#we're just gonna put it out there I guess?

[therealbeachfox]

"Why do we make laser grids like these?" came the chirp from across the table.

"What do you mean?" Otto responded without looking up.

"I mean, instead of a messy random arrangement of lasers that a nimble intruder might be able to jump through, why not a simple grid wall with no gaps large enough to allow a person to pass?"

Otto sighed heavily and looked up from the blueprints he'd been amending and reworking to focus on his nephew. One of his nephews. One of his multitude of nephews because none of his siblings understood the concept of wrapping it up. He was at Mykola's place, so probably one of his. Too young to be Aiden, too old to be Eric. A, B, C... Connor? Conway? Conrad? One of those. At that extra annoying age where they're too curious for their own good, and have started to believe they actually know something, so get real argumentative about it when you prove they don't.

There's a reason why Otto didn't have kids. Or deal with kids. And tried to talk the Boss out of putting kids into his deathtraps. Fucking kids. Ugh.

"Because if we did that, it'd be impossible to get through." he said, hoping it'd satisfy the kid.

"But isn't that what you're trying to do?" Mykola's boy had his head twisted around to try and look at the blueprints from his uncle's perspective and was tracing out the twisting pathways with his eyes. "This whole thing is a giant 'You Can't Get In Here' tunnel. I don't understand why you're leaving holes in the security."

Well, the kid had actually asked, instead of just flat out stating that his way would be better. Otto grit his teeth and settled himself back for a proper lecture. "You're thinking too mundanely, kid." The boy looked up curiously and brushed a tangle of near-black hair out of his eyes. Slightly mollified, Otto continued. "This isn't like designing security for a bank or vault or something. This is something for my Boss. So we're already not designing like we would for the public sector, right?"

"Yeah? Yeah." Con-whatever agreed, though still looking just as confused.

"So, our issue is, whoever comes looking for whatever it is that the Boss is gonna put at the end of this is already going to be uniquely skilled and driven. Not just your average jewelry robbers or beat cops, right?"

"Right, yeah, you're going to be dealing with capes or cowls and stuff, sure. But wouldn't that mean you'd want it all extra locked down?" The kid was now looking directly at him. But with the intense look of someone who didn't understand but wanted to. It was by far more annoying than if the kid had just been flat-out disparaging of the whole process. Now Otto couldn't just tell him to shove off without feeling bad about it. Ugh.

"Well, here's the thing. If this was something the Boss really wanted to keep away from people, he'd have it put in some indistinguishable bank vault lock-box by a patsy that one of us underlings had hired through a third party, leaving two whole layers unaware of who even wanted the thing in there, and at least three whole layers who have no idea what the object even is besides. But he's not doing that, he's putting it at the end of a long tunnel of traps, alarms, and obstacles. Which means, what he wants is for whoever's coming after him to go through the whole thing. Which means it's gotta be at least theoretically possible to get through the whole thing. If you were a cowl and you came across a perfect laser grid that there was no way to squirm your way through and no way to work around, what would you do?"

Mykola's kid frowned down at the blueprints, eyebrows furrowed in tweenage concentration. "Start cutting through the walls, I guess. Either to find a way to cut the power, or to bypass the tunnel all toget-OH! Ooooooh, okay! I see, I see!" Otto grabbed the edge of the table to steady it as the kid started bouncing a little in his seat. "If you make it impossible, the cowls will start thinking outside the box and start looking for ways to end-run around the whole thing. If you make it difficult, but still possible, they're going to be too busy focusing on how to do the almost impossible thing so they're still playing by your Boss' rules instead of making up their own!"

Otto grunted and bit back the hint of a smile that wanted to cross his lips. Last thing he wanted to do was encourage the brat; then he'd be stuck answering questions all day. "Now you've got it. Make it hard enough that they waste as much time getting through it as possible without breaking out their bat-themed metal cutters or retreating and finding another way to come in altogether. Same reason why museums do it this way. Otherwise, the only way to get at shit would be to blow a hole in the floor, and that'd damage way more artifacts than whatever the thief was targeting originally."

"Okay, I think I totally get it. Is that why the HVAC ducts are big enough for sidekicks to get through? In case they can't work stuff out?"

Otto blinked and scowled back down at the blueprints to figure out what the kid was talking about, "No? No! I've got them as small as they can get without leaving the air rank, and we've got mesh grids every five feet just in case they try anyway."

The kid pointed down at one point in the blueprints and traced out a line that went way from one-third of the way through the hallway to right near the end, "Not on this one. And it's got this other branch that leads out to the bathrooms in the laundry mat you're using as a front, even!"

Otto squinted down at what the kid was pointing out. It was a second branch of the air circulation network, focused mainly on the above ground business, but with a few pipes down below ground as federally mandated backups to the system he'd been focusing on locking down. "No. That's not for the sidekicks." He growled and grabbed for an eraser and pencil and got to work grinding out alterations.

"Huh. So what about the-" the kid started.

"One thing at a time. Let me get this fixed, then you can ask the next one, okay?"

"Yeah, sure, okay!" The kid shrugged and grabbed up one of Otto's old notebooks that had the first iteration of designs for the Boss' main vault and started reading while kicking his legs.

Otto just ground his teeth and focused on his work. Only thing worse than a kid was a precociously bright kid with an honest interest in your work. Worse thing in the goddamn world.

He should message Mykola and let him know he needed to get one of his other kids to bring up snacks for the brat. He was at that age where he was going to get hungry long before Otto was done.

"Why do we make laser grids like these?" "What do you mean?" "I mean instead of a messy random arrangement of lasers that a nimble intruder might be able to jump through, why not a simple grid wall with no gaps large enough to allow a person to pass through?"

[sugurusfavemonkey]

A Helping Hand (Part 2) read part 1 here summary: after a long winding wait you and Gojo finally take your relationship to bed the next level. pairing: Satoru Gojo x reader word count: 4.5k warnings: MDNI; fluff and love confessions, cursing, oral (female receiving), creampie (this is a work of fiction, wrap it before you tap it irl!); rough s&x; canon divergence - both Gojo and reader are over 18 when Gojo takes in the Fushiguro siblings.

a/n: I lied, put your clothes back on... we're going on a fluff ride (roughly 1.6k words) before the sexy bits make an appearance (the other 2.9k), because, apparently, I cannot control myself once I start writing.

Unfortunately for you and Gojo, things did NOT progress as expected that night.

Tsumiki insisted they should help you with the cleaning after dinner and dessert and then launched into an animated retelling of the debate club happenings earlier that day as she dutifully dried the dishes you handed her.

It was many hours later before the kids finally were ready for bed.

You put both of them to their beds with a parting forehead kiss for each - the embarrassed blush on Megumi's cheeks never failing in making you chuckle.

By then you were exhausted, hand covering a big yawn that had Satoru laughing.

He threw his arm over your shoulders, using the leverage to pull you away from the kids' bedroom as he closed the door behind you with his other hand.

"Tired, sweets?" 

"Completely wiped." you admitted, letting your head fall onto his shoulder, the realization of just how well you fit under his arm making you giddy "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Well, I guess I just wanted to have a wild night of rowdy pleasure with my new boyfriend, but I can't even fathom the idea of keeping up with his stamina right now."

"This boyfriend of yours sounds like a dream." Satoru's casual comment made you snort with constrained laughter. The man really had the greatest ego you'd ever seen.

"Except when he's being a self-centered dimwit." You tried to untangle yourself from under his arm, but Satoru had a different idea. You momentarily thought you were falling until the realization that he had reached his free arm underneath your knees and picked you up before you had time to protest set. A yelp of surprise the only noise you managed to release as you threw your own arms around his neck for support.

"I'm sure he has good reason to think so highly of himself." Satoru spoke as he rearranged his hold to support your weight with one arm under your rear in an impromptu display of strength, so he could open the door to the other bedroom. 

"Stop praising yourself, Gojo." You chastised, but there was no heat behind your words.

He kicked the door shut behind yourselves as soon as you crossed the threshold. "Nuh-uh. That's Satoru to you. We went over that already." 

"Not when you're being insufferable, no." Your words were barely discernible through the yawn you let out as you let yourself relax against him. 

"Hmm. Let's get you to bed, sweets."

"Yeah? You gonna do unspeakable things to me in the master bedroom, Gojo?" Your words were slurred, breath fanning teasingly against his neck, eyelids heavy with sleep.

"It's Satoru," he insisted, "and no. Not tonight. Even though I'd like nothing else than just taking you, you're so sleepy you sound drunk right now."

"Look at you being all gentlemanly. I though Nanami was the last one left of those." 

"Why are you bringing up Nanamin when we're talking about sex?!" Satoru sounded absolutely disgusted at the notion and you would probably have laughed at that if you had the energy to do so.

"You jealous?" you hummed, eyes already closed.

"Pfff! As if I had any reason to be jealous of that emo nerd."

"I don't know... I think he has his charms." just as you finished uttering the words Satoru unceremoniously dropped you on the bed, "what the fuck, Satoru?!"

"That's for talking about other men in my presence." He huffed, a cute pout on his lips.

"Oh my god, Satoru! Are you really going to be that much of a possessive boyfriend? What did I even get myself into?" There was no way you were letting him live his near tantrum at the mere mention of Nanami down.

"Too late to back off now, sweets." He playfully stated, leaning over you teasingly before dropping to the other side of the bed and making you bounce on the mattress again.

You turned your head, staring at his annoyingly perfect side profile as he brought his hands behind his head and crossed his ankles. You mused his words for a second, focusing specifically on the nickname he used. The pet name Satoru had always used when referring to you

"Why do you always call me that?" Though you always wondered the nickname's origins that was the first time you proffered the question aloud. 

"You know how much I love my sweets." His matter-of-fact demeanor threw you in for a loop.

"Who would have thought you could be so corny? I'm serious, Satoru."

"So am I," he turned his head to face you as well, "I think I've loved from the moment we've met." his small confession has your heart stuttering in your chest, your smile faltering a bit at the vulnerability etched to that simple whispered phrase.

"Now, that just can't be true. If I remember correctly, you called me weak and said I'd never be able to keep up with you and Su-" you cut yourself off before you said something that would potentially strike a sour note in an otherwise wholesome occasion. 

Still, you weren't fast enough. You saw the moment Satoru's face fell, his expression becoming somber. He looked away from you and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, well... everyone is weak compared to me."

You sighed bitterly, annoyed at yourself for spoiling the moment.

The heavy silence that fell over you begged to be ruptured, so you did just that:

"I shouldn't ha-"

"You're not-"

Apparently Satoru had the same idea because the both of you started at the same time, pausing once you realized the other was also talking. Satoru was the one to break the repeated tense quiet following the sudden standstill: 

"I was wrong. You're not weak. You never were." his voice was quiet, serious. So different to his usual laidback disposition. It was a night for many firsts, it seemed.

"I mean, I'll never really get anywhere near your level." You shrugged, showing you understood his point.

"Still. You are strong. You're efficient and resourceful. And you care. You care so much sometimes I'm scared you'll wear yourself thin." Somehow you knew he wasn't just talking about your prowess as a sorcerer. "Just like- just like him."

"Satoru. Baby. Look at me." You pleaded, turned your entire body this time and tenderly grasped his chin, coaxing him into looking your way once more.

"I'm not leaving." You stared intently into his impossibly blue eyes as you made the vow. "You won't get rid of me that easily."

His hand found yours on his face and gently entwined your fingers before guiding them to his lips, where he placed a soft kiss to your knuckles.

You're not sure if he ever said anything in reply because you soon doze off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。

Satoru was no longer in bed with you when you woke up the next morning to a chime on your phone.

You sighed and sprawled onto your back, hand skimming over your face to find creases in the shape of the ruffled pillowcase under your head and a bit of dried drool at the corner of your lips before finally picking up the offending gadget to find 4 new messages from one strongest hoe🫸🟣:

Leave it to Satoru to make you go from embarrassed to delighted in less than a minute.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。

You spent the rest of your Saturday with Megumi and Tsumiki, thankful you weren't summoned for anything. You were suspicious that had something to do with Gojo, he probably took on more curses just to spare you - it would explain the two whole days of a job when he usually handled curses in less than a minute.

Sunday came around and Satoru called you by noon, letting you know he threatened the elders into leaving the two of you free at least up until Monday and also asked Shoko to watch over the kids for the night.

"Huh. The damn curse is tougher than I thought. Gotta go finish this. See ya tonight. Love ya, sweets!" He ended the call before you even processed his words, your heart skipping a beat.

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。

You had left Tsumiki and Megumi back at the apartment in Saitama with Shoko and went back to your own home in Tokyo to get ready for your first date with Satoru a few hours before.

The clock had just hit 7pm and you were anxiously pacing the living room back and forth when there was a knock to your door. Your feet carried you forward without you even noticing, still lost inside your own head.

"I love you." You snapped as soon as you opened the door for him, immediately regretting the outburst at Satoru's smug face.

"That would have been awkward if it wasn't me. What happened to hello?" He laughed extending the bouquet of red roses in his hands to you.

"You fucking hung up on me before I could say it back and this has been hammering in my head ever since." you explained with a small shrug, cheeks going warm in spite of your attempt at nonchalance as you took the offered flowers to arrange them in a vase.

You put the arrangement on the center of your dinning room table after filling a priori empty container with water from the kitchen sink and it wasn't until his hands found your waist and Satoru welded his chest you back that you realized he has followed close behind you as you moved.

"Say that again." his lips brushed against your ear as he spoke, warm breath causing a shiver to run down your spine, your hands falling to the table for support when your knees wobbled.

"Say what exactly?"

"Don't tease me, sweets." His warm lips leisurely glided down with each word. You gasped, head falling back against his shoulder and leaving your neck open to the butterfly kisses he purposefully left to the column of your throat.

"I l-love you, Satoru." You mumbled brokenly.

His grasp on your waist went impossibly tight, his breath stuttering and a low groan erupting from his chest.

"You have no idea what you do to me, sweets."

He sounded absolutely wrecked and the knowledge that you were the one causing Gojo Satoru to lose his cool made you throw your caution to the wind. You pushed your hips back against him and, sure enough, you can feel his hardness pressing back into you.

"Hmm. I think I may have an idea." You crooned teasingly.

"Brat!" He reward your taunt with a bite to the junction of your shoulder to your neck, immediately followed by his tongue lapping away at the harsh sting.

You stretched one arm backwards, hand reaching for the short hair on the nape of his neck as he relentlessly attacked your neck.

"I love you so fucking much, sweets. Have I mentioned how fucking stunning you look right now? I mean, you're always hot, but this look... I just wanna bend you over and fuck you right on this table." there was something nearly unhinged to the way he babbled, like those words had been stuck at his throat for too long and he was finally letting loose.

"And what's stopping you?"

"I don't know, maybe the reservation I made for our dinner in 30 minutes." Even though Satoru tried to stop your advances, the way his hips kept lazily rocking against yours sent a different message. He nuzzled against your neck, inhaling the sweet perfume you sprayed just for him and mumbling something about how you smell good enough to eat under his breath.

"I can't think of a lot of things we can accomplish in 30 minutes."

"Ugh! You'll be the death of me. I'm trying to be responsible for once here!" He nearly whined.

You turned around in his grasp and had to crane your head to look into his eyes with the way he looms over you "Gojo. I don't need you to be responsible or a fancy restaurant date to make this real. I think we're way past that anyway. I just need you."

He seemed conflicted, eyes searching yours through the dark lenses of the sunglasses still perched to his nose.

"Please."

"Fuck it." Your last plea was all it took to break his resolve.

In a flash, Satoru had hoisted you up and sat you at the edge of the table, slotting himself in between your parted legs and lips taking yours possessively, his tongue shoving itself into your mouth, savoring your taste. His hands were suddenly all over you, sliding and grabbing at you like he owns you. You readily opened up for him.

When you finally did part ways, you felt his thumb tracing your swollen bottom lip. He stared at the skin, glistening with your mixed saliva in a daze for a moment before his eyes flicked up to meet yours.

"I wanna taste you. Will you let me taste you, sweets?" Satoru's hands found and toyed with the button to your pants, eyes begging silently for your assent.

You nodded mutely, throat suddenly dry.

The green light you gave was all the encouragement he needed to drop to his knees, finger dexterously popping open the button and sliding down the zipper before nearly pawing the offending piece of clothing down your legs. Satoru didn't have the patience to remove your boots, so the cloth remained bunched up at your ankles. He nibbled at the skin of your inner thigh, slowly inching closer to where you needed him the most.

"'toru!" You whined, letting yourself fall back against the table, head knocking loudly against the wood.

"What is it, sweets? What do you want."

"Touch me!"

"But I am touching you."

"You little- Aw!" You complained when he bit into your thigh as a warning, head lifting from the table to glare half-heartedly at the man in between your thighs.

"Watch it." Satoru alerted, a dangerous glint to his electric blue eyes.

"Ugh. Fine." You relented, not wanting to test him that night. You'd have plenty of time for that on other occasion. "Touch my pussy, Satoru."

"Have you no manners?" He rested his cheek against your thigh, his earlier rush hidden beneath his commitment to have you begging for him.

"Pleas- Oh my god!" You bellowed when he finally dove in, practically french kissing your pussy. His tongue easily found your clit, making random shapes against the bundle of nerves that had you seeing stars behind closed eyelids.

He moaned loudly and shamelessly when your hand found purchase on his soft white hair, encouraging you to pull harder as his own fingers dug into the soft skin of your thighs.

Satoru let go of your hips to hitch your legs up, spread your thighs wider and then one of his hands roamed down until he's brushing your entrance, whining pathetically at the slick that gathered on the finger prodding at your hole. The muscles on your thighs tightened in response and you forced yourself up on your elbows so you could take the delicious show playing out down there.

His free hand reached underneath your sweater, slowly gliding upwards, finger teasing the edge of your bra while his mouth changed its path and traveled up and under your sweater, kissing, licking, nibbling at the skin of your tummy and ribs. The comical sight of his head disappearing beneath the warm fabric had a giggle bubbling up at his silliness, but the feeling of the pad of his thumb striking wet and sticky across your clit draws out a sound deep from your chest instead, something sweet and guttural that made Satoru wish he could record to hear over and over again.

Gojo pulled your bra down and didn't waste a second before taking one of your nipples in his warm mouth at the same time he pressed his ring and middle finger into you, curling them upwards to touch that sweet spot and thumb rocking against your clit with each thrust of his hand. You were squirming as he pressed down on your clit just hard enough. A cry left your lips as the fingers of his other hand pinched your nipple.

His actions made it seem as if he's not sure where to touch first, like a man starved, Satoru needs to feel all of you.

Without warning, he popped out from under the sweater, raising himself up and using both hands to reach for the offending piece of clothing and pulling it up and off of you before reaching behind your back for the clasp of your bra. You sat up again to help him remove it as he slid the straps down your arms.

"You're so hot." Satoru sounded winded, wide eyes traveling all over your body in awe.

"Toru. I need you, please." You begged when you could no longer take his gawking.

Satoru smirked deviously and you nearly regretted pleading with him, knowing he was scheming something.

"I Got you, sweets" was all he said before abruptly picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder, hand smacking your ass with a resounding slap sound. Your shriek only making him laugh. "Let's move this to bed so I can fuck you into the mattress."

Soon you joined in on his laughter even as he jolted you around. Just as it has always been, Satoru had a way of making any moment with you lighter.

When you reached your bedroom he thoughtfully placed you on the mattress, kneeling by the bed to help you with your boots and finally remove the pants and underwear that has still been stuck at your ankles up until then.

Once you were completely bare you expected him to do the same. Instead, he passed you by and sat down against the headboard, patting his lap excitedly when you twisted around to follow his movements with a curious gaze.

"You're still too dressed, Toru." You frowned.

"Yeah, and? Come here before I make you, brat."

Even though you were unsure of what he had planned, you trusted Satoru enough to do as he told you to. You got up and walked around the bed, slightly sheepish at your state of undress, but the astonished look on his face gave you enough confidence to move forward.

You went to sit on his lap, but Gojo was faster, hands picking you up by your waist and settling you down, knees on each side of his legs, so you have no choice but to settle your hands on his shoulders to keep yourself balanced.

Satoru hummed in delight as he pushed you back and forth until you got the idea. You braced your hands against his chest, your hips taking up the rocking against his hard length through his dress pants, your bare slit dripping all over his bulge.

“That’s it, sweets,” Satoru grunted, eyes hungrily following your movement “Get yourself nice and wet and ready for me. Rub your sweet little cunt all over my cock.” At his urging, you rolled your hips harder, eyes falling closed as you took your pleasure from his body.  

Your knees spread even further so you could press down on him harder, your slick staining his pants.

When you opened your eyes, you found Satoru's blue stare already on you, an overjoyed smile etched onto his face.

"I'm gonna fuck you so deep you're gonna be feeling me for weeks."

You moaned at the dark promise, unconsciously speeding up your hips as your hands grasped the lapels of his shirt in tight fists.

"Does the thought turn you on, sweets?" His hips thrust up from below, forcing another moan from your lips. "Having your pussy so abused you can still feel it for days on end afterwards?"

“Oh god,” you moaned, letting your head loll back. But Satoru wasn’t having none of that. He brought his hand to your throat, tugging your head until you had no choice but to meet his blazing gaze.

"Hmmm... I wanna feel you, Toru." You sobbed, desperate for more. “I need it—I need you, please.”

In an instant, Satoru had pushed you onto your back, one of his hands pinning you to the bed by your throat as he forcefully snapped his hips against yours, your head towards the foot of the bed.

You reached up, yanking at the buttons of his shirt and pulling it free from his slacks with a hushed demanding "off."

"I should have know you would be bossy even when underneath me." He chuckled, letting go of you momentarily to shrug off the shirt. Meanwhile, you went for his belt, deft fingers unbuckling it before unbuttoning and pulling the zipper on his pants down. "Eager much?"

"Satoru. We've been dancing around each other for years, you can't blame me for being impatient now."

"Trust me. I get it." He licked his lips, eyes damn near burning a path through your skin as his gaze travelled your form. "You have no idea how many times I've pictured you just like that, naked and wet for me."

"Yeah? You jacked off to the thought of me?" Your pleased smile was not lost on him.

"Like I said, so many times." Satoru admitted unashamedly. "And I gotta say... the real thing is even better than I imagined."

You wanted to giggle at the notion the both of you had unknowingly been pining for each other at the same time for so long, but the sound got stuck in your throat when he finally bared himself to you.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight of him bare. You watched intently as he hastily stood up to kick off his shoes before pushing his pants, underwear and socks down and throwing it all behind himself. Revealing corded thighs and a magnificent long, twitching cock, so big you were glad you were wet and ready for him.

A soft smirk played on your lips as he leaned over you, one knee between your legs, arms caging you in against the comforter.

He gripped his cock and rubbed the bulbous tip up and down your slit, teasing your clit and making you whimper. You rocked your hips up against his dick, trying to find the angle to take him inside you. When that didn’t work, you resorted to begging, whimpering, “I'm so empty. I need you inside me, please Toru."

"Yeah, want me to fill you up sweets?"

You nodded, tangling your legs behind him and attempting to draw him in. For once in your life, you cursed his superior strength, because he sure was having a great time making you desperate for his cock.

“Toru,” you cried with a gasp, your arms around his neck trying to pull him closer, "Please!”

"Since you asked so nicely..."

Satoru captured your lips, pouring his passion and desire for you into a searing kiss. As his lips slid against yours, he pressed the tip against your entrance. 

He drank down your sounds of pleasure as he pushed inside you, inch by inch. You broke away with a gasp when it became too much.

"You're taking me so well, sweets." He mumbled almost incoherently.

Brows knitted and thighs trembling, your eyes didn’t leave his as you basked in the shattering, yet sublimely pleasurable sensation, slowly allowing yourself to relax around him.

Gentle caresses of his thumb to your tight nub made you feel like the smallest push could tip you over edge and into ecstasy. Tight circles that didn't relent until he could bury himself inside you entirely, the air getting punched out of your lungs once he bottomed out.

"Fuck. So tight for me." Satoru remarked with a low moan at the feeling of your walls firmly hugging his dick. "You good?" He checked when you didn't say anything.

"Y-yeah. You can move."

He started off slow but worked up to a gentle but intense rhythm soon enough, wanting you to be comfortable above anything else.

"You feel so fucking good." Satoru praised, one hand moving to hold onto your wrists and push them together against the bed above your head.

"Satoru. Don't stop. Please, don't stop." You begged.

"Don't worry." He rasped, "I don't plan to stop any time soon." timing the words with each frantic drive of his hips, gradually picking up speed until you felt his heavy sack slapping feverishly against you.

His girth stretched you out and filled you to the brink with each hard stroke until there were tears trickling down your cheeks as you drowned in the overwhelming pleasure of it.

"You crying?" Satoru quipped, peering down at you with a smirk.

You swore you would have slapped him if your hands weren't being held down by the very man torturing you with delectation. You couldn't even respond, only unintelligible garble spilling past your lips.

"What? Have a fucked you dumb, sweets?"

Instead of allowing you time to recoup, Satoru gave into whatever restraint had been holding him back and lost himself in the pleasure of your warmth, thrusting with abandon. He just kept going until your moans turned into cries, the lewd and sloppy sonance of your coupling reverberating throughout the otherwise quiet room. His free hand rubbing at your clit and, too fast for your liking, sending your body straight to cloud nine. 

Satoru let his forehead rest against yours while he rutted into your body.

The pleasure you felt so grand it had you unconsciously trying to scoot away, but Satoru was unwavering in his foraging, "Nuh-uh, come back here." he mumbled, dropping kiss after kiss to your lips.

"I-I can't. It's too much. Too bi-big!"

"You can do it, sweets. You're doing so-" He moaned, "good. You can give me one more. C'mon."

The grasp keeping your hands in place relented as his fingers extended, entwining with yours and making the experience that much more meaningful.

Your free hand went straight to his back, nails finding residence sliding down his back, a move which rewarded you with a hiss from the white haired sorcerer. Your legs wrapped around the backs of his thighs helped you meet him thrust for thrust, the two of you writhing together in a frenzy.

He looked at you like you were something meant to be cherished, his lips finding yours with wordless devotion, his tongue slipping into your mouth to slide against yours decadently.

It wasn't long before your eyes were rolling back into your skull and you sensed your thighs begin to tremble once more as you fell over the edge, white heat running through your veins and stars exploding in your vision. Satoru let go once he felt your walls fluttering widely against his cock and buried himself inside with a final thrust forward, warm ropes of cum painting your insides as he traded the firm motions of his thumb with a gentle bit of contact and, finally, halting it all to a complete standstill.

He fell forward, but still made sure not to completely crush you against the bed in a sweaty and jumbled pile.

Your thighs were still quivering when Satoru slid out of you and turned the both of you around so you lied on top of him, his fingers brushing against the skin of your back soothingly.

"Holy fuck." it's all you can say at first.

"Second that."

And then you're both laughing breathlessly, because there's so much love and happiness and oxytocin laden in that moment that you just feel high on it.

"I can't believe we haven't done this before." Satoru chortled, dropping a tender kiss to your head. "How am I suppose to get anything done now?"

"Get your head out of the gutter!" You chastised half-heatedly "I need some time to recover in between sessions. Speaking of which... I'm kinda hungry right now. Is it too late for that reservation now?"

"By nearly two hours, I'd say."

"Whatever. We can just order in."

a/n: this was much harder than I thought it would be to write. How do smut writers do it regularly??

[marigoldendragon]

Everyone's freaking out about the Twst anime having to slowly go through all the books and how we're gonna have to wait several years for the Pomefiore/Ignihyde/Diasomnia chapters. But, I'm not sure that's what they're going to be doing honestly. The crux of each season is probably going to be similar to each book, but the main plots and stories are probably going to be more intertwined.

Mostly because it won't make for good tv otherwise. Tv is a much different medium than a game that allows you to get to know the characters outside the main story, manga novels that can be produced and sold in a lot more insular way. Audiences typically don't respond well to a constantly changing cast of characters, a new protagonist/plot every season.

So I suspect we'll end up with something like oh how do I say this. The main game story but blending the books together more, with a lot more viginette style stories sprinkled throughout plus lots of set up for various character arcs? So yeah we'll probably have to wait a while to see Malleus overblot, but I dont think each season is gonna be quite so clear cut as everyone if probably fearing/picturing.

I could be wrong of course. Just thought I'd put in my two cents to help ease peoples anxieties about not seeing thier favourites in action.

This might help, I don't know if I'm doing a good job describing it in words so I scribbled out a visual. I guess what I'm trying to say is that ideally they'll weave all 7 of the Twst plots into one.

[saiintvalentiine]

hello............ loyalty duo werewolf au..................... im gonna start posting bits and bobs here and there of things ive written that dont really have anywhere else to go. no promises on if this will be continued, but i. i do love me some werewolves........................ divider

Warnings for vague descriptions of injuries and implied torture. The writing and editing is kinda rough, sorry for any major errors :')

Wordcount: 1,087

“Werewolves don't exist,” is what the voice says. “What the fuck, werewolves do not exist!”

The muzzle hurts. It's too tight for his face. But he doesn't move from where he's laid, a bloodied heap slowly healing from his wounds. Every full moon he's dragged into this bedrock room after his fights, and every full moon he tries to escape while adrenaline is still flowing through him, and every full moon he suffers the consequences of thinking they can’t possibly stop him this time. He's too tired to fight this new voice, their scent uniquely cat-like and hovering above him. His eyes are too swollen. He's cried quite a bit. It's hard to stop when he's like this.

“Shit, I guess werewolves exist. Fuck. This isn't what I thought was gonna happen when they said there was dog fighting.”

The voice hovers closer, and he tries to shy away. Something is— broken, probably, in his leg, and his claws are cut through the quick, but he tries anyway to press against the wall.

“Hey, hey hey hey, no, I'm not gonna hurt you,” the voice pitches down, softens, and the part of his mind that can't bear another moment of cruelty forces a whimper out of his mouth. “Oh that's— I'm not gonna hurt you, I'm here to get you out, yeah? We're gonna leave. We're gonna leave riiiiight now, right now, I scared everyone else out, it's just you and me now.”

He's not sure he believes the voice, but beyond the walls, there is a terrifying, blessed silence. Whatever this voice did to everyone else, it could probably do to him. He's in no shape to fight it off.

“Hey,” the voice is even quieter now. “It said outside the door that your name is Wifies. Is that you? Wifies?”

He recognizes the name as the one they call him when he's not like this. He can't make any meaningful noise with his muzzle on, but he tries for. . . a purr, something in his chest that isn't a growl.

“Okay. Wifies. Okay Wifies, I'm Ken. You look too big for me to carry, so we need to work together to get you out of here, yeah?” there's some rustling, and Ken curses. He can't help the way he curls up further. “I brought all my escape kits but not a single healing pot. I'm an idiot.”

Getting up from his curled up spot sounds impossible, but his nails are already growing back in as jagged spikes, so he knows he can do it. He struggles to get his arms beneath him, hoisting himself up after a few false starts. Using his good leg, he twists around to sit and lean against the wall. That little bit of effort has him panting, or panting as much as he can within the metal restraints of his muzzle. He peels his eyes open, ignoring the sting.

“Hoooooooly shit,” Ken mutters, staring up at him. He's a head taller than Ken like this. “I definitely can't carry you, my God.”

Ken is dressed in all black, a brown strap across his chest and a bag hanging off his back. He's a cat hybrid, which explains the smell. His ears and eyes and whip-thin tail are split between a candied green and a golden orange. As soon as his blood stops rushing through his ears, he can hear Ken's heart beating, fast and skipping.

He can't make himself any smaller if he's meant to walk. He lowers his head and puts his ears back.

“Nooo, no no no, it's— you make yourself very small very well. Um, okay, let's— how am I gonna get you out of here?”

His bad leg still hurts, but if he can leave. . . He digs his palms into the bedrock behind him and pushes himself to stand. His weight, as paltry as it is for a wolf his size, causes his bad knee to buckle. Ken yelps. He withstands the shaking, burning pain of it to stand up properly.

“They don't chain you up anywhere?” Ken asks, eyes darting around the room. “I've got a netherite axe. I could definitely split any chain.”

Chains were no good. Once his nails grow back, they're easy to shred. He stares down at Ken.

“Jeez, you're huge, good fucking grief.”

He lumbers forwards towards Ken, and the darkened double doors of his cell. Ken takes a step back, then another, then turns around to push the doors open to their absolute maximum. He hunches over to squeeze through.

The hallway is just as dark as the cell, uninterrupted bedrock as far as he can see.

“It's a bit of a labyrinth. Just follow me.”

Ken hesitates for a moment before weaving his way through the halls. He follows, a loud, thudding, limping pace that should have alerted every single creature around to his presence. But it's just Ken’s feather-light footfalls and him. Whatever Ken did to clear the place out was absurdly successful. 

As they turn another indistinct corner, he sees— moonlight. It pools onto the floors, sweet and cool and calling to him. There's a hole blown through the bedrock, the sparkling smell of redstone surrounding it, and he scrabbles around Ken to squeeze through it. Tumbling onto soft, dewey grass (grass, real grass, when had he ever felt such a thing?) he loses all strength and lays on his back, staring up at the full moon.

She's so huge. He's never seen Her before, had just known when She was full or new in his core. But here She is. She is huge and beautiful and he feels, for the first time ever, at peace.

Ken hops out of the hole and steps closer, crouching next to him.

“Hey buddy,” Ken says. “Do you think I can take the muzzle off?”

He shakes his head, then growls for good measure— a soft growl, low and short to not intimidate Ken too much. He can't explain that the muzzle was put on when he was smaller, that it can’t be removed when he’s like this. Or, it can, but it’ll hurt so much he might cry again. Better to let Ken believe that it’s impossible, just in case.

“That's a no. Okay. Well, we should probably leave soon before anyone realizes anything,” Ken looks up at the sky before swinging back and sitting down in the grass, sighing. “But I don't think sitting here for a little longer can hurt.”

Wifies purrs and basks in the moonlight.

[lovelytayforce]

I agree with this comment here so hard, I remember getting blasted for calling readers who don't comment "leeches" on R/Fanfiction and I'm glad people are seeing that for what it is even if it's four years late

So, I'm gonna share my own little story here because discord has actively ruined communities for fanfic (and art too I'm not gonna leave y'all out cause my bestie @zoetiger-1106 is an artist who deserves way more praise than she gets!!) The reason why authors and myself see the "I'm shy" shit as an excuse is because the same people will type long ass tirades on Discord without a single thought. YOU CAN EDIT AO3 COMMENTS PEOPLE! If you make a mistake, read it back over and edit it. I've watched it happen in real-time with one of my favorite commenters on my one-shot where they left a short gushing comment and then came back and wrote more, you have no excuse much less reason to go "Man fandom keeps telling me to not critique and I might make a mistake so I will say nothing and consume like the average TV and Streaming consumer who thinks there doing something!" YOU have a lot of power with comments and even those bookmark tags hell just copy-paste what you put into those bookmark tags as a comment I DON'T CARE AT THIS POINT USE THAT LIL BOX TO VOICE SOMETHING!!!! God this is all over the place idc but I read back at those bookmarks, and saw people call my works the best and super cool and I APPRECIATE THAT but tell me! Stop taking the easy route, I been blasted for misunderstandings over comments multiple times cause people take my "tone" terribly cause it sucks being black and emotive online yay and for some reason people think !!!! Is bad? yes, I've been hit with that but I keep on trucking cause fuck whatever some weirdo thinks about exclamation points! Anyways back to discord and why I hate it now, I was in a small fandom, KFP got invited to a discord cause ONE person commented on my works and saw they talked about my fic, and at first, I was happy and people TALKED about my chapters at length in the fanfic channel. I basically was the ONLY ONE posting consistently in that channel and it was great but also I wanted that on my fic to show I improved so guess what I did? I went all in trying to one-up myself to be noticed, to have the acclaim my peers did so it would evolve outside of discord channels but it never happened. And Imma tell y'all now; it never will. Readers prefer convenience over your hard work, they are not gonna take time for you no matter how much you improve. People told me over and over while I looked for solutions for this; "We can't make commenting look like an obligation." "Add more prose, space these paragraphs better" all this just for no one to take the initiative and say something SINCERE towards a work they love on it. I've had to tell my own ex-friends now to go leave comments on works they called Masterpieces while ignoring me. Despite the fact they wanted Gen content in which I WROTE. Or met people who have very weird "I don't review" rules for themselves despite getting motivated by reviews themselves!! We're in a shitty time for creatives much less community cause we don't see each other as humans much less want to treat each others as we desire to be treated. Fanfic readers want to treat authors like showrunners and I hate it. But then your peers will tell you 'not to worry about engagement" and no I am because why is my hit count going up every day but ain't no one saying shit? Make it make sense!! I sat in that community commenting as much as I could, especially on long fics; it wasn't all perfect but I TRIED. I didn't expect shit back but hey it would have been nice but it never happened and again I learned; it never would. That's the real issue, no one wants to give no more; just take and take and take til you're sucked dry of passion worse than any corpo out right now. It's why I thankfully switched fandoms. I got ONE consistent commenter and they are better than that ENTIRE SMALL CLOSED COMMUNITY!! So, to any discord reactor for fanfic you better skip on to that message you made and copy and paste it in this box right here and never utter "I'm shy" ever again cause we see you, our friends tell us about you. You are not as anonymous as you think! 🫵🏽

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[rinawantstosleep]

"Baby, are you drunk?" "No." Yes. If the reeking smell of alcohol emitting from the man's mouth or his clumsily bovine stupor wasn't enough of an answer, he's gone ahead and bumped into a wall just for confirmation. "Owww. Watch where you're going, man."

With a roll of your eyes, you have to put down the book you were engrossed in to aid the poor thing. If not, he'll probably initiate a fight with the inanimate entity. Oh, but don't underestimate Rafayel. Never underestimate Rafayel because he's already shoving at the wall and mumbling out (what he believes to be) threatening curses to it. There's even the repeated jabs of his index finger to the presumed 'chest' of the sturdy, upright structure. 

"Okay, that's enough, Raf. Come on, we're going to the kitchen to get you a glass of water to sober up." 

The man clings to you almost immediately, nuzzling his face into your hair. Ah, sweet paradise. Forget about boring, old water. This is all he needs to sober up; ahem, not that he was even 'drunk' in the first place. "Just a second, baby. 'm gonna... mess this guy up real bad for bumping into me. And then... then you can cuddle me on the couch. No water."

What other response are you supposed to give to that, aside from a sigh? A laugh, maybe, but Rafayel tends to get all sulky and pouty when you poke fun at him during one of these inebriated states. Don't bite off more adorableness than you can chew. You're better off letting the tides ease themselves down on their own. 

"He said he was sorry, baby."

"Really?" It comes out in a slur. Surprise, surprise. The alcohol's kicking in more than ever. Booze behind the wheel, running the vehicle. 

"Mhm. Look, he's on his knees, apologizing right now."

You don't expect him to actually fall for that. As stupidly (and also endearingly) gullible as the guy is when he's drunk, there's no way you'd be able to convince him that a literal wall is kneeling at his feet in atonement. That'd just be sill-

"Oh, yeah. Guess - mm - guess I was too tough for him. Smart guy; knew when to... back out."

- Never mind. What was that thing about never underestimating your boyfriend, again?

"Alright. Come on, to the kitchen."

"I don't want water, though."

"And I don't want to deal with a drunk in my apartment. Guess what? We can't always have things go our way."

"But 'm not drunk."

"No, of course not." 

There's no time to make further assessments, though, because Rafayel swoops you up into his arms with no prior notice, sauntering over to the couch. "Swear I'm not drunk, baby. Only... had a few glasses of wine because I couldn't focus on my paintings."

If that isn't him fessing up to his crimes, you don't know what is. The cat's (don't mention it aloud or else he'll get jittery) been let out of the bag. It's safe to say that Rafayel probably isn't paying attention either way, with how he's already got you on his lap.

Gentle kisses to your neck, hands on your midriff. God, he could get lost in this. You're too good to him. It's something Rafayel knows he'll never take for granted. "Mm... swear I only had... a bottle... or two."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

[housederiva]

Came here hoping to see a picture of chicken wing but saw all the dragon age, thought I’d ask as from the posting you seem to know a lot. Do you know a way I can play the god damn DA2 on my pc without it crashing every 5 seconds. It seems a common problem but no forums online are helpful and I guessed I thought you’d maybe heard about the problem yourself. Anyway!! Have fun with the new game and I hope Chai Tea doesn’t eat anymore plastic.

I have an approximate knowledge of many things so let me see if I can troubleshoot this for you!

If you can get the game itself open to the title screen options try navigating over to the video settings and going down to where it says render and selecting directX 9. This fix doesn't always work so if that doesn't do it we're gonna try way number two

You're going to put the render setting back to directX 11 and set your graphics details lower rather than higher (there won't be much of a visual difference trust me) Then you're taking the game out of full screen and essentially playing in the largest window you can make. I think every time I've played in the last few years I've had to have it windowed and while that's annoying at first you get used to it

A third thing you can try is opening up task manager while the game is running. Find DA2 and right click on details and then click it again until you find set affinity and make sure all the processors are checked

Just to cover all of our bases make, sure your drivers are up to date via the device manager or geforce as a first first step!

Also here's Chai, she knocked a candle off my dresser the other day and sent a cascade of wax into my carpet and the front of my dresser

[starly-amazing]

BONUS DESSERT FOR YOU ALL. I originally had this go on for a bit longer because I had no idea where to end it so I cut a huge chunk out:

Siffrin's arms are restrained in the blankets. He can't reach the food.

"Oops," Isa chuckles. "Haha, I guess we're gonna feed you like a little baby bird now."

"You're going to chew my food for me?" Siffrin grimaces.

"AAH NO!" Isabeau jolts and almost knocks the plate from Bonnie's hand. "I MEAN I'LL USE UTENSILS!"

The group erupts in laughter as Isabeau hides his face in his hands.

"Give me that!" He whines, taking the plate from Bonnie.

He pauses, and then a smirk grows on his face. He takes a spoonful from the bowl of soup and holds it toward Siffrin. "Heeere comes the train, choo choo!"

Siffrin hisses.

"Our little guy needs to get big and strong!" Isabeau puts the spoon to their lips. Bonnie collapses on the floor howling with laughter. "Hhaaha I get to be the big sibling now!"

"When was this decided on?" Siffrin sobs. Their stomach grumbles and they chomp down on the spoon. Whatever it is is delicious too.

"About two minutes ago," Odile snorts. "Look at yourself."

Siffrin swallows and looks down. Ah...like a swaddled baby.

They huff and try to cross their arms but they're too tightly bundled. Isabeau giggles and brings another spoonful of soup to their mouth. They eye it, and his thumb rests dangerously close to the food.

He opens his mouth wide and--

CHOMP!

"AACK!" Isabeau recoils and grips his hand against his body.

"THIS BABY HAS TEETH!" He chomps at the air once more for good measure.

"You sure do!" Isabeau looks at his thumb.

Their heart skips a beat. "Oh, I didn't actually hurt you did I?"

"Oh, no! I uh--no it's fine. I was just thinking about something. I'll tell you later though...In private."

"Huh?"

"Don't worry about it! See look, no marks! Now open wide!"

In Baths and Salts: Stinkfrin Gets Cleansed

Rating: Teen

Summary: Siffrin is a stinky fella after the loops. Isabeau and Mirabelle take it upon themselves to give them a nice relaxing bath and some much-needed pampering. Emotions and minimal crying are to be expected. Happy 1st Anniversary ISAT!

Tags: Bathing/Washing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Queerplatonic Relationships, Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff and Angst

archiveofourown org/works/60726061

--- --- ---

"Siffrin, you smell terrible." Odile sighs as soon as the party makes it back inside the clock tower. The festivities outside were set to go on well into the night, but none of the Saviors had any desire to mingle—or be showered in praise, food, gifts, or marriage proposals.

Isabeau gasps as if personally insulted. "M’dame!? That’s so blunt!" He grips Siffrin tighter as he helps them to the dining table.

They flop over in their chair and let out a harsh wheeze. They don't even try to argue.

She lowers her glasses and raises an eyebrow. "So we’re in agreement, then?" Her arms fold over her chest.

"Well... " He rubs his shoulder. He sniffs his shirt where Siffrin had been leaning and makes a face.

“I’m in an an-greement!” Bonnie yells and fans the air in front of their face. “Belle too!”

“What!?” Mirabelle sputters in the middle of wiping a spot of Siffrin’s blood off her dress. “Bonnie, why are you bringing me into this?”

"Bath sounds nice," Siffrin mumbles into their cloak. The clock tower surprisingly had a full washroom with plumbing. They couldn't imagine why, but they're not about to complain. The bathtub, complete with a crafted heating element, had tempted them so many times during the loops, but they could never justify using it.

But now... 

They're still not sure they can justify it but maybe they should just say ‘blind it all’ and do it anyway.

“Yes, see? Siffrin didn’t need any convincing!”

Though, it seems like their family isn’t going to give them much choice either way.

Odile smirks and tilts her head at Mirabelle.

“Don’t say it!”

“Hey, hey, don’t bully poor Sif! What they need right now is some nice gentle reassurance!”

“And a bath!” Bonnie adds. They start putting away the plates of food that grateful villagers and Housemaidens managed to laden them all with.

“Yep,” Siffrin mumbles, too tired to be phased.

"I'll get it ready!" Isabeau chirps and heads to the washroom.

Odile doesn't even try to hide The Smirk.

Siffrin puts his head down and closes his eye. He breathes deeply a few times and lets the sounds of his family wash over him. Odile is scribbling more in her notebook. Bonnie is messing with the food and gifts. Mirabelle is rummaging through her bags.

"How are you feeling now, Siffrin?" Mirabelle asks after a few moments.

"Gross." They rub at a bloodstain on their cloak.

"Good thing that's going to be remedied soon," Odile hums. She scribbles something down in her notebook. “Teasing aside, is there anything you need—or want us to do for you now? It doesn’t have to be big if you’re not yet comfortable asking, just something that might help you feel more at ease.”

Siffrin eyes the bottle of gifted wine by the sink.

Odile follows their gaze and shakes her head. “Anything but that. We’re not going to let you pick up any new self-destructive habits.”

Siffrin grunts. “Water then, please.”

“I got it!” Bonnie races to the sink and fills a glass in record time. They rush back to Siffrin and nearly spill it onto them.

“A good snack duty-er also includes hydreeshon!”

“Hydration, Boniface.”

“That’s what I said!”

Siffrin cracks a small smile and takes a sip. The cool water is a shock to his parched throat but after the initial tingle fades he downs the rest in a few gulps.

“Wow! Super fast!” Bonnie grabs the cup and runs back to the sink. “Want more?”

Isabeau calls out from the bathroom. “Okay, I think it’s about ready!”

“I’m fine, thank you Bonbon!” They move to get up but their body protests. They flop back down and lay their face on the table again. “Urgh.”

“Whoa, Frin. Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”

“No, no I’m fine I—” They try to push themself up but fail. “Okay maybe yes please.”

It takes both Bonnie’s and Mirabelle’s help to get Siffrin to their feet but once they’re standing they’re able to blink some of the exhaustion back. Still, the two each take one of his arms and help him maneuver to the bathroom. Odile follows close behind, hands at the ready in case his legs decide to give out on him.

The bathroom isn't anything spectacular. Just plain stone floors and walls with some generic concentric circles etched in to break up the monotony. It has nothing in the way of storage; the party all had to drag in some barrels to hold their supplies. It’s a miracle it even had a toilet and bathtub with working plumbing.

At least they can expect hot water. Despite the fever that still makes them sweat, they want nothing more than to get their sore, cosmically stretched, and clone-attacked muscles soaked to the bone.

Loop.

They touch their neck and hope it hasn’t bruised visibly yet.

They'll be back. They have to come back. They just need rest, too.

"Everything okay, Siffrin?” Isabeau hums nervously. “I mean, well, relatively speaking"

"Yeah," they nod and take a step forward. "Just... crowded."

"Come on Boniface." Odile picks them up by the armpits with little effort. "There are some things you are not meant to see here."

Peak physical condition is right.

"Aww come on, let me help, I won't look!" They wave their arms with one hand still gripping Siffrin's. The tug hurts a bit but it's too cute to pull away.

"You can help by fixing up all the food everyone gave us and some more things our little problem child hasn't eaten in a long time."

"Oh! Oh, you're right!" Bonnie wiggles their legs until Odile puts them down. They run out of the bathroom, almost tripping on themself. She chuckles at them, her hand on her hip.

"I suppose I'll go help. You two probably can handle it on your own and my knees will not allow me to do any of this."

Mirabelle and Isabeau both nod as Odile turns away.

"Wait, handle what?" Isabeau tilts his head.

"Giving said problem child a bath,” she says over her shoulder.

"Oh!" He gasps.

‘ Oh’ is right! Siffrin feels their arm hair stand on end.

“Uhm, I think I can handle it on my own.”

But do I want to?

She turns to meet his gaze. "Siffrin. You needed all three of us to help you walk twenty feet to the bathroom. We wouldn't want you falling asleep and drowning. Unless that's something you want to risk, I believe that supervision is warranted."

“Ah, right. That’s a... that’s a good point!” Siffrin stammers and both Isabeau and Mirabelle nod rapidly.

"Good, now have fun." With that, she shuts the door and leaves the three of them alone.

"Well, uhm. So," Isabeau begins. His face is already a shade darker. "So how do you want to do this? I mean we can just, you know, hang out without looking while you clean yourself, and just—then we just make sure you're okay or something!”

"Can I wash your hair, Siffrin?" Mirabelle eyes the rat's nest that’s grown atop their head.

Wash my hair?

They run their hands through the tangled mess until their fingers get stuck in the greasy locks. She’d have her work cut out for her... he’s not sure he can accept the favor so soon.

But, ohh they need it. They need the feeling of Mirabelle's fingers combing through their hair and massaging their scalp. He thinks of how her nails will feel digging deep into their skin. They imagine her reaching through their skull and ripping out every bad thought and memory straight from their mind. It sends a small shiver down their spine. It's all too much for Siffrin to process. They shrink down in their cloak and turn away.

"It's okay if you don't! We'll just be here for moral support!" Mirabelle waves her hands and Isabeau nods.

"I... uh... washing... washing my hair sounds... nice," they manage to force out.

"Ohh!" Mirabelle clasps her hands together and does a little skip in place. Her dress flutters and part of it sticks to the rim of the tub. "Oh, maybe I should change into something else."

"Oh, me too!" Isabeau nods and then turns to leave but stops. "Actually." He removes his sash and outer shirt then gives his undershirt a good tug. "This should be good."

Siffrin takes off his own cloak and reaches for his shirt... 

Oh.

He looks at the lightless fabric of his sleeves—at how some spots stain just a bit darker than the rest. The little gaps in the fabric where light shows through shift slightly with each breath.

Oh no.

He didn't tell Mirabelle about that when she healed them. Nobody has seen.

What do they do? They can't stand the thought of being alone. Not now. Maybe he should have them look the other way the whole time, after all.

But... They promised to be honest now. Though, if they didn't ask, is it really dishonest? He clenches his jaw. It is, he's still hiding something from them.

... They can’t really expect him to be able to open up about everything right away, right?

Still... 

They squeeze their eye shut.

“Sif?”

"Siffrin, what's wrong?"

Breathe. In, and out.

They turn their back to them and grab the base of their shirt.

In, and out.

"Please don't freak out."

Deep breath.

They pull their shirt over their head to reveal the mottling of fresh cuts up and down their arms.

Silence.

Dead silence.

He bites his lip hard enough to hurt. He swears he can almost, almost taste blood.

Each second of nothing wears on Siffrin and they fight the urge to cover back up. The distant sounds of Bonnie rummaging around in the kitchen grate in their ears.

"Let me heal you, Siffrin," Mirabelle breathes.

They nod and slowly hold out one arm behind them. She gently takes their fingers in her hand and places her palm on the back of his. She whispers a few things under her breath and starts moving her hand up their arm. The soreness dissipates in little ripples out from her fingertips.

Isabeau shifts behind them and starts swirling his hand in the bath.

"The water should be good," he murmurs.

Siffrin flexes their arm in front of them as Mira begins on their other one.

Scarred. Of course. Most have faded but the deeper, star-shaped ones remain. They no longer hurt, at least, just a dull ache if they move too much. That could also just be everything else wrong with them.

"I'm sorry, Siffrin," Mirabelle murmurs when she sees them scrutinize one of the larger scars. "I—I couldn’t prevent them from scarring. I just don’t have the Craft energy."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, they're all probably beyond exhausted from dealing with your tantrum.

Why didn't you even consider that until now? Even Bonnie is probably tired from everything and now they're out preparing you a full-course meal.

Siffrin pulls away and holds their half-healed arm to their chest, out of reach.

"I'm—"

"No, Siffrin, it's okay." Mirabelle reaches for them but they turn further away. “I’m happy to finish healing you, really.”

“You’ve already done so much.”

“And I’m willing to do more.” She takes a step closer. “You’d do the same for me if our positions were switched, right?”

“Of course I would!” He whirls around. They squint as their head spins a bit. “You are all..." he pauses, voice lowering. “So important to me.”

Isabeau pulls up two stools to the tub. “And you’re so so important to us too.” He frowns slightly as Siffrin shrinks into themself more. “We choose to do this Sif. We want you to be safe, healthy, and happy and we’re all willing to push ourselves like this to make sure of it.”

“But..." Their voice trails off.

“Siffrin, I promise I’m not putting myself in any danger doing this. It’s just tiring and nothing a few good night’s sleep won't fix.”

“I guess..."

Mirabelle gives Siffrin a tired smile. She reaches for their face.

A stinging memory flashes through their mind and they flinch. They recoil. Their hand flies part way to their cheek but they freeze.

He blinks, blinks, blinks away the memory. He sees Mirabelle standing there with her hands clasped at her chest. Her body is stiff—as if she's frozen in time—but her rapid breathing betrays that.

"Siffrin, I'm... " She worries her lip and picks at her fingertips. "I'm so sorry. I—I shouldn’t have... I know I was angry at those awful things you said but I still shouldn’t have slapped you."

"Of course you should have!" They dig their nails into their arms, threatening to undo everything Mirabelle just healed. "I said all those... cruel, horrible, untrue things when you were stressing out so much about everything! You had the weight of all of Vaugarde on your shoulders! And then your—” they stop themself. “The papers... Why wouldn't you slap me?"

Her face pulls into a grimace. "I still should have kept trying to figure out what was wrong! You're right, I was so stressed and anxious about everything..." She takes a shuddering breath and squeezes her eyes shut. “And it really did hurt... what you said... But I... I just assumed the worst of you... that you never really cared about me... when I knew that wasn’t true. I should have known it wasn’t that... " Her voice quiets to a whisper. “I shouldn’t have given up on you.”

"But... how were you even supposed to guess what was happening?"

Isabeau chimes in. "Well, we wouldn't have figured out the specifics but it was obvious there was something ."

Their shoulders fall. "And I... still wouldn't have said anything.”

Silence.

Wrong response, stupid, stupid, stupid.

"You should have slapped me too, Isa. How were you so calm?"

Worse response! Stop it!

"Sif, I would never hurt you. I couldn’t.”

Mirabelle’s jaw clenches and her face pulls tight.

Isabeau jumps slightly and holds his hands up. “Ah—sorry Mira, I didn’t mean to imply anything! It’s just... you know, defender training and just... my own..." He brings a hand to his chest. “Er—yeah, I’m not judging you or anything for your reaction! Anyway, Sif!” He lets his hand fall to his side and meets their gaze. They have to fight not to look away.

“We all made mistakes yesterday... and we’re all willing to go to great lengths to help you and each other, even if we’re tired. Even if we’re angry.”

Siffrin can't keep his gaze.

Isabeau hums for a moment and then lights up with a small gasp. "Okay, give me your hand."

He hesitates.

Isabeau holds his hand out, palm up. It glistens a bit in the candlelight—from sweat or bath water, Siffrin isn't sure.

Slowly, carefully, they place their closed hand in Isabeau's. He lifts his other hand slowly enough that it doesn't startle them and then very lightly smacks his fingers against their knuckles.

"Whap! There's your slap."

Despite themself, they couldn't hold back a snort.

"Ohhh, the pain~" they whine in a weak, almost ghost-like manner.

Isabeau releases his grip and Siffrin shivers at the sudden coolness.

"Oh, uh, you should probably get in the bath before it gets cold too, huh?"

"Ah, right, yeah." They gaze at the inviting water. They realize their legs are shaking more. "Can you... look the other way for a minute."

Isabeau spins around and Mirabelle covers her eyes.

Siffrin fumbles with their belt—their grip is weaker and stiffer than before. Was it the scarring? Or just exhaustion? They didn't have the energy to think too hard about it. The bath was calling to them.

He slips out of his pants and kicks them to the corner. They approach the tub and tentatively stick in their toe.

Warm. A bit too warm.

They could use all the warmth they can get.

They step inside and settle in quickly. The water burns at every little cut Mirabelle didn’t manage to heal. He grits his teeth and just waits for it to ease up.

They wish for would like a bubble bath so they could hide under a foot of suds, but the bare-bones bathroom doesn't afford such luxuries. Still, they splash a bit of soap in to create a facsimile of a foam shield and cover up their unmentionables with a washcloth.

"Okay," they breathe.

Mirabelle drops her hands and Isabeau waits another second before turning around. Siffrin holds their arms against their chest. There's not much to hide, but still.

The two of them settle down on small stools next to him.

Silence.

Siffrin pokes at a small bruise on their knee.

"Uhm, Siffrin?"

He glances at Mirabelle and tilts his head.

"Are you ready for me to wash your hair?"

Their eye widens and flashes of the past flick through their mind. Her gentle hands worked through his hair as she brushed it, picking out dirt and pulling out tangles. It was so nice they couldn't bring themself to accept any other time she offered.

But now... 

" Please ."

Mirabelle perks up with a smile and grabs two shampoo bottles from atop a barrel.

"Okay, so we have a lavender scent here. It's good for calming you down and helps with sleep." She holds up the other one. "And here we have pineapple sc—"

"LAVENDER!" Siffrin yelps, causing Mirabelle and Isabeau to jump.

"Okay, okay! Lavender it is!" She puts the other bottle far away from Siffrin. “I didn’t think you had such strong feelings for some foods!” She pours a generous amount of the other onto Siffrin's head until a drop of it splatters on his shoulder. Siffrin clenches his jaw and decides against letting that bit of information out for now.

Mirabelle rubs her hands together and gets to work.

Almost immediately he lets out a sigh as her nails rake across his scalp. His eye rolls back into his head and he sinks deeper into the water.

They're floating, becoming one with the Universe. Their pain fades into dull static as their mind focuses solely on their head.

It's heavenly.

"Uh, Sif," Isabeau's voice is soft.

"Mmm?" they hum.

"Anything I can help with?"

Siffrin cracks his eye open at Isabeau. He's sitting with his head turned to the ceiling and scratching at his chin.

"Oh, uh... " They pause and think. It'd be too cramped to ask him to wash anything else while Mirabelle is still working, but his touch is just so inviting all the same.

They mull it over for a moment. They look at their hand, flex their stiff fingers, and reach out.

"Can you... hold my hand?"

Isabeau gasps. "Of course!" He wipes his hands on his pants and takes Siffrin's between them.

It's nice.

They smile and let out a long sigh. He closes his eye and feels the weightlessness of his body. The way Isabeau’s hand molds around his. The way Mirabelle oh so gently tugs at the many tangles in their hair.

How it feels like... 

His mind wanders.

A tear floats gently in front of him. He’s in the house again.

Ugh. He squeezes his eye shut. Now’s not the time for those thoughts.

It’s completely different, anyway. Tears were always so cold and touching them felt more like missing a stair step and falling forever... and the dreams... the dreams were always so weird.

But now! Now he’s warm and feels like he’s being lifted up, up! And no dreaming! Just perfectly controllable awake thoughts.

... 

He’s in the house again.

Their family is there. Talking about something he can’t quite process. The images and sounds are warped and garbled. They can barely make out Bonnie making snacks in the corner.

Their family goes quiet. Everyone looks over at Bonnie.

They aren’t cooking.

Nope! Not that memory!

They shift in the tub and try to force a different thought, hoping nobody notices their discomfort.

Mirabelle continues scrubbing. Isabeau gives their hand another squeeze.

They are in a hallway now. Things look even more warped and broken; the pillars are sinking through the floor, a haze of static obscures almost everything, and the walls seem to be melting. He can still make out his family standing a few paces ahead, surrounding... him?

They’re smiling at him, and then their expressions fall. “He” vanishes.

No, not that one either.

He’s in front of Isabeau by the tree. They reach out and grab his shirt--

No no no!

They pull into themself and furiously wipe their mouth.

“Sif? What’s wrong?” Isabeau puts his other hand on him. Mirabelle stops and places her hands on their shoulders.

“S-sorry, I just..." He doesn’t want to get into it.

Just be vague. Honest, but vague.

“Just thinking about the loops again.”

They both give him little squeezes.

“It’s okay, Siffrin. We’re here.”

“You’re safe,” Isabeau adds, “it’s over, I promise.”

“Yeah,” they swallow a knot in their throat, “yeah it’s over.” He forces himself to relax and give them a reassuring smile. They close their eye again and wait for Mirabelle to continue scrubbing their hair.

But the memories aren’t over--they won’t ever go away, will they?

They’ve forgotten their own family member’s names. They’ve forgotten their home, their language, their past, and whole chunks of their journey before the loops began.

But the loops themselves are so etched into their mind... 

No. No. It’s too early to even think about that. They’ll fade. They won’t keep popping up every time they have a moment of rest. Maybe they’ll even be able to start remembering things from before the loops! It’s just going to be a recovery process.

A long, long recovery process.

It’s fine though! They have their family! They promised they’d be there for him. As long as he can make himself talk about his feelings sometimes, it’ll all work out fine!

They smile and sigh.

Just happy thoughts for now. Focus on Isabeau’s and Mirabelle’s hands. Think about her brushing your hair or Isabeau holding your hands on the rooftop. Think about Odile ruffling your hair or Bonnie’s hug.

His mind starts to drift again.

In the echo of a memory, the Head Housemaiden is crying. Their family calls out to them from the distance. They race to him and he reaches out. He can barely make out anything through the static but their calling his name is unmistakable.

The scene cracks, and breaks, and he’s back in Dormont. Mirabelle screams. Bonnie cries. Odile grips his cloak. And Isabeau... 

Siffrin’s face pulls into a grimace and he shifts in the tub.

They were loved.

They were loved, they were so loved, and yet, they ruined it.

Isabeau locks their fingers together. “We’re here, Sif.”

Mirabelle holds his head in her hands. “Siffrin, you can talk to us about what you’re thinking about if you want.” Her voice is so soft, so gentle. “But... if you can’t right now you can tell us that too... We can just talk about something light instead... to keep your mind off things.”

‘ So you should just accept it! Accept that you'll always be alone!’

They dig their heels into the bottom of the tub.

“I just—” he chokes.

They say they forgive you, but... 

“Sif.” Isabeau pulls their hand closer.

‘ I know what kind of person you are, now. A Coward, Isa. Never able to say what you mean, never able to do what you want.’

You can’t take it back. Can’t undo it all.

“I—” His breathing quickens. Their chest starts to burn. He tries to speak again but only choked sounds come out.

‘ Deep down, you know you can't escape yourself.’

They won’t forget what you said.

A tear runs down their face. It joins the many drops of water clinging to their neck.

‘ Just leave me behind! Just like you left Ka Bue behind!!! Just like your mom lef̵͉͘ţ̷̟̪̀̒͗́͠ ̵̠̩͕̘̫̈͗̌̊y̷̧̡̼͕̮͆̔��̀̔o̷̝̓̑̍̚͘ŭ̴̘͇̮̄͜ ̷̻̮͔̖̬̇͌̐̒b̵͔͇̤̽̾̽̕͘͠e̶̘̮̦̬͍̿̒ḣ̶̛̝̤̑̈̎̎i̷̪̮͝ň̷͖̣̱̽d̸͙̿̈́́̊̏̿̚!̶͔̻͇̥͎̒͊̅͘’

They’ll live with your words wearing on them forever.

“Siffrin, it’s okay, you don’t have to say it right away.”

They whine and begin to pull away. Their chest is heaving. The room is starting to spin. Stop it. Stop it. Stay in the moment.

“Sif. Breathe with me,” Isabeau’s demand is gentle yet it’s enough to pull their attention to him.

They see him through the tears. He has his hand on his chest. He breathes deeply.

Their head hurts and their hands are shaking and their heart is beating like it's about to explode, so they probably should.

In, and out.

Siffrin tries to copy. He only manages a few shallow gasps at first.

Isabeau doesn’t stop though. He keeps breathing. In and out. He squeezes Siffrin’s hand with each breath.

In. Siffrin closes his eye and inhales. It’s smoother now. He can hear Mirabelle joining in.

Out. He squeezes Isabeau’s hand back.

In. The burning starts to fade.

Out. They can focus on their surroundings more. On the tug of Mirabelle’s fingers in their hair. On the gentle tremble of Isabeau’s hand. On the sounds of their unified breathing.

The echo of their cruel words gets fainter each time, but still crowd the margins of their consciousness.

One more breath.

They slowly open their eye. Isabeau is smiling gently at him.

“Mmmsorry,” Siffrin mumbles.

“It’s okay,” Isabeau assures and Mirabelle hums in agreement.

“I just—” Not again. The tension begins to creep back.

Just say it. It’s no worse than what you’ve already talked about.

"Why'd it... why’d it have to be this time?" they mumble.

"What do you mean?" Isabeau tilts his head.

Another deep breath. "Why'd this loop have to be the one we broke out of? Why this, and not one where I did everything right and you all..." He kicks at the side of the tub, “loved me?"

Isabeau winces. "We do love you now, Sif." They can feel the pain in his voice.

"But I hurt you all so much!”

“Not enough to stop us from loving you.” He squeezes their hand. “Not even close.”

Siffrin’s throat tightens. He paws at the water and watches the bubbles swirl around.

Mirabelle pulls at their hair. "Siffrin, everyone has bad days. People say cruel things they don't really mean to their friends."

Isabeau nods. "Yeah, you just happened to have a really, really long string of really, really bad days. So you only snapping at us now is pretty... urhm... impressive."

Siffrin pops a bubble.

"We really mean it when we say we forgive you, Siffrin." She gives their hair another gentle tug. "And we'll keep reminding you every time we need to."

"But... " They sink against the side. "You said you'll have time to be mad later. So how are you forgiving me so soon?"

Siffrin could sense Mirabelle frowning. "I can forgive you even if I'm still mad! O-or hurt! Just like I can be mad at you and still love you!"

Isabeau nods. "People are just full of conflicting emotions, and it's pretty normal to feel ones that are at odds." He rubs a thumb over Siffrin's scarred knuckles.

"I guess." They pick at a small scab on their forearm until Isabeau puts his other hand over it.

He leans closer. "The important thing is that you're doing what you can to fix it and keep it from happening again."

"What if it does happen again?" They mumble and sink a little further.

"You try harder next time.” He slides his hand up their arm. “And keep trying."

Siffrin mumbles under their breath. "How many times can I mess up before you all hate me?"

Isabeau squeezes their hand. "There's nothing you will do that'll make us hate you. Maybe get mad, or upset—"

"Or worried!" Mira added, picking at her nails.

"Or worried. But we could never hate you. Never. I promise!"

"Siffrin, you know you're such a genuinely good friend, right? We trust that you'll never try to hurt us on purpose. And... we... " She twists a lock of Siffrin's hair around her finger. "You have to trust us to all work things out together if you make a mistake!"

"Yeah!" Isabeau smiles. "You have to trust us too, Sif."

"I do!" Siffrin bolts upright, splashing water over the two of them. "Sorry!"

"Sif! It's okay, it's just water."

Siffrin whines.

Mirabelle pulls his hair and makes them lean back against the tub. They groan softly and move to cover their mouth, but they stop halfway. No point.

"Hehe! Now that we know you like touch, we're gonna make you relax and be nice to yourself! Oh, I mean if that's okay with you! I mean if that's too much it's fine, but we want you to be happy!"

"You make cute noises, Sif," Isabeau blurts out.

"What?"

"What!? Sorry, that just came out!" He covers his mouth. "Mira is right! We're gonna make you care for yourself and be nice and stuff! But only in ways you're comfortable with of course!" His grip tightens and he scratches the back of his head.

The way his cheeks darken and eyes dart around the room is... 

Cute.

"I'm happy to uh... " They sink until their mouth is just above the water. Their knees come up and they pull them closer. "Make more cute noises later, maybe. If it means you'll uh... play with my hair... too."

Isabeau's body jolts and he nearly crushes Siffrin's hand. Mirabelle bites her lip to (poorly) hold back a long 'awwwww'.

"Hahhaha! Yeah, that sounds great! I'll give you a full body massage and everything, I mean if that's what you're okay with obviously I know I've said it before but I just want to make sure you know I'm not gonna do anything too soon or make you uncomfortable I know you said you'll think about it and stuff so it can be a totally platonic massage or none at all but I just want you to know I'm here to make you feel better in whatever way I can!" When he stops he has to catch his breath.

Siffrin holds back a laugh. Isabeau's grip is still rock solid and their hand is beginning to hurt. "Isa," He tries to flex his fingers.

"Oh, oh Sif I'm sorry!" he cries, releasing his grip. Siffrin turns their hand around and makes a fist a few times. The pain fades quickly and they re-link their hand with his.

Isabeau coughs out a laugh. "S-see!? See this is what I mean where you can feel many emotions. Your hand can hurt from my sweaty rock grip but you still love me!" His eyes widen. "R-right?"

Siffrin bites back a snort. Isabeau tugs at his hair. "No, of course not," they say, sticking their tongue out. "Hand hurty is my limit!"

"Nooooooooooooo!" Isabeau cries out and leans back to press the back of his hand to his forehead. "Not the—ACK" The small stool slips out from under him and he goes crashing to the floor, dragging Siffrin out with him. They land hard on top of him and they both wheeze. Soap-suds splatter across Isabeau's face.

Mirabelle jumps up, nearly toppling over as well but only manages to grab the towel bar at the last second.

"Owwie," Siffrin grunts.

"Sif holy crab! I didn't mean to do that I'm so sorry!" Isabeau sounds on the verge of tears. Immediately his hands are on their shoulders and Mira is behind them a second later. It’s cold, it hurts, and they might have soap in their eye but... Isabeau’s warm. They almost don’t want to get up, but before they can even finish the thought Isabeau and Mirabelle are both helping him to his feet. They stumble a bit; their legs are still weak from the shock, but they manage to get their footing. Mira pulls her hands back but Isabeau keeps his grip solid as Siffrin steps back into the water.

Ahh, warm again.

“I am so sorry, Sif. I didn’t mean to keep holding on!” he whines. “... Or to fall in the first place.” He finally lets go of Siffrin only to bury his face in his soapy, wet hands. He groans loudly.

"Isa, it's okay!" They wince and put their hand to a reopened wound but don't stop laughing even as Mirabelle frantically works to close it back up.

More or less okay.

As she finishes and wipes her arm on her brow with a long sigh, Siffrin begins to giggle.

"Ribs hurty too," they wheeze through a bout of laughter.

The muffled sound of stomping catches their attention.

"FRIN! ZA! BELLE! ARE YOU OKAY IN THERE!?"

"Are you being too rough with them Isabeau?" They swear they can hear the smirk in Odile's voice. "In front of Mirabelle, too?"

Isabeau makes a choked sound and turns to the door. "N-no! We aren't doing anything like that!" He whines as Siffrin's laughing grows ever louder. "It's fine!"

Oh stars, it hurts, it hurts so much but they can't stop.

Oh no, you're being weird again. Stop it!

They crack a glance at Mira and Isabeau. They're... 

Trying not to laugh, too?

Isabeau snorts into his hand and joins in, Mira soon after.

He feels tears welling in his eye. He can see them in Isabeau's, too.

"HEY, WHAT'S SO FUNNY" Bonnie yells and smacks their hands against the door. "DID FRIN MAKE A DUMB CRABBING PUN AGAIN?"

Quick, think of one!

"Oh, it's—" Siffrin wheezes. "Uhhh... "

"It appears Sif has really fallen for me!" Isabeau says through giggles.

"BAD! YUCK! THAT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY YOU GUYS BETTER NOT START BEING GROSS ALL THE TIME!"

"Boniface, you're going to burn dinner."

"OH CRAB!" There's a sound of rapidly retreating stomps and then silence.

"Hahha—oww." Siffrin grips their sides again.

"Siffrin, be careful." Mirabelle holds out her hands but stops. Her genuine concern is broken by giggles she can't quite bite back.

They wave a hand at her before wiping his eye. "It's fine." They cough. "I actually feel... better, now." His gaze lands on Isabeau, who’s looking away with a crooked smile and a burning blush.

...Huh?

Isabeau’s shoulders still shake from barely contained laughter. His chest is covered in soap suds, and he is digging his fingers into his wrist.

"Oh, um... Siffrin... " Mirabelle picks something up off the floor and hands it to him.

The washcloth.

"OH!"

Siffrin nearly splashes half the water out of the tub slapping it back over their groin. He pulls his knees back to his chest and winces at the strain.

"Ow."

"Be careful, Sif!" Isabeau does a quick double-take before looking at them again.

Siffrin holds their hand out to him and he takes it. They sway them from side to side.

Mirabelle lets out a small whine. "Madame Odile is probably going to be at our throats if we stretch out your recovery more like this!" She wrings her hands together, then places one on top of Isabeau's. "And I can't imagine how Nille will react if we take longer getting Bonnie back home because of... this!"

Siffrin coughs out a few more chuckles and sighs.

Actually... they think about the things Bonnie has said about Nille. About her suplexing a guy for touching her. About crafting a hammer so big it broke the wall she hung it on.

He fails to suppress a shudder at the thought of her giving him a whole new set of wounds. Despite them becoming unimaginably strong during the loops, they still wouldn’t want to cross an angry and protective sibling.

“Getting cold, Sif?”

They’re snapped back to the present. “Oh, yeah, a bit.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. The water was starting to lose its delightful heat.

"Do you want us to heat it up more or are you done?"

Siffrin mulls it over for a moment. "No, I probably need to lie down after all that," they chuckle.

Isabeau lets out a long whine. "Sif I'm still so sorry about that!"

"Isa," Siffrin squeezes his hand as hard as they can... which is admittedly not very hard with how exhausted he is. "I promise it's fine. I... really needed that laugh." They pull their other hand away from their knees and place it on top of their friends' hands.

"Also, uhm, Isa, " they look away as their face grows hot. "Can you, um... "

"Yeah, what's up Sif?" He leans closer.

"Can you rinse my hair for me?" He looks at Mirabelle. "Oh, i-it's not that you did a bad job at washing my hair or anything! It felt great!"

"I get it, Siffrin," she chuckles. "You did promise him you'd let him help too."

"Wait, I did?"

"No, but you should have!" Isabeau teases in mock offense.

Siffrin pouts. "Well you get to anyway, so here!" He pushes a cup into Isabeau's hands.

"Gasp! You have bestowed upon me the sacred goblet with which I will complete my holy task." He holds it gingerly in his hands and bows to them.

“Of course, my loyal knight.” Siffrin bows back. “There are not many I trust to handle such an arduous task!”

“Did you really have to say ‘gasp’ out loud, Isabeau?” Mirabelle shakes her head with a sigh and a barely restrained smile.

“I sure did!” he hums with a wide smile as he squeezes the suds from Siffrin’s hair.

They take another washcloth to their arms and start scrubbing, smiling.

"Do you want me to get your back, Siffrin?" Mirabelle asks.

"Please," he sighs.

She hums and begins with their shoulders. She rubs gentle circles down his back and is oh-so careful to avoid any visible wounds. Isabeau holds his palm against Siffrin's brow as he pours water over their head. They almost fall asleep right then and there as they’re cared for with such gentleness.

Having so many hands on them felt so... 

Nice.

Much harder to get distracted with dark thoughts with so much going on.

Yet it was getting to the verge of overstimulating. Especially each time he passes his washcloth over the not-fully-healed wounds speckling his arms.

But it's okay. They've waited so long for this. Nothing's perfect, after all.

They move to their chest, then to their legs. He's able to scrub a bit harder now—only old wounds and a few bruises there. He’s definitely working faster than the others. He almost wants to have them help with that too but he doesn’t quite think he’s ready yet.

"Thank you," they breathe.

"Of course," Mirabelle and Isabeau both hum in response.

Just about done. Siffrin finds the stopper with his toe and pops it out.

Isabeau squeezes the water from their hair and they let out another involuntary sigh in response.

They start to stretch their legs as the water drains, remembering at the last moment to slap the washcloth back over their crotch. They suppose Isabeau wouldn't mind seeing what they have but they couldn't subject Mirabelle to the horrors.

"Do you want me to dry your hair too?" Isabeau asks quietly.

"Don't get greedy, Isabeau!" Mira teases with a gentle shove to his soapy shoulder. She makes a face and rinses her hand off in the nearly-drained water.

"Whaaat! I just want to be helpful to our little rogue!"

Siffrin tries to reach for their hat to cover their blush but, once again, grabs empty air.

"I can dry their hair and you can brush it, how about that? Er—" he turns to Siffrin. "If you’re okay with it!"

Siffrin nods stiffly while biting their lip. They shudder from the exposure and Isabeau rushes to grab towels. He drapes one over their shoulders and gets to work on their hair.

"Oh, we should probably get you a change of clothes." Mirabelle eyes the tattered and bloody pile in the corner. She opens the door to find all three sets of their sleeping clothes neatly folded right outside.

"Aww, thank you, Madame!"

"Are you DONE NOW?" Bonnie groans. “Dinner's been done since forever and it's gonna get cold!"

"It hasn't even been ten minutes, Boniface." Odile sighs.

"FOREVER!"

Mirabelle giggles and struggles to close the door with her arms full of clothing.

Isabeau holds his hand out for Siffrin to grab onto and slowly helps them to their feet. Steam wafts off from their shaking legs. They hang on tighter and step out, but don’t let go of Isabeau for another moment.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.” They nod. They let go but hover their hands over his forearm for a moment until they can calm the shaking of their legs enough. He towels himself off and slips into his soft, clean night clothes while Mirabelle and Isabeau switch into theirs. It’s barely a second after they finish before Isabeau is back to drying their hair.

Their knees grow weak and they lean against him.

"Whoa, Sif. Let's get you to bed. We can eat there too."

Siffrin stumbles upright and nods. "Sounds good. I uh... think I could sleep for a year."

"Hah, I think we all could." He takes Siffrin by the shoulders and guides them over to the bed. He flops down halfway on it and both Isabeau and Mirabelle have to maneuver his limp noodle of a body into a more comfortable position. They wrap him up in many blankets and settle in on either side of him. Bonnie and Odile arrive soon after with plates piled high with food.

Siffrin smiles and leans his head against Isabeau’s chest.

Warm.

[deoidesign]

One of my first digital pieces (2010) versus one of my recent ones (2024)

We all start somewhere!

[phagodyke]

kind of annoys me sometimes how I can happily listen to my roommate explain the entire plot of whatever she's currently into but when it comes to my interests she can only listen for a few mins before wordlessly walking out of the room

[jkl-fff]

Ford, solemnly: Now that we're free ... Please don't hold it against Dipper that he locked us in a room together to try to make us get along.

Norman: I wasn't going to. Like, I'm not thrilled about it, but I'm not mad, either. Just mildly annoyed. It's another one of his antics. But why does it matter so much to him?

Ford: *sigh* Dipper reminds me of my younger self in a lot of ways. Good ways and bad ways. We both have a tendency to be ... obsessive and get swept up in our own excitement, for example, even to the point of being irrational despite our minds being practically hard-wired for analytical thought. And neither of us deals well with perceived rejection or betrayal.

Norman: But I didn't reject or betray him. I only said that I didn't really like you.

Ford: Yes, but like I said earlier, we're both very important to him. He sees me as a mentor and maybe ever as a role model, he sees you as his best friend--

Norman, surprised and pleased: H-he said that? He called me his "best friend"?

Ford: He's hasn't used that exact phrase, but you don't need 12 Ph.D.s to figure it out. The point is, we're both very important parts of ... of his life, of his psyche, of who he identifies with and how he sees himself. I imagine he perceives someone not liking either of us as not liking a part of himself. Hence a perceived rejection.

Norman: ... Yeah, I guess I can see that. It makes no sense, not really, but also it does sorta make sense for Dipper. He once spent a whole afternoon trying to concince me that I should like Wes Anderson, even though I just don't.

Ford: *shrug* I did say we can be irrational despite being so analytical ... I'm glad you're not mad at him. Please reassure him of that. By all means, be firm with him about not locking you in rooms and such. I'm not saying to put up with shit--Oh, damn, can I say shit in front of a child?

Norman, wryly: I won't tell a fucking soul if you won't.

Ford: Ha! Well, as I was saying, don't put up with his shit. But please reassure him this whole ... episode hasn't changed anything between you. You're still friends, even when you don't agree. I think that would be ... would be very good for him. It'll help him grow up into someone who doesn't remind me of my younger self.

Norman: ... Do I have to give the gun back now?

Ford: No, you can borrow it for the day. Have fun, just don't shoot any people or any animals or any property that I personally care about.

Norman: Cool! But ... *sigh* Okay, why did you say that thing just now about it being good for him? Gonna bug me 'til I understand.

Ford, wistfully: ... Do you know how many friends I've had in my whole life? Truly close friends, who I felt I could be truly honest with about who and what I am?

Norman, taken aback: Uh ... This isn't about you being probably bisexual, is it?

Ford: What? No--Well, maybe, I guess--

Norman: Is it going to be about Dipper being probably bisexual?

Ford, exasperated: It's about isolation, you spikey-haired ... child. I 've had 3. One was my brother, who I turned my back on because of anger, resentment, and self-absorption. I got so swept up in obsession and feeling betrayed by him over an accident, that I let it cost me my only real friend at the time. One was McGucket, who I pushed away because of obsession and a need to be a genius and a pioneer of science. I got so swept up in feeling like he was rejecting me over ... Oh, it hardly matters now, given how unstable I was. The point is, it cost me the only real friend I had again.

Norman: And the third one?

Ford, haunted: ... That was Bill. Who did actually betray and reject me--who never actually was my friend, for all that I believed he was at the time. But that didn't exactly help my fear of betrayal and rejection, as you can imagine. And all of it happened ultimately because my own obsession and tendency to be swept up in my own excitement drove me towards isolation.

Norman: Which you don't want to happen to Dipper.

Ford: Yes. I understand he also has struggled to make friends over the years, only really having Mabel for so long. Isolation again. But you Mystery Kids, with you in particular as his best friend, Norman, have helped him so much by genuinely befriending him. That's helping him learn to be more ... more grounded and more stable and ... and good. More good--better, I mean--than I was. Which I want. I want him to be better than I was. So ... yes.

Norman: Yeah.

Ford: *nods* Good.

Norman: *nods* Great ... I'm, um, gonna go blast something now.

Who knew all it took to solve your personal grievances was giving a small child an unregistered high-tech firearm?

[vanmarkus]

i’m actually FEARFUL of all this buddie or buddie-adjacent stuff that tim keeps posting….. like, what?? means what?? what goings on?? what??!

well I mean... it's Tim so as far as I'm aware it's not exactly the first time of keeping us guessing lmao

we're just gonna have to see, but I'm sure that the speculations will end up being 100x wilder than what's actually gonna happen and simultaneously nowhere near as wild cuz it's 911 after all

[captn-trex]

wnefojaenf thank you so much !!!!! i'm honoured to be subjected to a lupe-style ramble haha <3

I'm gonna ramble back because you pointed out some stuff that I love

yeah this characterisation was super fun to write. at first I was worried he would come across as a little boring, kinda just being gentlemanly and nice or whatever, but I think that when they're opening up to each other it becomes a nice compliment to the way the reader goes on, particularly as she can be a little flirty and he's just like 😳 idk how to deal with this

and that's my favourite bit of the chapter too omg !!!! I'm not really one to think that my writing is good enough to dissect a lot, but that interaction was definitely something I thought about a lot, and that one section you pulled really shows the entire crux of why they work well together. she's just speaking honestly, just saying what she truly believes, and howzer almost takes it as a joke like 'oh yeah, well what am I owed?' but without hesitation she tells him that he deserves a lot more than how he thinks about himself. having him kinda not understanding the gravity of her words [about him getting what he's owed] at first was important to me, like it doesn't really click for him just how simply compassionate she is until that moment, and honestly that there are people in the galaxy who actually care about what happens to him and his brothers.

and this links so much to what you said about howzer's inner thoughts!!! this story ends basically right before we meet him in tbb (but we're gonna pretend he doesn't get imprisoned because I choose to live in delusion), and at first I was wondering if I was making it too political compared to what he's like in the show (in the part 2 particularly) but then I rewatched his s1 episodes and I do think it fits really well with how he acts, like he's kinda just worn down and suspicious of the imperials and.. yeah. I guess I tried to implement that, and also give a reason as to why he's so sceptical (it's because reader as been feeding him anti-imperial propaganda hehe)

yeah the whole clone rights business really scratches my brain in the right way. the picnic scene was my favourite to write in the whole thing I think :) just opening up to one anther, and howzer getting to see who she really is.

and thank you!! yeah I definitely put a lot of myself into this fic, particularly with the more political stuff (definitely inspired by my thoughts on.. real life events, even though I wrote most of if before the election)

anyway sorry that was long lmao, you just picked out some stuff that really exemplified what I was trying to do so that's really awesome :) I'm glad it got across to you :) thank you so much for reading !! <3<3

angel of small death

Howzer x F!Reader / Twi'lek!Reader 

word count: 7.8k / 23k

part one | part two | part three

description: after the rise of the Empire, Howzer finds his position on Ryloth to be precarious at best, but his attention is drawn from his troubles when he finds himself captivated by a new politician’s arrival

warnings/tags: 18+ !!! strangers to lovers, mutual pining, some angst — political thoughts/discussions throughout, specific reference to clone rights/treatment/autonomy in this part, fluff :) smut in part three

a/n: ok I'm actually very proud of this one. lowkey my magnum opus. It took so fucking long to write though omg. if you get the title you get it, re: français risqué. but also howzer is hozier-coded in my mind and I can't tell you what that means. gentlemanly but not immune to hot women? perhaps? part two in a couple days :)

masterlist | join my taglist

Howzer shifted uncomfortably in his spot. He had never been one to play politics, but the conversations that he had been overhearing of late had him worried.

He stood guard at the door while Cham Syndulla spoke with diplomats of various denominations around a large oval table, and all the talk of the newly risen Empire made his insides twist with an unpleasant feeling. There was something truly sinister in play, he just couldn’t place it. That’s what distressed him the most about it.

He had heard of a new refinery that was situated at the edge of the city, he’d heard the rumours that the Empire’s methods were less than humane, that they were using slave labour. He didn’t want to put stake in false claims, but the whispers were getting louder. He wouldn’t dare speak of it to Cham, especially not now, while tensions were already so high.

He could see the focus on his superior’s face, a displeased expression that he knew all too well; a deep frown on his lips that would turn the tide of any conversation to his favour. The senatorial representatives seemed unphased, however. Howzer presumed they were more familiar with the tactics of politicians, of which Cham wasn’t recognised as by the senate, despite how much harder he had fought for Ryloth’s freedom than Orn Free Taa. The Hammer of Ryloth would fall on anyone in his path eventually, no matter how they were resisting his opening gambit, Howzer knew that.

It was what worried him the most.

There was no way Cham would be allowed to continue partaking in senator-level discussions, not when it was well known how the true senator of Ryloth felt threatened by his mere existence. He worried what Cham would do then. He could never be forced into subservience.

“Captain” the voice of his superior called to him, and he straightened, his gaze shifting over to the Twi’lek who approached, “is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, sir” he replied assuredly, a respectful nod accompanying his words.

The diplomatic guests filed out of the door beside him, and Cham gave him an unsubtle and questioning look.

“Well then” he motioned to the door, “we are now to meet Senator Orn Free Taa in the foyer”

Howzer visibly cringed as he left the room behind Cham. He had never liked the politician. It was clear how little interest he had in his people, and how all of his attention was instead focused on making himself seem more important. Howzer didn’t play politics, but it didn’t take a genius to see that much.

He stalked down the hallway in silence, one step behind Cham, who in turn kept his distance from the senatorial reps.

“What is it Captain?” the Twi’lek asked him in a hushed voice, turning to face him.

Howzer sighed, looking to the floor ahead of him, “nothing sir, it’s just been a long week”

“Hm” Cham seemed unconvinced by his explanation, but he took it anyway, “it has been indeed”

At the start of the week, Howzer was still a soldier of the Republic. He was still a Captain in the Grand Army. Now? He wasn't sure what he was, or what he would become either. His men had been acting exceeding strangely, and he didn't know what to make of it. He figured that if he kept his head down and followed orders, something would come to light eventually.

The elevator ride down to the ground floor was quiet, and Howzer couldn’t have been more uncomfortable. The ping that let them know they had arrived brought a welcome reprieve to the tense atmosphere that surrounded the discontented politicians.

Cham's wife, Eleni, swept down stairs opposite, lifting the hem her gown in one hand. She held herself with the grace of a queen, acting accordingly, and Howzer had the utmost respect for her. He gave her a steady bow of his head, and she smiled warmly at him in return before greeting her husband with a kiss to his cheek.

“Where is our guest, my dear?” Cham spoke, running a hand down her arm.

Eleni chuckled, a pleasant and breathy sound, “Be patient my love”

Howzer kept his distance, hovering at the edge of everything. He preferred not to be involved, it was only his job to stand guard after all, and it was certainly no shame to miss out in conversation with Orn Free Taa.

The grand doors that opened into the square parted, a party of four being ushered in. It was unusual, ordinarily there was only the Senator and two of his aides. Howzer paid it no mind, keeping his gaze on those he was charged with protecting.

That was until his eyes caught the lilac skin of the fourth Twi'lek to enter the room. Her demeanour was a stark contrast to that of her counterparts. She bore a plain expression, and had none of the smug self-importance that the others had so perfected. Her clothes were a little more grandiose than the other aides, robes of rich velvet and silk hanging from her frame, cinched against skin and flowing freely in equal parts. She looked regal, and yet, there was something reserved about her appearance, as if she didn't want to make herself known.

For all that she hadn’t caught the attention of the other people present, Howzer could scarcely take his eyes from her.

“Senator” Cham welcomed him inside, “how wonderful it is to see you”

Howzer could hear how strained his voice was in saying the false words, and in the reply from the Senator even more so. He was not interested in the specifics of the mock flattery between the rival Twi'leks, he instead turned his focus to the woman who insisted on hiding herself behind the Senator.

He trailed his eyes down her lekku, which stretched past her waist and were adorned by pale swirling markings, reaching forwards towards her face and beneath her headdress. Her eyes were darkened by makeup, but when her irises met his, he was struck by the spark of life within them.

Her eyes found his a number of times throughout the exchange, the only two people who were not engaged in conversation. He tried to keep from staring entirely, not wishing to make her uncomfortable or seem improper, but his eyes always found their way back.

Eventually, Eleni addressed her, finally noticing the person who hung back from the Senator.

“What is your name? I don't think we've met before” she asked, taking her hand to shake.

You went to speak, but the Senator beat you to it.

“This is my aide” he explained, giving your name.

You looked at the man with a small amount of contempt before giving a polite nod to Eleni, “it’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am”

The sound was music to Howzer's ears. Your accent was similar to that of the other Twi'leks, though softened slightly, as if you had been off world for a long time.

Eleni smiled graciously, “the pleasure is all mine”

You stepped backwards, your hands folded neatly in front of you, and the conversation shortly dwindled. Cham was finding he had little to say to the pompous Senator, and luckily he was saved by way of his daughter, Hera, invading the room with her droid in toe.

Howzer smiled at the sight, and even more when Orn Free Taa looked visibly uncomfortable at the intrusion. He kept his head down from that point on, for fear of being called out for laughing at the Senator. He instinctively glanced over at you once more, and was pleasantly surprised to see you also having to hide your laughter.

Your lips were twisted in a smirk, your hand coming up to partially cover it, but from the angle, nothing was hidden from the clone. Your eyes met his, and a small moment passed between you, both of you having to try harder to supress your chuckles.

Howzer was convinced by that simple action alone, without having spoken to you himself, that in time he would find you to be the most welcome company.

When Howzer left the barracks the following morning, he was displeased to find that the air outside still felt heavy. It had been this way since the shift in power, an invisible mist that surrounded the people of Ryloth, but specifically his men. He took a deep breath, seeking some of the fresh air that should be present on sunny mornings such as this one, but evidently the powers of the galaxy didn’t see fit to reward him with any relief.

His walk towards the senate bureau was short enough, but Howzer revelled in every moment he could. Before long he’d be holed up inside once more, listening to overzealous politicians discuss the future of the planet, as if they knew the first thing about the inhabitants of it. Howzer couldn't help but feel resentful towards the bureaucrats. They posed as public servants, but being inside their talks, he knew they only cared for themselves. It was the reason that Cham and his freedom fighters had even had to step up during the war.

He tried not to let it weigh on his mind. There was nothing he could do to fix it, after all, and with the Empire on the rise, he wouldn’t presume that anyone else could either. He held back a sigh as he turned the corner into the square that the bureau overlooked, not needing to be questioned on why he looked so utterly defeated. As he strode across the square, his eyes caught on a glimmer of light, shining and dancing in the early morning sun, which he discovered had bounced from your silver headwear.

Howzer didn’t expect to see you again so soon, and he couldn't help but notice how utterly lost and confused you looked, wandering along the edge of the square and glancing all about the place. He smiled softly, adjusting his grip on his helmet, and changed direction to cross in your path.

“Are you alright miss?” he asked softly, not wishing to scare you.

You whirled around nonetheless, evidently a little surprised that someone had approached you. The moment your eyes caught his, he could see the embarrassment flash across them, and you let out a quiet self-deprecating chuckle.

“I appear to be lost” you informed him, though he had already figured that much out.

Instead of telling you that, he asked, “where are you headed?”

“Um… I'm not entirely sure” you admitted, a mauve blush appearing across your cheeks. Howzer gave you a patient smile as you collected yourself, finding it hard not to be instantly enamoured by you. “Might you know where the Senator resides?” you asked him, a hopeful look in your eyes.

He nodded, “I can show you the way if you like”

Your eyes lit up a little at his words, “that would be lovely, though I do hope it's not too far out of your way”

“It's not” Howzer assured with a kind smile, “this way”

You followed the clone trooper silently across the square, and he took stock of you in a flick of his eyes. Your robes were a dark plum colour, a little less formal than the queenly attire you had been wearing the previous day, but exceedingly opulent nonetheless. It was hard not to notice the clothes that you wore, not only because of their sophistication, but also because he himself never changed from the armour that he currently wore on his back.

“How long have you been working for Senator Taa?” he inquired, holding open the door to the building.

He noticed the way you sighed, squaring your jaw before you spoke, “a little over 3 years”

“So… you live on Coruscant?” he prompted, aiming to move the conversation from the imperious senator.

“I did” you looked up at him as you walked in tandem, a sad smile pulling at the corner of your lips.

Howzer instinctively raised his brows a little, “you don't like it here?”

“I do” you confirmed in an assured voice, your hands closing around your robes and lifting them an inch as you began climbing the stairs, “it’s my home planet, it’s just…”

Howzer watched the way your throat tightened as you forced yourself to swallow, burying your words. The action was filled with all the grace and restraint of a politician, though it was obvious that something was bothering you.

You gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, “I shouldn’t say. It’s not my place”

Howzer nodded with an amiable enough expression, though his eyes observed your movements carefully. Your fingers slotted together as the two of you reached the top of the stairs, hands joined in front of your robes, your gaze ahead of you, fixed and steady, and your mouth a hard line. You were impossible to read, and he found it more than a little unnerving.

“What about you?” you turned your attention to the clone beside you, “do you like it here?”

Howzer was a little startled. Aside from his brothers, no one but Cham or Eleni ever asked him about himself. There was an expectancy in your eyes however, something kind and patient as you waited for him to reply, something that told him you cared to know his answer.

“Oh, well” he began a little inelegantly, “anything is better than Kamino, I suppose”

You chuckled, a charming sound that made Howzer’s heart flutter with pride, “have you always been stationed here?”

“For most of my time in the war, yes” he replied, guiding you through a doorway and towards the office that the two of you had been searching out.

The hall was far more luxurious than those which Howzer usually passed through. There were grand arches and satin curtains which swayed gently in the breeze, the lavish wooden windows thrown open to overlook the city. Your imposing garb didn’t seem so garish here, it just made Howzer feel underdressed.

“Well, this is it” he smiled cordially, gesturing a gloved hand to the door at the end of the hall.

“Thank you” you stopped, squaring your shoulders with his and giving him an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask your name”

Howzer couldn’t help but smile at you with more intention. He had never known a politician apologise to him.

“It’s Howzer” he spoke, “and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head slightly and a certain twinkle in your eye, “the pleasure is all mine, as long as you don’t call me that again”

Howzer huffed a small laugh, “certainly, my apologies”

“No need for apologies” you waved him off, “but thanks are in order, I would never have found my way here without you”

You held out your hand, and it took a moment for Howzer to register what was going on. He hesitated for a second longer even so, unsure if it was proper conduct to be touching senate officials, but your gracious expression made him give in. He took your hand and shook it firmly, though not gripping too hard for how delicate it looked wrapped by his fingers.

“Anytime” he bowed his head in respect and let his hand fall from yours as he exited the hallway.

Howzer could now admit that he was entirely fascinated by you. To him, you gave the air of such importance, especially as you were only an aide. Aside from that, you were unlike any of the other senate members he had had the misfortune of crossing. The difference being that you actually seemed pleasant to be around.

He took the route towards Cham’s office, and he had to suppress the grin that threatened to take over his face. He didn’t exactly know what he was grinning about, but he felt anything that could draw such a reaction from him in the troubling times he inhabited surely couldn’t be a bad thing.

The next few days passed in a blur of tedious meetings and rising tensions, and Howzer just kept his head down, staying out of everything. It was a welcome respite from the all-out conflict against the separatists, but he still couldn’t help but find it exceptionally dull.

As he had hoped, he had crossed paths with you reasonably often. He came to realise that you didn't speak an awful lot, or that you only spoke when you had something notable to say. You were practically silent in senate discussions, though you had a seat at the table. It only made Howzer more intrigued and confused, since the other aides stood behind the Senator, whereas your place was beside him.

You were always engaged, though it was clear that you aimed to keep to yourself. A number of times he could see you holding back, and he came to recognise the tick in your jaw when someone said something you disapproved of. It was fascinating to watch you work. You were the only one that took notes in meetings, the only one that seemed entirely immersed, and yet, you said so few words.

He couldn't fully understand the way you went on, and it only made him think that there was more to you than met the eye. The way you carried yourself was something curious to him. You were elegance incarnate, unaffected by your heavy robes and gliding around almost as if you were a ghost, hauntingly beautiful.

The most thrilling thing of all was that you made sure to speak with him every time you passed him by. It was always a simple ‘good morning’ or ‘good afternoon’, but he couldn't ignore the way it sent a shiver running down his spine, especially as your words were always accompanied by an affectionate smile, your eyes sparkling.

He found you entirely charming, and even more so when he often saw you sat outside of an evening, under a tree that the barracks overlooked, a flimsibook in hand and stylus working furiously against it. He greatly desired to know what you were writing. The scene was like something from a painting, similar to the ones he'd seen in the more grandiose corners of the senate bureau; your robes fanned out around you at the bottom of a tall whiptree, your expression thoughtful as you scribbled words down onto the pages of the leatherbound book. The dying light hit your skin in a similar fashion as those brush strokes, a warm glow that made you look ethereal, as if you had been someone's muse.

Howzer had even caught himself leaning on the window ledge, watching you write, and then internally scolded himself when he realised what he was doing. It was entirely improper to be fawning over a senate official, he knew that. There was just something about you he couldn't quite figure out, and he was determined to know what it was.

It was around midday when Cham addressed the people of Ryloth, Orn Free Taa at his side, with a speech that he had been preparing for a number of days now. You hung back from him, standing beside Eleni, and Howzer found himself edging forwards so he was in earshot of your conversation. His ears perked up the sound of your laugh. It was something he hadn’t heard since your first encounter.

“I couldn’t say” you replied to whatever Eleni had asked, “ordinarily I don't accompany Senator Taa to meetings”

“Oh? How come”

Howzer watched the way your shoulders sagged as a sigh escaped you, “Truth be told, we don’t usually work so closely. I represent him in the senate when he’s… otherwise engaged”

“You’re a senate representative?” Eleni asked, her tone surprised, “I could have sworn the Senator introduced you as his aide”

“Yes, well…” you jaw ticked with indignance, your voice becoming hushed, “the Senator doesn’t really seem to understand the work I do in his stead”

“I see” Eleni matched your quiet tone, “Though… if you represent him in his absence, why are you here on Ryloth? Shouldn't you have remained on Coruscant”

You didn't answer for a moment, and Howzer tried to gauge your thoughts. You gave nothing away, as always. His eyes followed the movement of your arms as you slotted your hands together behind your back, disappearing beneath your robes. It was clear that whatever you were about to divulge was not for the ears of everyone, so you must have trusted Eleni more than he realised.

“The Emperor saw fit to… relocate me” you admitted.

Howzer's eyebrows raised in surprise.

“The Emperor?” Eleni asked, her tone incredulous, “why does the Emperor want you here?”

You swallowed, glancing behind you, and Howzer averted his eyes as to not get caught listening in.

“I think it was more about me not being on Coruscant” you said lowly, your voice dripping with unease, though carefully measured.

Howzer was alarmed. What did you mean? What possible reason could the Emperor have for getting rid of you?

In any case, Eleni's own questions died on her lips as the Senator and her husband returned from the front of the room. Orn Free Taa addressed you, your name sharp on his tongue as he instructed you to accompany him to his office without so much as looking in your direction. You nodded and said a courteous goodbye to Eleni as you turned to follow him with Cham on your heels.

Your eyes flicked towards Howzer as you passed by him, and you gave a warm smile. There was a certain glint in your eyes, a small flicker of repressed amusement that didn't go unnoticed by him. He gave you a respectful nod, taking his place one step behind Cham as the four of you walked towards the Senator's office.

The session that followed was hard to sit through. It felt like a mutiny against Cham, whilst dancing around the fact that that's what was going on. The bureaucrats that had travelled from Coruscant rallied behind whatever the Senator was saying, and Howzer could feel his own anger and irritation bubbling up on Cham's behalf.

As if that wasn't enough, the session ran late, and the sun began to set as the heated discussion continued. Howzer kept half an eye on you, and though you stayed quiet, he could see the way your jaw was set. He felt that if you tensed it any harder then it would snap. He couldn't help but wonder why you wouldn't speak up if you so clearly didn't agree, and especially now knowing that you had more authority than most of the people in the room.

By the time some form of conclusion had been reached, the sun had fully sunk beneath the horizon. The senate members filed out of the room, but he saw you pull Cham aside. You spoke in a soft voice, and he couldn't hear what was being said, but the deep crease in your brow gave away the seriousness of your words. Cham nodded along, and then sighed, replying with a comforting hand on your shoulder. Howzer stood at attention until it was just you three left, and gripped his helmet a little tighter when your gaze wandered his way. You straightened, stepping back from the other Twi'lek with a gracious smile.

“Well, anyway, I should be getting back to my residence” you said, your voice raised from the hushed tone.

“Of course” Cham gestured to the exit, “Though, I would ask you to take extra caution, with it being darker than usual”

“I will” you nodded, making your way over to where Howzer was stationed at the door.

“Ah” Cham said suddenly, his eyes landing on the clone, “you know Captain Howzer, correct?”

Your eyebrows raised slightly as your eyes moved from the Twi’lek and over to Howzer, and he kept his expression as neutral as possible, despite being cautiously optimistic about your reaction.

“I do” you smiled at him, the slight tip of your head as you added, “Captain”

The inflection made it difficult for Howzer to keep a straight face, but he managed to supress his smirk nonetheless.

“Howzer, if you could escort the our guest here home, I would be very grateful” Cham addressed him.

“Certainly, sir” Howzer obliged, and followed the pair out of the room.

“Perhaps we can continue our conversation tomorrow?” You suggested to Cham as you descended the stairs, your voice airy and light, feigning innocence to anyone listening in.

“Yes, I was thinking the same thing” Cham replied, a glance in your direction that was not as subtle as your calculated demeanour.

Howzer trailed behind, keeping his distance and standing by the large doors while you said your goodbyes. You turned back towards him as Cham's receding footsteps rang out in the grand entrance hall, a tired smile gracing your lips.

“Shall we?” you asked, and Howzer promptly opened up the door, escorting you outside.

The air outside was cool, a light breeze gently rustling and scattering leaves along the stone floor of the town square. The feint scent of lavender hung in the air, and despite the amount of people moving about, civilians and clones alike, it felt still, calm.

“I didn't realise you were a Captain” you commented, looking up at him with a wry smile curving your lips.

Howzer couldn't hold back his smirk any longer, “I suppose we were both downplaying our roles then”

A soft laugh escaped you, and you shook your head at him, “I knew you were listening to that”

He shrugged, not sure what else to say for himself. He knew it wasn’t necessarily appropriate to be listening in on private conversations, no less private conversations that concerned the senate, but your expression told him you didn't mind all that much.

“So what do you usually do on Coruscant then?” he asked, taking his helmet in his other hand so he could inch marginally closer and hear you clearer.

You took a breath before you spoke, “for the most part, I attended senate sessions in his stead”

“How often did he have you doing that?” he questioned, lifting the branch of a tree as you passed underneath.

“Well…” you began, looking back ahead of you, “if I'm being honest, probably nine times out of ten”

Howzer's eyebrows raised, “you're essentially a Senator then”

You shook your head, a pessimistic chuckle leaving your lips, “whatever I was, it doesn't matter anymore”

Howzer knew when to keep quiet, and with the way your mask of stoicism swiftly covered your features again, he held his tongue. He had endless questions he wanted to ask you, and it took everything within him to keep his mouth shut.

Soon enough, you stopped outside a dwelling, a ground floor apartment with very little affluence to its outward appearance. If he had passed it by on his own, he never would have thought it belonged to a Senator, as he was now coming to think of you as.

“Thank you for the escort, Captain” you smiled up at him, “it seems I'm making a habit of dragging you around”

Howzer chuckled, especially as it didn’t seem like you were all that sorry about it, “I don't mind, I couldn't say it's really an inconvenience”

“I'm glad” you replied with a simper that set something alive inside of him.

He observed you for a moment. You were a little shorter than him, but your presence dwarfed him all the same, and he could feel the tips of his ears burning at your steady gaze. For all that you lived in Orn Free Taa's shadow, more literally than figuratively, you seemed exceptionally sure of yourself. It was a quiet confidence, where your imposing nature came from rationality and restraint, rather than in seeking unabashed dominance, like some other politicians. If you'd been raised in a different setting, he thought that you'd make a good soldier because of it.

“Well, thank you again” you spoke a little quieter, your hand raising to the control panel beside the door.

Howzer gave you a polite nod as he stepped back, “anytime”

You shortly disappeared behind the door, and Howzer turned to make his way to the barracks for the night. He rolled his neck, feeling the soreness that lingered there after a full day of keeping at attention.

His body still wasn't used to standing around all day, and neither was his mind, despite the fact that he felt he should be at peace. It was odd, really. He was in his element when in battle, and without it, he didn't know that he'd ever truly feel like himself again.

The following week passed without much consequence, but the mounting pressure was beginning to feel stifling.

Howzer had been stuck inside all morning with Cham, going over and rethinking the defence of the refinery just outside the city. It wasn't entirely clear to Howzer why it was so pertinent to guard the refinery so closely, but he wasn't in the mood for asking questions anymore. It was more for the fear of the answers he would get, especially from the Empire.

Finally, Cham dismissed him for lunch, and as it was far later than his usual lunch hour, he allowed him to take the rest of the day off as well. Howzer fully intended to join him again after he had replenished himself, but those plans were scrapped when he walked into the mess hall and saw you sitting in the back corner.

You looked so out of place. Your luxurious navy robe and silver jewellery only made you more noticeable, not to mention your pale lilac skin and lekku, but you were also the only other person in the room. You looked forlorn, and more outwardly emotional than he had ever seen you before. Your chin rested in your hand, your gaze fixed out of the window, and your lips were turned down in a frown.

Howzer called your name as he approached the table, and you whipped your head over to him, evidently having been lost in your thoughts. You gave him your best attempt at a smile, “Captain, how are you?”

Howzer brushed past the question, barely even registering it as he took the seat opposite you, “what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with the Senator?”

“Ah, yes. Well…” you trailed off for a moment, your eyes wandering back outside, “he dismissed me for the rest of the day”

Howzer frowned, “why? isn't that a good thing?”

You let out a humourless laugh, and your shoulders slumped in defeat. “He doesn't like when people speak out against him” you shrugged with a nonchalance that Howzer didn't quite believe, “I should know better really”

You hid your affliction well, but for Howzer, who had grown accustomed to your usual impassive expression, it was obvious that you were upset.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, lowering his voice to what he hoped was a comforting tone.

“I didn't want to be around the other aides” you said, then glanced back at him with one side of your lips quirked up, “and I thought no one would be in here at this time”

Howzer huffed a laugh, “I'm sorry for disturbing you then”

“Don’t be” you smiled, genuinely this time, “I'm not”

Howzer’s eyebrows raised instinctively, a little taken aback by your candour. He supposed that you had never been anything but honest, so it shouldn't surprise him that much. You had withheld things, even obviously so, but you had never not made your opinion known when speaking truthfully.

“As it happens” he began, watching your reaction carefully, “I have the rest of the day off as well”

Your head tilted, almost imperceptibly, and you raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to go on.

“I could keep you company, if you'd like” he suggested.

Your lips lifted at his words, “I'd like that”

“Alright then…” Howzer smiled, looking out the window and then back to you, “have you eaten yet?”

You shook your head.

Howzer stood from his seat, “Let's go then”

Your eyebrows raised as you followed suit, stepping out of the bench and readjusting your robes, “let's go where?”

“I know a place” he shrugged, struggling to hold back his grin at your cautious expression.

You rolled your eyes in a playful manner as you fell into step beside him, “I didn't take you as one for clichés, Captain”

“Sorry” Howzer chuckled as he held open the door to the corridor, “it'll be worth it, I promise”

“Alright” you conceded with the ghost of a smirk crossing your face.

Soon enough the two of you were making your way through the marketplace, vendors and civilians alike milling about around you. There was a sense of joy in this area of the city that Howzer rarely got to see, an innocence, as if the war had never even happened. Children played together, chasing after each other while their parents watched on with bright smiles, eyes full of love.

“This way” Howzer said, gently guiding you down a side street, his hand accidently brushing your lower back as he placed a protective arm around you body to shield you from the hustle and bustle.

“You don't need to do that, Captain” you told him, “I'm not made of glass”

“Sorry, just doing my job” he insisted.

“By bringing me to some secret lunch spot?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Howzer huffed a laugh and his hand instinctively curled around the back of his neck, “I— uh, perhaps not”

“I’m just teasing” you smiled, “I don't expect you to do your job while you're not on duty”

“Then perhaps you can stop calling me Captain” he suggested, his heart beating a little faster, hoping you wouldn't see the request as improper.

Thankfully, you let out a small chuckle, “I suppose that makes sense”

Shortly, you came upon a stand that smelled divine, and the vendor's eyes shone as she saw Howzer approaching.

“Captain” she beamed, “it's been too long”

“It has” Howzer smiled back politely, “we'll just get two of the regular”

“Of course” the Twi'lek then cast her eyes to you, sweeping her gaze down your regal attire, “who's this?”

Howzer was going to answer, but you beat him to it, giving your name, and nothing else. He raised an eyebrow at you, wondering why you were so adverse to admit your importance, but you just glanced at him and subtly shook your head.

“Well, it's a pleasure” the vendor smiled, eyes darting between the two of you “never known the Captain here to bring anyone else with him”

“Is that so?” you asked, a wry smile curling your lips as you tilted your head to him.

Howzer could feel himself blushing, his cheeks burning as he looked down, “yeah, I guess not”

“Sorry Captain” the vendor chuckled, handing over two small boxes of food, “that'll be 15 credits”

Howzer busied himself with digging through the pouches in his belt, and pulling out the credits to hand over. Before the vendor could take them, you placed your hand on his arm to stop him.

“Please, let me” you insisted, pulling out your own credits from your pocket.

Howzer said your name in an aporetic tone, “you can't expect me to let you pay when I'm the one who brought you here”

“That's exactly what I expect” you spared him a glance as you counted your credits, and you looked startlingly serious.

“No” he shook his head, trying to hand over the credits again, “I won't let you”

You grabbed his arm and this time tugged it down, your gaze stern, “you will”

Howzer was more than a little confused by your actions, but he wasn't going to refuse what felt eerily like an order. A force of habit, perhaps, but the look in your eye was something fierce that he didn't want to be on the receiving end of again.

He let you hand over the credits to the vendor, whose lips were twisted in an amused smirk, an eyebrow raised at him. He waved it off, and led the two of you away, throwing a thank you over his shoulder as you left.

“Sorry” you looked up at him with more bashfulness than he’d ever seen from you, “I didn't mean to be rude”

“Don't worry about it” he smiled reassuringly, choosing not to dwell on it too much.

You mirrored his gesture back to him and then looked towards where he was leading you.

“So” you began, “where are you taking me now?”

Howzer's lips twitched with a smirk, “I told you, I know a place”

A genuine laugh escaped you, and Howzer's heart sang at the sound, “you're really talking it up”

“Trust me, it's worth the mystery” he claimed.

“Alright” you smiled with a light shake of your head, “I'll trust you”

Howzer led you out of the city, the streets becoming increasingly empty as you strolled, and the cheerful cries of children playing were exchanged for birdsong. The edge of the city gave way to a forest, tall whiptrees casting spindly shadows onto the outer buildings and scattering the floor with leaves.

As you made your way between the trees, you lifted the hem of your robes, an instinctual move on your part, but Howzer could only think about how graceful the action was. Your head was angled towards the ground, taking in the way the afternoon sun shone through the leaves and spread shadows across the forest floor.

Before long, the forest path opened up and you came upon a lake, the water a deep blue colour and glittering as it gently swayed in the breeze. Half of it was cast in shadow as a part of the cliff face above jutted out and hung over the body of water. Your eyes were full of wonder looking upon it, and he couldn’t take his own eyes away from your awe-struck expression.

“This is…” you failed to complete your sentence as you looked up at him with a wide grin, something of childlike wonder and pleasant surprise.

“It’s nice, right?” he said, taking a seat on a soft patch of grass by the side of the lake, gesturing for you to do the same.

“Yeah, you weren’t kidding” you laughed, your eyes dancing with amusement as you took your seat across from him, “this is some place you know”

Howzer allowed himself a smug look, a shrug to soften it, “told you”

He passed your food over, and popped the lid from his as you did the same. You inhaled through your nose, taking in the sweet yet spicy scent of the meal, and his lips lifted as you looked pleased by it. You both dug in using the utensil provided, and Howzer felt his shoulders relax as you let out a contented noise, your eyes closing for a moment to savour the taste.

“Good?” he prompted.

“Very” you nodded, opening your eyes, “you sure know how to spoil a girl”

Howzer could feel his cheeks burning as he chuckled and turned his attention down to his food. Your wry smile and the teasing glint in your eye was frankly too much for him to deal with if he wanted to maintain an air of professionalism, so he kept his head down for the remainder of the meal. It wasn't hard, the food was delicious after all.

“Howzer” your voice called to him, using his given name for the first time, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course” he said, placing his empty box down next to where you had left yours and giving you all of his attention again.

“Why is it that you're stationed in the senate bureau? If you're a Captain, I would have thought you might be elsewhere” you clarified.

“Oh” he looked past you for a moment, searching for the right words, “well, now that the war is over, I don't serve the same purpose. Cham trusts me, I suppose — we work well together, so for the time being, I'm stationed with him”

You nodded as he spoke, taking a moment to understand the information before you spoke up again. It was the very practiced act of a politician, and Howzer noted the concentration in your eyes that he only usually saw in meetings.

“Cham isn't a fan of the Senator, is he?”

Howzer hesitated, giving you a dubious look.

“I'm just curious, I'm not going to speak of it with anyone else” you assured him, and he relaxed a touch.

“No, we're not big fans of him, really” he admitted.

Your lips curled into a smirk instantly, “we?”

Howzer realised his slip up, a nervous laugh escaping him, “uh— yeah, I'm not a fan of politicians in general I suppose”

This time your eyebrow raised, and Howzer realised the error of his ways before you even spoke.

“I mean— no, I didn't mean it like that—” he tried to explain himself.

“Relax” you laughed, interrupting his ramblings with a hand over his forearm, “I don't like them either”

The weight of your hand delicately placed over his vambrace was surprising, but that's not what made Howzer raise his brows.

“Why not? You work with them”

“Exactly” you huffed, drawing back from him.

He watched on as you turned towards the lake and stretched out your legs, a brown pair of boots emerging from beneath your robes. They looked out of place poking out from the rich navy material, oddly comfortable among all the opulence. He supposed that they weren't usually visible, and it felt like a strange look into your psyche, who you were beneath all of the political propriety.

“It's odd, being back on Ryloth” you mused quietly, you eyes trailing the cliff which hung over the lake, leaning back on your palms.

“How so?” Howzer asked, slumping forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Well, I'm not from around here. It's like being home, but not really” you paused, tilting your head a little “and I suppose I'm more used to being on Coruscant now.” A small crease formed in your brow as you continued to speak candidly, “I've just— I've been so busy, for years, and now… well, I'm back to being a shadow”

Howzer frowned, “you want to be… important?”

“No” you said straight away, shaking your head, “I don't need to be important, I just want to be useful”

Howzer heard how defeated you sounded, but he saw it even more in the look on your face. Your mouth turned downwards in a frown and your eyes flicked towards your feet as you kicked your heel into the ground. He called your name gently, and your head snapped over to him.

“Why did the Emperor send you away?”

You sighed as you turned your body towards him again, you legs curled up beside you, “I can't know for sure, but… it's most likely because I was too vocal”

“Vocal?” Howzer asked in surprise. You were so quiet in the sessions he had attended that it seemed out of the question.

You chuckled, “yes, even when he was the Supreme Chancellor, he didn't like that I was one of very few who actually called for change within the senate”

“What kind of change?”

“It was things such as… improved spending policy, advocating for clone rights, fair distribution of relief supplies among—”

“Clone rights?” he interrupted, “what do you mean?”

“Well, I'm sure you're well aware that the clone army aren't recognised within the senate, you're—” you paused, “you're property, for want of a better term, to the Republic, and now the Empire. You don't get a choice in whether you serve or not, and you're not paid for it, it's essentially slave labour”

Howzer didn't know how to feel about it being put so bluntly. They were things he'd considered before, especially since the birth of the Empire, but to hear it so concisely described, it put a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to—”

“No, you’re right” he said, dragging his eyes away from you.

“But that's why it's important; a bill put forward against it would seek to give you the option to serve, and a wage should you choose to”

“Do you think it would pass?” he asked.

The sigh that left your lips gave him his answer, “truthfully, I don't know. There's a lot of vile people in this galaxy, people who would see to it that you aren't given what you're owed”

“And what am I owed?” Howzer questioned, a hint of mirth in his voice.

“To be treated like a person” you said simply.

Howzer was taken aback by how easily your mouth formed those words. He had no idea that there were a number of people in the senate that were advocating for him and his brothers, but the fact that you were one of them made his head spin. It just made him respect you more, a newfound reverence for you washing over him.

“I've kind of always operated under the belief that you've just got to do what you can, but the things within my reach have significantly decreased, and now… I don't know whether a bill like that would pass under the Empire, if it was contested when we were still a Republic”

Howzer nodded. He could understand that reasoning, however bleak it was.

“Is this why you wouldn't let me pay for the food earlier?” he then asked, one side of his lips curling up.

You chuckled slightly, looking down to the grass that you both sat upon, “Yeah, it was”

An unfamiliar warmth spread throughout Howzer’s chest, spilling throughout his veins and begging to reach out and tip your head back up to look at him.

“I probably shouldn’t have told you all that” you murmured, looking up at him through your lashes with a particularly sheepish expression which he couldn't help but find extremely endearing.

He offered you a smile, “your secrets are safe with me”

You returned the kind expression and sat up straight, a thoughtfulness about you that stoked the warmth inside of him.

“You're a good man, Howzer” you told him, eyes shining with something vulnerable, “you've been nothing but kind to me ever since I got here, and I just have to thank you for that”

Every word you spoke only sought to make him more enamoured by you, and he could feel the way a violent blush was creeping up the back of his neck, threatening to take over his face.

“You don't need to thank me” he replied, “you've made it very easy”

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565 @heidnspeak @mae-lou-ron

[deviousdiesel]

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[one-winged-dreams]

Well hi lady at the print counter at Walmart being a huge cunt right out of the gate for no reason

[punkrockisafulltimejob]

Oh MIL is something else today