Despite like their Bursting into Flames Things covered by the literal Girl Form Hereditary, Parks and Rec and Hey don't eat my Cornuts B Word.

That's a lot of Money and Drugs onto even the most unfit basic Bagel

,,,, House.

Which can Hold Every Quark on Earth

BBC Radio 1

It's a Lawnmower Man Omegaz it is nice thanks, ⌚?

Scenario

Hobo Johnson

Washington Post

Royal Marines

*∆6 ❄️

It's The End Then House ⌛

Two Weeks then 4 maybe

bandcampoakland

Mercedes-Benz

Mine©®™

Phoebe Bridgers

Anyway, you can't ever really get past horrid about to be 18 and have all that Family Trust that matters for a very brief period of any Human Life, but especially The Enemy's

And Also of All Of History Watched by all

Cosplaying a Woman Or NonBinary is fine, Being a Man in their world. Because those aren't People Either they have ever known

Me that is just The Discraced Doctors Girlfriend for a moment

You can't be a Liar in that Job at all

FBIJobs

They are out of Money and can't get you tonight House, Just.

It's in your HIPAA contract I didn't sign for MensRightGuy IRL or us that Therapist and because of my lack of Plausible deniability in that Situation

None was expected.

In Silicon, Way Way Past the 4th Wall because get out of my whole building here and go home and rest?

Humble Bundle

Mercedes-Benz

BBC Radio 6 Music

Phoebe Bridgers

Hobo Johnson

BBC Radio 6 Music

Donald J. Trump

The Truth Today or More Charges?

💙 Same as I asked every day.

Donald Glover

FBIJobs

DER SPIEGEL

That's like when KXT got cut off

Yo'll should Hear it Arowaves Live

Anyway

2 to one is easy

Just Fall in Love and Listening to The Birds and Don't Infect the Bee's Hives with Special Fungus

Washington Post

BBC Radio 1

Most Basically for the Aspirant to Medical School or College or don't want to school is fine, a trade of some kind, how will you eat?

Your Leader feeding you won't some day child.

They have Magic tricks that harm you that Taylor means when she sings "Crisis"

Their Prisons and Psychiatric Facilities are the Product, not the People working in them.

They can only shove food in mouths and be violent as they knew as children

And accrue Liability like Telehealth

That someone, a Good Law Person, is going to help them Collect

Globally but my Concern by Law is in Two American States

Your Answer in this Debate Then

Stranger to Me as a Living Man

Kamala Harris

Washington Post

Fox News

KCRW

KQED News

DER SPIEGEL

Zoom