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vaguely-concerned · 2 days ago

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The Wigmaker Job Reread thoughts

Feat. numerous bonus general Dellamorte boys thinky thoughts, because I can’t help myself when this particular brain state comes over me I will just. keep writing.*

SO I'm rereading The Wigmaker Job and folks, I uh. think Lucanis asked Illario to come along on this job mostly because he's incredibly lonely lmao. Not entirely sure he's recognized this himself and completely sure he would not have the language, ability or instinct to convey this to Illario in a coherent way if he did, but I really do think that's what it is. (He certainly doesn’t make it easy for Illario to actually pitch in meaningfully on the job itself at any point that’s for sure!) And what’s more, I think Illario does realize it, better than Lucanis himself… and did decide to go along with it, huh. I’ll try to show my work a bit later on in the post but for now, we have a lot of rambling ground to cover, let’s get going!

(Obligatory disclaimer that these are just my personal impressions and reflections slash barely hinged stream of consciousness and if your read on something is different that is totally fine; as usual I am mostly talking out loud trying to explain to myself what the hell I’m thinking more than anything else lol. I’m going to be touching lightly on themes of suicidal ideation and child abuse in this, but only to the extent that is already present in the short story itself. I’ll mostly skirt around the body horror elements too, if those get to you!)

— “The man who’s taken the contract is no ordinary Crow,” Felicia explained, careful to keep her voice steady.

Ambrose uncorked the wine with a wave of his hand and began pouring it into a crystal decanter.

“He’s Lucanis Dellamorte.”

The bottle clanged against the crystal. A crack splintered down the glass.

“Ah.” Goose bumps pebbled the Wigmaker’s neck. He set the decanter back on the counter and sighed. “Shit.”

***

In an unassuming inn, on an unassuming road, Lucanis Dellamorte sat with a whetstone in hand, his favorite sword resting across his knees. The monotonous movement of grinding stone against metal soothed him. Seven daggers of various size and shape lay polished and glistening on a rough wool blanket at his feet.

The opening mood whiplash of Lucanis’ name being spoken only in hushed voices among the Venatori, smash cut to Lucanis sitting there peacefully sharpening his knives (this is genuinely and unironically what he does for fun. This is his idea of a good time outside of work. Give him a cup of coffee to go along with it and his day is perfect. He’s been contentedly sharpening seven daggers and a sword while Illario gets dressed. Sometimes his attraction to Viago ‘I’m going to make a spreadsheet about who to kill about this I find that relaxes me’ de Riva makes so much sense to me.)? Of course amazing the first time around, but coming back to it now that I like. Know him. No actually that is exactly who and what he is huh got it in one fhsdkj. He’s wearing a sensible neutral toned knitted sweater beneath his brooding hotboi leathers and this is what you need to understand about him.

I wonder if we were originally going to get more of the Erimond family in the game itself, other than just the notes we do find. It’s not every day a family produces someone even Cole can’t find a good word to say about, it would be fascinating to see what else it’s capable of haha.

— This whole description of Lucanis’ sensory hypersensitivity especially to sound (hypersensitivity, as we see later, that extends to magic, despite describing himself as being as magically adept as a brick, however that works!) taken together with his, I feel I must reiterate, sharpening his knives for fun… I know diagnosing fictional characters is a flawed premise at the outset but as far as I’m concerned and with a whole game to add to my evidence pile this man is SO autistic and if you read him through that lens it does explain some things hahaha.

— “Any excuse to primp.”

“Hey—I’m only here because of you,” Illario grumbled. “We should be halfway home right now. Only ‘the Great Lucanis Dellamorte’ could delay a summons from the First Talon herself.”

Lucanis set his sword aside. Illario was generally thick-skinned— except when it came to their grandmother. “Caterina can hardly complain. She’s the one who beat into me my commitment to contracts.”

Memories of sweat-filled days without food or water came unbidden. Lucanis’s back tingled from where his grandmother’s cane had bruised his flesh for letting his guard down or fumbling his footwork. For years, he’d hated her. But his time as a Master Assassin had since taught Lucanis that Caterina’s cruelty was her way of making sure that he was prepared for this life—that he survived.

“All that effort training and grooming us, and the old woman still won’t step aside.” Beneath the bitterness in Illario’s tone was something rotten.

“Your time will come,” Lucanis assured him.

“Will it?” Illario’s piercing gaze met Lucanis’s in the mirror. “People talk. You’ve always been her favorite.”

He’d heard the rumors. For all their secrets and intrigue, the Antivan Crows were a chatty bunch.

“My talents lie elsewhere,” Lucanis said, gesturing toward the arsenal around him. “You’re the one with the silver tongue.”

“So, if she named you heir to House Dellamorte, you’d refuse?” Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, when he realized someone was creeping up the stairs.

. . .

“Lucanis?” Illario pressed.

He held up a hand and clutched the worn leather grip of his sword. Illario’s pretty-boy mask slipped as a coldness flooded his features. A retractable dagger shot out from under his sleeve.

Now we don’t have time to unpack all of that — etc. but I want this exchange here in its entirety for stuff I’ll talk about later and also hey what the hell and so on. So much going on here. Lucanis’ acts of quiet rebellion by means of a sort of malicious compliance/competence — he’s following Caterina’s teachings to the letter and getting to have some in the spirit room left over for himself. He’s found a loophole to put off going home to something he dreads in an elegant practiced way, I definitely think this is a tactic he’s employed before.to claim some bits and pieces of agency. ‘How can she complain that I’m exactly what she taught me to be?’ suppressed anger/resentment under there.

The fact that Caterina still hasn’t named either of them as heir at this point continues to be insane, of course, as is the fact that her blatant favoritism is a matter of public knowledge to the point of ‘As you know, Bob —’ connotations and neither of them even thinking to pretend to deny it. Wild shit. If she wanted to create an environment for seething toxic resentment, she couldn’t have done it better if she’d dedicated her life to nothing else lmao. Illario: I think I should be First Talon! Lucanis: I agree (please don’t make me talk to people)! Caterina: Isn’t there someone you forgot to ask? (Would Illario make a good First Talon? I don’t know, what does that even mean, really. But as has been said many a time before it would have been a much more natural use of their skillsets and natural inclinations to have Illario in the people-facing role and Lucanis to watch his back/stab anyone who disagrees, especially if what you’re after is stability. Oh well.)

The special element of humiliation that it is a matter of public knowledge and tactical consideration across town that you’re the least favorite child… Illario’s obsession with winning the public opinion and being able to control his own image to the outside world is ah. Perhaps understandable.

Many thoughts and feelings about how they’ve individually made sense of/created narratives around the abuse in their upbringing. I didn’t end up going that deeply into that specifically in this post but it is an incredibly important element of their relationship.

They come back to having this conversation again at the end — everything in this story right down to the structure of it is Lucanis desperately trying to avoid something and finding it implacably still there waiting for him no matter what he does. He’s playing for time as best he can and pretending that if he doesn’t think about it it won’t happen and he won’t have to deal with it, but no matter what happens in between it will be waiting for him at the end — Illario is not letting this go, and neither is Caterina. We open with it, and we close with it; it’s inevitable no matter how you bargain or try to go for the ‘well if I’m real lucky I could just die before that becomes relevant!’ gambit. Oof. Sorry Lucanis this isn’t something you can solve through stabbing no matter how good you are at it I know that’s terrible news for you but here we are my sincerest condolences

— So cute to see their little double act of casual smalltalk/bickering as a diversion in action already here, in exactly the same way they break it out during the café meeting in Veilguard! Courtney Woods is really good at moments of establishing character like this, showing both the brewing conflict between them and how well they know each other and the ways they can wordlessly communicate because of it all in one scene. How unspeakably comfortable and uncomfortable they are together in ways only family can manage to be haha.

— Illario complaining that Lucanis let him get a whole outfit made thinking they were actually going to the party and mentioning how long they (not he, they, Lucanis came along for all of that) were at the tailor’s (Lucanis, implied to be very dryly: “I recall.”)... listen. Especially once you hear the banter in the Treviso market about how Lucanis once sat around waiting for six hours while Illario tried on gloves to find exactly the right pair — that is clearly Lucanis making gentle fun of him, but he is also inadvertently revealing something about himself in that he stayed for six hours to keep Illario company through that. I think coming along on shopping trips where he knows nothing is expected of him except to hang out, make light snarky comments when asked for his opinion and wait might kind of be Lucanis’ idea of a good time socially hahaha. Nr. 1 shopping wingman in Thedas. His main ‘I’ll follow you to hell and back with only light complaining’ arena for Illario. This is part of the pattern of not telling Illario the whole plan and deliberately keeping him continually on the backfoot during this whole story — which clearly, not fair to him and not a great look, Lucanis, you’re not being very nice — but I feel like this is also another entry in the pattern of Lucanis desperately craving company and not quite knowing how to ask for it nor perhaps realizing that’s what he’s up to. Also I get the sense he thinks Illario finds getting ready for missions like this and picking out what to wear fun. Which to be fair he’s probably right about, if he just didn’t also go out of his way to make Illario feel like an idiot in the process lmao.

— At the bottom, they found an elf in a scarlet coat guarding a large steel door. She greeted Lucanis with a cordial smile. “Master Dellamorte. And . . .”

Her friendly façade faltered as she spotted Illario.

“Master Dellamorte the Lesser,” Illario offered with a grin.

“My cousin,” Lucanis clarified.

Appeased, the elf asked, “Where does your business take you tonight?”

If you wear your self-loathing and resentment on your sleeve for long enough while everyone around you ignores it as a joke it becomes an accessory! And other Illario Dellamorte hot fashion tips in this edition of Treviso Weekly. Fhdskjas the things these two motherfuckers say that they consider completely normal and sane things to say — to each other and to say about themselves and each other in public…

— Lucanis peeked over the side. No one looked up. One of the world’s greatest wonders is mundane to these people.

“How do they get it to float?” Illario asked, tapping his boot tip against the aqueduct.

This is so quietly sweet to me. Illario does look up, because he is also a Crow. Courtney Woods is really good at creating these under-the-surface feelings — I love the small details she puts in to emphasize Illario and Lucanis connecting over their common background, over being two Antivans in Tevinter, in being Crows, in being Caterina’s grandsons. (...and also the places those connections fail or fall short. Ouch and owie.) At a point later in the story, Lucanis thinks to look up because he hears Illario’s voice in his head making a joke, reminding him.

Moving in tandem, Lucanis and Illario dropped to their chests and shimmied to the edge overlooking the courtyard.

Lucanis seems to value these moments of connection through common experience because they don’t require him to speak or explain himself, which he clearly finds extremely hard to the point that he’d rather not even venture the attempt/doesn’t even know how to start. These are wordless ways he and Illario know each other, intimacy/connection that’s natural and effortless where that is clearly incredibly difficult for him in many other settings — body knowledge of another person’s company with the person he (thinks he) knows the best in the whole world, the most familiar and comforting presence in his life. They were boys together, they learned how to move together, they’ve eaten at the same table all their lives. In the Crossroads when he finds the smell of coffee and home there, it’s home because Illario was there with him. Hmghfsk. Agony. Suffering.

— “So, the Wigmaker.” Illario wiggled his fingers ominously. “Tell me about him.”

“He’s weird,” Lucanis replied bluntly. He found the moments before a job crucial for focus, but Illario was never one for comfortable silence.

“Specifics, cousin. No one hires us to kill normal people.”

“I gave you a dossier.”

“Yes, but I want your assessment.”

“I wrote it. It is my assessment.”

“Humor me.”

Their dynamic in this is so heartbreaking to me in that like… okay this is going to be heavily vibes based and integrating some of the things we get to see of them in Veilguard so bear with me here while I try to explain this to myself. But what Illario is trying to do here is clearly to get Lucanis to engage with him outside of the professional sphere. Of all people in the world at this point in time, I think Illario is the one single person who best knows and also cares the most about Lucanis as a human being, not about what he can do for him. He loves his cousin, he wants to know what Lucanis is thinking, he wants to be engaged with him; he’s trying his fucking damnest to pick the locks to get to the person beneath the Crow, as it were! Maybe to a Lucanis he remembers from long ago, when they were children and the connection between them was effortless and open, not yet marred by all the ways trauma and the unequal dynamic enforced on them has forced them to shut parts of themselves down to survive. I feel there’s a where did you go that I couldn’t follow and when did it happen, why did you leave me here alone, come back sort of undertone to it, both here and in The Wake. As well as in Veilguard itself, come to that! ‘That is not my cousin, that is a demon, a stranger with his face’ is a sentiment that may, perhaps, have deeper roots than Lucanis popping back up from the grave like a jumpscare. Another metaphorical/emotional truth made mockingly literal, as it were, just like Lucanis’ Freeze response and deep sense of being a monster somehow in a way he can’t put his finger on is older than Spite or the Ossuary. (Zara thought making ‘the Demon of Vyrantium’ literal would be great value for shits and giggles, and this is also a Narrative Pattern in this corner of the story, the unspoken emotional metaphors in this fucked up little family heightened and made real through the literary device of magic. It’s good stuff. Veilguard does pretty solid work with metaphors overall, honestly.)

Meanwhile Lucanis both seems to long for that connection too (there’s a reason he asked Illario to come along with him for this even though he refuses to like. Actually give him the information he needs to actively help out particularly effectively) AND to feel threatened/inadequate when Illario asks for it. I’m not sure he entirely knows how to give Illario the closeness he’s asking for anymore, and the pain both of not being able to give someone you love what they need from you and the feeling of something being fundamentally wrong with you that you can’t understand how to do that, as well as threatening the system of values Caterina has instilled in him so deep: the job always comes first, anything that could stop you from prioritizing that is dangerous, even love. (Especially love, you only get to keep that if you do your job perfectly first.) There’s also the resentment of ‘why are you asking me for more when I already tried to give you this information/closeness in a way I’m actually capable of, if only you’d be serious and pay attention for five minutes’, a feeling of not being understood or seen. A sort of I crave your company but every time I have it it only reveals how I’m fundamentally broken despair and stuckness as well, as we see the sort of fraught irreconcilably mixed emotions in all of Lucanis’ attachment relationships in Veilguard.

Even at this stage, Lucanis’ is a psychology held together with workaholism and ‘I’ll just bottle this all up in here and then someday, on the bright side, if I’m lucky, I will die and not have to worry about it! If I can’t see it it can’t see me and it’ll be okay’ logic, and Illario’s attempts at breaking through, born of increasing desperation, love, and justified concern as they may be, are disruptive to those defensive structures and Lucanis instinctively rejects them. (Indeed, very much in the same way as Spite’s presence in Lucanis’ psyche works eventually, and eliciting the same initial reactions in him: avoidance, distaste, fear and anger. Davrin too refuses to stop poking and back off at subtler signs, and evokes a lot of the anger and rebellious little shitness for lack of a better word that Lucanis also has with Illario. Which I think ironically is also a sign that Lucanis kind of weirdly trusts him or at least trusts that he understands the parameters of their relationship clearly, it’s one of the few places he lets himself be openly angry right from the get go.) Thus the irritable pulling away/dismissiveness, and thus Illario’s (accurate tbf!) sense of rejection and dismissal and (I think inaccurate or at least incomplete) perception of Lucanis’ motivations for it. Though, again, who can blame him for reaching the conclusions he does with what Lucanis is able to give him to work with here. And so the misery carousel keeps going round and round.

Illario and Spite speak the same truth to him: WE ARE TRAPPED. WE NEED TO GET OUT SOMEHOW OR IT’LL KILL US. (Inferred and indirect: HELP ME) And because Lucanis’ survival instincts naturally go towards Freeze, being asked for action of that specific kind is what he’s least able to deliver, because it’ll inevitably hurt someone he loves, no matter how he moves. So he just. Doesn’t. Rook finds Lucanis trapped in a chamber deep in his brain I think has existed in a less Fade-enhancedly literal form for much, much longer than the most recent barrage of trauma. The set dressing is new, the underlying logic is old and firmly established.

Lucanis’ instinct to keep the current patterns going as painlessly or numbly as possible, to ‘keep still’ and only work within the structures Caterina has set up for them — because in his mind a flawed yet stable status quo, yes, even a toxic one, is better than the risk of unbearable and irretrievable loss and chaos at its disruption, as they have in fact experienced before under traumatic circumstances — is incredibly destructive to the both of them, and it’s born out of an incredibly deep love and protectiveness. He’s trying to keep Illario safe, in exactly the same way he thinks he’s doing for everyone he cares about by staying in the Mind!Ossuary later, but it’s a child’s/survival instinct’s flawed logic and causing so much harm in the process. Logic that indeed is inherited from Caterina, whose solution to that same logic is what Lucanis is scrambling to protect Illario from the same way he tries to protect himself (if only Illario would understand that and stop rocking the fucking boat!!!, right…). Don’t struggle against the riptide, go limp, if you try to swim against it directly you’ll always lose. (And from Illario’s point of view: well, if you loved me you’d at least try, and not just wait for it to finish the job and finally drown us.)

In this short story you can feel how they’re trying so hard to speak with each other in the only ways they know how, with the broken mangled tools Caterina left them with, and they can’t understand each other and very soon it’s going to be too late. I’m going to go lie down on the bottom of the ocean for ten thousand million billion years.

— More observations of the patterns between them in this generally because it didn’t fit anywhere else lol: here’s the feeling I get. Illario makes bids for connection, Lucanis seems to bluntly brush him off even as we see from his internal dialogue just how fond he is of Illario — I think even some of the more dismissive comments he makes in his head is more along the lines of the affectionate amusement we see him have around people he cares about and their foibles in Veilguard too. If you listen to how he talks about Viago and Caterina especially, there’s that same laconic observation of their peculiarities as a part of how he loves them. HowEver. He and Illario do not have the tools or understanding to express to each other that ‘oof, no, that hit on something too tender, back off’, other than to try to jab back harder and sharper. And so resentments build and deepen on both sides without ever getting any outlets. A relationship where you don’t have the right or means to say ‘no’ is never going to be a healthy one, and saying ‘no’ is the one thing Caterina has most forbidden. In other relationships Lucanis solves this by creating distance internally — Caterina is in his inner world, but she’s the outermost lock, kept further away from his deepest self. He does not resent her ‘anymore’ (he says and probably thinks. I think he might ah. Have deferred it more than resolved it but that’s just me lol), but he has protected himself from her within the means he had to do it with and found a way to maintain his attachment to her in that state. And yet he is incapable of and/or unwilling to do that same process with Illario, to let go of the closeness he can maintain there. Illario is the innermost lock of his psyche, the person who has meant the most to him and as unguardedly as he’s capable of, who he’s held the closest all this time… even after finding out what he did.

Illario is the safest, closest relationship he has… which also means that he is the one who gets parts of all the anger and resentment and frustration that cannot be there with Caterina in particular because that would be Dangerous Territory in a multitude of ways. I think Lucanis tries to mitigate this by more deliberately pouring that stuff into his job, but it’s still down there unresolved at the core, bubbling away, the fumes rising and infecting his interpersonal relationships in subtle ways. Even the ‘read the goddamn brief Illario’ move and refusing to budge is just another version of the malicious compliance/competence as rebellion that this whole mission is towards Caterina. (Unfortunately this is how it works sometimes when you’ve had to push things down that hard for that long; it comes out with the people we love the most and who deserve it the least.) And even then it’s mostly in undercurrents moving beneath the surface— it’s something that happens in an obfuscated and buried enough way that you can’t simply break it open all at once and let air in to stop the wounds from festering. If Illario did try to bring it up directly, I do not think Lucanis at this point would be capable of staying with it, he would flinch away and dissociate/freeze and deny it was even a thing at all (be unable to recognize it as a thing at all). And Illario clearly knows this too — you get the feeling that he’s been trying and trying and trying to get through here and found no way. He’s at the end of his rope, and not just about the First Talon conundrum.

Whenever they are speaking to each other, they are also speaking to Caterina through each other because you can’t really bargain with God directly (especially one that’s known to be a wrathful god given the provocation), but there’s enough of her and her meanings fused into you over the years that it’s almost the same thing when you talk. And sometimes it’s hard to see past her to your brother actually standing there with you.

I’m going to SCREAM Lucanis loves Illario so much that he would prefer to die, would condemn himself to hell in his own mind forever rather than face having to lose him or deliberately harm him, AND YET!!!! AND STILLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!! He is letting him down and leaving him behind and making him feel small and stupid in ways so incredibly profound and sad without even realizing it all the time. No one in this family has ever been equipped to talk about anything ever and I doubt they’re about to start now and I need to tear into something with my TEETH

Anyway. Breakdown over, on with our regularly scheduled tevinter nights reread post with slightly less anguish lol.

— [Lucanis] clapped a hand over the mage’s mouth and slammed his skull against the wall. “Knock it off.

What does he have to go and be so casually funny for at all times. The undisputed master of the perfectly tuned in levels of comedic mild exasperation. Stop stop I already love him.

— Illario waited with a chair and rope.

“Sit down.” He beamed. “Enjoy a little Antivan hospitality.”

While his cousin secured their prisoner’s bindings, Lucanis retrieved his sword from the wall. e mage was coming to. His unfocused eyes took stock of his situation.

“I won’t talk,” he spat. “Even if you torture me.”

“I’m too busy to torture you,” Lucanis said, and ran him through with his sword.

. . .

Illario frowned. “If I’d known you were just going to kill him, I wouldn’t’ve put so much effort into the knots.”

“Check his pockets.”

“Ah—” Illario said, pulling a scroll from the mage’s jacket. “Found something.”

The seal was broken, but the imprint of two dragons was still visible in the wax. “Venatori.”

“Thought as much. What’s it say?”

Illario unrolled the parchment and scanned the page. “‘Gallant brothers and sisters . . . In our veins runs true Tevinter blood, passed down from the dreamers—’” Illario’s head snapped up as Lucanis began pulling his sword from the mage’s chest. “ Careful! Remember the tanner job? You ruined my best shirt.”

Lucanis smirked and continued extracting the blade.

Illario took two wary steps back, then continued reading.

Unfortunately I do love it when Lucanis is a troll fhsdkj

— Lucanis’ inner logic that he can buy the tiniest sliver of autonomy and meaning by consistently offering up a sacrifice of perfection — that’s the silent deal he’s struck with Caterina, an exchange she’ll accept as long as he doesn’t try to get too clever with it, and his subsequent panic in Veilguard when he’s too worn down to be able to perform to perfection anymore (and with that, in this internal logic, goes his right to autonomy or freedom)……….. He really does make me so so SO sad. He needed so much therapy even before the Ossuary. Some deeply entrenched ideas about the basic transactionality in even the closest relationships here. (Where I think Illario is kind of his exception to. That’s an assumed mutual unconditional love even when some terms and conditions probably would be in order actually situation for him.)

Also I think this is a useful look at how the Crows operating on ‘might makes right’ lines could be harnessed if you’re of a mind — basically anything goes, as long as you’re good enough to get away with it and/or don’t step on enough toes that the rest of the crab bucket momentarily team up to tear you down. And Lucanis chose to use that little loophole to go ‘well you see I’d sort of like to get to be kind sometimes actually’. Which, y’know. Eccentric for a Crow, to be sure, but are you going to be the one to tell the Demon of Vyrantium himself, Caterina Dellamorte’s most speacialest and scariest little murderboy, that he can’t keep protecting servants of the households he hits because it’s making the whole team look kind of soft??? The whole business runs on ‘I’m bigger and stronger than you so don’t try any shit’, and Lucanis has successfully built up the image of being bigger and stronger than anyone who’d think to try any shit well enough to get away with it, as Caterina has achieved for their house overall. (It’s not like him sparing witnesses gets in the way of the interest of other houses or anything anyway, he’s creating potential trouble for himself more than for anyone else which I hardly think anyone would feel compelled to protest against. If it’d been something that threatened anyone else’s bottom line, a completely different story, but I think Lucanis understands the system well enough to know where he can get away with it.) And again, all he has to do to earn it is to deliver unflinching inhuman perfection at all times! So that’s not a stressful set of psychological parameters to have to function under at all, especially when you feel yourself start to fail as you’re falling apart after horrible new waves of trauma lmao

Which I think is partially also what the ‘You think I’m not good enough?’/’Are you?’ exchange is about — it’s an extremely unhelpful and mean thing to say the way he does (especially in front of other people! Other people who, to Illario, are basically strangers!), but it’s also said out of howling protectiveness and a deep recognition of this stark truth. You can get away with it if you’re good enough, and if you’re not good enough you’re dead. Something Lucanis is blithely ready to risk his own life on all the time for perfect strangers, and is completely unwilling to accept when it comes to Illario’s life! Lucanis’ love has that light element of possessiveness/proprietariness to it from time to time — the ‘he is ours’ sentiment that both he and Spite maintain for Illario in love and in hate. I have a lot of sympathy for it because it obviously comes from a place of painfully earnest love and fear in someone who has lost people in horrible ways at a young age, but there is something paternalistic in that protectiveness too, a lack of trust in Illario to take care of himself and willingness to cross lines in Illario’s own autonomy to ensure that he’s safe. (Not healthy or anything but considering the shit Illario pulls in this game… a little bit of can you fucking blame him I’d be three seconds away from an ulcer about it at all times too going on here haha). ‘It’s okay if you don’t agree or don’t forgive me afterwards, it’s all worth it if it means you’re safe, if it means you’ll survive’. Sins of the grandma dude. Sins of the grandma. The generational trauma starts coming and it won’t stop coming.

— I also think it’s relevant that Lucanis can count on some things from Caterina consistently, as long as he upholds his part of the ‘deal’ between them to be her perfect poor boy slash best knife who’ll never let her down. However devastating the cost of her regard and support is, it’s only Illario who’s left completely to fend for himself in this family dynamic. A little bit of what the fuck does he have to lose going on here. Lucanis, I suppose. For a long he has Lucanis to lose, but Lucanis is starting to act an awful lot like he’s not that invested in living too much longer. So where does that leave you if you’re Illario. With a very dumb plan that was never going to work, apparently.

— While hunting his mark, Lucanis had opened the wrong door and walked into an orgy. Getting out of that had been interesting.

Nothing of substance to add here except that the mental image is hysterical, of course, and only more so after having a whole game to get to know him. Also this is just my personal read but I don’t think Lucanis would use seduction, even as a tactic on a job, by choice — my feeling is that his act as a servant in Vows and Vengeance would be more indicative of the social stealth skills he’d use when that’s what gets him where he needs to be. (Very tired service worker towards the end of their shift might in fact be the role he was born to play he has exactly the vibes for it.)

A good assassin knows his tools, and I think Lucanis realizes that flirting, even in a professional capacity as it were, is one of his blunter and more inflexible ones and so mostly wouldn’t use it haha. If he understood someone to be attracted to him in a way that required nothing much of him actively and would somehow aid the job I’m sure he’d use the opportunity it provided well enough, don’t get me wrong, but I just don’t believe it’d ever occur to him to go there as an opening move. The theoretical understanding is mostly there, the practical application… maybe less so. He knows he’s not very good at it and so wouldn’t rely on it if he could help it; that’s Illario’s sandbox to play in. Again this is just my personal opinion, so feel free to disagree of course, I know people have a range of reads on this element.

— His skull felt raw. The backs of his eyeballs itched like he hadn’t blinked in days. Whatever magic Ambrose was using for his creations was tearing at the seams of the Veil.

“Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah,” Illario agreed, zeroing in on a group of half-dressed revelers, “we’re up here, away from the fun.”

Lucanis snapped his fingers in front of his cousin’s face. “Focus.”

“I am.”

“On the job.”

“To be fair, you never told me the plan.”

Lucanis shrugged. “Find Ambrose. Slit his throat.”

“Sounds complicated.”

“It will be. The Veil’s thin here. Thinner than I expected.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin. “One wrong spell and this place will be swarming with demons.”

“Then let’s kill the bastard and scram. I want to see what this city has to offer.”

“Our ship sails at dawn.”

Illario waved a dismissive hand. “Plenty of time for some good, old fashioned debauch—”

“I see him,” Lucanis interrupted.

Lucanis does this really nasty thing with Illario where he first pushes him away and then punishes him for being disengaged with him/what they’re doing, or asks him for something he then rejects when he gets it. (I think he has some of this pattern in other relationships too but without the punishment or idk… familiarity/presumptiveness/feeling of natural entitlement to their attention part. Illario is his brother, the attachment there is safe/established enough that the part of him that doesn’t think he’s worth someone’s attention doesn’t kick in as it does in pretty much every other relationship. He’d never blame Rook or any of the Lighthouse crew for pulling away from him that same way, that’s a deep well of ‘well yeah valid I also don’t really want to have anything to do with me tbf :/’ self-loathing waiting to open up, ‘protecting’ him from making a presumption like that or imaging himself to have rights or worth interpersonally in basically any other context or relationship at the outset. But with Illario the love is always assumed. Both ways. You have a right to me on that level, and I have the right to you. The only person he takes for granted. Because that’s family. Oh boy.)

See also: the way he barely acknowledges Illario greeting him when he comes back from the Ossuary and more crucially as far as Lucanis might expect Illario’s perspective to be beneath any repressed suspicions, from the dead — very understandably so, considering the Dire mood and implications and ‘...where’s Caterina’ of it all, but it’s also a larger pattern he has. I think he feels such deep love for Illario that he doesn’t quite get that he also has to like. Show that deep love for it to be understood by the other party. And it sure comes across as very dismissive from the outside, or if a person is perhaps primed to have that insecurity already by the entrenched family dynamics at play. Oh boy 2 electric boogaloo.

Buddy you are setting the person you love the most up to lose again and again and again… and it would break his heart to truly realize that, probably, but I don’t know if he’d know how to stop doing it, either.

This seems to be all completely subconscious, to be clear. These are clearly patterns established from when they were extremely young, and it’s hard for fish to conceptualize being surrounded by water other than when the absence of it leaves them gasping and dying, I suppose.

Shallower thought: So Lucanis is also not clean-shaven here! Probably a more casual didn’t bother to shave/not quite as meticulously maintained five o’clock shadow going on as with Illario, but perhaps a tiny bit of the pot calling the kettle black here, Mr. Lucanis ‘long black leather overcoat’ Dellamorte isn’t unconcerned with looking cool, in his more restrained way. (As we all know ‘looking cool’ is the foundational base of a Crow’s Maslow’s pyramid of needs to the point that Spite went ‘can do!’ immediately upon contact with Lucanis’ soul and never stopped dhfkjs.)

— “They’re never what you envision, are they?” Illario noted.

“What did you expect?”

“Hair, for one. Maybe a funny little dog.”

That got a chuckle out of Lucanis, if only briefly.

The thing is that I love these two dumbasses so incredibly much. You see. This exchange of funny little observations is a huge part of how Lucanis interacts with Rook especially out on missions too, you can see where his patterns for having close relationships come from. Also restating my point from other metas that Lucanis seems to come alive a bit with collaborative humour, that’s clearly a social dynamic he finds soothing and also engaging, a way he knows how to take an outstretched hand. Since that seems to come from his relationship with Illario when it’s at its best… pain and suffering in my heart again needless to say

— Lucanis pays a lot of attention to people’s clothes and is very good at understanding what they’re trying to signal with their outfits. Overall he’s excellent at understanding people’s ways of thinking in the abstract/from a distance, as long as he doesn’t have to interact with them directly and interpersonally. Because then he falls to absolute pieces under the slightest pressure and runs. Again the best my particular brand of autism representation probably not even meant to be representation I’ve ever seen lol.

— Camille had just taken a sip of watered-down mulsum, when a handsome stranger grabbed her glass and downed the rest.

“Excuse me!” she exclaimed. The party drowned out her words, but Lucanis could still read her lips. “That’s my drink.”

Illario simply smiled. “Guess I’ll have to buy you another.”

Lucanis groaned—not only at the line, but that it worked. Even from his position, he could see Camille was hooked. He shouldn’t be surprised. This was old hat for Illario. But it was always amazing to see what one man’s smile could accomplish.

Lucanis’ mildly baffled and somewhat begrudging admiration for Illario’s social skills is so funny. As far as he’s concerned this is some kind of black magic beyond his ken. It must be a bit of pretty privilege involved in this case tho because what the fuck how did that land. Hey whatever works Illario you spent all that time on your outfit for a reason never let anyone tell you your slutty little unbuttoned shirt isn’t serving a tactical purpose I’m not about to tell you how to do your job

the fact that Illario is in fact a very good Crow. he's just not Lucanis. that's his original sin huh. never getting away from that one.

— Do u think Illario’s move with putting the keys on the tray instead of pocketing them and going back to Lucanis is maybe one of his small spiteful acts of rebellion. Ah. Family traditions. Truly they bind us together.

— The Lucanis in this story is so much more… contained than the Lucanis we get to meet in the game, for good or ill. In Veilguard he is constantly fraying at the seams and cracking open under all the pressure he’s under, which for sure and of course is Not Great and causes him a lot of pain and distress — but also the whole that’s how the light gets in etc. thing, it also means it’s easier for things to find their way in to him and for him to let things out. Meanwhile here, there’s more the sense of immense tension — a harder, more determined/deliberate lack of being able to move than the total helplessness of being stuck in the mind!Ossuary, but with some of the same quality. Illario tries to get in to find him and in his way I really do think Lucanis is trying to reach out to Illario as well as he knows how, but there’s a rigidness there that stops anything from really getting through or changing. Illario’s guilt trip letter after Sea of Blood saying that control is the quality he’s always most associated with Lucanis makes a lot of sense when you read this short story, even though I think Illario is mistaking ‘control’ for ‘deadening anything too vulnerable or ‘frivolous’ until I’m just a tool that can do a job’. That letter is transparently Illario deliberately pressing down on a bruise he knows to be tender, but it feels like there’s some kernel of truth to it beneath that which makes the sting all the worse.

— Up ahead, Lucanis spied the servants’ entrance. If he could reach it, there was just enough space to wedge his body into the covered niche above the door. Not easily, of course, but nothing ever was.

*Resigned Lucanis voice* Nothing is ever easy. (He does literally say this word for word in one of Bellara’s quests, and in exactly the tone you’d expect haha. He is my favourite person of all time)

— Lucanis thought about securing the entrance—leaving it unlocked could raise suspicion—but chose not to in case Illario decided to work tonight. He could already hear his cousin’s honeyed excuses— But seducing a beautiful woman is work! He snorted and pushed farther inside.

I do believe a certain amount of affectionate dunking is part of Lucanis’ love language and it’s too bad that’s kind of become a sore point/unequal power balance between him and Illario because it is frequently so funny fhdakj. Also kind of sweet to see the precedent for Lucanis sort of… keeping people he loves in his head like this, the locks in Inner Demons are clearly literalizations of a process he already sort of does naturally. He listens to the Illario and Caterina in his head multiple times during this story. I’m repeating my ‘this man is so desperately lonely in a way he doesn’t know how to solve’ point for emphasis. A common affliction in many of the Veilguard main cast, Solas of course being the most egregious and ongoing example. This game has Themes and it’s sticking to them haha <3<3<3

— The cold opulence of the place reminded Lucanis of a Chantry rather than a home.

Very interesting observation, now that we’ve seen Villa Dellamorte for ourselves! Is all I’ll say. (*Spite voice* Home? …Smells like linseed oil and dust)

Atlases bearing the visages of past Archons held up vaulted ceilings glittering with mosaic depictions of Tevinter’s golden age. The cost of such a commission must have been astronomical—both in coin and lives. How many slaves had gone blind gilding each individual tile? How many backs had been broken from hauling and placing stone after stone?

There was patriotism and there was obsession. Neither was worth it.

Again. Very interesting observations from a man raised in a mansion built on spilled blood and with Crow decorations anywhere you turn right down to the wallpaper haha. Tevinter/specifically the Venatori lets him indulge in some ‘clean’ anger and disdain that he can’t have back home because it’s, y’know. Home. He may not have a lot of illusions about the Crows, but he also is deeply bound to them. Lucanis will sublimate his anger into ANYTHING including turning it on himself before he lets it touch something he loves.

— Brief detour away from the general/worldstate agnostic approach of this post to my personal shenanigans, but…. Lucanis ‘breaking into morbid nursery rhymes internally while on a murder spree’ Dellamorte 🤝 Ellaryen ‘absent-mindedly reciting funeral rites in his head in the middle of a fight to keep his rhythm and also start to get it out of the way ASAP while people fall like flies around him’ Ingellvar. Made for each other, truly.

— Too bad we never got to see Lucanis using a garotte in the main game, that’s clearly one of his go-tos normally. I suppose trying to do stealth sections with Taash on the team is a tall order even for Lucanis Dellamorte. The Crows AXE their regards!!! ]>:D

— The dead weight of the first man pulled the second one up until they both hung around the limestone Archon’s nape like a loose cravat.

Once more, I love Courtney Wood’s writing style. What a mental image. The tone of light comedy as Lucanis 9-5s his way patiently through all these guards is pitch perfect.

— Spread out. Lucanis mouthed the words as the guard gave the order.

This dude really is out here doing his job like it’s a video game level he’s done a hundred times before hahaha. He’d be skipping dialogue and sequence breaking all over the place if he could. (Speedrunner Lucanis for modern AU, there’s a concept anyone can have for free that’s hilarious. He does cooking videos, knife maintenance videos and insane video game speedruns interchangeably on his channel and never speaks a single word nor leaves a note through text in any of them god bless. He has three followers no update schedule goes years without making a video and has never spoken to anyone online. He is my babygirl.)

— One for silence.

Two for surprise.

Three for good measure.

Four’s exercise.

Five for a slaughter.

Six for the thrill.

Seven means more sovereigns.

“Eight marks the final kill,” Illario said, coming to stand next to him.

The whole nursery rhyme, and Illario coming in with the unspeakably sinister final line here, considering what we know happens not even that long after this job! Again the connection there is between them, though — they were thinking about the exact same thing, counting it out with the same old remembered words.

“Do you still recite that old nursery rhyme? The one Caterina made us memorize during training?”

Lucanis moved to retrieve his throwing knives. “What can I say? It’s catchy.”

“That’s a word for it.” Illario glanced at the swaying guards overhead. “You know, if the Vints ever learn to look up, you’re screwed.”

“They’d have to stop looking down their noses.” He narrowed his eyes. “Your tunic’s rumpled.”

Illario flashed a sheepish grin. “You weren’t the only one tussling with guards.”

“Tussling, huh?” Lucanis shook his head. “That’s a word for it.”

“I’m happy to kiss and tell, but shouldn’t we do something about this?” Illario wrinkled his nose and nodded toward the sticky fluid seeping out from underneath the slain guards.

My nebulous vibe has always been that they’re basically the same age with Lucanis a tiny bit older, but IMMENSE younger sibling little shit energy from him in this moment fhdksfas glorious. Sheepish grin is also a very fun look on Illario I wish they’d leaned in a bit more on that capacity for him in-game. If he read as more calculatedly bumbling it’d change some of the scenes a lot in terms of feeling, I think

— “Never known you to have a soft heart,” Illario muttered.

Lucanis’s right cheek muscle twitched. “She won’t talk.”

“This isn’t Antiva. We’re not heroes here.”

“We’re not heroes anywhere, cousin.”

Illario rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. The Venatori already have your name. If they learn your face—”

“I’ll grow a beard.” Lucanis smirked. “They’ll never see me coming.”

Illario’s frustration deflated. He grinned reluctantly. “That cavalier attitude’s going to get you killed.”

Lucanis turned the key until the bolt unlatched. “It’s served me well so far.”

a) so it’s Illario who’ll refuse to take things seriously if he doesn’t feel like it, is it, Lucanis lol, b) ‘I’ll grow a beard’ :’) well. He did. Do you think Illario thinks about that every time he looks at him now, c) owie owie owie the foreshadowing

I think being a hero is not important to Lucanis at all, being a professional/being able to do the job is. (Being the perfect professional buys him getting to do hero things when his heart calls him to, but the role of hero itself is clearly not a priority or something he particularly wants.)

Lucanis clearly mostly works alone — I wonder how often Illario has come along before. We know he has pulled ‘soft heart’ moves before this, from in-game banter, but probably without Crow witnesses. How much does even Caterina know about? Might be some proof in the pile of how much he trusts Illario that he’s so blatant about it here.

— Lucanis gestured for Illario to follow as he slipped through the entryway. They stood for a moment, quiet and still, allowing their eyes to adjust. Ten paces ahead, a stairwell materialized in the shadows. eir descent was slow going. Wrought iron made for easy creaks and groans. Each step was a test of patience—and balance. Lucanis went first, showing Illario where to place his feet.

And

“He was my cousin, but we were more like brothers, really. Always getting himself into every sort of trouble. And I was always right behind him, you know? Always.” Illario’s voice suddenly grew thick with emotion. “Now there’s nobody for me to follow.” (From The Wake)

:) ahahaha. Ha.

Both of them independently using the ‘but we’re more like brothers’ phrasing exactly the same way too. Alright. Okay. I’m fine

— All at once, the room became aware strangers were present. One by one, they moaned a horrifying chorus of despair. Lucanis stumbled back, his mouth dry. Something inside snapped. Death’s too good for this bastard.

Illario touched his arm. Only then did Lucanis realize how quickly he was breathing. He closed his eyes. Remember your training , he told himself, and suddenly, he could hear the tapping of his grandmother’s cane, the hard elegance of her voice. There is no place for emotion in killing. It’s sloppy. File it down. Make it useful.

Illario being able to notice Lucanis being incredibly upset when he’s too overwhelmed to register/be aware of it himself and bringing him back to himself with nothing more than a touch to the arm is not devastating to me at all. It’s fine. In Inner Demons, even Viago and Teia fail to recognize that Lucanis is about to come completely apart psychologically, but again… I think Illario really does know his cousin better than anyone in a lot of ways. (And less than anyone in other ways, but hey, that’s family for ya lol)

Make it useful, he repeated to himself. With slow, controlled breaths, Lucanis flushed the rage pumping through his veins until he could think clearly.

I’m actually so happy they went away from focusing on the concept of wrath/passion as the touchstone for Lucanis’ character and angled it more towards the interpersonal issues he has with anger and with his sense of self than his rage at cruelty and injustice like this — that starts to step on the toes of Anders’ narrative space as a bisexual possessed disaster without bringing anything particularly new to the equation, which would have been a shame. Also as I’ve made no secret of I love what they are doing with him in the game SO MUCH I can turn him gently around to gaze at him forever

— “What are you doing?” Illario whispered.

“Breaking their shackles.”

Illario stared. “That’s not the job.”

“Fuck the job.”

I think Illario is the only person Lucanis would ever say that in front of at this point. (See also: his point about honesty in their line of work towards the end.) This is a BIG admission from him, that there could be anything more important than the work Caterina raised them to — than Caterina’s approval and recognition. And what a horrible hurt that must be for Illario — ‘you’re willing to risk incurring Caterina’s wrath for total strangers on a whim, and yet not for me??’. (They both seem to recognize that death is secondary as a motivator here, Lucanis would rather die than let Caterina down, that’s the easy way out, and he’s putting that on the table frfr with the shit he’s pulling here.) Also part of what makes Illario fear Lucanis is rapidly spiralling/hurtling towards the edge of a cliff, probably, this acting on impulse is clearly not an everyday sort of thing for him. We know he’s made decisions of his own on jobs before, but probably not on this scale/in front of another Crow.

There’s going to be room for so much ‘...why could you change for them and not for me? (why are they worth choosing to live for, and I wasn’t?)’ hurt on Illario’s side towards Rook and the Lighthouse crew after the events of the game. Maybe not as much on the Minrathous route, but even there. Like he doesn’t have much of a right to that after pulling the attempted fratricide card (that’s going to be the refrain of the rest of Illario’s life huh :’) entirely self-inflicted yet awful to have to live with; the Illario Dellamorte post Veilguard story), which only makes it worse to contemplate! Fun times in viddy games.

— A+ body horror writing going on here, of course, hate every single thing about this thanks for asking!

—To his right, Lucanis sensed Illario readying his dagger. He gently grabbed his cousin’s wrist and shook his head. Illario gawked at him, his jaw clenched.

The Wigmaker began the walk back toward the stairs. A groaning lament followed as he passed. When he was close enough to touch, Illario tensed—as if to lunge forward. Lucanis tightened his hold, his thumb finding the pressure point at the base of his wrist. The dagger fell from Illario’s grasp. Lucanis swiped it up before it clanged to the ground.

What are you doing? Illario mouthed.

Again, Lucanis motioned him to stand down.

Once they heard Ambrose climb the stairs and close the door, Illario wrenched his arm free.

“Have you lost your mind? We had him!”

“He doesn’t deserve a quick death.”

“Did you forget the mess you left upstairs? What do you think will happen when Ambrose finds his bodyguards slaughtered?”

“Hopefully he panics. I want him scared.”

“He’ll flee,” Illario asserted. “And this contract will be forfeit. Your life will be forfeit.”

Illario ‘cousin I am trying to have a fucking INTERVENTION with you here why am I more concerned about whether you live or die than you are!!!’ Dellamorte. His cousin is seemingly losing his fucking mind and playing with the one thing Caterina values above all and possibly would sacrifice even Lucanis for: the integrity of their House among the Crows. He’s seeing Lucanis determinedly, near methodically setting himself up for death no matter what path he ends up going down. This would be. Stressful. To have to witness, I imagine.

I do think Lucanis is passively suicidal in the way that he would vastly prefer to die on a job before he’d ever have to face the impossible choice that awaits them with the First Talon title back home — where he’s forced to let down either Caterina or Illario, possibly to spend the rest of his life on something he doesn’t want and might cost him his relationship with Illario, and is unable to deal with the thought of it so he just Avoids for all he’s worth. And he’s worth a lot that way. Which Illario clearly also recognizes and might be part of this freakout — having to watch your cousinbrother casually preparing to fall on his own sword for what seems like basically no fathomable reason (for these STRANGERS and not for me!!?!?!) and not be able to get through to him no matter what you try... you know. It’s kind of just a bad time all round for Illario too. He goes and chooses to do all the wrong things about it, of course, his talent for making everything worse in every way he possibly could is unparalleled (affectionate and derogatory), but I have a lot of empathy for where he’s coming from emotionally in a lot of ways. While you exist I’m nothing, and when you are gone I am nothing. And after you come back. Guess what. I’m still nothing. Imagine that. The Illario Dellamorte story.

(Lucanis has also seen a lot of really horrible shit on the job lately, Venatori bullshit being what it is. That stuff must start to build up after a while, him finally snapping here makes a lot of sense.)

— “Illario—”

But the other Crow wasn’t finished. “I thought the plan was to have a few laughs, slit some throats—not release a demon swarm!”

“Plans change,” Lucanis replied. His gloved palm covered the door handle.

“Well, for the record, I preferred the other one.”

“Noted.”

Aw. This is my main proof that Illario does in fact understand the plea for company behind Lucanis asking him to come along on this job. Possibly better than Lucanis understands that himself, which could perhaps be. Exasperating to deal with — but he did also come along and with only light complaining etc. I umm. love them both. Some more musings about how Illario has clearly been the person most responsible for/involved in Lucanis having any kind of social life before Veilguard times:

Comment Lucanis has around some more party districts of Minrathous in-game: “The nightlife was always more Illario's thing. He said I should get out more. Fulfilling Crow contracts didn't count.” (Illario is a terrible little fuckboy murderlad but consider what he’s had to deal with over the years…braver than any us marine etc. he’s been the one trying to convince Lucanis to take care of himself and maybe even have a good time at some point for like 20 years, a monumental task we know it takes a village/Lighthouse to make headway with. A man who has had to say ‘hey we should do something fun. No not a job with extra garrotting Lucanis Maker’s breath I was thinking a party or something’ more times than any of us have had hot dinners)

Lucanis, trust me! Take this contract and we’ll be the toast of Treviso. Would I lead you astray? But I can imagine your face at that question. A better question, then: Would you truly leave me to my own devices? What would I do without you? Come, cousin, it will be just like last summer. I’ll buy the wine afterwards. —Illario

Letter we find in the room in Villa Dellamorte where it’s implied Illario has been staying since staging his little failcoup — it’s right across the hall from where he’s imprisoned his grandmother btw and I have a pet theory that it’s Lucanis’ old room. Illario Dellamorte what is wrong with you (so many things).

Illario has seemingly been drinking and reading this letter — this letter that Lucanis kept after receiving it, so Illario must have found it among his belongings at some point after his ‘death’ and has also kept it around ever since — in the same room where there’s a burned letter from Zara in the fireplace, even though the house is filled to the rafters with the Ventatori and trying to hide evidence of that connection is thus uh. Well it seems a bit late in the game to be worrying about that, is all I’m saying. It lends some credence to the idea that him crossing out Lucanis’ name in the family tree and scribbling ‘DEMON’ over it probably does carry some real emotional charge and isn’t just a tantrum/uncomplicated show of jealousy.

So historically Illario has gone out of his way to spend time with Lucanis, and he seemingly is usually the one to reach out/take initiative in that? Lucanis clearly appreciates it — he kept that silly little letter (I am INCONSOLABLE about it btw), that comment he makes about the blight-beached boat in the Hossberg Wetlands that ‘Illario and I went on a sailing trip once. The boat ended up like that one, minus the blight (paraphrased yet very dear to me)’. Social connection is a need Illario has recognized in Lucanis before and offered even when Lucanis himself wouldn’t think to ask for it, is what I’m trying to say. I think. *sigh* listen you’ve gotten this far in the post hopefully you realize I am not entirely sure what I’m saying most of the time I’m trying to nail light to a wall here please have patience with me fhaskj

— Lucanis seems to navigate by sound a lot (which makes sense, considering how much of his job happens in the dark). Spite navigates mostly though a sense of (supernatural) smell. They’ve got a lot of eye imagery around them, but sight is not actually the most central sense for either of them. Nothing more coherent to add to that just observations haha

— you ever think about the fact that despite everything caterina is ultimately unwilling to let go of Illario, and Illario is unwilling to let go of her. Me neither.

— “Where are the bodies?” Illario asked.

Effe shrank into herself. “I moved them.”

“Not by yourself, you didn’t.” He turned to Lucanis, a smug sneer on his face. “I told you she’d talk.”

Proof Illario is not in fact an idiot and recognizes the basic logistics of a matter, and why his ‘oooh I think Zara must be back in Vyrantium already how inconvenient…’ ploy must be extra ‘...uh-huh cousin’ sus to Lucanis in Veilguard fhdjask. Trying to keep his terminator grandmother safely under lock and key while his cousin is back from the dead and possibly is now a demon with his face because of you and also you have to keep track of what lies you’ve told to what people must be incredibly stressful tbf I wouldn’t be keeping a particularly cool head either

— Back down the hall, something wet slammed against the studded door.

Effe’s bravado crumbled. “What was that?”

“Take her,” Lucanis told Illario. “Find the others.”

“Other what?” His eyes darted to the elf. “ Slaves? Absolutely not.”

Lucanis continued as if Illario had agreed, “There’s a statue with a passage—like the one we used before. It’s not far. You should be able to escape in the chaos.”

Illario blanched. “Did you not hear me? I said—”

“Athima will help you. She’s the elf we met earlier.”

“I don’t give a damn what her name is. I’m not—”

“Once Ambrose is dealt with, I’ll meet you at the docks.”

“Lucanis!” Illario shouted. “We are not revolutionaries.”

Lucanis inhaled, his nostrils flaring. Illario was right. The Antivan Crows were assassins, not freedom fighters. Back home, people liked to romanticize, but Lucanis knew what he was. Still, his fingers twitched.

“They are not responsible for their master’s mistakes.” He locked eyes with his cousin.

Illario tried to remain resolute, but it was like touching hot steel. Sighing, he cursed and turned to Effe. “Come on,” Illario snapped.

She glanced toward Lucanis. He gave her a reassuring nod.

“My cousin may be a snob, but he’s true to his word.”

“Are you? ” she asked, referring to his promise about Ambrose.

“The Wigmaker will die tonight,” Lucanis affirmed. “But you have to go. It’s about to become very dangerous.”

How much do you want to bet Illario is going ‘fuck it’s like trying to have a staring contest with Caterina herself’ on the inside right here, with all the emotions that may involve lmao. Lucanis is getting Illario out of there before shit really hits the fan too, notably — where Illario might see mostly lack of respect for his skills/what he could bring to the fight (there’s not none of that from Lucanis’ side either, but less than I feel Illario might be imagining), I think there’s a protectiveness, an unwillingness to risk Illario when the real madness shakes loose. *Lucanis voice* I mean it’s fine if I die obviously. but you don’t get to. get in the fucking car illario

I think Lucanis adds the ‘My cousin is a snob, but he’s true to his word’ to reassure Effe that she can trust Illario/make Illario seem less scary/intimidating to her — both invoking the familial connection and the gentle dig to show that ‘see, I trust him, I’m not the least bit threatened by him, you don’t have to be either’. I don’t imagine ‘snob’ would be particularly upsetting to Illario either so while it is another datapoint in the grand tradition that is Lucanis-led public Illario slander, this might be one of the least egregious examples of it lol. (Implied lack of skill would hit way harder than anything about their social standing, I’m imagining)

— Lucanis has such a desperate need and desire to care for someone, as evidenced by how he reacts when he gets a whole Lighthouse full of people to do exactly that and springs into action like he’s been born for nothing else. He is that predator turned sheepdog all anxiety all the time he transparently projects onto Assan in that one banter with Davrin. That instinct has clearly been deep in him all this time, waiting for the right ground to grow in. To further his parallel with Davrin in so many things, there is a big part of him that is a protector as much as the part that’s a hunter, and it has finally found its place.

And like… can you imagine being Illario seeing that. Or this. Obviously it’s the right thing to do morally but on the petty small emotional and interpersonal level. Unbearable fhjksa.

— Lucanis felt no sympathy. They were, all of them, Venatori supporters, who either knew what Ambrose was doing or chose to turn a blind eye to indulge their own vanity. Ignorance is bliss, not innocence.

Extremely interesting thing to think for someone raised in the Antivan Crows! I do think he actually holds himself to that standard, though — he doesn’t consider himself in any way an innocent. Even in situations where he is actually innocent, like how he feels about his time in the Ossuary. It’s easier for him to conceptualize that the demons/spirits in there were as innocent as anyone else trapped down there than to accept that maybe he didn’t deserve what happened to him either.

We’re also seeing the groundwork here for one of my favourite aspects of his character: the fact that he has an enormous, nearly unstoppable and instinctive on a kneejerk sort of level capacity for empathy — something he uses to great effect as a tool in his professional life to understand and predict his targets and the people around them, and which makes him an extremely devoted friend in his personal one — and yet is much more sparing with his sympathy. Those are in fact separate mental processes! And it’s fascinating to see someone in which the divide can be so clean and stark. (Not to keep beating this particular drum, but something deeply neuroatypical going on with this man long before the whole demon thing, he’s just found his niche and functions to the point of excelling in his particular field lol. Uneven skill profile: can intuit the thought processes of Tevinter fanatics or how word spreads through a community (as seen with the inn owner at the beginning) to a T from about two casual glances and find a way to stab anything up to and including a god cloud, cannot for the LIFE of him have an emotional conversation with his brother who he’s known all his life or understand what he’s thinking, because that all falls apart at the drop of a hat when he has to actually engage interpersonally himself and understand and interpret his own feelings on top as well in real time. Relatable. Is all I’ll say.)

— The mage’s jaw pulsed. “You think you can come into my Imperium and act as judge and executioner?” Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, but Ambrose anticipated his answer. “Don’t say, ‘ Sì! ’”

That earned a genuine smile from Lucanis. “Normally, there’s no judgment—only a contract. But for you, Ambrose, I made an exception.”

The Wigmaker raised a brow. “Oh? What makes me so special?”

“You upset my delicate sensibilities.”

It was Ambrose’s turn to laugh.

“I thought a Crow could stomach anything—for the right price.”

Lucanis leveled the Wigmaker with a pointed look. “Not red lyrium.”

“Morality is not static. Right and wrong are a matter of perspective.” Ambrose’s words were practiced and tired as if he had given the same reasoning a hundred times.

Lucanis continued his advance, refusing to engage in the Wigmaker’s rhetoric. Nothing irritated him more than self-righteous excuses. If you’re going to do something terrible, just own it.

For your bounteous amounts of fuckery you have been promoted from the ‘contract’ category to ‘enemy’ category! Congratulations Ambrose it’s your special day. Also this makes a lot of sense with how he seems to feel about Solas too.

— Hopelessness flooded the mage’s eyes. “One day, someone will turn your work against you. Only then will you have some semblance of the emptiness you’ve made me feel.” With his good hand, he gathered what was left of the wigs, hugging the locks to his chest.

Lucanis experienced a twinge of disappointment, kindling for rage. He expected more fight from a high-ranking Venatori. He thought of the Wigmaker’s workshop, of the prisoners, their bellies full of poison, hanging like butchered pigs in stale, suffocating darkness. “Get up, Ambrose,” he growled. “You don’t get to do that—you don’t get to quit.”

…

Panting heavily, Lucanis regarded the creature’s collapse without joy or anger. A vermilion fire engulfed the carcass, leaving nothing but a brittle husk. The other abominations stirred.

“You have your vengeance,” Lucanis rasped.

But his words did not reach them. They stared, snarling and ready. He squeezed the grip of his sword, preparing for another fight—then the pressure behind his skull eased. Without the Wigmaker, the demons had no anchor in the waking world. Gradually, the abominations disintegrated into ash. With the source of their anger gone, the spirits of vengeance returned to the Fade, allowing the dead to rest.

Only then did Lucanis exhale and let relief wash over him.

“Contract complete.”

Again I’m glad they didn’t go with building on that in the end because I like what they did do with him so much better, but you can see here where they were laying the groundwork for more of a ‘righteous wrath’/outward facing central pillar for Lucanis’ character here. I’m on record as adoring the internal angle/more of the focus on disrupted self, and I think they also built really well on the subtextual family dynamics going on through this story, that’s a much more fascinating angle for me personally. This instinct for/longing to indulge in stubborn opposition sure does still exist in him, though, that’s such a fun part of him to make externalized as a whole little guy riding shotgun in his soul

— That’s one way to make a point, Lucanis thought, coming to a stop.

Have I said enough about how much I love him. Because I do. One of his early very good ‘...wtf’ moments, so plenteous and marvellous in the game itself. (Not including all the body horror he’s actually looking at here b/c it’s truly disgusting and upsetting, excellent job as always Courtney Woods)

— Sensing its weakness and spurred on by the demons of vengeance within, the other abominations began to surround it.

That’s it, Lucanis smiled encouragingly. Good little demons. Turning his sword over in his palm, he cut across the roof.

Lmao. It’s interesting that Lucanis has a slightly… odd relationship with spirits/demons already here, for a non-mage and someone from an Andrastian culture — he’s able to think of them sort of as a natural part of an ecosystem that you can turn to your advantage if you’re careful and respect their unpredictable nature as part of the natural landscape as it were, and he extends his remarkable capacity for empathy to them in the way that he thinks about what their motivations and drives are in the same way he does with people — ‘you have your vengeance’. The baseline Chantry doctrine about spirits is basically ‘Always Chaotic Evil, Stay Clear’, but Lucanis seems to think of them as like… fellow predators. You know the way wolves and ravens will sometimes ‘team up’ and have symbiotic relationships? Kind of like that. Which is very him hahaha I mean sure Crows hire people for things all the time and if you can pay them in just doing your job anyway… it makes a lot of sense that this is the dude who’d think to earnestly strike a deal with a spirit despite the cultural narratives he was raised with, is what I’m getting at

— Lucanis reached the docks just before dawn. Knowing Illario as he did, he passed their ship’s allotted berth to check the nearby taverns. After a quick glance up and down the harbor, Lucanis settled on the Nug Queen purely because it was the cleanest establishment of the lot. When he entered, limping and bloody, the barkeep glowered.

“Walk out the way you came,” the dwarf instructed. He had a tawny mustache that was twirled and waxed at both ends.

“I’m looking for my cousin,” Lucanis explained. (🥺He’s literally just looking for his cousin…)

. . .

Lucanis prepared to leave—then he heard Illario’s silvery voice flattering one of the waiters.

“Oy!” the dwarf called out as Lucanis staggered toward the row of booths lining the left side of the tavern. “Exit’s that way!”

His bellowing drew Illario’s attention away from the handsome servant. Upon seeing Lucanis, he jumped to his feet. “Andraste’s holy cabbage, you look like shit.”

“Get that man to stop yelling at me,” Lucanis said. He plopped down in the booth, taking a moment to rest his eyes, while Illario soothed the irate proprietor.

‘Get that man to stop yelling at me, Lucanis said’ is my favourite line in this whole short story and always has been fhdskjfhsa it’s just so good. ‘Illario snooze that guy for me I never figured out how to do that non-lethally’. And Illario drops everything and DOES get to work on snoozing that guy. They’re headed right for disaster but I. adore them.

Andraste’s holy cabbage HIGH on my list of extremely good Andrastian oaths btw thank you Illario.

I wonder if this inn was supposed to be an in-game location at some point, it gets such a striking (and hilarious) description.

‘Silvery voice’ :’) well that got lost along the way haha. I honestly think the dialogue as written in the game could have landed differently with some changes in voice direction — if the actor wasn’t doing quite so much of an obvious Ze Evil Voice performance, the read on him might be slightly more ambiguous. (His immense susness would still be the same, of course, that’s just built in structurally, but I maintain that that storyline is more about chipping away at Lucanis’ denial that he’s been holding on to for so long down in the Ossuary until it has to crack open and crumble, less about the whodunnit of it all. We know who dunnit and so does Lucanis deep down basically from the first moment, I believe, he just can’t bear it. Not unlike the way Harding deep down knows what the red shade haunting her is, but is unable to accept and take that in until she confronts it, actually! Lucanis and Harding have some parallels going on in the deep there. People pleasers grappling with how to hold on to their healthy anger. Lovers of turnips. *Lucanis voice* Everyone likes turnips.)

Lucanis shambling around bleeding and absent-minded on post-adrenaline autopilot after that utter horror show (again I sheltered you from the body horror here but. Holy cannoli) until he finds the safety of Illario and then collapsing into the booth and almost nodding off b/c Illario will take care of it he knows how to talk to people, even though Lucanis never really relaxes he very nearly does here…………. You see the trouble is that the love is very much there. It just makes everything worse, but it is there. Always. And I’m afraid not even the Ossuary could change that, even when it changed everything else.

Like… From Illario’s perspective Lucanis just sweeps in bleeding and limping with an imperious demand after shooing him away before — because he doesn’t have the inside view that the bluntness is because Lucanis feels safe with him. This is the sort of ‘pls solve this thing I don’t understand and find overwhelming and annoying’ a child extends to a parent/attachment figure ‘imperiousness’ to me, not an order from a superior. From which I think you can read some things about their dynamic growing up, aside from my ‘Illario has been 80% of Lucanis’ social skills most of their lives’ running joke lol.

Both of them can form surface relationships with other people, mostly with transactional elements to them — Lucanis with the Villa Dellamorte staff growing up and people he meets and helps on the job, the ‘friends’ Illario sarcastically accuses him of making earlier in the story, and Illario clearly leaving a Necropolis-sized graveyard of shallow connections both romantic and otherwise behind him without ever getting deeper into it himself, gratification and a feeling of control and competence and entertainment all in one with no true intimacy behind it — but I think Lucanis is right when he tells Rook that Illario has been his only actual friend, before them (and the team, obviously). And for all his extroverted fuckboy antics, I think Lucanis is Illario’s only real friend too, I doubt any other relationship has ever reached him at the core but Caterina and Lucanis. They have been. SO weirdly socialized, they struggle so very badly to make real connections outside the family in their individual ways, feast or famine as their approaches are. And part of that is that in their childhood they’ve been forced to try to meet their emotional needs with each other in ways that were doomed to fail; things you should get from a safe parental figure and a group of peers, community, not your brother who’s basically the same age as you and just as traumatized and psychologically malnourished. Things they will not get from the Crows, a community that is also the constant threat that ate everyone else in the family, and not from Caterina, who aside from the general cultural Crow brutality in overseeing their upbringing is too busy negotiating with the ghosts of five children, eight grandchildren by making sure her last two grandsons survive, not realizing that it means she has not taught them the first thing about how to live. Or, perhaps as likely, that is just not particularly a priority to her, she values her control over them and thus perceived control of the future and continuance of House Dellamorte way beyond their happiness. (God it’s all such a real-feeling mess because the love is also there and real, it’s just that that makes everything worse and even more tangled. Family!!!!)

Caterina has set up this dynamic of Lucanis as the golden child (he can do no wrong and thus is allowed to do no wrong nor want anything for himself she didn’t let him have; never making a mistake in life is something that is normal to demand of yourself and possible to achieve etc.) and Illario as the fuckup kid, the lesser one, we keep him around for sentimental value of course he’s family but he’s largely ornamental lol. (Sorry about your life, Illario. I’m not sure whether being her favourite or not being her favourite leaves someone with the worse deal psychologically long-term, but your situation is particularly undignified and thankless I will grant you that.) Illario is much more faithfully the Crow Caterina raised him to be, where Lucanis uses his competence and Caterina’s personal affection for him to get to keep and protect some of the parts of himself the role of Crow should forbid. And she STILL openly and unabashedly loves Lucanis more, while Illario cannot do a single thing that pleases her no matter what he tries. Lucanis at least has Caterina’s recognition and affection, what does Illario have? What does he have that could make him anything in this Crow eat Crow world?

Which is why Illario needs Lucanis to choose him over Caterina with an intensity and psychological urgency that again, is more like a child needing a parent to put them first or treat them like they matter to develop the sense of a worthy self. (Or Caterina to choose him over Lucanis, but that’s never going to happen while Lucanis is still alive, and probably not even if he really were dead.) Lucanis can’t give him that, because he is unwilling and unable to give up either of the two attachment relationships he has left, even if it means he has to mangle and push down his own self to maintain those bonds. He will freeze to hold on to what little he has, even when what he has also hurts him and they are hurting each other. At this point in the short story I think Lucanis wants Illario to be honest with him the way Lucanis is honest with Illario (which unfortunately also means Illario gets some of his more unpleasant sides), and Illario can’t give him that because when he tries Lucanis straight up refuses to listen — can’t listen, because what Illario is saying would disrupt everything Lucanis is trying so desperately to hold together at any cost. Again, Lucanis asking Illario for something he then punishes or ignores him for actually giving. They’ve had to be everything to each other and they just can’t be. Not even through any fault of their own, that’s just how it works. And Lucanis starts to find his way out of that during the game, make other connections that do help, but I'm not sure Illario does or will. Don’t look at me and don’t speak to me I’ll never be okay again

- “Drink?” his cousin offered, returning with two glasses and a bottle of wine. “It’s expensive.”

Lucanis accepted with a faint nod.

“Some say a bribe spoils the vintage,” Illario mused while pouring, “but I think it tastes all the sweeter.”

“Effe and the others. Did you get them to—”

“Yes, yes,” Illario snapped, “I did my good deed for the year.”

The two paused to sip their wine.

Lucanis rolled the liquid over his tongue. Bribery had not spoiled this bottle, at least.

“Camille didn’t make it,” he said finally.

“Who?”

“The guard captain.”

“Ah,” Illario said, nodding in recognition. “Well, that does free me from promises I didn’t intend to keep. And Ambrose?”

“You have to ask?”

“Fair enough.”

THANK YOU, LUCANIS!!! THAT IS THE THING YOU SHOULD BE SAYING!!!! THANK YOU FOR GOING ALONG WITH MY NONSENSE THAT I JUST SPRANG ON YOU ILLARIO!!!!! I’M HAPPY TO SEE YOU AND THAT YOU’RE ALRIGHT WOULD NOT BE OUT OF ORDER PERHAPS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD I love him more than anyone in the world but he’s infuriating sometimes especially when dealing with Illario fhdskja. You can tell how much he does trust/value Illario because this is the first time he relaxes a bit in the whole story — the mental image of Lucanis standing there with his huge puppy eyes dripping rivers of blood onto the floorboards in his fucking… batman ass getup like ‘🥺is my cousin here’ is so. It’s so much — but again you have to SHOW that somehow too Lucanis he can’t read your mind. I think it’s what he’s clumsily trying to do with telling Illario about the guard captain, a little bit — that’s an olive branch/trying to give Illario the peace of mind he just gave to him about the fallout of the mission, even if it’s a sadder outcome — but that’s also a sign that he’s completely missed on understanding what Illario would value here. (For Lucanis someone he flirted with being torn to ribbons five minutes later would be a big deal no matter what, probably, for Illario it’s all just business. Whomst??? Oh her lol.) Illario tries to fall into their pattern of companionable bullshit because that seems to be as much as Lucanis will accept from him as a show of care, but even that Lucanis breaks him off on, with what to Illario seems like doubting his skills/ability to carry out the job Lucanis handed him (Lucanis seems to want to know for his own peace of mind more than that, tho, from my vibe here; he did make a promise to Effe).

“That his?” [Illario] gestured toward the dark stains on Lucanis’s coat.

“Mostly.”

His cousin’s brows drew together. “Do you need a healer? The ship will have one, but if you can’t wait—”

“I’m fine,” Lucanis stated.

“All right,” Illario said, topping off his glass. “We’ll just pretend that’s wine you’re dripping all over the table.”

“What do you want me to say?”

How many times do you think Illario has had to rock up to Thedas emergency care with his cousin like ‘well he says he’s fine and to not worry about him, which in my experience is Lucanisese for ‘I’m about to bleed out and die on the spot’.’ As someone who has now been on that side of Lucanis’ ‘*actively bleeding from the eyes* I’m fine don’t worry about me’... y’know I’m not saying Illario was right or anything (he never is (affectionate) that’s his charm) but I do have a certain amount of sympathy one does start to lose one’s mind after a while. Yeah I am making silly jests and japes to avoid talking about this part because it’s so painful to me to contemplate thanks for asking. To be serious, though: being forced to watch Lucanis do this to himself, and then being asked to pretend he can’t even see it to enable it… that’s a big ask and one you should not be making of him, Lucanis. He’s not doing it intentionally, and it’s because he is also in so much pain over this that he has no idea how to handle, but it doesn’t stop it from being fucked up and unfair.

‘I don’t understand what you want from me/I don’t know understand how to give it to you’ and ‘So we’re just going to pretend that nothing’s wrong and you’re fine and nothing needs to change, you can keep going like this indefinitely?’

Illario’s gaze grew hard. “How long are you going to keep doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Caterina’s bidding.”

The wine turned in Lucanis’s mouth. “Illario. Stop.”

“If I was in charge, you wouldn’t have to do this anymore,” he cajoled. “You could quit.”

Lucanis stared at his cousin. “I don’t want to quit.”

Illario sat back. The distance between them suddenly felt much wider than a table.

“Even if it kills you,” Illario whispered.

“Death is my calling,” Lucanis stated, matter-of-fact. “Just as yours is to become First Talon.” He smiled, hoping to ease the tension, but Illario’s posture remained taut.

“And if Caterina disagrees? If she thinks you’re the better man for the job—”

“I don’t want it, Illario,” Lucanis insisted.

“But you wouldn’t refuse.”

“It’s impossible to refuse Caterina,” Lucanis admitted reluctantly. “Only prolong her, until she sees reason.”

He knew it wasn’t the answer Illario wanted, but it was the truth. And in their line of work, honesty was hard to come by.

Illario exhaled and lifted his wineglass in salute. “To reason, then.”

“To reason,” Lucanis echoed.

The two Crows clinked the rims of their glasses together, then prepared for the long journey home

Sobbing and crying and dying. So much stuff going on under the surface here. This particular conversation clearly haunts Lucanis for a long time after, it’s where most of the Illario lines in the Mind!Ossuary are taken from. ‘You’ll choose her over me every time, even if it means death and leaving me behind alone. No matter what I do I’m never going to be good enough for her or you, no one is ever going to choose me or put me first or think I matter at all’. Delicate overtones of ‘You love even the work more than you love me’. The more mundane layers of jealousy, of being the unfavorite, the Cain and Abel of it all. The I can’t grow when you always get all the sun.

The distance between them suddenly feeling much bigger to Lucanis… in a way I think that’s Illario’s side of ‘it wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it was the truth. And in their line of work, honesty is hard to come by’. Just for a moment Illario drops the act, he stops trying to reach out to try to find him again, to do his ‘job’ in the relationship of smoothing it over and pretending everything is fine or at least sustainable, and the distance that has slowly grown between them over the years is laid bare. Lucanis would ignore that forever if given the chance, but here Illario finally refuses to play along and forces him to feel it.

After a whole story of Lucanis being ruthlessly competent at his job to the point that he turned it into a challenge run for extra style points just because he can (and because it would be quite emotionally convenient for him to die before he has to go back to Caterina and probably be named her heir), we see him try to (avoid having to) have ONE real conversation with someone he loves and he’s so awkward. He’s reduced to pleading for Illario to stop. (There are notably no please and thank yous between Lucanis and Illario — mutually, also notably — but that ‘Illario. Stop’ carries big helpless ‘please don’t’ energy)

I’ve talked before about the way Lucanis speaks of Caterina like she’s a weather system, or an act of God — something that can’t be resisted, only navigated with immense care and a hope for the best fear for the worst attitude. He expects Illario to have reached the same conclusion, raised side by side and in the same household as they are… but he hasn’t. They are different people by nature and the roles within the family have given them different perspectives — on what’s possible, and on what’s sustainable. It’s. hey. It’s a lot.

— God. can you imagine being Illario when Lucanis returns from the grave with some FUCKING RANDO Caterina dragged into the house five minutes ago, and not only is he, surprise surprise, already entrenched as their favourite and they don’t like Illario (they don’t even know all the reasons why they shouldn’t like Illario yet, they just think he has rancid vibes! Which to be sure he does he’s big enough to admit it it can’t be helped the rot will out!! but STILL!!!!!), on a Treviso saved run Lucanis also lets them waltz through all the locked doors in his mind that Illario has been clawing his fingers bloody against for decades while screaming for him within the span of a goddamn afternoon’s work of Fade shenanigans. and through all of it they are *throwing up noises* FLOURISHING together whether as friends or something else in a way that practically shows like a healing glow around him. Rook ‘steal your cousin-brother (you kind of lost the right to stay his favourite when you y’know. Murdered him)’ Dragon Age swooping in to end this poor pathetic little man’s entire career in the last way he hadn’t already managed to ruin it himself. You know what. I kind of get it, Illario, that would send me finally stark raving bonkers insane too. After all that I think I too would have marched over to the ancient elven mean girls like ‘sure I’ll join you in burning down the world if you spare me some gasoline I need to do something hugely self-destructive and unwise and take everything down with me’. Obviously Illario sucks in many many-faceted and inventive ways but holy shit dude. In his shoes could you sit through the café scene without choosing violence.

— Do I have to put in a disclaimer here that even though I have understanding and empathy for just how shitty Illario’s situation is pre-game and am expressing myself with comedic hyperbole about it, what he ends up doing to Lucanis is obviously extremely bad not justified and not okay in any way etc. and I do not endorse cousin murder as a way to solve your interpersonal problems, nevermind entrusting the task to your known mad scientist girlfriend with blood magic benefits if you did mean for it to be a clean quick death. Lucanis did not deserve any of what happened because he’s an imperfect communicator and like any of us has some less than perfect interpersonal patterns, and he’s still an intensely loveable character to me with these flaws. Is that something I have to state for the record after writing 12k+ words about him like this. One would hope not but you know. I’ve been on this site for a long time now and I am carrying around some stress fractures of the psyche about it, at least this way I know I’ve done what little I could to make myself perfectly clear in this our how dare you say we piss on the poor public square lol

— The hilarious/hopeful thing is that I don’t think this relationship is necessarily doomed because of the very specific ways Lucanis is nuts haha, he has not willingly let go of anything he loves one single day in his life and he’s not about to start now — if Illario can bring himself to take that outstretched hand and do his part of the work I feel there could be hope for it. Not for it to ever be what it was before, of course. But to be something, still. Once Lucanis recognizes some of his own shortcomings in the dynamic I think he would try to work on that on the Forgive route at least, Illario matters that much to him.

— rare W moment for Illario towards the end here and we simply must grant him those: Zara clearly meant to merely use him as a means to get to Lucanis, but he did seemingly somehow manage to get her properly wrapped around his little finger for real eventually. Enough for her to be very bitter about it after death, at least. Listen Zara play too close to the fuckboy fire and get burned to a crisp puh-lease this man is a professional. If he’s your amatus why is he obsessed about what his grandma and cousin are going to think of him after this and killing you mid-sentence. Smh

— god I have said so much in this (...obviously. my face is in my hands why am I like this this is my curse), but I’m still not sure I’ve managed to get at what I was actually like. trying to say. Oh well. At least this chunk of thoughts is out of my head now, maybe I’ll get some room in here for something else and maybe even sensible for a while (doubtful but one should live in hope)

*in a 'that's a threat' kind of way. also well done for making it all the way to the end you're a real one

#dragon age #dragon age: the veilguard #tevinter nights #dragon age meta #lucanis dellamorte #illario dellamorte #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #dragon age spoilers #take this if you want but don't look at the word count. don't look at me. I cannot be perceived right now.#in case it wasn't clear from the *waves at post* all of all of this the reason I know lucanis for a world champion avoider #is that game recognizes game. I'm not entirely sure what I'm working very hard to not think about right now #but I've sure the devil works hard but my brain on 'don't look at that' works harder-ed it the whole way #I love these characters very much tho it isn't the worst thing that could happen to think about them non-stop for a few days

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sillygoose067 · 22 hours ago

Text

Miss(ter) Possessive

"Yeah, I'll be nice up until I'm not. And oh-so generous, tonight I forgot."- Miss Possessive by Tate Mcrae

Synopsis: A night out takes a heated turn as Dick Grayson watches admirer after admirer flirt with you—until he steps in, effortlessly staking his claim with a quiet, undeniable possessiveness.

The dimly lit jazz lounge was alive with soft music and quiet conversations, the scent of aged whiskey and espresso lingering in the air. The kind of place that whispered sophistication, where people came to talk business, seduce strangers, or escape into the low hum of a saxophone.

You leaned over the polished wooden bar, scanning the cocktail menu with a slight frown. “Do I go for a Negroni, or is that too bitter?” you mused out loud.

“Depends on your mood,” Dick said from beside you, his voice light, but his gaze was sharp, scanning the room with the easy alertness he carried everywhere. He was in his civilian clothes—dark jeans, a fitted navy button-down with the sleeves rolled up, his hair slightly tousled from the ride over. He looked good. Unfairly good. And as much as he wanted to focus on your drink decision, his attention was already hooked elsewhere.

Because someone else had noticed you.

She was a sleek woman with dark red lipstick and a silky black dress, leaning on the other side of the bar just far enough to be casual, but close enough that Dick could see the way her eyes kept flickering toward you. At first, he thought she was just admiring you—who wouldn’t? But then she made her move.

“You should try the French 75,” the woman interjected smoothly, stepping in just a little closer, her voice carrying over the music. “Crisp, bubbly, perfect balance. It suits you.”

You blinked, looking over at her with a polite smile. “Oh, that’s a good idea! Thanks,” you said, completely missing the way her eyes traced over you with an interest that went beyond friendly.

Dick, on the other hand, saw everything.

The way she angled her body toward you, tucking her hair behind her ear just so. The way she held eye contact just a little too long. The slow, deliberate sip of her own drink, like she was giving you an invitation.

You, completely oblivious, just nodded thoughtfully at the menu. “I think I’ll try it. What about you, Gray?”

His grip on his glass tightened slightly, but he kept his expression smooth. “I’m good with my usual.”

The woman barely spared him a glance, which would have been fine—except she was very interested in you. “You’re new here, aren’t you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

You nodded. “Yeah, first time! My boyfriend suggested this place.”

Dick felt a flicker of satisfaction at the word boyfriend, but the woman didn’t even flinch. She just smiled. “Good taste,” she remarked, then, her gaze drifting back to you, “Though, I’d say you could have found this place on your own.”

You let out a small laugh, not thinking much of it. “I mean, maybe! I do love exploring new places.”

Oh, come on.

Dick took a slow sip of his drink, watching as the woman subtly edged closer, her fingers lightly trailing over the rim of her glass. He’d seen this game before. The slow build-up. The careful compliments. The not-so-accidental brush of a hand.

And you? Totally missing it.

“You know,” she continued, her voice softer, “you have the kind of presence that turns heads. You must get that a lot.”

You laughed, the kind of genuine, amused laugh that made Dick’s stomach tighten. “I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

No. No, she was not.

Dick exhaled slowly, setting his drink down with just enough weight for the sound to thunk against the wood. The woman finally glanced at him, as if only now remembering he was still there.

He met her gaze with an easy, confident smile. “She does get that a lot, actually. But, lucky for me, she’s already taken.”

Something in his tone had changed—still polite, still charming, but unmistakably firm. A statement, not an invitation for debate.

The woman’s lips parted slightly, but she recovered quickly. “Well,” she mused, swirling her drink, “good for you.”

“Yeah,” Dick agreed, casually sliding his arm around your waist, his fingers pressing into your hip in a way that sent a clear message. “It is good for me.”

There was a beat of silence, tension thick beneath the soft hum of the music. The woman held his gaze for just a second longer before offering a slow, knowing smile. “Enjoy your night,” she said smoothly, stepping back into the crowd.

You turned to Dick, blinking. “She was nice.”

His jaw tensed slightly. He leaned down, his lips brushing close to your ear. “She was flirting with you.”

Your eyes widened slightly. “What? No, she was just—”

“She wasn’t just anything,” Dick murmured, his voice low. “She was very interested.”

Your brows furrowed. “You think so?”

Dick just shook his head, a mix of fondness and frustration in his expression. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

Before you could respond, someone else entered the equation.

This time, it was a man—tall, broad-shouldered, with sharp cheekbones and an easy smirk. He leaned against the bar beside you, flashing you an effortless grin.

“Couldn’t help but notice you from across the room,” he said, his voice smooth as he rested his elbow on the counter.

Dick took a slow breath through his nose, already bracing himself.

You, meanwhile, turned to the newcomer with a friendly smile. “Oh? Well, it’s a great place.”

“Even better now,” the man said, giving you a look that made something in Dick snap.

That was it.

Dick shifted, moving so smoothly it looked effortless, positioning himself between you and the guy, his presence suddenly impossible to ignore. He didn’t glare, didn’t tense—no, his confidence was something subtler. He exuded control, the kind that made it clear he wasn’t threatened, but he was done playing polite.

The man’s smirk faltered slightly as he registered the shift in dynamic.

“Hey,” Dick said easily, his arm still wrapped firmly around your waist, his fingers subtly squeezing your hip. “Appreciate the compliment, but she’s with me.”

The guy glanced between you two, as if weighing his odds, before letting out a short laugh. “Didn’t see a ring.”

Dick’s smile was slow, controlled. “Didn’t need one.”

The weight behind those words was final.

The man held his gaze for a beat longer before exhaling through his nose, giving a half-shrug. “Didn’t mean any disrespect.”

“Good,” Dick said, his smile never wavering. “Now you know.”

The man nodded once before slipping back into the crowd.

You turned to Dick, still a little stunned. “Was he flirting too?”

Dick let out a small laugh, resting his forehead against yours for a moment before pulling back just enough to meet your gaze. “Baby, if I ever leave you alone in a bar, you might end up with three marriage proposals before I get back.”

You snorted. “That’s ridiculous.”

Dick tilted his head, smirking. “Is it?”

His grip on you tightened slightly, possessive in a way that made your stomach flutter.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, his voice low, a promise wrapped in a claim.

You smiled, your fingers tracing lightly over his wrist. “Always.”

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maxdibert · 2 days ago

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Your argument rests on the mistaken notion that if a text “explicitly states” certain facts, then no further analysis or interpretation is necessary. This view reveals a fundamental misunderstanding of literary analysis and its inherent complexity.

Firstly, claiming that characters like Lily, James, or Snape are defined solely by the repeated descriptions provided in the books overlooks the nuance and multiplicity of layers present in well-crafted narratives.

Your argument is deeply flawed and demonstrates a fundamental misreading of the text. For instance, when it comes to James, every assertion about his supposed transformation is made by his closest friends—people who were clearly biased in his favor. These same friends even downplayed or outright denied the awful things James did, yet somehow his change is celebrated as if it were an established fact. In reality, this change is never actually shown; we never see James engage in any genuine act of contrition. He was an abuser, and there is no moment in the narrative where he apologizes to his victims or displays true remorse. The surprise of his friends at Harry’s anger only reinforces the idea that any transformation is, at best, a convenient retelling rather than a genuine evolution of character.

Regarding Lily, while no one disputes that she was kind, the narrative suffers from a classic “show, don’t tell” failure. We are told repeatedly that she was a good person, yet the flashbacks reveal subtle moments of cognitive dissonance between her moral ideals and her actions. This discrepancy invites readers to question the depth of her character rather than accept a simplistic, one-dimensional portrayal. A character should be more than just a set of repeated affirmations; their actions and internal conflicts must corroborate those descriptions.

Furthermore, your depiction of Snape as unequivocally cruel is contradicted by multiple textual details. For example, Severus was never especially cruel to Hermione—apart from that one notorious incident concerning her teeth, his behavior was far more measured than your argument suggests. Additionally, several characters, including some of Harry’s own friends and even students from non-Slytherin houses, have remarked that Harry’s intense hatred and mistrust of Snape are overblown. Hermione herself has acknowledged Snape’s competence as a teacher. Moreover, it’s explicitly shown that Snape’s primary objective was always to protect and save as many people as possible, a fact that he withholds only for reasons that the text deliberately leaves ambiguous. To continue painting him as a one-dimensional villain while ignoring these nuances is not only inconsistent but also absurd.

By insisting that the text leaves no room for debate, you demonstrate a rigid, literalist approach that fails to engage with the dynamic nature of storytelling. Literature is not merely a set of immutable facts but a living dialogue between the text and its readers. It accommodates multiple, even contradictory, interpretations that enrich our understanding of its themes and characters. To claim otherwise is to ignore the very essence of literary analysis.

In summary, your argument is deeply flawed because it confines literary analysis to a narrow, superficial reading. Rather than acknowledging the complexity and potential for diverse interpretations, you reject any interpretation that diverges from what you perceive as the “explicit” truth. This approach not only oversimplifies the text but also demonstrates a lack of familiarity with the critical tools necessary for a more thoughtful and nuanced exploration of literature.

Sometimes, you just can't argue your way out of things the books explicitly state as true. Certain facts are presented so consistently and reinforced by multiple perspectives that they are not up for debate.

Lily is described as kind and cheeky not just once, but multiple times by different characters who knew her personally. From Slughorn's recollections to Dumbledore telling Snape Harry is more like Lily than James, we are repeatedly shown that Lily was compassionate, strong-willed, and had a sharp wit.

James matured into a good person, and this isn't just wishful thinking, it's directly confirmed by multiple people who knew him both at his worst and his best. Sirius and Remus acknowledge his arrogance in his youth but also affirm that he grew up.

Snape, meanwhile, is undeniably cruel and obsessed with the Dark Arts. This is not just Harry’s bias or an exaggeration, we are told these things by other characters. He invents dark spells and willingly becomes a Death Eater. His behavior toward his students (particularly Neville and Hermione) is outright abusive, and his grudge against James extends so far that he torments Harry for years, despite his supposed love for Lily.

The books present these truths to the reader consistently at different points in time. While there’s room for analysis and discussion, outright denying what the text repeatedly tells us isn’t interpretation, it’s just ignoring canon.

#i mean at least don't invent shitty things #like what?#i understand people of this marauder's fandom don't know what literature analysis is #i mean whats wrong with those people?#did they at least end the primary school?#severus snape #lily evans #james potter

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rafeyssugar · 1 day ago

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Heyyy lovely 🥰 it's been a couple days but I am back hehehe. Hope things have been going well for you! /gen

But tomboy!reader shall be our muse today ^^ she's fairly new to the island, only living on the Outer Banks for a few months. She's not quite kook, not quite pogue, but to her that didn't matter because she kept to herself

At the beach Topper and Kelce saw reader and exchange some hateful words about her and Rafe asks who they're talking about and points reader out. They're confused when Rafe goes off until reader sees them and comes over all excited, giving him a kiss and talking about how she's excited for their beach date. Rafe just smirks and tells Topper and Kelce that he's late for a date with his girl and they leave the two standing there stunned because when did that happen?

hi babyy, missed u xx. 🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷🩷

unexpected tides

the outer banks had an unspoken rule—either you were a kook, born into money and privilege, or a pogue, scraping by with nothing but loyalty and sunburnt skin. there was no in-between.

but then there was her.

she’d been around for a few months now, but no one really knew her. she wasn’t a pogue, didn’t roll with the kooks, and didn’t seem to care about the labels everyone else lived by. she kept to herself, always on her bike, always somewhere in the background, a ghost among the chaos of the island.

and that alone was enough for topper and kelce to hate her.

they stood near the bonfire, the flames casting flickering shadows over their smug expressions as they whispered about her.

"she really thinks she’s too good for everyone, huh?" topper sneered, watching her kick at the sand beside her bike, her arms crossed like she had no interest in anyone or anything.

kelce scoffed. "she’s not even a real local. what, moved here a few months ago and now acts like she owns the place?"

"she doesn’t even try to fit in," topper added, shaking his head. "not a pogue, not a kook. what the hell is she?"

"annoying," kelce muttered.

rafe, who had been half-listening, took a slow sip of his beer before lazily turning his attention to them. "who?"

topper gestured toward her without much thought. "tomboy. the one who thinks she’s too cool for everyone."

rafe followed their gaze, his blue eyes locking onto her figure. his expression didn’t change, but something about the way he tilted his head—just slightly—should have been their first clue that they had no idea what was coming.

without a word, he started walking.

"yo—where the hell are you going?" topper called after him, frowning.

kelce watched him weave through the crowd, confusion twisting his face. "is he seriously—?"

but before either of them could finish their thought, she looked up.

and their entire world flipped upside down.

her face broke into a grin the second she spotted rafe. a genuine one. not forced, not cautious, but bright—like seeing him was the best part of her day.

"rafe!" she beamed, pushing off her bike like she’d been waiting for him all night.

then, to topper and kelce’s absolute horror—she kissed him.

and not just some nervous, fleeting peck either. no, this was casual. comfortable. natural. like she’d done it a hundred times before. like she belonged there.

and worse? rafe let her.

no—he smirked into it, like he enjoyed making a show out of it. his hand found the small of her back, the touch easy, practiced, like muscle memory.

"i was starting to think you forgot about our beach date," she teased, nudging him lightly.

rafe chuckled, slinging an arm around her shoulders. "what, and miss a night with my girl?"

and just like that, he turned, guiding her down the beach, completely ignoring the fact that topper and kelce were standing there stunned.

kelce blinked. "what the hell just happened?"

topper didn’t answer. he just stared after them, his mind racing.

because there was no way. no way in hell rafe cameron had been dating her under their noses.

right?

a/n : wrote this while changing to my school uni, currently 6:30am.

(FAILED SCHOOL LAST YEAR; leave me alone)

#outer banks fanfiction #submisive and breedable #daddy's good girl #rafe cameron blurb #outer banks imagine #corruption kink #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #daddy k!nk #rafe cameron

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biboomerangboi · 1 day ago

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Don’t talk about Beefleaf and the tragedy of Shi Qingxuan kindness enough.

Like He Xuan just had his life destroyed for Shi Qingxuans benefit. He lost everything and became a vengeful ghost only to learn that Shi Qingxuan has no idea about any of that and worst of all they are just so nice.

They became a God while trying to help out some girls. They are popular and beautiful but not unnecessary vain. They received a lot of credits and followers but it’s genuinely not really a big deal to them and they don’t mind if the people in their lives are doing better. It makes them happy to see their loved ones being appreciated.

Their personality isn’t fake and they aren’t hiding some ulterior motive in a space full of people leading double and triple lives they are purely and unapologetically as themselves. They care about people and why they may be an airhead they aren’t afraid to speak up for people and go against the status quo.

Just from our brief interactions that we have from Xie Lians POV we see that Shi Qingxuan is quick to befriend and work with the laughing stock of heaven. They go to Banyue despite being told not too because they always thought there was something more going on there. They happily give Xie Lian spiritual power without complaint and hide Banyue from Pei Ming because they heard her story and genuinely care about what’s right and what’s wrong and perhaps the worst part they loved Ming Yi.

Like no matter how you see their relationship Shi Qingxuan clearly adored spending time with them and just being in their presence. They regularly call Ming Yi their best friend and even risk the wrath of The Scourge Of The Heavens Crimson Rain Sought Flower killer of 33 gods to save Ming Yi’s life. It must have been impossible for He Xuan to hate them. He must have tried so hard but how do you hate someone that loves that freely and sweetly. No wonder He Xuan kept giving them chances. No wonder the plan took 400 years.

Shi Qingxuan didn’t deserve to ascend but they also didn’t deserve to be killed by the Reverend of Empty Words any more than He Xuan did.

Like truly he was an innocent in all of it and worst of all a good person. No wonder He Xuan was so bent out of shape over him. No wonder he followed him their entire life.

No wonder it was so impossible to hurt the only person left who loved him so completely and unabashedly.

No wonder it was Shi Qingxuan saying the wrong name that drove him over the edge.

#tgcf #tian guan ci fu #beefleaf #he xuan #shi qingxuan #ming yi #heaven official's blessing #I remembered why I don’t talk about them it’s because they send me over the age #hating the person you love most is so insane and I hate that MXTX didn’t give me a book about just them #I can’t believe she did it twice like I want and don’t want my Yi City arc #Mike don’t look

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forestdeath1 · 2 days ago

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Well i wanted to make a post, but then I saw this addition, so here we go. Not to argue!

I can see Sirius as a sub, but with James, and the one I can’t see as submissive is actually James. I mean I kinda get your points and I thought the same, but when I put them in context, I was like “oh wow, ok guys…”. That was unexpected haha

Even though I’m always like “being a dom/sub doesn’t correlate with your character” (tho it kinda does, just not in the “if someone is dominant and assertive irl, they must be a dom in bed” way), I was still drawn to that idea of Sirius being a dom BECAUSE I see him as way more independent and therefore, more dominant in relationships than any of them. Even though we all know real cases of people being more on the dom side irl (ew that sounds weird haha) but loving to be dominated in bed, I was still like “NOOOO WAY! Sirius is a dom. And a top”. But then I changed my mind when I put the characters in context.

My main points are:

1)I’m not going to extrapolate this onto a 24/7 d/s dynamic. I just can’t see that working for any of them. If someone wants to do that with them, I’m not judging at all!!!!! You do you. But I just don’t see Sirius wanting a lifestyle dynamic in any form, so I can’t see Sirius either being on a leash or putting one on someone outside of a short scene

2) I genuinely don’t think they’d be that bdsm-ish in general. Tbh I see all of them as more on the vanilla side than on the power exchange side. (I kinda have my own perspective on “vanilla”, def not in an offensive way, to me everything without power exchange leans towards “vanilla”).

3) And that’s where everything else comes from:

Sirius is super independent, almost to an extreme, and kinda assertive — but not exactly dominant in the sense of taking control in people’s lives — he actually deeply respects others freedom of choice and autonomy. BUT at the same that’s exactly what makes him come across as dominant. Yet deep down, as Ive always said, he has this insecurity, this feeling of not being enough, of not being worthy of love. He doesn’t really care what people think about him, but when he loves someone, he (esp in tough moments) always feels like he’s not enough and needs to be useful to be loved.

I think it’s easier for him to be a dom and a top with people he doesn’t have strong feelings for. At the very least, he knows a lot of people expect a good dom and a good top (tbh I don’t think he’d be all that kinky on his own). He understands what people want and he can be a good dom.

And I can totally see him in that service “top” position with Bella. I see Bella as a dom with strong submissive kinks (dominant “bottom” and dom masochist) but she can’t and doesn’t want to give up control.

At the same time, I just can’t see him as a sub with just anyone. He simply can’t let himself go. He barely trusts anyone completely. Truly giving up control for people like him isnt just about kink — it’s also about having that immense trust in their dom and the deepest respect for them.

But James? Completely different story. James feels a little rigid in how he sees things. And even though I think he’d be more easygoing and even a little “submissive” in a relationship (he wouldn’t mind, even enjoy it), I can absolutely see him taking control in bed. Maybe not right away, but that’s his thing and he’s good at it. He enjoys it , especially seeing someone he deeply respects, someone who doesn’t submit to anyone, actually submit to him. And Sirius? Maybe he’d get off on discovering that feeling of submission with James

So yeah, I don’t see this as some core part of Sirius or something he always knew about himself. More like something that could develop over time or something the right dom could bring out in him

Once again — I’m not here to judge anyone’s headcanons, and I see the reasoning behind the “100% dom/100% sub” Sirius takes, I’m just sharing my perspective on him. More vanilla in general, a top and dom with everyone, a service top w Bella and a bottom sub w James

sorry but i don't see sirius as being submissive in bed. we will have to politely agree to disagree. he's not the obedient dog. do not put a collar on that dog. bc even if he were being submissive ~sexily~ (which i doubt he would), his partner would be like, 'ok if i'm the dom here, why does it still feel like he's telling me exactly what to do?'

#sirius black

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dreameyess11 · 24 hours ago

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Like The Movies

James Potter x Reader

You never thought it would happen to you—that kind of love, the one you read about in old books or saw in movies. It’s a love you dream about, but never expect to find. Your friends have always thought you a bit of a hopeless romantic, someone who believes in fairytales despite how many times you've been let down. You'd been burned once, twice, too many times to count, and now, you just couldn't see how anything could live up to the dreamy ideas in your head.

But then James Potter came into your life.

It started small. A glance, a casual brush of his hand against yours in the crowded corridors of Hogwarts. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest. No one had ever been good enough for you—no one had ever been what you imagined, no one had made your heart race the way you’d always hoped. But there was something about him. He was different.

James Potter had always been the joker, the one who was loud and reckless, always at the center of attention. But behind that mischievous grin and the jokes he cracked with Sirius and Remus, you began to notice another side. A gentler side. It wasn’t immediately obvious—he wasn't one to show vulnerability—but every now and then, you caught glimpses of a quieter James. It was those moments that caught your attention and made you question everything you thought you knew about love.

You had always imagined your romance like a scene straight out of a movie, a perfect fairytale. And yet, here you were, falling for someone who was far from perfect. He didn’t make grand declarations or sweep you off your feet in dramatic gestures. No, he was more subtle than that, more genuine. The first time it truly hit you was one rainy evening, your feet splashing through the puddles on the way back to Gryffindor Tower.

James was walking with you, of course, because that’s just what he did—never let anyone walk alone. The rain fell heavily around you both, soaking through your robes, but neither of you seemed to care. You both laughed at the ridiculousness of it, trying to dodge puddles, failing miserably.

And then, just like that, he took your hand. No words, just a simple act, one that sent a shock of warmth through you even as the rain soaked you both to the bone. The sound of the rain, the laughter you shared—it felt like the start of something real, something more than you had ever dared hope for.

Over the weeks that followed, the two of you shared more moments like that. The two of you would sneak into bars in Hogsmeade, escaping the confines of the castle, your laughter spilling into the air as the two of you hid in the corners. You'd stare up at the stars together, your heart beating wildly, your fingers brushing in a way that made you feel like you were dancing, even without music. He never once told you he loved you, but the way he looked at you, the way he’d quietly hold you when you were sad—those were the things that made you realize what you’d never allowed yourself to believe.

One evening, after a particularly heated game of Quidditch, you found yourself under a stormy sky with him. It was one of those nights where the clouds hung low and dark, threatening to spill over. But neither of you cared. As the rain began to fall, you both stood there, drenched, and, without a word, began to sway, holding onto each other like nothing else mattered. It was just the two of you—no audience, no expectations—just a quiet moment beneath the storm, as the world seemed to disappear around you.

Maybe you were just old-fashioned, you thought, believing in love like that. But in that moment, standing under the stormy sky with James, you felt like you were living out the kind of fairytale you'd always dreamed of.

You never thought you’d fall in love again, at least not in the way you had imagined. But here you were, holding James Potter, heart and soul entwined with his. Maybe, just maybe, this was the kind of love you’d always wanted.

And just when you thought you’d given up on love—just when you believed that no one could ever be good enough—you realized you were wrong. James Potter was exactly what you needed, the one who had always been there, in ways you hadn’t even noticed until now.

And in the end, maybe it was just that simple.

Maybe you'd finally found the love you'd been waiting for, after all.

#fanfic #james potter x you #james potter x reader #the marauders #marauders #james potter fic #james potter #imagine

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tobiosbbyghorl · 1 day ago

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hyper & chill | psh

act7: same minds

act 1 act 2 act 3 act 4 act 5 act 6 act 7 act 8 act 9

You weren’t the type to sit on a realization for long. The moment it clicked that Sunghoon liked you, it was like a lightbulb went off in your head.

And judging by the way he’d been acting—hovering around you, finding excuses to touch you, acting like every guy who talked to you was a threat—it was time to confront him.

The only problem?

Sunghoon had the same idea.

Which is how the two of you ended up in the empty campus lounge, standing across from each other in a weird, tense standoff.

“You first,” you blurted.

“No, you first,” he said smoothly.

You squinted. “No, you—”

Sunghoon huffed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, fine.” He took a step closer, eyes locked on yours. “I like you.”

Your mouth fell open. “Huh?”

“I like you,” he repeated, like he was stating the most obvious thing in the world. “I thought I was being pretty clear.”

You gawked at him. “CLEAR?! SUNGHOON, YOU WERE BULLYING ME INTO FALLING FOR YOU.”

He smirked. “And?”

You groaned, pressing your hands to your face. “Oh my god.”

Sunghoon chuckled, stepping even closer, hands in his pockets. “Your turn.”

You peeked through your fingers, voice muffled. “This is so unfair.”

“Y/N,” he said, amused. “Just say it.”

You sighed, dropping your hands. “Fine. I like you too.”

Sunghoon hummed, tilting his head slightly. “Say it again.”

You deadpanned. “Don’t push it.”

He laughed, then—soft, low, and genuinely happy. And before you could process it, he reached out, pulling you just a little closer by your wrist.

“So,” he murmured, looking down at you. “You gonna let me kiss you or what?”

Your brain short-circuited. “HUH?!”

He smirked. “You heard me.”

You swallowed. “I—I need a second.”

Sunghoon leaned in slightly, his voice teasing. “I’ve given you months, babe.”

Babe. Babe?!

Oh, he was dangerous.

And yet, when his hand brushed against your cheek, steady and sure, you found yourself melting into it.

“…Fine,” you muttered, heart racing. “But only because I really like you.”

Sunghoon chuckled, tilting your chin up. “Good enough for me.”

And when he finally kissed you—slow, warm, like he had all the time in the world—you realized that maybe, just maybe, you had been completely and utterly doomed from the start.

taglist: @iboughtnjz

#hyper&chill #enhypen scenarios #enhypenwriters #sunghoon scenarios #sunghoon x reader #sunghoonfluff #sunghoononeshot #sunghoonxreader #enhypenxreader #park sunghoon fluff #enha x reader #sunghoon fic #enha scenarios #enha fluff #enha imagines #sunghoon enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen fanfiction

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anika-ann · 19 hours ago

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Take the Ache - pt.2

Part 2: The Take in Mistake

Type: series, slightly canon-divergent, idiots in love with sprinkles of angst

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 4700

Series masterlist (and summary)

Warnings: mentions of canon-typical injuries, missions and weaponry, tones of self-deprecation, unrequired love (is it though), a not-so-great pun, language

A/N: written for Stella’s Starry Winter Sky challenge; DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; this prologue is a flashfoward and is very short, especially on my scale; title is, just like chapter titles, taken from The Script’s No Good in Goodbye

A/N 2: No use of Y/N. Main character’s nickname made up by Steve is 'Lo (will be expalined at some point, promise). Thank you for reading so far and enjoy 💕

This weapon – this stupid pile of metal plates and wiring and humming electricity – was about to be murdered.

You were going to dismantle it piece by piece if you had the patience, or slam it with a hammer enough times to make it break into thousands pieces by sheer force of your frustration and guilt.

Because the damage the weapon had done was on you; at least the most savage side of the ruin.

An EMP. A stupidly advanced machine to create an electromagnetic pulse and knock out all the tech the Avengers relied on. Of course not all your weapons could have withstand that; of course it had stunned the Avengers.

Your friends, your people.

That was bad enough and you’d wish to bite off someone’s carotid just for that, perhaps even your own because you should have thought about the possibility of one of the many evils the Earth’ mightiest heroes fought operating an EMP, but it got worse.

And that was the reason why you knew you’d take a hammer for at least a part of that weapon just out of pure spite. To make it feel the pain. Inanimate objects didn’t feel pain, but the image of smashing it was too alluring and it only seemed fair.

Coming back from the mission, a little more shaken and a little less successful that usual, everyone had been so nice about it. They had been so kind and reassuring that it wasn’t your fault the second they spied the expression on your face upon seeing the destroyed gear and being explained what had happened. Upon seeing the sheer horror in your eyes when they told you the EMP had took it out and somehow absorbed the electric energy and redirected it however the person operating the EMP wished, making it all the more destructive.

They were so nice you wanted to punch something, every tight-lipped smile cutting into your gut and kindling a wildfire inside your chest. Even Sharon, the hero of the day who had been there to have Natasha’s back when she got hurt – because of course Agent Carter had been there to save the day which you were grateful for but also despised it with vigour because she had been fixing your mistakes – was sweet about it. She was enraged on everyone’s behalf but benevolent with you, genuinely not taking any credit or accepting any pats on the back, because having a teammate’s six was the basic rule.

And that was the worst part of it all; you hadn’t had your team’s back. You had fucked up.

Because you had failed to take a variable into account when creating the Widow Bites. And as they had got hit by the EMP discharge, they malfunctioned enough to burn Nataha’s wrist.

The mere idea of the pain that had to cause would be enough to chase tears into your eyes, but the worry for your friend got overruled by guilt and fury, because you hadn’t been smart enough to prevent that.

Now that was where you’d draw a line. That was where you hit your limit. The fact Steve wasn’t amongst the ones who came here to tell you this, because he had to be too damn disappointed in you to face you with how at odds you were with each other lately and with no doubt having to explain your failures to higher-ups and probably staying with Natasha throughout her treatment, because he considered everyone’s safety his responsibility, now that was just a cherry on top, wasn’t it.

You were surprised Bucky wasn’t here to snap your neck; then again, he was emotionally mature and loving enough to know being with Nat was more important at the moment, even as Clint was probably hovering in the background.

So you got Tony, Sam and Sharon, speaking to you with soft undertone of anger directed at stupid fraction of HYDRA and too much kindness directed at you, looking at you as if you were about to break down or explode any second. Because you weren’t an agent or an Avenger. You couldn’t keep your cool like they did.

You hated being talked to as if you were a toddler or another emotionally unstable human being, but they had a point.

You already began to silently dismantle this goddamn weapon they had managed to get a hand on, even as they were still standing there, waiting for god-knew-what.

Tony and Sharon took the hint eventually, supportive smiles on their faces as they left.

Sam did not.

He lingered, a little too much in your workspace, hovering like a ghost of your conscience and guilt, watching you wrestle with tools. You could feel the compassion and understanding coming off of his figure in waves and you wished you could built a dam tall and sturdy enough to withstand it until the irritation they were feeding in you could turn into crumbling self-pity and tears.

“So… you wanna get something out of your chest?” he asked, his calmness just as obnoxious as his presence, all the softer and warmer in comparison to the sharpness of the cold edge you found yourself on.

You were not sure how long you could keep balancing at the top until you tipped over to either side, one worse than the other.

“Not particularly,” you muttered.

Peeling off one of the metallic plates covering the EMP at last, you nearly cheered, grabbing the hammer and hitting it with all your might in hopes to chip enough pieces off. For analysis of the material that was not affected by the discharge and managed to absorb it the power instead. For your own dark indulgence because fuck did that feel good.

The loud bang and clatter echoed in the now almost empty room; and one would think that would chase any onlookers away.

But not Sam.

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow at your method, which he probably considered simply distressed antics. He was half-right. But that didn’t matter; the way he looked at you, arms crossed on his chest, did.

“…clearly.”

You set the hammer down with an unnecessary but completely satisfactory clang and unclasped your protective googles to look at Sam, huffing.

“Look, Sam, I’m sorry, but I have some work to do, so if you could… go away, I’d appreciate it,” you said bluntly, turning back to the weapon with a mutter under your breath that felt real good to speak out loud as it had been sitting on top of your chest, heavy like a herd of elephants. “Work I’m clearly not capable of.”

You heard the soft rustle of his steps as he came closer, seeing peripherally that he uncrossed his arms. You could feel the weight of his annoyingly concerned gaze on your face, while you willed your eyes to remain on the printed circuit board of the EMP.

Interesting. Judging by the colour of the metal alone, they had definitely used a peculiar alloy for the conductive traces.

“Hey now… you know that’s not true,” Sam offered, his gentle tone both soothing and irritating, his next words painted by knowing more than anyone should. “And we both know that’s not the real problem, is it?”

The question sliced through your insides like the sharpest knife, your spine suddenly strung tight as the air in your lungs burst out in an explosion. Your hand was slamming the tweezers on the counter before you knew what you were doing, white-hot rage nearly blinding you as you spun to Sam, shame and fury firing through your nerves.

“How can you say that?! Of course that’s the real problem, Sam! Natasha is hurt because of me!”

He took an instinctive step back, raising his palms in defence.

“Okay, sorry, poor choice of words. Not the only real problem,” he corrected himself, regret lacing his warm irises. “But she’s really not. She’s hurt because the agents took us by surprise with the EMP-”

“Which took out thegear I designed-“

“As well as Tony and without which we would have been dead at least ten times before,” Sam threw back without hesitation, your argument dying on your tongue, causing you to gulp against the lump having grown in your throat, your hands trembling with echoes of the adrenalin spike. “But we’re not, because you have our back and we have each other’s back.”

Evading his sincere gaze as he spilled facts, you swallowed loudly, the all-too-familiar burn of tears in the bridge of your nose a welcomed sensation to focus on.

He was right, of course. To a point. But unlike you, Tony was out there with them and he could make up for any short-comings or lapses in his judgement.

And so was Sharon, the girl who saved them all; or protected Natasha for long enough at least.

You took a deep breath, unfocused gaze nearly swimming in the tears you stubbornly fought because they would help no one.

“So I hear. It was lucky Sharon was there, otherwise we might not be having this conversation, because Nat, Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, might have gotten killed the moment she was too stunned by pain to face the enemy.”

“But she was there and so was I and you have contributed to that.”

Sam eyed you pointedly as you had no response momentarily, that all-knowing gaze of his once again rather annoying. Because yes – saying all of this it out loud did not make it any less nor any more true, but it eased the pressure in your chest the tinniest bit.

You loved him, but you hated when he was right.

“But it’s not the same, is it? I fucked up and someone else had to fix it. Here. I said it. Happy now?” you sighed, turning back to your project, mind racing as you tried your best to focus on the very real problem at hand where a solution could come much easier than the one to your current emotional state.

Brief silence settled, the fact Sam did not move an inch telling you that this conversation, this attempt at heart-to-heart, was not over, as convenient as it would be.

“Anything else you needed, Sam?”

“Yeah,” he said, shifting his weight, hand leaning onto the counter a few feet from you. “We worry about you. He’s worried about you.”

Your fingers twitched at the mention of Steve, but you stubbornly kept staring ahead, squinting at the PCB as you used the tweezers to extract the alloy and placed it into one of the glass dishes for samples.

“And he’s our strategist for a reason. He can still be little slow and blind when it comes to certain things, but he’s not an idiot,” Sam added.

You bit your cheek at the call out, the uncomfortable knowledge of Sam being aware of just how complicated your feelings towards Steve were twisting your stomach, almost as much as the hint at Steve’s care.

Yeah. You were sure Steve was losing sleep worrying about you. Unless he was using his nights to wank over the image of Sharon in her perfectly tight-

You shook your head, tearing off another piece of metal. You so did not have time for this mess, especially now.

“Well, if he’s worried, he can come and check up on me,” you uttered, hoping Sam would take the hint at last.

He did not.

He was way too invested in your emotional well-being and normally you would love that, because he was simply a good friend like that, but you did not want to deal with that now. Not ever, if it were up to you, but life wasn’t that merciful. Life was quite the opposite, in fact; such was the ultimate truth.

But you were an adult – as aware as you were of your own behaviour being a little childish – and adults had to be okay with not feeling okay.

“He’s been trying to,” Sam argued softly. “He says that the one time he caught up with you, you told him you were just going through something and you needed to deal with it alone, which, pardon me, is a terrible idea. And other than that, you’re avoiding him. Avoiding all of us.”

Am I? you wondered mutely against your better judgement, a telling sting of shame in the back of your throat.

Perhaps you had. But you were also speaking the truth when saying you needed to deal with certain shit – in this case, heartbreak over lost chances and foolish hopes and unfair jealousy and disdain – on your own.

You were feeling rather sorry for having pushed everyone away along with Steve, but it wasn’t like your best friend was the only person who was taken by Sharon Carter’s brilliance.

Not that you felt like saying any of that to Sam, who was, despite his kindness, definitely overstaying his welcome in your workshop. You supposed it served you right and it was your karmic punishment for being at fault with Natasha’s Widow Bites.

You sighed.

“Look, Sam, I have no idea what-” You heard his snort even before you glanced up at him and saw his right eyebrow arched in challenge. Your shoulders slumped as you sighed once more, your lips pursing. “He avoided me first and he doesn’t need me nearly as much as he used to. And neither does either of you, Sam. It’s clear you all have better people to-”

“Horseshit.”

You winced slightly at the curse, but you returned your attention to the EMP, willing your voice to sound as steady and unaffected as possible despite having just revealed a very raw wound in your heart and pride.

“It is really? Come on, Sam, I might be slow and blind when it comes to certain things too, but I’m not an idiot either,” you echoed his earlier words, congratulating yourself on the steadiness of your words. “And I get it. I really do. So now, can we please finally-”

“Do you really?” he interrupted you again and you had had just enough.

Straightening your posture, you put away the tweezers again and put your hands on your hips, acutely aware of how your angry posture must have seemed absurd with the semi-fastened googles still on your face.

You must have looked like picture perfect of tragicomedy; which, you assumed, was rather fitting. The warm gentleness in Sam’s eyes made your insides clench with longing after a pair of blue eyes caring just as much about what a wreck you were; but the man behind the cerulean eyes was untouchable. He had been for a while and your own behaviour had only contributed to that.

“Of course I do. Want me to spell it out? Fine,” you scoffed, throwing your hands up just a bit. “Fine. I get it. Sharon is… she’s everything. Of course everyone is falling for her. She’s beautiful and charming, she’s smart as hell, speaks like 8 languages, she’s badass but kind, she can talk about anything because she knows at least a little bit about everything, she’s a brutal fighter and a dead-precise shot, she’s excellent at undercover, she’s more than a decent hacker and hell, she could probably do my job with one hand tied behind her back. Blindfolded.”

Sam raised his other eyebrow at your last, obviously exaggerated note. Other than that, however, concern twisted his expression, something flashing in his eyes and telling you that you had just confirmed all his suspicions about how you felt.

Great.

Maybe you should just walk around in nude; to his observant eye, you might have as well been, stripped of all things to reveal the naked truth. Of course Sam fucking knew all about your insecurities – you had probably hinted about some of those, deliberately or not, and the rest was obvious.

A small part of you felt a little warmer, pleasantly so, grateful he had noticed, grateful that not all of his attention had turned to the newest addition to the team, but you cooled that part off immediately, tasting the poison of resentment and unfair jealousy on your tongue.

“Well, that’s another load of horseshit,” Sam hummed almost casually.

Despite knowing exactly what he was doing, you felt the acute feeling having been suffocating you for weeks slowly claw its way out and lead you straight into his trap.

“But is it, Sam? There’s one, one thing that I could possibly do better than her,” you said, raising your index finger to drive the point home, words suddenly spilling before you could stop them. “Just one. And even that I’m failing at miserably, case on damn point. She’s perfect and I really do get it. She’s all the things I said and more and I can see that she’s very… loveable. She’s everything, not to mention she’s a Carter-”

“Ah, there we go-”

“Oh go to hell, Sam!”

You threw up your hands wildly, turning away as the ugly blend of shame and frustration twisted your stomach, your voice as harsh as Sam deserved for such note, nausea rising up your throat.

“I love you, but go to hell with this-!”

You felt tears of humiliation sting in your eyes, but just before they spilled over, Sam, who had very much not gone to hell and stayed instead, pulled you into a gentle hug.

The cacophony of feelings of the past weeks and today in particular came crashing down, their weight falling on your shoulders and making you squeeze your eyes shut as you let Sam embrace you despite just having just snapped at him to get out; you were that selfish. You needed that hug that much.

Your shoulders shook with the force of your dry sobs, your teeth gritted tight as not to release a single sound, but little good did that do for the storm of emotion raging inside of you. The dam was already broken, feeling spilling out and washing over your whole being like a tsunami and you cursed Sam and thanked him at the same time, because even now, you knew you’d come out of this freer of some of your aches.

That didn’t mean you could afford lose time with tantrums nor it meant that this felt good now. In fact, this was exactly what you had wanted to avoid, but Sam’s arms held you like a tight protective cage, and it felt so damn nice despite those damn goggles digging into your skin.His impressive frame almost, almost made it possible to imagine this was Steve; the only person who could have possibly comfort you further, sooth your pain in but a few moments, just a few seconds to lend you some of his strength to keep you going and figure it all out.

But Steve wasn’t here. Steve had moved on, even as there was nothing to move on from but your laughable fantasies.

For someone of your intelligence – one you fairly doubted now, to be completely honest – you sure could be silly.

Your breath hitched in your ribcage, Sam’s palm gently running up and down your back.

“Hey. Hey. You’re okay, ‘Ron. I got you”

“I’m sorry,” you muttered, fingers clutching at the soft material of his hoodie on his back, the few tears that found their way out soaking the front. “I’m so sorry – about fucking up, about acting like a jerk and pushing you all away because I apparently can’t do feelings beyond pride, and most of all about Nat-“

“Hey, it’s fine. It’s fine.”

You tried to speak, to protest that none of it was actually fine, but you couldn’t find your voice, the only sound tearing through a dry breathless sob. And so for a moment, you allowed Sam’s words the sound of comfort rumbling in his chest wash over you. You leaned into the lie, the promise of a better future.

“Now listen to me, ‘Ron. First of all, Nat is going to be okay.”

“Not thanks to me,” you murmured at last, despite welcoming the reassurance, earning a soft slap on your back.

“Bull. Second of all, we allcare about you a little too much to have you replaced that easily.”

You huffed at that, unable to protest, because deep down, you knew he was telling the truth.

“And third, I really don’t think Agent 13 is better at everything. But even if she was, you’re forgetting one important fact.”

You took a deep steadying breath, feeling grief sparkle into indignation instead, the most effective motor of all. You released Sam’s hoodie from your merciless clutches, his arms around you loosening as he felt your need for a bit more space and you took it, knocking your forehead against his sternum with a huff.

“She’s blond, so she and Steve will be the perfect match and will make the most perfect babies?”

Despite himself, Sam snorted, the sound causing the corners of your lips to twitch upwards the tinniest bit. You stepped back slightly, meeting Sam’s sincere gaze with your teary one, his palms settling on your shoulders.

“That you are you,” he said earnestly, one corner of his lips rising in a lopsided smile. “You are incredible and more importantly, you are irreplaceable. To the AI, to the team, to your friends… and to Steve.”

You gulped, gaze flickering down at the pang in your heart, knowing all too well that while there might be some true to you being irreplaceable to Steve, you occupied a place in his heart different from what you would have wished.

“And don’t forget there’s ‘hero’ in heron. That’s not a coincidence.”

You snorted in a very undignified matter, pushing off his hands from your shoulders and stepping out of his space, his grin contagious despite the painful sincerity behind his pun.

Your nickname – codename, really – was a callback to one of the greatest inventors of all time, Heron of Alexandria, as well as to Clint reminding you not to hunch over your work and twist your neck as that of the heron bird, which Tony found hilarious. The ‘hero’ actually was a coincidence, but you had to give Sam A for effort.

“Hey, you do have our backs and we’re all aware of that. You didn’t let anyone down.”

“But I did,” you whispered, pushing past the lump in your throat. “And I don’t. I… is Nat really going to be okay?”

Sam’s grin blended into a sympathetic smile, his relaxed posture speaking volumes; he wasn’t worried about her and he believed what he way saying.

“Nothing the cradle won’t fix. And she’s had much worse.”

That’s not reassuring, you wanted to say, because seriously, you loved all your friends, but their job came with some really strange and concerning standards. They would tell you they were fine and pass out the next minute, only for doctors to reveal they had been bleeding out, inside or outside. And then they’d tell you, again, that it was fine and that they had worse.

Not to mention this situation was painfully different from Nat’s usual injuries.

“Maybe. But never because of me,” you noted softly, inhaling shakily and releasing the breath slowly as your ribcage ached at the reminder weaved into your own words.

“Going in circles here a little bit, ‘Ron.”

You shrugged helplessly, even as the desperation thrumming in your chest had much eased, your motivation to fix thing burning hotter and hotter, your gaze flickering back to the EMP as your mind already began to reel.

“Well I’m sorry, but I can’t exactly help it. Because this is my part, Sam. This is what I’m supposed to do best. I worry about you out there, alright? I worry so much, but I do my best and lose sleep over making sure I’ve done everything possible so that you’re a little safer. There’s a reason why I never let you to the field with an untested prototype. It has to be damn near hundred percent or nothing, and if the math was mathing, as Clint would say, I’d make hundred percent and twenty my standard.”

Sam’s smile earned a sad but warm edge at your words, but he didn’t comment, sensing you had more to say. And you did. Whether you liked it or not, it did help to get it out of your chest and you knew he would understand.

“Because this is all I can do, Sam. I can’t help you out there. I’m not some… badass with a gun and thighs that could choke a man to death,” you said, a fondness towards Natasha’s insane fighting skills echoing with ache as those worked even without the Bites you had made for her, but could not very well help her if she was too stunned with unexpected pain. “And it’s one thing to fail at making something in the first place, which would be bad enough, but this… my Bites hurting Nat, because I failed to take a variable into account, that’s new. That’s on me. And I can’t have that happen again.”

“It’s really not on you, but we could stand here talking for hours to no end and I happen to know you have work to do… and I do agree that you should keep going and do what you do best,” he said, eyes flickering towards the EMP that had been attracting your own gaze more and more. “You go and take this shit apart and figure it out, because that’s what you do. … and if you smash a few pieces in the process because that’s what you need, well that’s just the science method of it all, isn’t it?”

A teeny smile found its way to your face as you stepped forward again, giving Sam a quick hug.

What a man. What a wonderful friend.

“Thanks for the peptalk, Sam. I mean it. I appreciate it,” you said in earnest. “But uhm… I really have stuff to do and… you should get some rest. I’m… really glad you’re okay. Had-- had the EMP hit when you were in the air-”

“But it didn’t. And for the record, I meant every word.”

Your smile grew another fraction and you moved to your station, clasped on the goggles properly, settling in the tall chair and leaning your elbows on the counter. Screw Clint and his notes about a heron’s neck. “I know, Sam. You’re a good guy. Jess is a lucky girl.”

The new sparkle of joy lighting up in Sam’s eye at the mention of his new lady made your heart stutter with joy for your friend as well as quiver in dull ache. Wide smile spread on his face.

“I’m a lucky guy, so that makes two of us. Take care, Hero-N.”

You huffed, shaking your head. “Sure. Take care, Sam.”

You took a deep inhale as Sam finally walked out, your attention already fully consumed by the goddamn EMP. Staring at the gun-shaped device for a moment, you moved to examine the piece you had chipped off, wondering about the material structure which no doubt had to be a little miracle of science to have the attributes it had.

“Alright, talk to me. How do we make sure you don’t do any more damage than a goddamn water gun…” you mumbled to yourself, missing Sam’s smile as he glanced at your antics through the window.

It was not the only thing you had missed in the past minutes.

Nor you nor Sam had seen Steve hovering by your workshop as he had rushed there straight from the meeting, knowing you would misplace blame on yourself, needing to assure you that that was not the case and to comfort you.

He had never made it inside the lab, getting a glimpse of at two figures in a tight embrace through the very window.

The understanding that he was not needed nor wanted and would in fact intrude on an intimate moment instead tasted bitterer on Steve’s tongue than the residual adrenalin from the mission, the sudden empty ache deep within his ribcage much more acute than the one in his bruised bones.

He had missed his chance to be there for you when you needed it.

And what hurt so much worse was the fact that apparently, he had missed his chance at love, once again.

Next chapter // Series masterlist

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Thank you for reading, loves! Thoughts, encouragements and reblogs are always appreciated ✨

May your March be filled of sunshine and hopes 💕

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#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #anika ann #take the ache

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rekino2114 · 9 hours ago

Note

Could you do prompt 21 for teruko and hu from despair time

Aftercare with teruko tawaki and hu jing

Suggestive post

Prompts list

A/n:I'm pretty sure all drdt characters are 18 (correct me if I'm wrong), but just to be safe, everyone involved in this is over 18

Teruko tawaki

Teruko has no real idea what to do after the moment is over, she just lies on the bed and thinks about how good it felt and how she actually scored

She genuinely can't believe it. She never thought she'd date someone much less get to this level but she can't deny it felt incredible and she wants to do it again

When she comes back to reality she's so embarrassed that she doesn't know what to do next

"Oh sorry........I was just thinking.....so....do we just cuddle now or what?"

"Sure if you want to"

She actually discovered she really loves naked cuddling for some reason, just the skin on skin contact helps her remember that you're still there with her and never leaving her. She'd love it if you could so it in a non sexual situation but she's way too embarrassed to ask

One of the times you actually did someone walked in on you (probably because of teru's luck) and teruko just wanted to die right there while you explained that you were in fact not having sex

Sometimes her body feels sore despite both of you being gentle, and despite her insisting that it's nothing (it was very not convincing, she could barely get up from the bed) you gave her a massage and her entire body felt better it was like magic so it instantly became a regular thing during aftercare

She loves it when you fall asleep on her naked chest, and she gets to look at your adorable sleeping face. She loves seeing your face in general, but for some reason, in this moment, knowing that she brought you pleasure and happiness like this makes her happy too

[You're laying on teruko's chest while she hugs you]

"........I love you so much"

[You stir a bit, but she cuddles you closer, and you fall back asleep]

"Good night y/n......and thank you"

[She smiles and kisses your forehead before falling asleep too]

Hu jing

This girl is the absolute best at aftercare. She just loves taking care of you in every possible way and especially in the bedroom so aftercare is obviously a part of that

First thing first, she always asks you if you enjoyed that. The answer is obviously yes, turns out she's great at taking care of you even in the most intimates of ways. She also asks if it hurt, which never happens cause she's incredibly gentle all the time, but she still wants to check as she would hate for you to feel anything but pure pleasure while being with her

She then runs a bath, and while you're waiting for the tub to fill, she gives you a massage, and it genuinely feels like she has the hands of an angel (something you could also ascertain earlier) she touches all the right spots and it feels like you're about to fall asleep from how relaxing it is but try to stay awake to feel the rest of the amazing aftercare

She's also insanely good at cleaning you in the bath. You're as good as new whenever she's done with you, and of course, you clean her too once she's finished and she loves it too

You then finish the amazing night cuddling together until you fall asleep. If you can't, then she'll sing you a lullaby or bring you tea (even if she prefers doing that the morning after) but most of the times her soft body and voice are enough to make you sleep

The best part is that during all of this, she's praising you and telling you how amazing you did, even if she basically did everything to make you feel good. She praises you a lot during the lovemaking (that's the only way she'll call it because she doesn't want to be too vulgar) just because she loves it and she definitely won't stop even after it's over. If you try to contradict her or tell her she was the one who did everything, she won't hear it. She hates you being negative or deflecting her praise and will double it if you do that

"Darling, you did so good today, the moment feel perfect"

"No please hu, you were the one-"

"Love, I thought we already went through this, you were amazing and don't try to deny it anymore ok?"

".......yes"

[She kisses your cheek and cuddles you closer to her]

"That's my good baby"

"But you were amazing too hu, seriously how are you this good?'

"Oh, I'm glad to hear that, I love making you feel happy and taking care of you, darling. The fact that you love being intimate with me makes me so happy too"

"I swear how did I get a woman as amazing as you?"

"Just being your adorable and sweet self my dear"

#danganronpa despair time x reader #Danganronpa despair time #x reader #drdt #drdt x reader #despair time x reader #despair time #teruko tawaki x reader #teruko tawaki #drdt teruko #teruko x reader #teruko #hu jing x reader #hu jing #hu drdt #drdt hu #hu x reader #gn reader

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nephilimeq · 2 days ago

Text

A Sense of Belonging

Prompt: Sharing A Blanket

@bucktommyfluffebruary

A03:

Tommy tugged his boyfriend closer to him as they made their way down to the beach, trailing behind the rest of the 118, whispering into his ear, “You really think they don’t mind that I’m coming along?” and Evan snorted and gave him a look.

“Tommy, you may be a member of the 217 now, but you are my boyfriend, so of course you’re invited.”

He then dragged him down to the beach, two blankets on his other arm, while the airman tried to wrap his mind around the fact that he had been invited to the 118’s barbecue bash on a private stretch of beach that had been offered up by one of the higher ups. It was apparently the anniversary of the day the 118 was first created, and they did it every year, and this year Evan wanted him to come along with him, as he hadn’t been able to last year as Tommy had been on call.

As they joined everyone on the beach, Bobby called out, “Hey! We have two rules! Remember them?”

Tommy grinned as Buck groaned, and then he watched with amusement as everyone reluctantly drawled out, “Don’t do anything to make us call 911…and you’re the only one who touches the grill,” and he laughed and shook his head.

“Oh my gosh, does he make you say this every year?”

“Yes,” Evan whined, moving them towards a clear spot over in the sand that was untouched, laying down one of the blankets, and Tommy smiled and joined him on top of it, noticing everyone else migrating a bit closer towards a circle that was being formed around what looked to be a pile of firewood that would soon be a beach bonfire, and he lit up at seeing it, feeling a twinge of excitement at the idea that they would be there long enough to enjoy a beach bonfire, something he had rarely experienced, all of his other experiences being ones in the army.

He nudged his boyfriend’s shoulder with his own and said low and quiet, “This looks like it’s gonna be fun,” and Evan shook his head and relied, “Let’s just say that I brought you here for a reason and hope you don’t mind being a buffer for when Chimney gets really drunk…”

“He gets that bad?” he asked, arching an eyebrow, surprised, and he nodded.

“Oh, yeah. It’s like beach bonfires unleash some part of him that usually never sees that light of day, so…prepare yourself,” he warned, and Tommy nodded.

“Noted.”

As they sat next to each other, he wondered if he should have brought the ring along with him. They had never talked about it before, but he thought Evan might not mind being proposed to in front of the people that he thought of as his family.

—and then his thoughts were cut off as Eddie shouted, “Tommy! You made it! Good, now there’s someone else who can critique Bobby’s grilling method with me,” and the airman laughed and stood up as the man approached, and they gripped each other’s hands and pulled, dropping a hand on the other’s shoulder, and he commented, “Not up to Texas grilling standards, I take it?” and Eddie shook his head, looking genuinely disappointed.

“Not even close,” he complained. “But maybe you can convince him to add more moisture to the steaks…”

Tommy shrugged, and then Evan was back up on his feet saying, “Hey, did you bring Chris with you?” and Eddie nodded and pointed over a ways.

“Yeah, he and the rest of the kids are spending some time together. I think they’re planning on another hostile takeover of your place,” he said with a wry grin and Tommy chuckled and replied, “I’m not complaining. It was great having all of them last time,” and Eddie rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re always good for the cool uncles but never for the parents!”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

The three of them laughed, and then Tommy found himself following Evan and Eddie over to the rest of the 118, who were all mostly gathered around the bonfire area with various drinks and snacks in their hands, and as the two of them started to mingle, he wondered what would happen once he and Evan were engaged. As boyfriends they didn’t have much say in the other person’s career choices—despite them already living together—and so once they officially tied the knot, would their priorities change?

Even as Tommy joked with Hen about some of their most recent rescues, his thoughts went to the fact that he knew he would never want to give up his job, he loved it too much…and he had the distinct feeling that Evan felt the same way about being a firefighter, so how would having a family work?

“Hey, what’s on your mind?”

Howie.

“Uh…nothing, just…thinking about Evan,” he honestly replied, grateful when his friend handed him a craft beer, which he took gratefully. “Things are really good right now, you know? I’m just…I’m just reminding myself not to take any of it for granted…”

Howie grinned and tapped his beer against his own and said, “I know what you mean. Every day I wake up and I feel damn lucky to have Maddie and Jee in my life. Have things been perfect? Hell, no! But…they’re definitely worth it,” he finished with a smile as he took a long sip from the gold tinted glass bottle, and Tommy regarded him for a moment, wondering if he should ask him about how he should propose to Evan—but then he remembered that the man couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, and so decided against it.

Instead he turned the conversation to a lighter topic as he kept an eye on his boyfriend who was moving his way towards the grill with a look in his eye that had him internally chuckling.

Oh, he was going to try and do something to the steaks, he just knew it.

But instead of doing anything, Tommy merely watched with an amused grin, enjoying the company of the 118 and the way they made him feel like he belonged, something that he had been craving for far too long—and soon (he hoped), it would be even more permanent than before.

The celebrating lasted long enough that the sun started to go down and the bonfire was lit up, and Evan had eventually migrated his way back to Tommy, drink in hand, cheeks lightly flushed, leaning into him and grabbing at his waist like they were teenagers, and the airman practically melted into every touch that his boyfriend gave him, feeling like he was somehow being able to experience something that he had been deprived of growing up.

There they stood in the fading light, lit only by the bonfire, cold drinks in hand, the wind drawing Evan’s dirty blonde hair into fluffy peaks, his eyes glowing. Somewhere in the background he could hear some music playing, something with a bouncy steel guitar, muted because it was far away.

All he could think of was the warm press of Evan’s body against his, the way his fingers slipped perfectly between his own, his head occasionally nuzzling into his shoulder, the sound of the kids screaming and laughing in the background as Howie—who was a little bit buzzed—was showing them how to play with the sparklers that he had somehow purloined from somewhere that he would bet good money wasn’t strictly legal…

…but it didn’t matter.

The sound of the waves was underneath it all as they ate the amazing food and enjoyed the wonderful company.

At some point a few people started dancing to the music in the background and he laughed when Maddie dragged her buzzed husband to a spot just beyond the bonfire and they began to twirl around. Tommy noticed the way Hen and Karen had been drinking nothing but juice and soda all night, keeping an eye on the kids, along with Bobby and Athena.

The wind picked up slightly and he felt Evan shiver next to him.

“Hey, let’s get back to the blankets,” he softly suggested against his ear, and the younger man nodded and let the airman lead him to where they had left the blankets.

As they sat down, Tommy stared at the way other members of the 118 began to dance as well, along with a couple of the kids, everyone feeling good on a typically warm California night. Evan still shivered, so he grabbed the second blanket and pulled it over both of their legs, smiling when Evan said, “Thanks,” and he pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Of course, babe,” he murmured, still soaking in the ambience of family and community, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that everyone around them would help him if he asked, and it was so intense that he had to close his eyes and swallow in an attempt to keep the tears from falling. He had never felt so safe and loved, and it was just…surreal. He had never thought that he would have this and that anyone would ever even care, let along claim to choose to love him.

He burrowed a bit more under the blanket, tugging Evan’s legs over his, watching as Eddie twirled Maddie, Howie sitting and watching with a fond smile.

He then softly whispered, “You have such an amazing family, Evan,” and his boyfriend looked up at him, blinked twice, and then said with a slow, toothy grin, “They’re our family, Tommy. You know that, right?” and he nodded.

“Yeah, I guess so…it’s just…I don’t think it’s really sunk in just yet, you know?”

They then fell into a comfortable silence, watching as everyone continued to celebrate…

…and then Evan nudged himself closer, practically in his lap, the two of them tangled up under the blanket that sprawled over their legs, and said into his neck, “Thank you for coming with me, babe. It wouldn’t have been the same without you, you know?” and he swallowed, feeling a rush of emotion, glad that he hadn’t brought the ring with him because he would have done something stupid and proposed to him right then and there, not caring who would see.

But now he knew that there wasn’t going to be anymore waiting.

Within a week, his boyfriend would be his fiancé.

#bucktommyfluffebruary #bucktommy #buck x tommy #evan buckley #tommy kinard #tevan #tevan fic #tevan fanfic #tevan fanfiction #fluff #sharking a blanket #nephilimeq fanfic

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wakebymoonsleepbysun · 5 hours ago

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My breakdown of the Doey timeline, cuz whynot

Combination of my own theories/conjecture and what's actually in the game.

We see Jack getting a Doey toy for Christmas of 92, as well as a trip to the factory. The trip to the factory happens in Jan of 93 and of course Jack falls in.

This makes Jack an unplanned experiment. My theory--since he wasn't trained/prepped in the Game Station or Playcare, and the scientists had to kinda scramble to get anything salvageable of him, that left proto-Doey in a pretty bad/unstable state.

The fact that he had a Doey toy that he already loved so much could be what saved him. Kids are shown to have "assigned toys" at the Game Station, which makes me think a bond with the character/toy is necessary for the kids to adapt to their new bodies, and maybe even make the child take on personality traits of the toy's character.

1322 was too unstable to survive on his own. So another child was selected--Kevin. It seems the scientists hoped Kevin's physical strength would balance out Jack's lack of physical training before the process, and Jack's good temper would balance out Kevin's (perceived) bad one. (I think there's more to Kevin than just "angry child angry and violent at everything". I think he was abused and probably neurodivergent, maybe autistic. Probably on the cusp of a very rough puberty as well. But as a 90s "problem child" myself, I'm not surprised he was just dismissed as a bad kid with no hope. Heartbroken, yes. Surprised? No.)

Sidenote here--I do wonder if they'd gotten the idea of using multiple subjects in the same experiment from the Prototype. Not sure if that would have been something the Prototype would have been doing yet at this point. But I do think it's interesting to call out that the Prototype is not the only experiment made from multiple sources. (I think Poppy may also be such a one but that's some wild conjecture on my part and a post for another day.)

We know Kevin is second because he's described as 1322B. However I think the incident with Jack's parents happened before Matthew was added.

Jack's parents get invited to see Doey. Now, who wrote that letter and why? I'm not completely sure on the details, but I think the main reason it got APPROVED was for the sake of conducting a test. I think it's POSSIBLE someone like Stella may have been making a genuine attempt to do good, but that wouldn't've been reason enough on its own to make this happen.

So Jack's parents rock up to Playtime so the scientists can see how 1322 will react. We've all heard the tape so we know the jist of it, but here's what I think happened internally with Doey. Jack and Kevin's personalities and memories were still muddled. Kevin saw Jack's mom, recognized her as "mom", not realizing she is NOT actually HIS mother. I believe his parents had been abusive, so what Kevin THOUGHT he was doing was fighting back at his own abusers, not some other kid's kind parents. Between that and being in a body he could barely control with a strength he can barely comprehend...Well. Again. We all heard the tape.

So, time to stabilize. Enter Matthew. Responsible, kind, and older. Perfect to wrangle the two younger boys into a fully functioning experiment, ready to be useful to Playtime co. (I kinda gagged typing that. Playtime Co is bastards.)

And y'know? I'd say it mostly worked. From his monologues in the prison, it sounds like Doey wasn't always the most cooperative. He had a bit of a mischievous streak. But I get the impression he didn't lash out or attack until Safe Haven was destroyed. And who wouldn't be broken by that?

#doey the doughman #poppy playtime

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yassbishimvintage · 2 days ago

Text

Hearts On Deck (3)

A/N: We back baby

Masterlist

Cleo adjusted the angle of her phone as she snapped a quick shot of her screen, showing her editing software in action. The caption read: "Another day, another edit! Can’t wait for you all to see what’s coming 🖤", and she added a few cute emojis to lighten the mood. It was a casual post—nothing too over the top—but it gave her followers a peek into her daily grind.

As she hit ‘Post,’ the usual wave of likes started rolling in almost immediately. The little red hearts flooded the screen as her audience reacted.

A few minutes later, she got a direct message notification. It was from one of her followers—her DM inbox was always active, but this one caught her attention because it was from someone who rarely reached out.

“Hey, love the behind-the-scenes look! What’s the next video going to be about? 🥺”

Cleo smiled, typing out a quick response. “Thanks! It's a behind-the-scenes of my day-to-day—editing, meetings, you know, the usual. Stay tuned 😉” She hit send, then moved on to another message that asked for her favorite beauty brands.

As the story continued to rack up views, she started feeling that familiar sense of validation, the rush of connection with her followers. It was a good feeling, but as always, it was brief. She found herself scrolling through her own feed again, watching the numbers climb.

Then, as if fate had its own way of teasing her, she noticed Aaron had liked her post about editing.

Her thumb hesitated before she tapped his profile, her eyes lingering on his latest post. There was something magnetic about him, even through the screen. The subtle way he posted, never too loud or flashy, just genuine and thoughtful.

Her phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text from him:

“Enjoying the behind-the-scenes peek! I see you working hard. Can’t wait to see the final cut. 😎”

Cleo felt a slight flutter in her chest. He was paying attention, in a way that felt personal, like he was truly interested in her work. She wasn’t used to that. Most of the time, guys were more focused on the image she presented than the things that mattered to her.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I’m excited for you to see it.” She sent back, casually, trying to keep things light but clearly smiling to herself.

Her phone buzzed once more, and before she even opened the message, she had an inkling it was from him again.

“We should hang out when you’re back in town. I think you’d appreciate the city a bit more when you’re not working all the time. 😊”

Her heart skipped a beat. The idea of spending more time with Aaron, outside of the whirlwind of work and the glitz of events, felt like a tempting proposition.

She typed a quick response: “I’m open to that idea. Maybe we can set something up soon.”

She put her phone down and returned to her editing, but her thoughts drifted back to Aaron. For a moment, the endless stream of likes and notifications didn’t matter. It was this connection, however subtle, that made everything feel more real.

The next day, Cleo woke up to the soft morning light filtering through the curtains of her hotel room. She stretched, feeling the quiet comfort of having a day off—a rare luxury in her hectic schedule. No events, no shoots, no meetings. Just time for herself.

She reached for her phone, checking the time and scanning through her messages. Nothing urgent. She let out a relieved sigh. She had planned to spend the day doing whatever she felt like—maybe a quiet brunch, some shopping, and definitely a little self-care.

After getting ready in a relaxed, comfy outfit—nothing too extravagant—Cleo decided to head out for some fresh air. As she stepped outside, the weather in London was perfect—mild, with a slight breeze. She smiled, feeling the city’s energy pulse around her.

She grabbed a coffee at a nearby café, enjoying the anonymity of just being one person in the crowd. No cameras, no expectations. Just her and the city. The brief break from her usual influencer persona was like a breath of fresh air.

Sitting at a corner table with her coffee, Cleo caught up on some personal reading. She found herself losing track of time, absorbed in the pages, when her phone buzzed again.

It was a text from Aaron:

“Hope you’re enjoying your day off. If you’re not too busy, how about a casual meet-up later? No cameras. Just us. 😊”

Cleo couldn’t help but smile at the simplicity of his message. It wasn’t grand or showy—just an invitation to spend time together.

She replied quickly: “I’d like that. Where are you thinking?”

Aaron responded just as fast: “How about a low-key spot in Notting Hill? Some good food, good conversation. Let me know if that works for you.”

Cleo felt her pulse quicken slightly. Notting Hill was one of her favorite spots in London—charming, laid-back, and full of little hidden gems. She typed back: “Perfect. Let’s do it. What time?”

“How about 1 PM?” he replied.

She looked at the time—just enough for her to finish her coffee and wrap up the chapter she was reading. She smiled to herself. This felt like a nice change of pace.

By the time 1 PM rolled around, Cleo was dressed casually in a chic, minimalist outfit, with just the right touch of elegance. She wanted to look effortless but still put together. She left the hotel, heading for Notting Hill with the anticipation of seeing Aaron again, but this time, without the constraints of her influencer life.

She arrived at the café he’d mentioned and spotted him right away. He was leaning against a wall outside, dressed in a casual jacket, looking effortlessly cool. When their eyes met, he grinned.

“Glad you could make it,” he said, his voice low and warm.

Cleo returned his smile, feeling that flutter in her stomach again. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

They walked inside together, finding a quiet corner, the soft hum of conversation around them. For the first time in a while, Cleo felt like she could just be herself—no pretense, no cameras, just two people getting to know each other.

“So why this place?” She asks him.

Aaron leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he glanced around the cozy café. The exposed brick walls, warm lighting, and soft hum of jazz playing in the background gave it an intimate charm.

“I come here when I want a bit of peace,” he admitted, fingers lightly tapping against the rim of his coffee cup. “It’s not flashy, not packed with people trying to be seen. Just good food, good coffee, and a quiet place to think.”

Cleo studied him for a moment, appreciating his simplicity. In her world, everything was about visibility—being at the right places, in the right outfits, with the right crowd. But Aaron? He seemed to move differently, like he wasn’t caught up in any of that. It was refreshing.

“So, this is where the reclusive actor comes to hide?” she teased, sipping her drink.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Something like that. I like being able to sit and just… exist, you know?”

She nodded, understanding the feeling more than she let on. “I can respect that. You don’t seem like the type who craves attention.”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “Acting is what I love, but the whole fame thing? Not really my scene.”

She raised a brow, smirking. “And yet, here you are, having coffee with someone whose life revolves around social media and attention.”

Aaron tilted his head, his hazel eyes locking onto hers with quiet intensity. “That’s different,” he said.

“Oh yeah?” She leaned in slightly, intrigued. “How so?”

He shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee before answering. “You’re not just about the attention. You actually enjoy what you do. You put effort into your content, your brand. It’s not just for show. That’s why it doesn’t feel the same.”

Cleo blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Most people only saw the surface—her curated posts, her flawless images, the events, the luxury. But Aaron had taken the time to see past that.

She exhaled a soft laugh. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or suspicious of how observant you are.”

He smirked. “Maybe a bit of both.”

She shook her head, smiling. “You know, I didn’t expect to run into you again, let alone be here having this conversation.”

Aaron’s expression turned thoughtful. “Maybe it was supposed to happen.”

His words lingered between them, unspoken possibilities hanging in the air. Cleo wasn’t sure what to make of it yet, but she knew one thing—this was different. And she liked it.

He grabbed her hand and ran his thumb over the back of it.

Cleo felt a warmth spread through her at the gentle, almost absent-minded way Aaron traced his thumb over the back of her hand. It was such a simple touch, yet it sent a shiver up her spine. She glanced down at their hands, then back up at him, searching his face.

Aaron wasn’t trying to make a move—at least, not in the way most men did. He wasn’t trying to impress her with smooth lines or charm his way into something. He was just… there. Present. And the way his fingers lingered against her skin felt intentional, like he was memorizing the feel of her.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, his voice low and smooth, eyes studying hers.

She let out a small breathy laugh, shaking her head. “Just… not used to this.”

He raised a brow. “This?”

She gestured vaguely between them. “A man who doesn’t rush things. Who just—” She paused, searching for the right words. “—who just lets things be what they are.”

Aaron’s lips curled into a knowing smirk, but his touch never wavered. “That’s because I don’t believe in forcing things.” His thumb moved in a slow, soothing motion. “What’s meant to happen will happen. No need to rush it.”

Cleo swallowed, realizing how much she liked that answer. In her world, everything was about control—curating, planning, making sure things looked effortless even when they weren’t. But with him? There was no pressure, no performance.

She turned her hand over, lacing her fingers with his just slightly, testing the waters. His grip tightened just a little, enough to let her know he was right there with her.

“And what do you think is meant to happen here?” she asked softly, tilting her head.

Aaron’s hazel eyes darkened slightly, but he didn’t answer right away. Instead, he held her gaze, his thumb still tracing lazy circles against her skin. Then, with a small, knowing smile, he said,

“Guess we’ll have to find out.”

As they stepped out of the restaurant, the cool London air greeted them, crisp but not too harsh. The quiet hum of the city surrounded them, a few distant cars, the muffled chatter of people passing by. But in that moment, all Cleo could focus on was Aaron—his presence beside her, the way his hand hovered near hers, his fingers just barely brushing against her skin as they walked.

It wasn’t accidental. He wasn’t rushing to grab her hand, but he wasn’t pulling away either. It was that same unspoken energy between them, that slow, steady pull neither of them seemed to fight.

Cleo smirked, glancing up at him. “You always this smooth?”

Aaron chuckled, shoving his free hand into his pocket. “I’d like to think I’m just being myself.”

She hummed, tilting her head. “Dangerous.”

His brow lifted. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” she said, watching him. “Because that means you’re not even trying.”

Aaron stopped walking for a second, turning to face her fully. The streetlights cast a warm glow on his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the quiet intensity in his hazel eyes. He stepped a little closer, and for the first time, she felt the warmth of his palm completely envelop hers.

“I don’t have to try,” he said, his voice low. “Not with you.”

Cleo’s breath hitched.

The way he said it—so simple, so certain—made her pulse quicken. She was used to attention, used to men wanting her for what she could offer, for the image she curated. But Aaron? He wasn’t chasing anything. He wasn’t playing a game.

And that? That was more dangerous than anything.

She exhaled a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You really don’t know what you’re doing, do you?”

Aaron smirked, giving her hand a small squeeze before letting it go. “I guess we’ll both have to find out.”

He nodded toward the street. “C’mon, I’ll walk you back.”

Cleo should’ve let go of the moment, played it off as just another night, another conversation. But as they strolled through the quiet streets of Notting Hill, his arm brushing against hers, she knew—something about this felt different.

And for the first time in a long time, she was okay with not knowing exactly where it was going.

As they approached the entrance of her hotel, Cleo felt a weight settle in her chest. She didn’t want the night to end, didn’t want to step away from the warmth of his presence. Aaron had this way about him—calm, unassuming, but completely captivating.

She glanced up at him, noting how effortlessly he fit into the moment. Hands in his pockets, that quiet confidence in his posture, the way his eyes softened when they met hers. It was rare for her to feel this at ease with someone, especially someone she hadn’t known for long.

“So,” she said, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, stalling. “Guess this is goodnight?”

Aaron exhaled a small chuckle, nodding. “Looks that way.”

She hated how final that sounded.

He studied her for a second, as if he could read exactly what she was thinking. Then, with that same easy confidence, he took a small step closer.

“I had a good time,” he said, his voice low, warm.

Cleo let out a breathy laugh. “I did too.”

She expected him to make a move, to lean in, to test the waters with a kiss. But Aaron didn’t rush. Instead, he reached for her hand one more time, his fingers brushing against hers before he gave it a small squeeze.

“Get some rest,” he murmured.

Cleo felt a shiver run down her spine, not from the cold, but from the way his voice wrapped around her like a promise.

She smirked, tilting her head. “You always this much of a gentleman?”

Aaron smiled, stepping back. “Only when it’s worth it.”

Her stomach flipped.

He gave her one last lingering look before turning to leave. Cleo stood there for a moment, watching him disappear down the street, her heart pounding a little harder than she wanted to admit.

As she finally stepped inside, she let out a quiet sigh, shaking her head at herself.

She had no idea where this thing with Aaron was going.

But damn… she wanted to find out.

“Aaron.” She calls. Aaron stopped mid-step, turning back to face her. The way his name sounded coming from her lips—soft, almost hesitant—made something stir in his chest.

Cleo stood in the warm glow of the hotel entrance, her fingers gripping the strap of her purse. For a second, she seemed to weigh her words, her eyes flickering over his face like she was trying to memorize him in this moment.

He waited. Didn’t push. Didn’t speak.

Then, finally, she exhaled. “Stay.”

The word was simple, but the weight behind it was anything but.

Aaron’s brows lifted slightly, surprised. Not because he didn’t want to—he absolutely did—but because she was the one asking.

She bit her lip, shifting on her feet. “Not—” She shook her head. “I don’t mean like that. I just… I don’t want the night to end yet.”

Aaron’s lips curved into a slow smile.

“Okay,” he said simply.

Cleo let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, then turned, motioning for him to follow her inside.

Aaron fell into step beside her, his hand grazing her lower back as they walked through the lobby. It was subtle, barely there, but enough to send warmth spreading through her.

Maybe she was overthinking it. Maybe she was reading too much into this.

Or maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t the only one who didn’t want this moment to end.

As the night stretched on, their conversation drifted effortlessly between deep thoughts and lighthearted banter. They talked about everything and nothing—their favorite places to travel, the worst movies they’d ever seen, the little things that made them who they were.

Cleo felt herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t in a long time. With Aaron, there was no pressure to be “on,” no need to curate every word or moment for perfection. He just let things be.

And as she sat beside him, legs tucked under her on the couch, she became hyper-aware of how close they were. The space between them had shrunk without her even realizing it. His cologne—clean, warm, and subtly intoxicating—lingered in the air between them.

Her eyes flickered to his lips.

She wanted to kiss him.

The thought came suddenly, crashing into her with more force than she expected. She had been holding back all night, keeping things light, convincing herself that this was just a moment. But now?

Now, she wasn’t so sure.

Aaron must have noticed the shift because he paused mid-sentence, tilting his head slightly. “What?” he asked, his voice softer now, more knowing.

Cleo hesitated, her pulse quickening. “Nothing.”

A slow smirk tugged at his lips. “Liar.”

She exhaled a laugh, shaking her head. “You’re insufferable.”

Aaron chuckled, but his eyes held something deeper, something unreadable. He reached out, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. The simple gesture sent a shiver down her spine.

“You sure it’s nothing?” he asked, his voice lower now.

She swallowed, heart hammering.

Screw it.

Cleo leaned in, closing the distance between them.

The moment their lips met, it was soft—hesitant, almost like a question. But then Aaron responded, his hand coming up to cup the side of her face, his thumb grazing her cheek. He kissed her slowly, deliberately, like he had all the time in the world.

And maybe, in this moment, they did.

As soon as they pulled back, Cleo’s mind went into overdrive.

What was she thinking?

She mentally kicked herself, her pulse still racing from the kiss. She had told herself she wouldn’t get attached, that this was just a fleeting thing—two people enjoying each other’s company while they were in the same place. But now?

Now, she had gone and kissed him.

Aaron, meanwhile, was watching her carefully, his hazel eyes searching her face like he could hear every thought running through her mind. He didn’t look smug, didn’t push for more. He just waited, giving her space to react.

Cleo swallowed hard, forcing out a small, awkward laugh. “Well… that happened.”

Aaron’s lips twitched, amusement dancing in his gaze. “Yeah,” he said, his voice even, unreadable. “It did.”

She exhaled sharply, looking away. “I don’t usually do this.”

“What? Kiss?” he teased, tilting his head.

She shot him a look. “You know what I mean.”

Aaron smirked but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached out, tracing a slow circle on the back of her hand with his thumb. It was grounding—gentle, patient.

“Do you regret it?” he asked finally.

Cleo opened her mouth to respond but hesitated. Did she?

She knew she should. She should be pulling back, setting boundaries, reminding herself that he’d be heading back to London soon and she had her own life to return to.

But regret?

No. She didn’t regret it at all.

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “I just… I don’t know where this is going.”

Aaron nodded, his gaze steady. “Neither do I.”

His honesty caught her off guard. No promises, no empty reassurances—just the truth.

And maybe that was why she couldn’t seem to walk away.

Aaron didn’t hesitate this time. As soon as he saw the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, the way she seemed caught between overthinking and letting go, he made the choice for both of them.

He leaned in again, capturing her lips with his.

This kiss was different—deeper, more certain. It wasn’t just a question; it was an answer.

Cleo melted into it before she could stop herself. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his sweater as he pulled her closer, his hand resting at the small of her back. He was slow, deliberate, like he wanted her to feel every second of this, to know that this wasn’t just some impulsive moment to be brushed aside.

Her mind screamed at her to be careful, to guard herself, to remember that he wasn’t staying.

But the way he kissed her? The way he moved like he had no plans of letting go?

It made her wonder if maybe—just maybe—she wasn’t the only one afraid of what this was turning into.

She moaned softly into the kiss. That’s when she jolted away from him. Embarrassed.

The sound escaped before she could stop it—a soft, involuntary moan against his lips.

The moment she realized, her eyes flew open, and she jolted away from him, her entire body going rigid.

“Oh my God,” she muttered, pressing her fingers to her lips, embarrassment flooding through her.

Aaron blinked, clearly caught off guard, before a slow, knowing smile spread across his face. “Did you just—”

“Don’t.” She cut him off, holding up a hand, her face burning.

But Aaron? Oh, he was enjoying this. His smirk deepened as he leaned back against the couch, his gaze locked onto her. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, you know.”

She groaned, covering her face. “I am very embarrassed.”

He chuckled, running a hand over his jaw. “Why? It was kind of cute.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, shooting him a glare. “You would think that.”

Aaron just shrugged, his eyes still dancing with amusement. But there was something else in his expression too—something softer. He didn’t tease her beyond that, didn’t push. He just let her have her moment to recover.

Cleo took a deep breath, trying to regain some sense of composure. “I—maybe we should slow down.”

Aaron nodded, his expression turning more serious. “If that’s what you want.”

She searched his face, expecting disappointment or frustration. But there was none. Just patience. Understanding.

That, more than anything, made her chest tighten.

She sighed, finally lowering her hands. “I just… I don’t want to rush into something messy.”

Aaron studied her for a moment before nodding again. “Then we won’t rush.”

Simple. No arguments. No pressure.

And somehow, that made her want him even more.

She moved in closer to him. Impulse control and embarrassment be damned. If he thought it was cute, just maybe. She leaned in again.

Cleo didn’t think. Didn’t overanalyze.

Impulse control and embarrassment be damned.

If he thought it was cute—if he wasn’t running, wasn’t making her feel ridiculous for being vulnerable—then maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to hold back.

She leaned in again, closing the space between them, her hand resting lightly against his chest.

Aaron didn’t hesitate. His arms slid around her, pulling her in as their lips met again. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing.

His kiss was slow and deep, deliberate in a way that made her stomach flip. His hands stayed respectful but firm, anchoring her against him. And when she sighed softly against his lips, he answered with a low hum of approval that sent a shiver down her spine.

She was losing herself in him, in the way he kissed like he had nowhere else to be, like this moment was the only thing that mattered.

And maybe, for now, it was.

Once apart he smiles. “Was that so hard to let go?” He asks. “Plus don’t be embarrassed about those cute little moans.” He says.

Cleo rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the smile tugging at her lips.

“You would bring that up again,” she muttered, lightly shoving his chest.

Aaron chuckled, catching her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. “I mean, was it so hard to let go?” he asked, his voice teasing but gentle.

She exhaled, shaking her head. “You don’t understand. I don’t do this—getting caught up, letting things just… happen.”

Aaron studied her, his hazel eyes warm. “Maybe you should,” he said simply. “Not everything has to be planned.”

She bit her lip, looking down at their intertwined fingers. He was making this feel too easy. Too natural.

Then he smirked. “And for the record,” he added, voice dipping lower, “don’t be embarrassed about those cute little moans.”

Her head snapped up. “Aaron.”

He laughed, squeezing her hand before bringing it to his lips for a quick, soft kiss. “What? Just saying I like them.”

She groaned, burying her face in his shoulder, but the warmth spreading through her told her she wasn’t really mad.

Not even a little.

Cleo’s thoughts raced as she rested against him, her heart still fluttering from the kiss, from his words, from him.

She wanted this. Wanted him.

But she knew better than to push.

Aaron was still finding his footing in all of this—his career, his privacy, his own comfort with letting someone in. She knew he wasn’t the type to rush things, and the last thing she wanted was to make him feel pressured.

Still, the way he held her, the way he looked at her—it made her wonder.

Was he thinking the same thing? Did he want this to be more than fleeting moments in different cities?

She exhaled against his shoulder, letting herself stay in the warmth of his embrace for just a little longer. Maybe she didn’t have all the answers right now.

But maybe she didn’t need them just yet.

Aaron noticed the slight shift in her body, the way she tensed just a little before exhaling like she was trying to steady herself.

He didn’t say anything at first, just let his hand trail soothingly up and down her back. But he wasn’t oblivious—he could feel her thoughts running a mile a minute.

“You’re overthinking,” he murmured, tilting his head to look at her.

Cleo huffed a soft laugh but didn’t deny it. “Can you blame me?”

Aaron studied her for a moment, then shook his head. “No. But you don’t have to.”

She pulled back slightly, searching his face. “I just…” She sighed, trying to find the right words. “I like you, Aaron. And I know you have your own pace, your own way of doing things. I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for.”

Aaron’s lips pressed together, his thumb still absently tracing patterns on her hand. “And what if I am ready?” he asked, voice low, thoughtful.

Cleo blinked. “You are?”

He let out a small chuckle. “I don’t do things halfway, Cleo. If I wasn’t serious about this… about you�� I wouldn’t be here.”

Her heart skipped. She felt it—his sincerity, his quiet certainty.

“So what are you saying?” she asked, voice softer now.

Aaron met her gaze, his expression steady. “I’m saying… if you want me, I’m yours.”

Her breath caught.

No hesitation. No games.

Just him, laying it out as simply as that.

“Hell. These last six months have been amazing and if you know you know.” He says.

Cleo stared at him, her heart thudding a little harder. Six months. Had it really been that long?

Between their chance meeting in L.A., the quiet moments, the long conversations, the undeniable pull between them—it all blurred together in the best way.

“Hell,” Aaron continued, his voice steady. “These last six months have been amazing, and if you know, you know.”

She swallowed, her lips parting slightly. “And you know?” she asked, searching his face for any sign of doubt.

Aaron nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. I do.”

His words settled deep inside her, warming something she didn’t even realize had been cold.

For so long, she had guarded herself, kept things light, casual. But here he was—this man who had slipped into her life with his quiet confidence and steady presence—telling her exactly what she had been too scared to admit to herself.

She exhaled a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Damn you, Aaron.”

His brows lifted. “What?”

“You’re making this way too easy.”

Aaron grinned, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Love isn’t supposed to be hard, Cleo.”

Love.

The word hung between them, unspoken yet fully understood.

She looked at him, really looked at him, and in that moment, she knew.

So she smiled, cupping his face in her hands. “Then I guess you’re mine, too.”

“We don’t have to put titles on anything yet. But I’m all in if you are.” He says.

Cleo felt a wave of relief wash over her. Aaron always had a way of making things feel right—no pressure, no expectations, just an understanding between them.

She nodded slowly, letting the moment settle. “I like that,” she admitted. “No titles, no rush. Just us.”

Aaron smiled, his fingers still tracing along the back of her hand. “Exactly.”

She studied him, memorizing the way his hazel eyes softened when he looked at her, the way he made her feel safe without even trying.

“You’re really all in?” she asked, needing to hear it one more time.

He squeezed her hand gently. “All in.”

Cleo let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Then, unable to stop herself, she leaned in again, pressing a soft kiss to his lips—this one slower, deeper, like a silent agreement.

When she pulled back, Aaron’s smirk was undeniable. “See?” he murmured. “Letting go isn’t so hard.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t fight her smile. “Shut up.”

Aaron chuckled, pulling her close again. “Make me.”

And just like that, she knew she was done for.

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