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pboogerswbb · 1 day ago

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SO IT GOES - chapter 11

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content (smut), uhh badly proofread Wordcount: 7.7K A/C: hii i know i know i promised this yesterday but i nearly had a panic attack so i couldn't, my bad. i'm good now! please enjoy this before paige's last game at XL :((

Before London

“So as everyone can see, here we have a list of statistics showing the viewership per video and definitely can see an increase from last year, content with Paige seems to do extremely well like we…”

Linda’s voice blends into the background sounds of cutlery and plates and chatter filling the dining hall. For some reason my boss thought an impromptu media team meeting was in order and showed up to College Park Center unannounced. She wanted to catch up on what sort of content attracted most viewership, and to evaluate what worked and what didn’t. I couldn’t have cared less - all I knew is I was doing a good job, fantastic even. I’m not sure why I had to sit through something I already knew just to have Linda reiterate it to me. It wasn’t like me to be resistant to a meeting, or to praise from my superior but I was far too distracted.

My eyes involuntarily keep travelling to the table on the far right where Paige was sitting with her teammates, voice echoing around the walls of the building. A sound I fear I might never get tired of. The blonde is leaning back on her chair, chugging water, biceps more prominent than usual after spending all morning in the weight room. I knew this because she had driven me to work, despite having time off saying she needed to lift. I knew it wasn’t in her schedule as I had, almost accidentally, memorised it. Still there she had been, outside my door with a hazelnut latte, always somehow the perfect temperature whenever she brought me my coffee order. I hated when it was too hot.

As if sensing me, her blue eyes shift from Arike to me, locking with my gaze. Immediately I blush, trying to hide the smirk growing onto my face. But I can’t, so I cover my mouth with my hand to hide it from the team, particularly Linda, Paige’s mouth twisting into a bright smile in response. Yet we don’t break eye contact, keeping our eyes on each other.

Linda had been surprisingly credulous to my claims of a migraine when I missed work just a couple days ago. Since the night the blonde turned my entire world on its head. I hadn’t been able to think of anything ever since except the weight of her lips on my skin, her eager touch and starved eyes. I had been craving her every second since we drove back to Dallas. I needed more. As much as it pained me to admit.

With a grin on her face, Paige grabs her phone and types for a while, my screen lighting up with a notification.

Paige

Did i say how beautiful you look today yet

I blush, tapping underneath the table.

You did. A few times in the car.

Matter of fact she had been repeating it between sentences, and almost crashed the car twice because of how badly she had been staring.

Gotta tell you again

Takin my breath away all the way from over there

Finest girl I swearrrrr

I can’t help but smile.

You look like you’re breathing fine 🙄

I lift my gaze, seeing the blonde rubbing her chest and looking at her phone with a smirk.

Trust me ma

What Linda doin here?

Some sort of unnecessary meeting, I’m not sure why.

What time you getting off work?

I have a couple things to do after this but if you’re done you can go home, I’ll take a cab.

Fuck no i’ll wait

I could do some stretchin

You should join me

I let out a silent chuckle, shaking my head to myself.

Paige!!

What??? Would be good for those tense muscles yk

Could think of sum other stuff to relax you too 😏😏

With a scoff I glance at the blonde who’s already looking with a playful, devilish grin. I look at her scoldingly, watching as she raises her brows and bites her lower lip to kill the smile before pointing at her phone, showing me she wants me to reply.

Why do I have an idea of what that might be?

Yeah?

“So what do you think Izara?” Linda asks, snapping me back to reality.

“Uhh… Of?” I murmur, placing my phone screen down onto the table, thighs burning with the memory of how good the blonde had made me feel just a few days before.

“Do you think we can reach our goal followers-wise or are we being too ambitious?”

I quickly pull myself together, though I’ve barely heard a word. “Certainly if we keep pumping out content every day.” I don’t actually even know what goal we’re talking about.

However, my answer satisfies Linda, her mouth twisting into a smile. “Excellent!”

“Excuse me,” I hum, getting up from the table to grab an extra bottle of water. Paige, who has been watching, does the same, unable to not take advantage of the opportunity to talk to me.

I feel a gentle bump on my arm, eyes immediately snapping to the girl who’s looking smug as I eye the bottles.

“Hey pretty girl,” she whispers, placing a hand on my lower back. I quickly glance back at the media team to make sure no one was looking. To my relief they’re all too busy leaning in to stare at Trey who’s showcasing our latest content on his phone.

“Hey you,” I reply, my voice soft, quiet so no one can hear. Paige stands behind me, eyes skimming the different bottles of drinks as if mulling over her decision on what to get. But I know better. She’s stalling to stay talking to me. We had barely had any time to spend alone, my mind too busy wrapped up with work, Paige spending every waking moment on the court trying to get her shot back.

“What are you doing tonight?” I ask, reaching over for the bottle and holding it in my hand. Paige thinks for a second, grabbing a bottle of gatorade. All I can do is stare at her hands, mesmerised. Perfect hands that made me feel so incredible.

“Uhh nothing, why?”

“I’m coming over.”

Paige’s ears turn red, as she clears her throat, the idea immediately getting the younger girl flustered.

“Y-Yeah okay Iz,” she whispers, voice trembling a little. The effect I have on the girl makes me smile. It pleased me to know I had so much power over her. Little did she know she held just as much power over me, I was just much better at hiding it. However, my cheeks turn a hint of pink thinking about the possibilities of what might happen once we get a moment alone.

“Okay Paige,” I smile, eyes stuck on her flushed face. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

Waiting a couple hours had turned out to be much harder than I had planned, the thought of Paige’s hands on my body enough to have me growing wet in a matter of minutes. I couldn’t bear to wait a moment longer to feel the younger girl on me. Paige had felt the same, which had led us to our current predicament, my back pushed against the door of the storage room, the girl kissing my neck feverishly as my hands roam her body. The door handle digs into my lower back painfully but I barely notice.

“Paige,” I whimper, but she silences me with a heated kiss, tongue slipping past my lips into my mouth. My kisses are needy, desperate, a quiet moan spilling out when Paige’s hand kneads my ass, my short skirt hiking up as she does.

“You’re so sexy ma,” the blonde groans, lips glistening as she pulls back to look at me. “Killing me in a skirt like that.”

“Wore it for you,” I tease. Paige melts, moaning just from my words.

My arms wrap around her shoulders as I pull her back into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss by her hair. The blonde groans, lifting my skirt to squeeze the bare skin underneath, eyes opening to see the purple silk panties I was wearing. I hadn’t been prepared for the first time we slept together the way I liked to be, but after a meeting with my wax lady and a vigorous exfoliation routine last night I was prepared for her, my skin silky and smooth all for her from my head to my toes.

“Look at that,” she whispers, pulling back enough to admire the underwear sitting against my golden skin. “Goddamn.”

“Want you,” I hum, looking at her with round, pleading eyes. Paige takes a deep breath through her nose, groaning as she throws her head back. I know I’m driving her insane.

“We can’t,” she mumbles, rubbing the bridge of her nose in frustration. I’m taken back, slightly embarrassed. I never thought she’d reject me.

“Why not?”

Paige notices the surprise in my face, her blue eyes widening. “No, I want to. So fucking bad, you got no idea baby,” she starts, looking me up and down.

“Then what’s the problem?” I ask, getting annoyed which in turn makes my brows furrow.

“Iz I can’t just keep sleeping with you,” she sighs. “You’re more than that. You deserve more.”

I shake my head, pulling Paige back in by her sweaty T-shirt. She kisses me softly, nuzzling her nose into mine.

“I don’t care. I want you,” I repeat, the ache between my thighs nearly unbearable.

“I care,” the girl whispers, resting her forehead on mine. “Need to take you out on a date before we… y’know.”

I’m surprised, my eyes fluttering open.

“Need to do this right Izzie,” she hums, kissing the top of my head. “Need to take you out before I do all the things I’ve been dying to do to you.”

I nearly collapse at her words, grateful for the strength of her grip on my hips.

“Oh,” I say, feeling the blonde pull my skirt back down hesitantly.

“Please, lemme treat you right ma,” she pleads, kissing both my cheeks softly. “Lemme take you out. Been dying to, ever since I saw you. Please.”

Taking a deep breath, I look at my reflection in the mirror once more. White shorts and a white oversized button up, both neatly pressed not a single wrinkle on them. I’ve really gotten tan here. I lean closer to add the signature diamond studs onto my ears, smoothing over the hair slicked back into a low bun. I check my nails one more time, making sure each one is short and filed up to my standards. No, not mine. Up to Izzie’s standards. I look good, I wanted everything to be perfect for her. For my gorgeous, perfect London girl.

I grab the huge bouquet of white lilies and head downstairs, toying with my silver chain as I knock on the door. I don’t remember the last time I had been nervous over a girl before Izzie. So much for my plans to stay celibate this season. Like clockwork, the door opens.

I feel breathless when I see her. She’s wearing a bronze coloured satin dress, the perfect contrast against her skin, with spaghetti straps and a slightly plunging neckline, her breasts on display just enough to make me wanna look for a little too long. The dress isn’t too tight, clinging to her curves in all the right places, the hem ending at her calves. Her skin glows from her arms decorated with gold bracelets, all the way down to her calves and feet, beautifully arched in matching sandals. Izzie looks stunning, glowing with the power of a hundred suns.

I let out a low whistle, unsure what to say. I feel flustered, nervous in front of her. It was as if I was seeing her for the first time all over again, two months ago in this same hallway.

“Whoa,” is all I can say, my palms sweating already.

Izzie giggles and then she does something I’ll never get over. She simply tilts her head, sharp eyes sparkling at me, slender fingers reaching over and fixing the collar of my shirt. And my knees nearly buckle.

“We don’t need to go out,” I mutter, leaning down to kiss the girl. But she tuts softly, pulling back and placing two fingers on my chin to stop me sternly.

“Lipgloss,” she grins, pushing my face back by my jaw playfully. “And yes we do, took me three hours to get ready.”

I can see that, every strand of her black hair carefully set in uniform waves running down her back. All I can do is stare at her, mouth open.

“Paige?” Izzie giggles.

“What?” I ask, cheeks bright red.

“The flowers?”

I glance down at the bouquet in my hand, handing them to the girl. “Oh yeah, these are for you,” I laugh awkwardly, nearly unable to look the girl in the eye.

“I love lilies,” she gleams, inhaling their scent and humming contentedly.

“I know, you told me,” I smile, stepping in as she turns her back on me to put the flowers in a vase. My eyes travel from her hair downwards to the curve of her ass just for a moment, fighting the urge to pull up the hem and dive between her legs. I quickly glance up, trying to keep myself in check. Date first. Be respectful.

“You remembered,” Izzie smiles to herself, setting the flowers onto her dining table. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

The girl turns to me, throwing her hands around my shoulders and kissing me lovingly.

“What about your lipgloss?” I mumble against her lips, one hand on her lower back, the other on her neck pulling her in.

“I’ll reapply,” she sighs. I loved the way she was, meticulous and disciplined. But my God did I adore the way she had loosened up around me, the way she seemed to have a newfound ease about her. How she arrived to work yesterday wearing pants and flats, giggling with her co-workers lightheartedly, the pearls of her laughter echoing around every room she entered.

“Shit,” I pull back from the kiss with a struggle. “I got us a car baby, we should go.”

Iz whines in a way that pulls at my heartstrings, her brows furrowing in desperation, tracing her fingers up and down my arms, squeezing my biceps that had grown exponentially during my time in the league.

“You look so gorgeous,” Izzie hums, smoothing over my collar one last time, leaning close and pressing a kiss onto my collarbone. My eyes flutter shut momentarily.

“C’mon,” I sigh. “If we don’t go now we ain’t ever gon leave.”

“Paige,” I gasp as she opens the car door for me and I realise where we are.

“What? You like?” The blonde grins, offering her hand to help me out and watching my face for approval. I step onto the pavement, wrapping my arm around hers as we walk into the building, the doorman letting us in with a polite smile. We step into the gorgeous, high-end restaurant, Paige smoothly letting the hostess know that we had arrived.

I had mentioned Monarch countless times in conversation, brought up how the customer from Dallas that left an irrevocable mark on me made me swear to dine there at least once in my life. It was on the pricier side, and I’d grown used to a certain lifestyle which my current pay couldn't maintain so I had been burning through my savings - it simply wasn’t in the budget. Except now, with this millionaire girl on my arm I suppose it did. Truthfully, I would’ve been happy with less. But I won’t lie that she really hit the nail on the head with this one. I mean she listened. Remembering my brother’s name, my favourite flower, now this? She really listened to me. I didn’t know it could be like this.

“Paige,” is all I can mutter out with a happy sigh, my mouth twisting to a smile. Paige tugs at her silver chain absentmindedly, her eyes flickering around the room before always landing back on me.

I slide myself into the booth, Paige following behind me, making me laugh.

“Paige, your plate is on that side,” I giggle, pointing to the set cutlery opposite of me.

“I’ll ask em to move it over here,” she mumbles, her arm snaking around my waist and pulling me close so my side presses into hers, the pressure of her thigh on mine.

“Isn’t that gonna look a little silly?” I chuckle, watching as Paige reaches over the table and moves her entire table arrangement next to mine. I blush, looking around hoping no one noticed. This was a nice place. I could tell it wasn’t the blonde’s scene. Something about that made this even more endearing. It was all for me.

“Ion care if it does, it’s too far from you,” she whines, entangling her fingers with mine underneath the table. My eyes land on her blue ones, her face only a few inches from me. Paige licks her lips, her gaze flickering to my lips. I feel a familiar ache between my thighs return just from the sheer proximity of the blonde, and the smell of her cologne.

“Wanna kiss you so bad right now,” she whispers, both our breathing growing heavy. I nod, wanting the same. But we both knew it was better not to. After Luka was traded out of Dallas Paige was one of the biggest athletes in the entire city. A household name easily. We weren’t just sneaking around behind Linda’s back, we had to keep this on the low from the whole world. It’s not like we had to talk about it - we both knew it.

“Gotta wait,” I hum, jumping slightly as the waiter interrupts the moment, looking to take our orders. Paige, in her American manner, orders multiple side dishes and salads for us to share, the table filled with Wagyu Carpaccio and Octopus. But the real star of the night is the lamb, which the customer made me swear to get if I ever ended up at Monarch.

“Oh my Gosh,” I groan quietly, letting the meat melt into my mouth. I smooth the napkin on my lap, the luxurious linen smooth underneath my palm. Taking a sip of my Merlot, I notice Paige beside me, cutting the gorgeous lamb into multiple bite-size pieces before putting the knife down and beginning to eat with the fork. I watch, astonished, amused and embarrassed at the same time.

“You are so American,” I laugh, swallowing the wine and covering my mouth. The younger girl turns to me, confused.

“Whatchu mean?” She giggles but I eye her plate, rolling my eyes.

“Can you not eat with a fork and a knife at the same time?” I ask, raising my brows. Paige huffs, though the small curl a the corner of her mouth tells me she’s basking in my slightly condescending tone, the scolding lilt of my voice.

“Guess you’ll have to teach me your fancy English ways huh?”

“Oh my Gosh,” I sigh amused.

“The fork is in the wrong handddd,” she complains, continuing to eat, fork on the right hand. I make a mental note to teach her table manners before she meets my parents. Then, realising that she never would, decide to stay quiet. This is just a fling, a summer romance at most. A rebound - it’s what I tell myself to ease the slight panic in my chest when I thought more about what the end of the season would bring, me going back home to London, leaving my American girl here. My one summer in Dallas, cruel and much too short. Just a few months is all we’d ever get. Against my nature, I try not to worry about it, hoving the anxiety to some deep, dark corner of my mind, under all the other things I didn’t want to deal with.

The moment I notice my glass is empty, the blonde is already reaching for the jug of water and pouring me some. I watch closely, heart fluttering with affection.

Dinner is amazing, a dream come true. The food, of course, delicious. But even better is the satisfied smile on the dark haired girl’s face. The way her eyes gleamed every time she looked at me. The sound of her sweet laughter whenever I did anything she redeemed “American”. The slightly condescending manner with which she corrected my table manners, praising me every time I did something right. Every cell in me wanted to please her. Hear more of her “good job” and “that’s it”. Feel the hand on my shoulder squeezing, affirming her words. I was ecstatic, even more so knowing that this was just the first of many dates. That I would get to take Izara out for years to come, hear her praises forever if I played my cards right. And I desperately wanted this to be forever. I know I was going way too fast. But I couldn’t help my mind from picturing her in a white dress, playing with our children, waiting for me at home after practice.

“I’m so full,” Izzie sighs, leaning back against the booth and rubbing up and down my arm affectionately. “You did so good with this darling.”

I melt, my eyes nearly rolling back at her praise, never mind the pet name.

“Lemme order you some dessert,” I nearly whine, my plate finished much earlier than Izara’s.

The girl leans over and checks the dessert menu, quickly skimming it over and scrunching her face.

“You too full baby?”

“Could we just go out and get some ice cream from a stand?” The girl asks, her green eyes fluttering at me. How could I ever say no?

“You sure? They got some nice dessert here. Fancy,” I ask, flipping the menu over in my hand. I wanted the girl to have whatever she wanted. I wanted to give her the entire world.

Izzie nods, placing her hand on my thigh. “Don’t want fancy, just want some ice cream.” I’m surprised, thinking the fancier the better. Maybe I was wrong.

The Dallas night is still as hot as the day, but there’s a pleasant breeze in place of the scorching sun from earlier. Izara looks even more beautiful in the glow of the city lights and under the twinkling night sky. I can’t tear my eyes away, nearly running into a pole from staring at her so much.

“Could I taste yours?” Izzie asks, handing me her chocolate ice cream cone. Wordlessly, without hesitation, I give her my strawberry cone, honestly ready to turn around and order five more of them for her.

I watch closely as Izara’s tongue darts out to taste the ice cream, a jolt running down my spine to my core, with dirty thoughts flooding my mind.

“Mmh, this is delicious,” she murmurs.

“Take it,” I say without hesitation. Izzie hums, accepting my offer quickly. Almost as if she expected it. Something about it drove me wild.

We walk around the city, hand in hand, easily blending in with the crowd, not worrying about familiar faces, making sure that with every turn I was walking on the street side, keeping her safe. I felt proud walking side by side with Izara, knowing that people walking by knew she was all mine. That I got a girl like this, far from my league. I wanted everyone to know that she’s mine - having to keep this hidden would turn out to be much harder than I imagined. Still, the idea of this being our little secret felt exciting.

The breeze and the ice cream cause goosebumps to form all over Izzie’s arms, a slight chill running through her. I curse myself in my head for not bringing a sweater, making a mental note to never go anywhere without one for her from now on.

“You ever miss London?” I ask, pulling her closer by her waist out of the way of someone walking by.

“No,” she quickly replies, surprisingly bluntly. I’m taken aback.

“Not at all?”

Izzie shakes her head. “Too many bad things in London.”

I immediately understand what she means. Jasper. At least the desperate phone calls had seemed to stop.

“You really don’t miss anything?”

The dark haired girl thinks for a while. “Well, I miss the chocolate. Nothing here tastes like Cadbury.”

We walk around, eager to finish the chocolate ice cream Iz ordered, but I slow down, trying to match the pace with which she’s eating out of politeness. My blue eyes roam her face, trying to memorise each little detail. Her dark, perfectly arched brows, long lashes darkened with mascara, plump lips with only a hint of the lipstick from earlier, fading from eating the ice cream. Her dark curls stick to her neck, desperate to escape the carefully shaped waves, golden necklace dangling at her collarbone. I reach over, my cold fingers making the girl jump when they adjust the clasp, dragging against her skin from the base of her neck to the back.

We come to a stop, Izara’s green eyes lined with black glimmering, her face turning different colors as ads flash red, blue, green on a screen by the sidewalk. The words spill from between my lips faster than I can think, let alone stop myself.

“I really like you Iz,” I murmur, looking into the girl’s eyes. “I mean, I think I’m fallin’ for you.”

Her breath hitches, eyes softening only for a moment, and then widening. With surprise? With panic? I’m not sure. I wouldn’t blame her. It wasn’t something you said on a first date. I wanted to smack the back of my own head for that. I quickly look up, in a momentary prayer hoping God would let me rewind just 20 seconds. But no one answers my request.

“Shit, I’m sorry if it’s too much. You don’t gotta say anything okay?” I tell Izzie, avoiding her gaze.

“It’s okay love,” she smiles, thumb brushing against my skin comfortingly. However, I see a hint of hesitation on her face. “But Paige I thi-”

“Look, let’s just forget I said that aight?” I ask, my chest aching, begging to God I didn’t just ruin this before it could even start.

“Paige,” Iz sighs, trying to comfort me. But I could tell she felt uneasy about something. “I think we just gotta remember that we need to be really careful about this, yeah?”

I sigh nodding. She’s right. “Yeah.”

“I mean the stakes aren't the same for you and me. If we get caught,” she starts, letting out a heavy breath. “I’ll be back in London in no time. You however would be completely fine.”

I nod, wanting the girl to know I was really hearing her out. “Gon be really careful okay?”

“No slip ups.”

“No ma’am,” I answer reassuringly.

“And you can’t tell anyone. Not a soul. Not Arike, not Lou, no one. They can’t know.”

“I agree,” I tell the girl. “Look, I meant what I said. Whatever you want me to be I’mma be.”

The girl smiles, for a moment I think there’s a hint of sadness there, but it’s gone just as fast as it appeared. “Today’s been… amazing.”

I bite my lower lip, hand coming to her lower back just for a moment. There was nothing in this world that felt as good as hearing her praise. Maybe winning the national championship. Top two things I’ve ever experienced.

“Wanted it to be special for you, Iz,” I hum, blushing a little. Just as she’s about to answer, her phone rings.

“It’s Trey,” she murmurs. Of course it is. I can’t help but roll my eyes, watching as she raises the phone to her ear and answers. That’s how we walk back to the car, the girl next to me talking animatedly on the phone about whatever, my irritation growing with each moment. I knew they were friends. But everytime she giggled or laughed at whatever the man on the phone was saying, my jaw clenched and breathing grew heavier.

“Okay, Trey I really must go. I’ll see you in a couple days,” Izzie, who had been trying to politely end the call, says. I hear Trey’s defiant protests all the way from the driver’s seat, making me want to grab the girl’s phone and hang up for her.

Iz laughs politely at whatever he said. “Treeyy, I’ll talk to you about this at work okay? Alright, bye now.”

Finally, she hangs up.

“I’m so sorry, I thought it might be about work but he was just calling to explain about some sort of couch he was considering getting,” Iz chuckles, finally turning her gaze to me.I feel my annoyance settle down the moment her eyes land on me. Having her attention just had the effect of soothing me. Still, it bothered me that the girl was so oblivious to Trey’s obsession with her. I sigh, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

“What?” Izzie asks, noticing my irritation as we sit in the parked car.

“You know he likes you, right?”

Izara rolls her eyes. “Don’t start with that again.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not.”

I turn to her, raising my brows. “You prolly don’t see it but I do. He’s always calling or texting you, following you around or tryna touch you. All the time. He obsessed, trust.”

Izzie scoffs, turning to me. “I think you’re just reading into it too much.”

I shake my head. “He likes you.”

She looks like she's about to get defensive, but then her face softens. “Well, even if he does, I don’t care.”

“You don’t?” I ask, my voice growing needy.

“No darling,” she hums quietly, reaching over and placing her dainty hand on mine. “I couldn’t care less about Trey.”

My heart flutters, the warmth in my chest spreading all over my body, chills forming underneath her touch. All the frustration and annoyance that had been growing are replaced with affection now that I feel reassured

“Yeah?” I ask carefully, nearly flinching at how whiny it comes out.

Izzie smiles, leaning over the center console and kissing my cheek. I catch a whiff of the pear and lavender notes of her perfume, my head spinning.

“Yeah.”

I lean over too, my lips finally crashing against hers, both hands holding her face gently like a baby bird, doing everything in my power not to disrupt her. Her lips taste like strawberries, and a hint of red wine from dinner. The wine had loosened Izzie up, her body turning into putty in the passenger seat just from one kiss.

Her hands wrap around my neck, scratching at the back of my neck to pull me impossibly closer. I groan, arousal growing quickly between my thighs. A passing car honks, reminding me of our surroundings and the fact that the windows were not tinted. At the sudden realisation, I pull back abruptly, wiping my lips.

Izzie looks breathless, cheeks flushed and lips parted and glossy.

You wanna come to mine, ma?” I ask, or rather plead. The thought of getting to bring her home after had been the only force to give me the strength to keep my hands to myself all night.

“Yes,” she simply exhales. I feel a thrill, pulling out of the parking lot and beginning to head towards our home, my hand never leaving her thigh, mind filled with the thoughts of lifting the skirt and diving into her.

My chest heaves as we climb the stairs, Izara’s heels tapping against the marble and echoing in the corridor. As I open the door, I let the dark-haired girl in, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

“Whoa,” she gasps. Stepping inside after her, I watch her face brighten as a trail of red rose petals on the floor leads all the way to the bedroom, just as I had set them before picking her up.

I step closer, pressing my front against her back, leaning down to kiss her neck as my hands find their position on her waist. I loved that even in heels she was a few inches shorter than me. Her body melts into me quickly, the curve of her ass pressing into my hips. The satin is smooth and cool under my fingertips, and her neck smells like her perfume and the fruity hair products she uses. Guava?

“You did this?” she asks, her voice gasping as my lips glide against her neck, feeling for her pulse under my kisses.

Finally, I find the steady beating on the side of her long neck, my lips wrapping around it and sucking. Izzie exhales softly, her hands finding mine at her waist.

“Mhmm,” I hum, nuzzling my nose into her ear before kissing it feverishly. I needed her so desperately, like I had been travelling the desert for days and finally found an oasis filled with fresh water and sweet fruit and cool shade. I’m surprised I’m even able to stand upright.

“Oh so you knew I’d be coming over? That’s how you see me?” Her voice is stern, sending a jolt through my body. It makes me want to get on my knees and apologize, repent.

“N-No baby, I mean I was hopin’ but I didn’t assume. Iz, I swear I don-”

I’m joking, Paige,” she laughs, craning her neck to look into my face, an amused smile on her lips. My cheeks turn red as I laugh at myself.

I walk the girl forward, following the rose petals into the bedroom. They reach the bed, the white sheets decorated with the flower petals as well. Izara looks around, a smile on her face. I feel the ache between my thighs grow knowing I had made her happy.

Before I can say anything, she flips around to face me, kissing me heatedly. Her mouth is wide open against mine, tongue circling mine and fingers digging into my shoulders.

“Lemme light the candles,” I hiss, furrowing my brows and trying to pull away. But Izzie pulls me in by my collar, kissing me again.

“Fuck the candles,” she murmurs and, to my surprise, walks me backward into the bed.

I crash onto my back, Izzie pushing me down by my chest. “Let me dim the lights,” she says, but I grab her hand.

“Please don’t,” I whisper, my brows furrowing. “Wanna see you baby.”

She hesitates for a moment, but I grab her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing it gently. “Please.”

Izzie pulls her hand back, convinced by the simple gesture, and reaches behind her back to her zipper. She unzips the dress far too slow, driving me insane. I wanted her now. So I whine, furrowing my brows and squirming on the bed, but the girl only shakes her head, slipping one strap off her shoulder. I nearly pass out.

“Patience,” Iz tells me, her voice low and gravelly. I can’t look away, wetting my lips with my tongue as I watch the second strap fall from her shoulder, the dress finally hitting the floor.

“Oh shit,” I murmur to myself, my boxers growing wetter and wetter the moment I realise she wasn’t wearing a bra at all, her body only covered with black lace panties. My gaze is stuck on her chest though, her round breasts covered in goosebumps. Breathing heavy, I sit up, mouth watering to wrap my lips around her hard nipple, to knead the skin.

“Nuh uh,” Izzie snaps, pushing me back down onto my back. I feel a thrill, surprised to find how much this turned me on. I was so used to being the one in charge, I didn’t even know how insanely hot it would be for the dark haired girl to be giving me commands. Though, in hindsight, I probably should have known from the way my core throbbed everytime she demanded something from me.

“Iz,” I groan, watching as her nimble fingers begin to unbutton my shirt, painfully slowly. I feel like I might pass out.

“Remember what I said baby,” she hums, straddling my hips, thighs becoming even thicker on both sides of me as she sits down on them. Izzie leans down, lips hovering over my ear, hot breath tickling it. “Patience,” she whispers, and then ghosts my skin, leaving me writhing.

Finally she pulls my shirt open, revealing the white sports bra underneath. Her long nail drags from my neck downwards, to my chest, and finally to the muscles of my abdomen.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whine, watching the way her eyes darken as she gazes down at me. My hands come to her hips, easily reaching over to knead her ass. To my relief, she lets me, exhaling heavily and throwing her head back as I feel her skin. My hands feel up her sides, to her breast, kneading them in each hand and bucking my hips to look for any relief on my soaked core.

My chest heaves vigorously, right hand dragging downwards, down the skin of her stomach, fingertips dipping into the band. I needed to feel her. Now. I was dying, and I needed to make sure she didn’t feel like I did, desperate and throbbing.

“No,” Iz says, grabbing my wrist. I look at her pleadingly, eyes nearly welling up at the thought of how wet she might be.

“Please,” I whine. “Ride my fingers ma.”

Izzie’s eyes flutter shut at this, but sternly, she shakes her head. leaning down to kiss me. It’s sloppy, our tongues meeting in heated movements, spit covering both our mouths. The girl on top of me continues her open mouthed kisses, finding her way from my neck downwards. It’s then I realise what she’s about to do, the puddle between my legs growing unbearable.

I maneuver upward on the bed, too wet to notice the nervousness in the girl’s eyes when she starts kissing along the band of my shorts, hands coming to pull them down.

“Fuck ma,” I whimper, my entire body shaking with need. I had been dreaming of this moment, spent many hours lying in my bed with my hand between my legs imagining what her green, sharp, catlike eyes would look watching up at me.

She leaves me in my boxers, nails digging into my inner thighs as she spreads my legs apart.

“Please,” I murmur, eyes fluttering shut from how badly my cunt is soaking through the white boxers.

“What’s wrong my love?” Izzie asks, voice so sweet it’s bordering on condescending as she leans down between my legs, kissing my thighs, biting the skin. The wine had made her bolder, more liberated. It drove me insane.

“Need you baby,” I whine, bucking my hips. It’s no use, the dark haired girl’s hands holding my body still.

“What do you need from me darling?” She asks, fingertips playing with the band of my boxers in a way that made me want to flip her over and take her this very moment.

“Shit,” I hiss to myself, wiping the sweat off my forehead. “Baby please. touch me. Gon’ die if you don’t.”

“Yeah? You want my mouth?”

She’s pressing kisses on top of the soaked fabric of my boxers now, brushing lightly against my clit. I need more, so insanely bad. I feel like I might explode.

“Mhm,” I whimper, my voice shakier and needier than I liked - not that I cared much in this very moment.

“Tell me baby,” she smiles, looking up at my scrunched up face, slowly pulling down the last layer of fabric between her and where I needed her most.

“I-” I’m stuttering, overwhelmed, feeling like I might cum just purely from the sight. “Your mouth, mama, please.”

As I say the words, she pulls my boxers down, and begins to kiss around my wet cunt, everywhere but where I need her the most. Still, I’m moaning like crazy, knowing there must be a few concerned neighbours listening by now. I couldn’t care less.

Finally, the dark haired girl touches my clit, starting with small kitten licks.

“That’s it, holy shit,” I gasp, hands coming down to her hair, trying to maintain the urge to yank it wherever I want her.

“Mhmm,” she moans against my core, lips wrapping around my clit and sucking gently.

“Fuck, you’re so- holy shit,” I murmur, unable to think straight, legs already shaking, chest heaving uncontrollably. I can’t tear my eyes away from hers, as she looks up at me. my thighs on each side of her face.

“Taste so good,” she mumbles, a blush on her cheeks from the filthy words. Still, she keeps going, the vibrations of her moans bringing me closer and closer. Embarrassingly, it doesn’t take long for that familiar heat to start spreading in my abdomen, making my pussy throb around nothing as her tongue flicks back and forth in my folds.

“Make me feel so good, fuck baby, look at you,” I praise, my voice high pitched and whiny. “Look so fuckin’ pretty between my le- aw shit.”

I feel it, already growing hotter and hotter, the fire inside me making my muscles tense.

“I- I’m so cl-” I whimper, yanking on the girl’s hair.

“Baby,” Iz moans, wrapping her lips around my clit while her tongue flicks against it, making it impossible to hold back.

“Keep doin’ that, don’t stop. Don’t st-” I cry out, legs trembling and muscles tensing as the girl between my legs keeps pushing me closer and closer. “Shit mama, I’m gon’ cum.”

With that, I tip over the edge, pleasure crashing through my body, writhing and moaning. The orgasm is just as intense as it was fast, making my grip tighten around Izzie’s hair as she keeps up with the movement of her tongue.

As I come back down, the dark haired girl climbs back up, kissing me with authority. I feel embarrassed, from how wet her face is, and most of all from how fast I came. Couldn’t have been more than two minutes. It was something about her that made me yield, completely submit to her, my body too weak to fight it.

“Well that was quick,” Izzie giggles as she pulls away from me. I roll my eyes, flipping the girl on her back.

“Just wanted it to be your turn fast ma,” I mumble, beginning to kiss her neck.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, P- Paige, fuck,” I cry out, tears filling my eyes as Paige presses on my lower back, pinning my hips down against the mattress. Her fingers are buried deep inside me, slipping in and out of me with a rapid pace, making my pussy drip all over the sheets. It was overwhelming, the strength of her fingers something I had never experienced before - what didn’t help was the three times I had already cum after she finished.

“Just one more, I promise. Swear baby. Can feel how much you’re throbbing around my fingers,” Paige coos, pressing sloppy kisses onto my sweaty back before sitting back up and kneading on the skin of my ass to get deeper inside me. Something about her filthy words made me willing to keep going, my orgasm building quickly from how sensitive I had been left after the past couple hours.

“Baby,” I cry out, grabbing the sheets desperately, tears spilling down my cheeks into the cotton blanket underneath me, sticking to my skin.

“So perfect,” the blonde groans, eyes watching closely the way my pussy molded around her fingers, stretched out just for her, gushing around the long digits slipping in and out.

“P- I’m gonna-” I gasp, back arching as the muscles inside me coil tighter and tighter.

“C’mon ma, lemme make you cum,” she moans, leaning back down and kissing my ear, her hot breath sending chills all over as her fingers keep pumping into me. “So fuckin’ gorgeous you know that?”

With a high pitched whine, the coil finally snaps, my core clenching around her fingers as she makes me cum for the fourth time that night. My entire body trembles, hands grabbing the sheets desperately. The blonde brings her free hand to mine, long digits entangling with mine comfortingly.

“That’s it, fuck, look at you,” Paige murmurs into my ear, talking me through it as the waves of pleasure wash over me. I feel sore, tired, but in that moment everything else is forgotten, except the ecstasy taking over my entire existence, and the blonde’s praise in my ear.

“You are so fucking sexy,” the blonde whispers into my ear, slipping her fingers out of me and wrapping a comforting arm around me. In a haze, I nustle myself into her side, still attempting to slow down my rapid breathing.

I chuckle, finally opening my eyes and flipping onto my back. I couldn’t believe how many times she had just gotten me off. Most of all I couldn’t believe I let her do that all to me with all the lights on, and enjoyed it too much to even care.

We both lie in each other’s arms, completely naked. Paige’s blonde hair is falling out of her bun, sweat glistening against her bare arms, covered in veins from the strain. She’s breathing loudly through her nose, watching my face. Surely I looked horrendous, makeup all over my face, hair fully out of place, curls wild and unruly. But the younger girl’s blue eyes continue to stare, soft and adoring. She leans in, pressing a soft kiss onto my forehead, loaded with emotion - feelings I wasn’t ready to face.

“You’re so beautiful,” Paige whispers, nuzzling her nose into mine. My heart flutters almost painfully. At that moment I know - I’m in trouble. That leaving Dallas behind after the season is over won’t be as effortless as I had hoped. I decide to worry about that later, wrapping my leg around the blonde and pressing my naked body against hers.

“So are you,” I murmur, letting Paige cocoon me with her big arms.

"One more time ma, please?"

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers @ohmybueckers @potatobears-world @st4yyyy @wnbawag @maryjanewatsons @naeswrrldd @she-is-my-unrequited-love34

#so it goes #lilas writing yaps #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfic #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x fem oc #wnba x oc

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realsocialskills · 1 day ago

Text

Disability-affirming growth mindset

Children are often taught to think “I can’t do that *yet*” as a form of encouraging growth mindset. That’s a really useful strategy when it’s applicable, and it also needs some nuance in order to be more disability-affirming.

Growth mindset has to be grounded in reality.

Growth means that I am always learning new things and developing new skills and getting better at things. It doesn’t mean doubling down on pursuing impossible dreams; it means doing real things.

Sometimes growth mindset means thinking “I can’t do that *yet*,” and continuing to try until I can.

Sometimes it’s more like, “This isn’t working. Maybe I need to do it another way.”

Or: “This isn’t working, and maybe it’s not going to work. What else can I do?”

Or: “I can’t do *that*, but I can do the important part a different way.”

Or: “I can do that with help.” and/or “Let’s figure out what supports would make it possible to do that.”

Or: “We can do that collaboratively, together.”

Or: “I could do that with appropriate assistive technology. Let’s figure out if some exists and/or if there’s something we could invent.”

In those instances, realizing that something isn’t going to work is part of how we find out what *can* work.

There are also cases in which growth mindset means realizing that something may not be a good use of our time and effort and resources. A skill that is broadly useful to nondisabled people might not be worth it to me, even if I’m technically capable of doing it. (For instance, handwriting is a useful skill for most people, but it’s always been so hard for me that it’s not really worth it. Losing the ability to handwrite more than a few words at a time has freed up my abilities to do other things, like focus on typing words.)

There’s something powerful about seeing your body as it really is and working with it rather than against it. Sometimes figuring out what isn’t possible or what’s not worth the cost in time and effort is how we find areas where we can grow and flourish.

Growth mindset means that I *don't sabotage my growth* by wasting time and effort pursuing impossible things. I don’t stand on a chair or a roof and expect believing in myself to make it possible to use my arms as wings and fly. If I want to fly, I need an airplane, and that’s ok.

At the same time, I think that claiming the power of “yet” is really important for disabled people, and especially for people with developmental disabilities.

Sometimes there can be a lot of pressure to see ourselves as incapable of doing things every time disability makes it harder or means we need to do things differently or it’s not obvious whether or how we could do the thing.

Sometimes we get pressure not to try things unless there’s some certainty that we will be able to do them. (And for something as complex and poorly understood as developmental disabilities, there’s rarely much certainty. Having other people’s doubts limit what we’re allowed to try makes the world very, very small.)

Sometimes disability-affirming growth mindset means saying “I can’t do that, let’s do something else,” and sometimes it means saying, “I might be able to do that, and I’d like to try.” Sometimes it means saying, “I want to keep trying even though it’s harder for me and I’m not catching on as quickly and no one seems to know how to teach me.” or “I don’t know if this is going to work but I think it could, and at this point, I’d like to keep trying.” Or, “I know most people learn this by the time they’re four, and I know I’m much older than that, but I’d like to try to learn this too.”

Sometimes it means an adult claiming the right to learn how to read, or finding a dance studio where they’re willing to slow down enough for them to learn. Sometimes it means practicing a new skill in private while you’re figuring out if it’s something that makes sense for you. Sometimes it means asking around to other disabled people to see what their strategies have been. Sometimes it means demanding your right to accessibility and accommodations even when others don’t think you belong and don’t see you as capable of doing things in the space you want to be in.

#developmental disability #growth mindset #education #actuallyautistic #living in reality

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ask-postcrash-curly · 2 days ago

Note

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0E4haJHYUJw

sorry can s.omeone please helpme please and quicker this time its worse sorry thankyou justneed it to stop fast please, i am quite afraid its fucking fireworks isnt even thesaem thing that happened to me,and itsnot real why does ithurt that s so pointless im sick of it im nevergoing to be able to be a person again if i have a panic ove r eveyrthing i nwant to go home soon now

pleasmake it turn off fast thank you love you help im scared

supposed to be strong this isso stupid hahaha. ow ow ow ow

cananyone haer me. pleas em ake it turn off cant do this one forso long its makingme panic every time oneofthem goes off haha it doesnt even soundthe same it was muchlouder when iitreally happened

what if the asteroid goes into a star a sun and idont die because im not allowed ever and i ahve to beo nfire forever!! that would be bad i don t want that . oh my god what the fuck am i talking about. maybe i shoudl just scream really loud and then jimmy will come and maybe he'll hit me hard enough to make itstop

no hah okay nope im not goingt o do that . thatss not a good plam at all! then iwould probably cry and he owudl hitme more!! cheers!!!!!!!! hahaha

are any of you there i want it to stop fast please. please can the time delay things not work this time idont want to wait that long .

nooo no it's fine i mean cmon the only reason that it took so long last time's because oft hhe dleays and then all the good videos came at once and it was good theyll . theyre not going to ignore me its okay that will not happen. oh god but i cant wait that long not again pleasecan you break the itme delya this time i dont want to i dont want to do this anymore

i migth start screming by accdint . i dont want to do that i t will make anya upset and jhimmy wuill be angyr and. i dont want him to be angry he might . be agnry. whyis eveyrone angyr with me all thetime i dont try to be frustrating i dont i reallydont . i dont want to be by myself anymore can you please. the rescueline disconnceted and no one can do anything to helpme please acn soemhone help me befroe i make it worse and scream haha oh mygod no i was wrong its the same its the same the sound is different but the way the colors burst across youreyelids when you shut themisthe same and tehn you cant shut them anymore and it hurts it hurts andeverything is white and then its red and youcant even scream youcant move and its just burnign and it takestoo long to pass out why did it take so long i felt evyrting it ev en when iw asnt awake i oculd feel it burnign

and i think i think he left me in there on purpose i think hewanted to make sure i coldnt get better i think he wanted to hurt me i htink he was angyr stilll about the firing an waht i sadi in the cockpit afterhis eval i think maybe thats why he hates me now i didnt i didnt know jimmy i wouldnthave said that if iknew why are you angry i wanted. to help why would you hurther jim she didnt do anytihng to you why would you why would you hurt her why would you hurt me wgy do you keep hurting me. idont ressist anymore so youdont have to push so hard dont have to reach sofar why do you . you want to hurt me yeah? you want to and itsnot because ofanything but you and me. jimmy anya soembdoy cann you make the fireworks go away for me please i will be better

please can aynoe hear me im sc ared im so scared i dont want to beon fire agian it hurt so much and wheni. woke up i couldnt stop screaming . i ocudnt stop im going tos cream aagain and hes going to hit me but nope he wont kill me he wont knock me out because i have to feel it i have to feel veyrthing all the time i cant even sleep!!! that woudl be too peaceful and i dont get to have it peaceful no no no!!!!!!! not allowed for curlly to hvave peaceful i have to be feleing all of it

i onyl had two days i only had two days iwanted to help but i was scared ishouldntmake excuses im sorry nevermind nevermind im sorry anyaimsory shoudnthave been you never you never anybody else i shoudlvedonesomething i shoudlve let us both die whenwe werekids ojgod no no i cantwant him todie hewas. my firned no no no he hurtssherbieng selfish why did i tell them why did i let her tell him why did i let him go in there why did i go in there

i wish it had killed me then it woudlnt stil hurt its been so so so so long forever humanbody isnt supposed to fele this way for so long icant do it anymore iwish they ddint all ahte me s omuch i dindt crash thesip i didnt do it i didnt i neverwouldve done it whyd theybleve you so easilyi am i thiat easy to, did anyoen ever likeme or did they all feel the same as you jimmy is that why. deado pixels everywehr theye all dead pixels and i ahve to bealive its not fair no no haha it is fair this is this is what happens when you dont do anythign now you dont get to!!!!!!cant fix anythuing no matere how muchyou want toooo

cant do anything ever and iut always hurts and shes aways crying andhe doesnt smile anymore and i dont seehim naymore hes drinnkinghismelf to death and none fo them aluagh they used to laugh i miss mmy parents i miss closing my eyes i miss when thinsgs were soft andpeople hugged me evenif it was just pretend and they didnt care i could believe it sometimes and it didnthurt

i wanna go home

i wnana go to sleep

im reallyscared that im going to scream soon not onpurpose

can anybody hear or amitalkingto nothing . can anyeone hear me? icanrt. see anything exceot, the

hah ha am i tlaking too much . i think i am . why would you give this to me. youknow it would hurt me . why does eveyrone liek to hurt me am i that awful or is it that fun . ah hahaha. it jus. it kepe s on going. ahahahaahaha. and anotheranotther anohter another another!!!! is htis because i c omplaiend about the fireare youmad at me because iwouldnt stop saying it overand over wouldnt shut up god it's so annoyign haha right thats it yeah? youask ove and over and nothing chagnes so you have to stop before you get hurt because therse a reaseono they dont listen and if you keep asking againanda again and again forever theyll make you pay.

im soryr ill. be quiet

youdont have to make it go away this time , i can. deal with itthis time until it ends if you dont do it agian. could we make that deal, is that all right can we

amibeing punished

i think i am

or maybe not . only persons get punished im not a perosn im a toy i think . thats it thats all it is anymore and hwen a toy breaks you break it moreandmoreandmore and thneyou throw itawya into the incinerator to burn forever yeah?

everyneos going to go away. whoeven cares right? got thier own lives. own worlds other worlds better worlds. better world where im gone!!! got real friends haha got reaaal families real sons. and the firworks keeo going and eveyrone goes away!!! boom boom boom thats anotehr oen gone. jsut me just me all by mysefl in th empty

oh no no no

no no nonoonnononononono im cryingnow i need to stop no ones in here and if he hears me he might

please imsorry if anyones still there please hlep i acnt stop hes going to hear me pleaseimscared

#mouthwashing #captain curly #curly mouthwashing #curlyposting #'hey so why did you do this' i dont even know. it happened. now its here.#jimmy mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing

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venum0us · 3 days ago

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It makes me really sad you’re anti-proship. I am a huge fan of your work and was really happy when I saw your art. But then one day on Instagram you called proshippers “freaks” and that you wanted anyone like that off your followers list. I’ve never hurt anyone, I try to be kind to people and give them the benefit of the doubt, I don’t think I’m a dangerous person or something. It just makes me so sad. A lot of the proship content I consume or make is due to trauma I’ve suffered in my past. It helps me feel not so alone and not have all my feelings bottled inside. And there’s a lot of artistic merit to darker stuff, but I won’t get into it.

I’m not angry or anything. I’m not gonna report your account or make a call out post/harass you or something terrible just cause you said something that hurt my feelings. I just thought I would maybe make a plea for you to be a little more open minded.

No matter what conclusion you come to, I really hope you have a lovely day and I still think your art is amazing and technically impressive.

Hey, I'm real sorry you feel that way, but I have my reasons for why I am not and will never be comfortable with proshippers. I feel like it is never assumed or taken into consideration a lot of us have trauma, too. I am not going to get into that on my public art account because that is for me to know and I dont owe my trauma to anyone, but my issue with proshippers is the constant hiding behind trauma as an excuse to romanticize deplorable things. Imo Its not healthy to be surrounding yourself and consuming things that are going to romanticize and justify horrible things that have happened to you because instead of recognizing it as what it is, its further normalizing it in your mind. THAT is fiction affecting reality. Its not wrong to depict dark stories and intense themes, I think those are very important things that should be shared and talked about. What shouldnt be happening is the romanticization and justification of the horrible things in these stories regardless of if its morally just. Thats what proshipping is and I would prefer not to surround myself with people who think my or even their own trauma is something to be made into a cute ship or something to be admired when it is inherently harmful. It doesn't sit right with me and is not a healthy way to cope.

I really shouldn't have given this the time of day but since I haven't really spoken on this before here I guess I'll make it clear now: I do not like proshippers and you aren't welcome on my profile.

#brug

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feyburner · 2 days ago

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hello, i hope you're doing well, the world keeps getting crazier which means that i'm spending more time on fanfictions and i've been thinking about your jaytim fics. particularly, jason and how human he is when you write him. his awkwardness bc he was dead for a while and then doing. not very good. and how he probably has to catch up on simple stuff like who even taught him how to shave??? sure he learnt how to wire bombs but that didn't leave much time for stuff like sexuality and romance? just some experiences that he was robbed off. also very much interested in your take on jason's morality re: killing and what it means to him. anyways i'll dive back into my jason comic marathon <3

God yeah I think about this all the time, it's one of the things that interests me most about his character. Like how fucked up to die at 15 and wake up at like 18 and immediately launch yourself into your big crazy revenge plot that you think it's going to make you feel less howling animal inside but all it does is destroy your chances at ever having like, a normal interaction. By the time you calm down a little you've basically skipped from 15 to like 20. And everyone around you is also a freak who will never live a normal life and some have even also died but you're the only one missing a huge chunk out of your formative years. (Don't care about conflicting canon timelines or retcons.) (I also like this on a meta level bc it mirrors the fact that Jason was For Real Dead from 1988-2005.)

Re: morality, killing: A lot of his character is about catharsis to me. He is hotheaded and impulsive and direct and unsubtle (see: heads in a duffel bag) in a way the other Bats aren't. Who among us hasn't seen a news story and thought "I don't believe in state-sanctioned violence but damn, someone should kill that guy"? He is the guy who kills that guy. And sometimes it's for "noble" reasons and sometimes it isn't, and sometimes he might like to think it is but it isn't, and sometimes it immediately backfires and makes things worse for the people he is trying to help, and it can and has made him a hypocrite. It is also, I believe, an understandable stance for someone who was murdered as a child by a guy famous for essentially walking around wearing a T-shirt that says "I Love Hurting and Killing People (and I'm Definitely Going to Do It Again)." Bruce doesn't kill people because senseless violence made him an orphan. Jason kills people because senseless violence made him dead. Of course a child who lived and a child who died would look at death from opposite sides. It destroyed both of them at a formative age in opposite ways. Bruce crystallized around the after, and Jason around the before. I think it makes perfect sense that for the rest of their lives they would keep seeing only the after, and only the before, and in doing so keep looking past each other.

I feel like a lot of Jason meta is either "The Bats are so naive, Jason is the only realist" OR "Here's why Batman is right and Jason is an irredeemable monster" or whatever. Neither of those readings are compelling to me. I don't care which character is "right" or "good." If I wanted to read about good people making morally airtight choices I would go read Goofus and Gallant but only the Gallant parts and then kill myself. None of the Bats act in a way that aligns with my real-life morals. I think the "killing question" is most interesting viewed in the context of an individual character's relationship with violence and justice and atonement and forgiveness and consequences and least interesting in the context of pitting characters against each other to determine Who's Right and Who's Wrong.

I wrote the following exchange a while back as an exercise to explore this very topic.

Warning for CSA mention below the cut.

“I mean, hell, what if he got hit by a bus? Anyone can die, any time. Think of me as a big angry red bus.” Tim’s eyes on him feel like burning, but not so immediate as fire. More like the warning heat of sunburn: for now a faint prickling, for weeks after an ache. “End of the day? I don’t think he should be alive. I don’t think the state should get to decide who lives and who dies, but I’m not the state. And I know people can be rehabilitated. I know there’s a chance he could change, and never do it again, and spend the rest of his days saving kittens and helping little old ladies cross the street. But from what I’ve seen, this kinda guy, we’re talking a puny fucking chance. There’s people the system fails and people who could be helped by a better system and then there’s people who aren’t gonna fucking change. They’re just gonna keep doing awful shit, because it gets them off. Hurting kids. Hurting anyone they think is less powerful, or less of a person. Fuck that. The thing is, I know they’re people. And I’m a person too. And I don’t have the fucking right. To be the arbiter of fucked-up justice or whatever. But you know what? I can’t find it in me to give a shit. If those scumbags wanna kill me back, they can have at it, that’s their prerogative. Until then, some fuck rapes a five-year-old? No, fuck that. What if he does it again? He’s already done it. Hurt that kid forever. Snuffed out that thing inside them, whatever it is that makes kids think the world isn’t a shitshow. Can’t unring that fucking bell. Why should he—once was too many! Don’t you get it? That kinda guy—once was already too many! Why should he get to do it twice? And so fucking many of ‘em do it twice. Can’t keep your hands off a little kid? Fuck you. Headshot. Problem solved. You can’t change my mind about this, Red. I didn’t make the choice to kill people on a fucking whim. I thought about Hell and decided I’m up for it. Alright? Fuck off.”

“You don’t have to convince me.”

“And another thing—” His mouth clicks shut. “I—what?”

“I said you don’t have to convince me.” Tim examines his glass, tilting the last swallow of watery gin back and forth. “If I were going to argue with you, I suppose I’d quote a statistic about how something like 93% of childhood sexual abuse is perpetuated from within the immediate family, and killing the abuser could drastically destabilize the child’s living situation and potentially place them at risk for other types of harm—”

“There’s nothing stable about—!”

“—but I’m not going to argue with you, because I don’t want to, because frankly I don’t care. I should—some days I’m better, and I do—but I don’t at the moment. Not tonight.”

Jason stares at him for long enough that Tim grows visibly uncomfortable, shoulders stiffening.

“What,” he says, eyes darting up to Jason’s, then away. His long fingers never stop playing with the glass, rolling it slowly, tracing the same wet circle on the tabletop. Jason wishes he would just finish his drink. And hold still.

“You don’t care,” Jason repeats. “Great. Namaste. So what’s with the interrogation?”

“Interr—?” Tim looks startled. “Jason, I was asking.”

So yeah.

#dc #feyburner ask #jason todd #my writing

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uncle-fruity · 1 day ago

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I really want to underline some truth:

I am a better activist and a more energetic and enthusiastic participant in the issues I care about now that I've stopped believing the guilt trippers and have involved myself in activism on my own terms.

I get to decide what I do and do not care deeply about. That's not another person's place to tell me what I think and feel -- especially if it's a complete stranger. I know myself better than they know me.

I get to decide what is too much for me. I set my own boundaries and priorities. Other people might not agree with me, but they can die mad. I'm not their soldier to recruit, and what I do with my time and energy is my business, not theirs.

I know my body and my limitations better than anyone else. The people who truly love me and support me trust me to manage my ups and downs and do not assign a moral status to me when I take care of my needs first. Especially over time, they know that I will be back and ready to help out as soon as I'm able to. When I'm less able to participate, the people who love and support me take care of me and make sure I know they're there for me.

I am no longer doing activism in any real way online. At most, I try to provide some education and some emotional/mental health support. If you look at my Tumblr, you won't see even half of what I deeply care about. Part of that is a growing sense of internet safety, and another part of that is that there is very little I can do online that's going to make a difference. Another part of that is when you post stuff as a reaction or out of a sense of obligation, you're more likely to spread misinformation, especially if you don't take time to verify the information (which can be genuinely difficult if you don't know how to do that). I fell into that trap a fair amount when I was so guilt ridden that I was terrified to be seen as a Bad Person.

Which brings me to this major point: there will always be people who are quick to judge you and quick to make you out as a Bad Person no matter what you do. In someone's mind, you are probably already a Bad Person. Does that actually make you a Bad Person? Does someone else's definition of good and bad line up with yours, and does it matter? Have you considered that the person calling you a bad person might be a bad person by your standards? Who has the right to strictly define morality in the first place? Regardless of the answers to those questions, you don't have to let other people define you. And the guilt trippers are doing substantially more harm to the cause than people who are trying to rest for their emotional and mental health. I don't think that makes them bad people, but it does make them bad at community building, which is a fundamental necessity for activism.

My advice, if you really want to be a good activist, is to kill the part of your brain that tells you you aren't good enough and don't deserve rest until you are. No one can do it all. No one is a perfect activist or a perfect person. You need to have a clear idea of what your priorities are and what your capabilities are. You need to seek community and, as OP originally stated, joy. It's not just you who needs something to fight for or who needs breaks, your community needs it too. If you overwork and constantly retraumatize yourself, you will eventually hit burnout and you will not be able to help at all for much much longer than if you had just taken a break or made time for the good things in life when you first needed to. You also run the risk of creating a culture where no one else feels like they deserve rest and eventually burn themselves out, too. Then where does the movement go when all its activists are too stressed and tired and having a crisis of morality to do the work? The movement goes to die, is where. Sure, being angry is valid and important, but if that's all that's keeping you here, you're going to find that anger is not sustainable and will eventually give way to extreme depression when you realize that anger alone does not fix the many problems of the world. Your anger and guilt will kill a movement so much harder than indulging in a little positivity and rest from time to time.

Oh, and me? Now that I've gotten out of guilt trippy and frankly abusive online activist spaces, I am so much better at doing activism that matters. I organize a queer art group. I attend meetings to discuss problems and try to find solutions. I have more energy to educate myself and others. I can do more direct action. All of this is stuff that I literally had no space for while I was suffering from the burnout those online spaces caused that I now have space for because I decentralized social media in my life and especially in my activism.

Please. For your own sake and for the sake of the causes you care about: take a break. Have a rest. Do something fun. This is me telling you directly that the people guilt tripping you are being inappropriate & rude at best and literally abusive at worst. It is okay to forget them and live your life in ways that serve both yourself and others. They have no power to send you to Hell, I promise.

Sorry about the rant I'm just SO sick of this "we have to be on all the time never look away if you aren't upset about politics and traumatizing yourself watching people die on Twitter you're wrong and complicit and evil" like I know things are fucked and we need to stay angry but we can do that while also taking a minute to crack open a cold one with the boys or have gay sex or get tipsy at the line dance, we HAVE to have joy to remember why the fuck we're refusing to give up in the first place. Fight like hell for your loved ones and then also go home with them to smoke weed and drink sweet tea and make biscuits covered in honey and butter please, please don't deprive yourself of joy, you're allowed to be happy BEFORE the work is done. You're allowed to be happy.

#social justice #activism #advice #important #psa

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fixyourwritinghabits · 4 hours ago

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The Quick Guide of Taking Care of Yourselves

RIGHT ANYWAY, semi-functioning again. Here's some generic tips for Americans (and beyond) in these trying times.

Limit Your Social Media News Consumption

Seriously, you need to set specific times to be aware of what's going on, and then you need to put down your phone. Many of the things that are happening are beyond your control. Doomscrolling is paralyzing. Do not fall into despair loops. This helps no one and it especially does not help you.

Make a channel in your Discord group for dumping things in and leave it to that. Find ways to plug into your local community - talk to your local library, check your local subreddit, pay attention to local events. But you also must give yourself a break from all of the above for your own mental health.

Pick a set time at night and put down your phone. Don't scroll through it before bed, don't start scrolling the second you get up. Form firm habits that allow you to rest and take care of yourself. It's important to be aware of what's happening, but it does not require your constant attention.

Do Things For Yourself

In addition to making art, it's important to find ways to keep yourself grounded. Take a class you're interested in. Go to that book club. See if there's a local group into that hobby you want to start. Need to brush up on your technical skills? See if there's some online classes that you can take (and get a certificate for!).

Don't over-commit (I say, having signed up for three different activities this year), but it is vital to take time to do things for yourself to stay grounded. Having other things to focus on is going to help. I'm taking a strength-building exercise class and German lessons, and having to focus on squats and gendered nouns for certain hours of the day has been so helpful in keeping me going. Give it a try.

(You don't have to try German, just to be clear. I just think it's a neat language.)

You Do Not Have to Constantly Rearrange Your Priorities

I donate monthly to my local animal shelter. That's still going to be an important thing to do. I reblog things I don't have the funds to contribute to myself. That's still useful to do. I'm still going to pay for my patreon subscriptions, because I am supporting people I like and want to succeed.

There are some things you can do. If you are in a position to cancel Amazon Prime, you should probably do that. But some people can't, because they don't have a more reliable way to get certain necessities, and that's fine. If you're in a position to close your Meta accounts, that seems like a good call. However, while I've currently got mine locked down, I need my Instagram for professional reasons, and it's my only point of contact for certain people. I hate it, but I've made the decision to keep using it. There's no morally perfect options out there.

Think Local and Connect with Community

You cannot do anything about most of the terrible things happening. You can, however, make connections to the people around you and find ways to support yourself and others. You can find places to volunteer. You can participate in your local political groups and keep up-to-date on protests and political action. You can keep pressure on your local politicians with phone-calling and letter campaigns. Making connections to others will help you find ways to feel useful and help, even if it doesn't feel like you can.

Most importantly, though, MAKE SURE YOU ARE SAFE. If you're a vulnerable minority in a deep red state or desperately need to keep your head down at your job, you need to make decisions that are best for you. You cannot help others if you yourself are also drowning, and that is okay.

There are still some small things everyone can do. Boycotts of certain products and companies (shout-out to all of Canada, keep it up and I hope for nothing but the best for y'all) is something you can do that doesn't put you at risk. Stay connected to like-minded friends. Stock up on masks and get your vaccines. Have an emergency-prepared plan in cases of natural disasters (always a good plan).

Hang in there. Sometimes you'll spiral, everyone will. But keeping your head above water and building steps to pull yourself up from those holes will be essential.

#us politics #unfortunately again #general tips

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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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suugarbabe · 3 days ago

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slytherin boys x reader x friends!golden trio

summary: you invite the golden trio to a party and enzo tries to lighten up the party

warnings: mentions of weed

an: I really am gonna have to make a masterlist of all our yaps @musingsofahufflepuff <333

Your hand waved wildly in the air, catching the attention of the three people that seemed wildly out of place near the common room entrance. “I cannot fucking believe you invited them,” Mattheo’s arms crossed over his chest as he shook his head. Theo slung an arm over his shoulder, “It will be alright, compagno. We’ll get them many drinks, show of a very good time.”

Mattheo simply rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Teddy.” Theo flicked the back of Mattheo’s ear for use of the nickname, causing them to start bickering back and forth just as your three guests managed to make their way over to where your little group was gathered. “Erm, are we interrupting something?” Ron glanced at Mattheo and Theo with an unsure look, but you waved them off, “Oh, it’s fine. They’re usually like that.”

Ron gave Harry a sideways glance as Hermione spoke up, “Thanks for inviting us, we don’t usually come to parties much.” You nodded with a smile, “This one will be good, you guys will have a great time. You want a drink?” The three of them nodded enthusiastically, even Hermione, which was shocking to the rest of your friends.

You knew it wasn’t typical to have them here, in the Slytherin common room let alone a party. But you had a few classes with Hermione, and got paired with Harry for your last potions project and personally you found them both pleasant enough. You thought they might enjoy some time to relax, let loose, especially with exams coming up at the end of the month.

You led the trio back to your little circle, all of whom were seeming a little more relaxed at the idea of ‘the golden trio’ being in their sacred space than a few minutes before. As you approached the group, Enzo was smiling suspiciously. “What’re you up to, Berk?” Enzo held his hand to his chest in mock offense, “Me? Up to something? You must have me confused with Matt.”

Enzo then pulled a small package out of his jeans pocket and dumped a lone gummy into his palm before taking it and biting off half. “Now…who’s gonna take the other half of this thing, I can’t enjoy the party alone. Potter? Weasley?” Enzo wiggled his eyebrows while holding the half a gummy in his outstretched palm.

Both Gryffindor boys shook their heads, avoiding answering directly by taking large drinks from their cups. “I don’t know if you guys have ever done edibles before but he’s being generous only offering you half, most of the stuff he takes he makes on his own and it’ll fuck you up completely.”

Harry and Ron were adamant in their denials before Hermione stepped up to grab the edible from his hand. Enzo was quick to pull it away in a closed fist, “Woah, hold on, Granger. I don’t think you really want this.” Hermione simply rolled her eyes with a groan, “I know exactly what that’ll do and I need it immediately. Especially with these bloody NEWTS coming up, I’m stressed to hell. Hand it over. Now, Berkshire.”

Mattheo let out a low whistle, “Fucking Salazar, did that just come out of Granger’s mouth?” Enzo was beaming, holding his fist out before slowly opening it up again before Hermione’s face, “Here you go, darling. Made it myself, so I’ll be eagerly awaiting a review from you tomorrow. What’s your record for an essay…12 feet of parchment?”

“Oh fuck off, Enzo,” Hermione snatched the gummy from his palm and tossed it in her mouth. Ron and Harry looked on, gobsmacked. “‘Mione..what are you doing?” Ron placed a hand on her shoulder in concern. Hermione huffed, crossing her arms, “Honestly, Ronald..if I’m going to trust any of them, it might as well be Berkshire. Look a him,” she gestured to Enzo who then gave Ron a sweet smile, batting his eyelashes at the boy, “he’s basically a puppy dog.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, still slightly in disbelief yourself a Hermione’s blind trust, “Oh..baby girl…no. No, no, no, you’ve got the wrong one. Enzo is not to be trusted, weren’t you listening earlier?”

Enzo then grabbed Hermione by the shoulders with heighten enthusiasm, “Tonight’s gonna be so fun, Granger. Just you wait.” Mattheo gave Enzo a shove, “Fun? What do you mean fun?? Those fucking things you make have almost killed me twice!”

“What?!” Ron was rightfully panicked, giving Hermione a pleading look. “Hermione, if even his friends are warning you, maybe you should just sit down or something, let it hit you and then ride it out and sleep it off or whatever,” Harry started looking around the room for an unoccupied sofa.

Hermione, however, stood her ground, “You guys are being ridiculous. Kind of babies actually.” Enzo actually laughed out loud, slinging his arm over her shoulder with a cheeky grin, “That’s my girl…can’t wait for this to really hit us.”

You looked over at Mattheo who finally threw his hands up slightly in defeat, turning instead to make conversation with Theo. Then you looked over at Harry and Ron apologetically, “I’m really sorry for whatever is about to happen in forty-five to sixty minutes.”

It actually only took around thirty minutes for Enzo’s homemade edible to settle for her; and the reaction was vastly different than any of you could have expected.

Hermione essentially had a very high Enzo trapped on the nearest sofa, ranting profusely. “I mean seriously, Lorenzo…why do we even still use quills in the wizarding world? We have all this magic and advancements it gives us, but we have to dip a birds feather in ink over and over to write an essay? I mean, have you guys never heard of a pen before? Or gods, a freaking pencil? It’s so much easier, lasts so much longer. You can go to a corner store and buy a pack of five for less than two pounds. You guys really are wasting more money by keeping this worldly advancement to the muggles alone.”

Enzo sat facing her, eyes completely void as he stared in her general direction, but you weren’t even sure he was hearing her completely. Sure, he nodded every so often, but her words were not being heard in the slightest. And that fact was completely irrelevant as Hermione just kept. on. talking.

You had one arm crossed over your chest as you held your drink, “You know, she’s actually not wrong.” Harry nodded, “Actually, I have wondered that as well. It is kind of odd we’re doing this sort of medieval thing with the quills and ink pots.” Mattheo then leaned down between the two of you, taking a long sip of his drink before asking, “What the fuck is a pen?”

#slytherin boys #golden trio #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire fic #harry potter #hermione granger #x reader #reader insert #slytherin boys x reader #theo nott #mattheo riddle #slytherin boys fluff #slytherin boys fic #golden trio era #golden trio fic

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floipenstein · 1 day ago

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Ok I had a bunch more thoughts about this than I thought I would, and I really needed to exorcise them from my brain if this essay is gonna go on my blog. Basically, Executive Dysfunction is real, and the part of the essay I have a problem with is the implication that it's not.

Read more if you wanna read my whole hastily-written fucking rant though (not blaming you if you don't honestly).

Alright, I think this essay is great and actually describes ADHD in a very accurate way. Like this essay is totally worth a read to understand ADHD better. This person has a very good understanding of ADHD. It makes me want to pursue body doubling as a thing instead of just thinking about how it might help me. HOWEVER this is also not to say that body doubling would solve all ADHD problems. This essay is like, ALMOST actually invalidating a bunch of stuff about ADHD at the same time that it's trying to defend ADHD and explain it.

The essay does kind of address this though. It says that ADHD is a real neurotype, which is great, because it is. It points out that meds genuinely help many ADHDers. Which they do, like myself. Without meds I'm like some kind of slug. With meds, I actually have a hope of getting myself to do things, and I can actually put my thoughts together the way I want. They make me feel more like me.

I agree with some parts of what the essay is saying about how society causes a lot of problems that ADHDers have. Like people really do ingrain an individualistic mindset. A lot of people seem to think you should just be able to do stuff on your own. I've also been surprised at how many people think you shouldn't feel rewarded for doing something basic even if it was really difficult for you, which I think is in the same vein of that individualistic idea.

But I think the essay kind of also invalidates a lot of things that I would definitely struggle with even if society were very different. I think my biggest problem is with the paragraph that talks about the duality of ADHD things. "ADHDers lack focus, except for when they don't" etc. Like, all of the things in that paragraph are things that I struggle with, and they are all real, and not just real because society doesn't accommodate me enough or because clinicians see me a certain way.

Both lack of focus AND hyperfocus can and do fuck me over all the time. Without my meds, I AM emotionally volatile AND spacey. Too much for ME! Like I don't enjoy the experience! It's not just that society doesn't accept me a certain way, or that I take meds just to fit into society better. It's that ADHD symptoms fucking suck in their own right! Even if I have the day off, no responsibilities in sight, give me my fucking meds man, I want to fucking think straight.

I do also think that Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria is real. And not something caused by the way that society treats us our whole lives. And also not something that everyone goes through. That is the kind of invalidation that I don't like about this essay. Like, executive dysfunction is real, and worth identifying. This essay is so callous against the clinical definitions of ADHD that it kind of points the gun back at the victims imo.

Executive dysfunction is real and worth identifying. Like I said, this essay is great in a lot of ways. Body doubling is tits and I want to more seriously pursue it after reading this, because it will probably help me a lot. But if I want this thing on my blog, I have to make clear what parts I endorse and what parts I don't.

I think anything else I could say would basically be me rambling instead of exorcising thoughts. There. RANT OVER.

Despite how popular and effective body doubling appears to be, empirical research has not tested it as an intervention for people with ADHD at all. It’s a shockingly simple way to address a variety of problems, from a child struggling to complete his homework, to a grown adult who can’t tackle the massive pile of used clothes on her couch. Doctors prescribe stimulants to ADHDers facing “executive functioning” difficulties like these all the time. Yet no clinician has ever examined whether prescribing a body double would be an effective treatment — despite the fact that anecdotally, it addresses the problem more directly than meds do, and it doesn’t come with the risk of building up a physical tolerance or any unwanted side-effects. To understand why body doubling is so neglected by professionals, we have to look at the flawed way that psychiatry and psychology conceptualizes the ADHDer’s experience. Professionals largely view ADHD as a disorder of motivation and attention, a disability located inside the mind that must be solved on a solely individual level. This framing makes it impossible to understand the ADHDer as a unique, neurodivergent social being interacting with a broader cultural and economic context. Every feature of ADHD, as it is clinically described, is one of pathology and lack. ADHDers are “time blind”: they don’t have an instinct for what hour of the day it is, or how long a task takes. Nevermind that humans have relied upon time-keeping technologies for as far back as recorded history goes, suggesting that none of us approach time by instinct. ADHDers lack focus, except for when they don’t, in which case they’re suffering from hyperfocus, and that’s actually a problem too. ADHDers are emotionally volatile — but they’re also too spacy. They dissociate from reality too much, but when they take steps to address this, they are guilty of needing too much stimulation and being too active. And they’re lazy — except for when they’re staying up very late at night working, being most productive during the hours society tells them they ought to be asleep. If the many complex features of Autism can be best summed up by saying that we have a bottom-up processing style in a world built for top-down processors, then the best way to summarize ADHD is this: people with ADHD are highly socially motivated, but they live in a world where independence is prioritized.

Read the rest of this essay for free on my Substack!

#adhd

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mendessi · 2 days ago

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things i say when you sleep | chapter nine

multi chapter bodhi durran x fem!oc

word count: 5k

chapter summary: Without Bodhi, Ania navigates her new signet with the help of Xaden. It's Reunification Day. What could go wrong?

tags: slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, canon typical violence, mentions of death, she falls first he falls harder, majority canon compliant, some canon deviance, eventual smut, angst with a happy ending, additional tags to be added

AO3 masterlist

seven | eight | nine | ten | eleven

He says it like a bad thing.

The sour taste that's in my mouth is hard to swallow as I slowly crawl off of him.

However the second he says it, things become clear to me.

"You say it like it's a bad thing," I repeat the words, out loud this time. I'm not sure I can hide the hurt in my voice. My heart feels like it's in my stomach when he won't look at me.

"It's a death sentence. You can't tell anyone," He whispers.

Xaden told me to find him if it manifested. He was the reason it manifested and now he was pulling away.

"I didn't know I was until just now," I wrap my arms around myself feeling small, "You can't even be sure I am."

An inntinnsic. Out of all the second signets in the world, the one I manifested is a fucking death sentence.

He stands up from the bed, and I cannot help but grab his arm. Please don't pull away.

"Where are you going?" My voice cracks and the sadness filling my chest is enough to rattle the furniture in my room.

"I can't be around you right now," He says and I sit up on my knees.

"Wait, please," I plead, "I-I didn't mean to. I'm sorry, Bodhi. Please, I won't do it again."

It was an accident. I didn't mean to do it. I would never push my feelings onto him. Especially not something like desire. I didn't know it was something I could do.

"I have to go," He pulls himself from my grip and I can't stop the tears that spill from my eyes.

The lights in my room burn brighter and I don't flinch when they eventually burst. There are too many emotions swimming in my head but I know that they're all mine.

An empath is what he called me. I've never heard of it before but I'm not stupid enough not to realize that it's a form of inntinnsic.

Guilt sinks in and I regret kissing him. These were my emotions.

This is what I get for letting him in. For allowing myself to think that I could find a semblance of happiness here. Months of back and forth, shutting him and Xaden out, and the second I'm fully ready to trust this is what happens.

He's afraid to be around me now. Afraid that I'll push my feelings onto him again. Maybe I am better off dead with Carr snapping my neck. There's a reason signets like this are a capital offense.

I ignore my better judgment when I crawl from my bed and leave my room. I can't stand the idea of being alone right now, but I also don't know who to go to. I feel like this is a girl issue but Violet hates me right now for a reason I'm unaware of and Rhiannon is on Violet's side always. I'm not chasing after Bodhi and I refuse to bother Xaden right now.

It takes me several moments to knock on the door when I finally stop outside of it and when I do a few more for who it belongs to to open it.

"Ania," Ridoc says, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "You okay?"

The tears have yet to cease and I'm sure I look like a disaster, "Can I please stay here tonight?"

He looks me over once, the look in his eyes softening when he sees that I'm crying, "Of course."

He crawls back into bed and lifts the covers for me and I slide in next to him. Respectfully, he leaves space between us.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks softly.

I contemplate how I could even tell him why I'm crying without revealing something that'll get me killed if he decides to tell anyone else.

"Does it have to do with Bodhi? I saw you leave the flight field with him," He continues. "Do I have to kill him?"

He manages to get a small laugh out of me and I sigh softly when he reaches out the brush the tears from my cheeks.

"I trusted him and I shouldn't have," I whisper.

"Did he hurt you?" He asks and moves to sit up, but I put my hand on his shoulder to make him lay back down.

"Not like that," I shake my head.

"Because we can get the whole squad together and take him out," Ridoc says and I laugh again. "I'm serious."

"I know you are," I say, pulling the blanket up to my chin. "Thank you."

"You're not gonna try to kiss me again are you?" He asks and I punch his shoulder.

"Don't act like you didn't like it," I laugh.

"You hit too hard to be playful," He groans and I can see him holding his shoulder in the moonlight that illuminates his room.

"I wasn't being playful," I smile, wiping the last of my tears. "Can we go to bed now?"

Without another word, he rolls over and is snoring within minutes.

After a night of fighting Ridoc to share the blanket, he's the one who gently slaps me awake.

"I don't want to go," I groan. Despite not sleeping much last night, it did give me time to think about the revelation of my new signet.

Knowing that there's a chance I'll see Bodhi in formation hurts and I don't want the reminder of how he pulled away from my touch last night.

"We can pretend to be sick," Ridoc offers as he pulls his tunic over his head. "Come on, you need to get dressed."

"We have maneuvers later and I will not have you rot in bed at the fault of a man," Gleigeal says and I know he's right. I can't hide in my room all day.

Flying will make me feel so much better, regardless of whether I see Bodhi or not. I'm appreciative that Gleigeal gave me the space I needed last night to process everything, but now I have questions.

"Am I inntinnsic?" I ask.

"That's to be determined," He replies and I glare at the wall I'm staring at.

"That's not an answer," I roll my eyes.

"You will have the answers you desire soon, Ania," Gleigeal says. "Until then, I'm closing the channel."

Ridoc sits on my bed while I get dressed and I half expect Bodhi to come knocking on the door. Violet, Sawyer, and Rhi are standing outside of her door, whispering amongst each other when they see Ridoc and I exit my room. I can't be bothered by what they're thinking at this point.

After Battle Brief, we're headed to the flight field when Xaden appears.

"Wingleader," Dain says and I know he's fighting the urge to clench his fists, "What can I help you with."

"I'm pulling Cadet Alistair from maneuvers today," Xaden says and I immediately glance at Violet, who tightens her jaw.

Great.

"Right," Dain says and nods turning to face me, "Cadet Alistair, you're released."

I try to ignore the way my squad looks at me as I fall in line with Xaden's step. He leads me to his room and I know that we're about to have a conversation about last night. Good to know that Bodhi immediately ran to his cousin after leaving me alone.

"Did he tell you?" I ask as I sit on his bed. I know we'll be in here for a while.

"He told me what he thinks happened. The accusation alone is enough to get you killed," He says, "I want to hear it from your perspective."

"I thought about it last night," I say and he pulls up a chair to sit in front of me. "If he's right, then it manifested when the light did. Or maybe even before. I initially thought I was the one projecting my feelings, but I don't think that's true."

"Walk me through it," He leans back in the chair, one leg propped up on the other.

"Trust the wingleader," Gleigeal says. "He wouldn't let anyone lay a finger on you for what you are."

"So I am one then?" I say down the bond.

"I didn't say that," My dragon has a sense of humor that I'm not particularly fond of.

"When I manifested the light, I could feel his fear. I had my own of course, but he felt different. It kind of," I look for the words, raising my hand to my chest, "Seeped into my chest. Became one with mine."

"You felt it molding into one?" He asks, his brows furrowed in concentration as he listens intently.

"Yes and again last night. I wanted what was happening. But I could feel that he did too." I say. "At the moment, it was hard to dictate what was mine, but after thinking about it, the strands are different before they entangle."

"You absorbed his emotions and made them your own," He says and I nod.

"At one point, I think I subconsciously knew what was happening, because I pushed a thought outward and his anxiety disappeared for a moment," I explain, trying to recall every single moment.

"Interesting," He nods.

"He realized before I did and when he said it, it kind of made sense," I shrug my shoulders, fiddling with my shoelace now. I try to halt the rejection building in my chest, "He left like he was afraid of me."

Xaden clears his throat and leans forward, "He wasn't afraid of you. He was afraid of what'll happen to you if anyone finds out."

They'll kill me, I know. I don't want to say it out loud.

"I'm gonna help you control it, Ania. I won't let this be your downfall," He says and I nod.

Xaden and I spend the day in his room and Gleigeal cracks the channel open a tiny bit to practice sorting emotions.

"The biggest concern is that you take in too many emotions at once and combust, but you've gotten this far without having that issue, so I think we're in the clear there," Xaden says.

My eyes are closed and I'm sitting in the Riorson House library, watching the tendrils of Gleigeal's crimson power filter in through the window.

"Choose a color for your emotions so you know that they're yours. Everyone else's can be a different color," His voice sounds distant when I'm here. "What do you feel right now?"

"I feel mellow, I guess?" The mage lights in the library shift to a deep green color.

"I'm going to think on something and I want you to try and pick up on it," He says and I can hear his footsteps pacing back and forth slowly.

The library around me stays the same and I wait patiently to feel something. The sparks of Gleigeal's pattern brighten and I can feel him opening the channel further.

"Are you doing-"

My chest warms and I have to force myself to breathe after an overwhelming feeling settles over me. My fingers tingle and my heart rate picks up. The subtle feeling of fear laces with the warmth and my brows furrow. It's strong and I look around the library to try and find where it's coming from.

On one of the tables in the center of the library, under the evergreen lights, sits a book open to a page. As I approach the table, the feeling grows stronger. Small golden fibrils sprout from the pages, swirling around one another until they meet the green light from the mage lights.

I reach my finger out slowly, touching the golden strings and the feeling is immense.

It feels like home and finding your person after what feels like an eternity of searching. It's the hesitation before the first kiss. It's the unimaginable terror of losing everything in the process. The weight of responsibility you feel to ensure nothing will ever happen to those you love. It's unimaginably beautiful and equally terrifying.

"Cut it off," Xaden says and I do just that. I slowly close the book watching as the fibrils crawl back down into the page.

"What were you thinking about?" I ask once I open my eyes, but I think I know the answer.

He takes a beat and then sits back in the chair.

"Violet," I say softly.

His silence is the confirmation I need and I nod my head.

"That feeling," I pause and purse my lips, "I feel it too."

He nods his head and we sit in a comfortable silence for a moment.

"I trust that he'd take care of you," Xaden says finally, "Which is why I'm not bashing his head through a wall."

A breathy laugh falls off my lips and I look out the window, "Still protective as ever."

"It's the only way I can ensure everyone I care about is safe," Xaden says and I lock eyes with him. He cares about me.

"It aches sometimes, you know?" I shift the subject back to the original conversation. It's hard for him to talk about these things, I don't want to push it.

"Oh, I know," He sighs. "It'll sort itself out, little Alistair. Just give it time."

I'm not ready to fully admit it to myself, so I don't. But Xaden has caught on.

I don't ask him how he knows how to handle my signet, but I think I know. Something tells me that we might have it in common. I don't think he's exactly like me, but I think we'd both be killed if anyone found out.

"We'll meet as often as we can before I leave to try and get it a hundred percent under control," Xaden says when we stop in front of my door.

"Thank you for today," I say, looking up at him.

"Anytime, Ania," The tiniest smile etches on his lips, and then he's off.

When he's out of my line of sight, I see Violet and Rhiannon coming down the hall. They're whispering to each other, I'm sure about Xaden once again outside my room. And pulling me from maneuvers. He's pulled her plenty of times, but I know it's an issue when it comes to me. Because today, I got a glimpse into Xaden's head. She'll talk to me when she's ready, but I consider going to her first. I don't have it in my today, drained from training with Xaden so I seclude myself in my room.

Xaden's been helping me twice a week when he can, even if that means occasionally pulling me from class. I can now clearly decipher which emotions belong to me and which are foreign. I've even worked on pushing my own emotions onto him, which is much harder and takes a world of concentration, but he's confident with more practice I'll be able to perfect it.

He's leaving in ten days and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't going to miss him. He's like Beckett in so many ways and I wish he were still here to see it. If he hadn't been here to help me train my signet, I don't know what I would've done.

Today of all days is brutal for me every single year. It's been six years since my entire world went to shit.

Six years of no Aretia. No Riorson House. No Mom and Dad. No Beckett.

The book is open in the Riorson House library as I walk through the corridors toward Battle Brief.

As I pass several marked ones, I'm met with a plethora of feelings. Anger, sadness, and grief are among those most prevalent. I allow it to melt into my chest, merging into one with my own grief. This day is so different to us that have relics on our arms. I can feel the change in tone when I finally take my seat in the Battle Brief room.

I look around and Xaden catches my eye. He gives a small nod and I return it. I feel his also joining everyone else's settling in my chest. As I turn back to the front of the room, my eyes land on Bodhi.

We haven't spoken since that night the empathy manifested and I don't know if that's on my accord or his.

"Why is it you're choosing to torture yourself with the anguish of others," Gleigeal asks.

"It's not just theirs. It's mine too," I reply, tearing my gaze from Bodhi's.

"Do not make me close the channel," He threatens. "And stop with the longing looks at the one who betrayed you."

"Betrayed is an extremely strong word," I fire back. "Also, 'longing looks'?"

Gleigeal chuffs, "I do not take it lightly that he stranded you that night."

Yeah, me either. I also don't take it lightly that we're not speaking at the moment. I'm not really speaking to anyone at the moment. I see my squadmates in class and for maneuvers, but unless I'm honing my signet with Xaden, I'm locked away in my room. Ridoc stops in every couple of nights to check in on me, but other than that, I've distanced myself from them again.

The strand that I know is Xaden's shifts to a slightly different color, and I look around the room. Violet, who's sitting next to me seems to be lost in thought. I let her strand join the others and immediately release it when I feel the frustration. Are they arguing right now? She glances at me and I fix my sight back on Devera, though I'm not paying attention. My suspicion is confirmed when Xaden says her name loud and clear.

It's wrong of me, I know. I shouldn't be in their business, but I was just curious. It will not happen again, I can assure you.

Ridoc and Liam are sitting in my room- handsome as ever, later that night while I get ready for the Reunification Day celebration hosted by the King. I didn't think before I agreed to attend, but Liam somehow convinced me. Xaden insisted that I didn't have to go, but I'd feel bad leaving Liam as the only marked one there.

I had tried to let Ridoc braid my hair but all I got instead was a big knot that hurt to brush out. Liam took over, saying he learned how to on his little sister, Sloane, who'd be coming into the quadrant next year. Like Xaden, Bodhi, and I, he was separated from her.

The dress I'm wearing is floor-length, with a slit running up my right leg, that stops just below my hip bone. It hugs my body nicely and I actually take a moment to admire my curves in the mirror.

"You look hot," Ridoc says, earning a glare from me, "If I don't score with the healers, my door will be open tonight."

"In your dreams," I scoff, earning a laugh from him and Liam.

"Don't be fooled, Liam. Did Ania ever tell you about the time she ki-"

"Ridoc!" I scold him using my lesser magic to swing the door open. "Out!"

"I'm gonna go get a head start on making way with the healers," Ridoc winked before he exited my room, leaving a snickering Liam and I.

"I don't see you much anymore," Liam said after a few minutes of silence, "Everything okay?"

I shrug my shoulders as I look at my reflection in the mirror, "It's fine."

"If you want, we could meet up to train like we used to. Xaden kind of took over Violet duty so I have a little more time," He says with a small smile.

"Yeah, that would be nice," I force a smile, but I feel the tendrils of his sadness merging into my own. "It's really kind of you to join Violet tonight."

He shrugs his shoulders this time, "It's better than being sad and alone in my room."

"I think that's why I'm going too," I say as I stand up.

"You look beautiful, Ania," Liam says as he pulls my sash over my head and adjusts it.

"Not too bad yourself, Liam," I smile and link my arm with his when he offers it.

We exit my room and jog to catch up to the rest of our squad.

"You two clean up nice," I tease as we approach Violet and Rhiannon.

"Look at the two of you," Rhi teases, "If looks could kill."

"Violet," I give her a small smile. She looks stunning with her hair in an intricate arrangement and her dress fits her beautifully. I want to compliment her, but I don't know if it would fall flat.

"Hey, Ania." She nods in my direction and I awkwardly pull myself from Liam's arm with a sigh.

As we approach the courtyard, the music grows louder and louder. It's easy to forget other quadrants exist outside of the riders, but seeing the cream, light blue, and navy swimming amongst each other reminds me quickly. I'm walking behind Ridoc, Violet, and Rhiannon when it feels like a weight is thrown into the center of my chest. It knocks the air from my lungs and I have to hold the wall to steady myself. I reach for Liam's arm and he turns quickly to support me.

"I- I don't want to be here," I say just above my breath. I'm confused as to where this feeling came from. I had been excited to have a night with my squad, but now I want nothing more than to sit under a cold shower and catch my breath.

"Do you want me to go with you?" He asks and I shake my head rapidly.

"Stay with Violet," I say, pulling away from him.

"I need you," I call out.

"Meet me in the field," He replies.

My hands shake as I walk away from the party and back toward the Riders Quadrant.

As I'm passing through the courtyard, I can feel the fibrils from the book sprouting more and more out of control. It's too much. I took on too much for the day and I shouldn't have. Someone grabs my arm and I turn around pulling away quickly.

"What's wrong?" It's Garrick. I feel a pang of guilt for the way I'm about to ignore him.

"I'm going somewhere," I say as I back away from him. Xaden's strand shines a little brighter and I glance toward the opening of the Parapet where Garrick seems to be standing guard.

"Ania, wait," He calls out as I continue my path toward the field. He doesn't try to come after me and I'm thankful for it.

"I told you not to smother yourself with the misery of those around you," Gleigeal scolds and I finally cry out as I see him landing in the center of the field.

He lays his body completely flat and rests his head on the ground as I fall to my knees next to him.

"Ground yourself, Ania," He says with a gust of steam that blows my hair back.

I dig my nails into the grass, as a sob racks my chest. I let myself lean against his leg and close my eyes as I put myself in the Riorson House library.

The fibrils growing out of the book are out of control, a rainbow that shakes and rattles, each color dancing with the other. I reach for it, trying to slam it shut. It takes every ounce of my mental strength to slam it closed as a scream rips through my throat.

My chest hurts as I try to catch my breath. I let myself fully collapse against my dragon. My cheek is flush with the grass and Gleigeal nudges my back with his nose.

"Breathe," He urges.

I do as he says, taking a deep breath as I focus on how the soft grass feels between my fingers. My fingertips and palms glow against the blades of greenery and I close my eyes again.

"I understand you miss your family, especially today," He starts, "But if you risk your life again to take on the grief of your peers again, I will not be as kind about it."

My head bobs in understanding and I let my eyes close.

"I wonder if Beckett were here, would he be yours instead," I say out loud.

"Regardless of whether he was here or not, I knew that you were destined to be my rider long before you came into the quadrant," He says.

"You would like Beckett," I say softly. "He wanted to do what was right. It's what got him killed."

"To my understanding, I think I would have not minded his presence," He says and I laugh lightly. That's the closest I'll get to his agreement on this subject.

Gleigeal sits with me for I don't know how long. He lets me talk his ear off, occasionally responding to me. I tell him about Aretia and my parents. I speak of Beckett more than anything. And of our childhood spent at Riorson House. Most of all, I'm grateful that he's here for me.

A grumble resonates in his chest and he swivels his head towards the top of the flight field.

"Someone approaches," He says lowly. "The one who betrayed you."

"He didn't betray me," I roll my eyes, not even bothering to stand up.

"Ani," He slows his jog and looks down at me, "Garrick told me he saw you come out here, but he didn't want to bother you-"

"Because he could probably tell I didn't want to be bothered," I cross my arms over my chest.

"Let's go inside," He offers me his hand.

I glance up at him with a scowl, "Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Please," He says softly.

"This will be the only time I agree with him. It is past my bedtime and sleep beckons me," Gleigeal says standing up. He barely gives me any time before he launches upward into the sky.

"I'll remember this later," I mumble down our bond.

Bodhi and I walk side by side, but I keep a distance between us. The memory of him pulling away from my touch sticks with me and I don't wish to relive it. I follow him mindlessly, focused on several different couples wandering around with each other, likely heading back to their rooms. A sigh leaves my lips and a part of me wishes I had stayed at the party. Maybe I would've found someone to bring back to my room or maybe I would've ended up in Ridoc's bed again.

"Can we talk? Please?" He asks as we stand in the courtyard. Either I say yes and go with him, or we part ways and I go back to my room. Xaden says that once he's gone, I'll be able to start helping Bodhi with the drops, which means a lot more time spent with him. Talking to him is probably the right thing to do if I want to avoid future awkwardness.

I do miss him. We were right on track to being okay again and then I went and fucked it all up. And ever since it happened, I can't stop thinking about how his lips felt against mine.

"Sure," I finally say.

He leads me back to his room and opens the door. He holds his hand out and I glance between his hand and face.

"Xaden warded my room. I have to pull you through." He says.

I hesitate before I place my hand in his and allow him to pull me through.

He gestures to his bed and I take a seat. I look around his room and it reminds me of Xaden's, just smaller. Maybe Bodhi will be a wingleader and get moved to a larger room.

He stands against the door, biting the inside of his cheeks. He's thinking about what to say and I wonder if I should be the first to talk. I've put my shields up so that I don't accidentally read him, or let him think I've read him or whatever it was that went wrong the night of the start of War Games.

"I'm sorry-"

"I just wanted to say-"

We both start and I bite back a laugh.

"I'm sorry that I left you that night," He finishes.

Shaking my head, I look down at my hands as I cross one leg over the other, "I should be the one apologizing."

"No," He says, "I left you. That is ridiculously unacceptable on my part. Regardless of how I felt, I thought I was helping by leaving."

Finding the right words is hard. I want to explain to him that I would never intentionally put my emotions onto him. I would never intentionally read him without his permission. There is so much to say but the words just won't come out.

"Please say something, Ani," his words are so quiet, if I were any further away I wouldn't have heard them.

"I understand why you left," I tell him, "I didn't mean to do what I did. Or whatever you think I did."

"What are you talking about?" He asks, stepping forward.

I rise to my feet, "I didn't push my emotions onto you. I wouldn't do that, Bodhi. But I understand that you left because-"

"No, no. Ani, what you felt were my emotions. That's why I left." He holds my gaze and I shake my head. "I didn't want you acting on what I wanted."

"Bodhi, you're not listening," I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose, "That's not what happened."

"If you want me to beg for forgiveness, I will." He's on his knees in front of me within a second and my heart nearly stops. "But please don't shut me out again."

"Bodhi," It comes out as a whisper, "You don't understand."

"If you want me to grovel, I will. I will ask for it every day until I graduate." His voice matches mine, his hands ghosting over my thighs like he's stopping himself from touching me.

"What happened that night was both of us. Feeding off of each other," I say to him quietly, "I didn't push onto you, nor did you push onto me,"

I trail my finger against his jawline and then brush the curls off his forehead. The way his eyes scan my face nearly sends me into a spiral.

"Ani-" I shake my head and brush my thumb against his bottom lip. His lips part and he breathes out and I'm at a loss for words at the sight before me.

Bodhi Durran is on his knees in front of me.

"My shields are up. I'm not using my signet." I cup his jaw in my hand and lean down letting our noses touch. "Yet, I still want you all the same."

He swallows and allows himself to finally touch my thighs. His fingers trail up the slit in my dress and he tilts his head up to brush his lips against mine, but I pull away slightly.

"This fucking dress," He groans and he lets his lips brush against my upper thigh, right where the slit ends and my breath hitches.

"Look at me," I choke back a whine when he presses a trail of kisses from my knee back to my upper thigh.

"Ani this dress," He whispers against my skin and I have to pull his chin to look up at me. "I will never get over this dress."

"Then take it off."

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tag list: @lynnieluvsu @sherlockstrangewolf @abysshaven @wolfbc97 @paris009 @poseidont @angel-graces-world-of-chaos

#bodhi fourth wing #bodhi durran #iron flame #the empyrean #bodhi durran x oc #bodhi durran fic #fourth wing #onyx storm #fourth wing fanfic #bodhi x reader #tisywys

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botanical-garden-system · 3 days ago

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Did yall know that there are several researchers actively trying to prove DID is not a real thing? Did yall know that there are several articles in the multitude of databases I have accessed through my school that ACTIVELY try to find and prove how DID isn’t fucking real???

When people tell me, “research disagrees with ___,” I hope yall realize that many researchers dont even think we exist. They dont think you can experience multiple identities. And yes, these research articles are within the past 5 years.

There are clinical psychologists with entire practices of therapeutic professionals that treat people with a focus in trauma and dissociative disorders as “untrained” and “stupid.” Not even researchers agrees on our existence, and this is NOT something you typically see within the peer reviewed articles of any popularly discussed disorder.

Many are legitimately PEER REVIEWED ARTICLES. Just keep this in fucking mind when you start saying shit like, “But research disproves your identity.” Many researchers actively try to disprove we exist in GENERAL.

Also I have yet to find a research document stating anything yall have claimed against plurality and I have easily 50-60 hours worth of digging and researching multiple databases (APA psycINFO, APA psycTESTS, Proquest psychology collection, Sage Journals, Google Scholar through a college institution, NIH, etc.). In fact, I actually have/had a few articles discussing how we need to start re-addressing DID and approaching it as psychologists.

I can probably list off several medical journals that talk about DID, provide you with at least 30-50 different peer reviewed scholarly journals, case studies, and collections, and I can confidently say that we are STILL trying to connect dissociation and trauma research.

At most, we can say that there is a HIGH CONNECTION BETWEEN cPTSD (yes, specifically cPTSD) and DID, but people are still figuring out whether you can see examples of DID in the brain through neuroimaging (which we have figured this out some, it’s super cool) and what other disorders DID is comorbid with.

We can’t be claiming SHIT about what is or isn’t right now. I am not at all a discourse account, and I most likely will not interact with syscourse outside of this, but I AM a researcher who has spent countless hours trying to better understand DID so that I can help myself and others around me. If yall were genuinely digging, yall would realize how fucking abysmal the understanding of psychology really is, let alone disorders that are stigmatized.

I WILL engage in discussing research that I have found with peer revision because I believe this education should be free and readily available to everyone. I am NOT engaging in debates on whether you believe plurality exists outside of DID. That has not been researched or discussed enough to make any sort of claim. The real point behind research is so we can better understand our world, our brains, and our society. The best we can do right now is LISTEN to the experiences people have and MAKE research to better understand their experiences.

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kawaiikenna · 3 days ago

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Hey look at that, I finally finished the fic I was writing for this! 😅 Here’s the link to the AO3 posting. :3

~~~

It had been a joke at first. Something that she would tell at parties and gatherings to spark interest or further conversations. It was something that she hadn’t thought about anymore than just a hobby. It wasn’t supposed to turn into something like this. How did she even know the people to actually make this happen? In all honesty Jazz should still be at home, studying for finals and making sure her thesis is watertight before submitting it.

Yes, that is exactly what she should be doing. Not going through customs on her way to Paris! And even more so, she should not be on a plane with the rest of the sharpshooters on their way to the god damned Olympics! And yet here she is, on a plane about to taxi down the runway, to then fly to Paris, France, to compete in the Olympics.

“Jazz?” A worried voice breaks her out of her own thoughts.

She looks over to see one of her teammates, Lucy, staring at her with concern plainly written all over her face. “Sorry, were you saying something?”

“Oh, um, no. I was just worried about you because you seemed like you were having a really deep dissociative episode there. I just wanted to make sure you were ok. I know that competitions can be really stressful and nerve wracking.” Lucy rambles. The seatbelt light turns off and Jazz unbuckles herself. “Sorry, I guess I’m nervous myself. I tend to ramble a lot when I’m nervous.”

“It’s alright.” Jazz offers with an understanding smile on her face. “I can understand why you’re nervous. Would you like to talk about something else instead? We should probably stay awake for a little longer otherwise jetlag will come for us.”

Lucy’s eyes lit up. She leans in closer, nearly hanging out of her little seat cubby and halfway across the walkway. Her eyes glint in a way that Jazz has seen in countless others. Some juicy gossip was about to be traded. Jazz leans in just a bit, showing her interest in whatever Lucy was about to share.

“Did you hear that one of the Wayne boys is competing in the Olympics as well?” A huge grin spreads across Lucy’s face.

“Wayne?” Jazz questions. She knows that she’s heard the name before but can’t quite put her finger on it. “I feel like I should know that name but tell me anyway.”

Lucy gasps. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I know you know who the Wayne’s are. It’s nearly impossible to not know who the Wayne’s are!”

“Lucy, I think you’ve forgotten that I’ve lived my entire life in a city that was completely cut off from the rest of the world. We only got outside connection back a little after my 20th birthday.” Jazz rolls her eyes in a playful fashion. A lot of people who know her forget about this little known fact. “I’ve only been attending my college in person for a year. Please forgive me if I haven’t been able to keep up on the gossip and know ‘who’s who’ in the celebrity world. Now, are you going to tell me who the Wayne’s are?”

Oh boy. Jazz would later come to regret that but it did help pass the time as their flight neared Paris.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jazz had to say that she was not impressed at the accommodations provided for the Olympians. Sleeping or otherwise. Who the hell thought that it was a grand idea to make all of the athletes sleep on the equivalent of padded cardboard boxes? The closets provided were nothing more than dollar store wire racks held together by bits of plastic and hope. Only staying together out of sheer spite. Now, she’s one for keeping things as green as possible and for companies to reduce their carbon footprint, but when it starts to impact the living quality of people, that’s when it should be stopped.

Don’t even get her started on the food situation. Jazz bets that if Sam was here instead, she would be absolutely elated. Considering that nearly 78% of the food options were vegetarian. Which is all good and well, but if you expected athletes who expended quite a few thousand calories with the sheer amount of exercise and activity that they do daily. Now, if done right, a vegetarian, or even vegan, lifestyle can greatly benefit athletes. But if thrown into this lifestyle without the proper precautions, evaluations or accommodations, it could lead to devastating outcomes.

She had her own dietary restrictions that no one would be able to cater to. Luckily she had a little brother with connections that could get her the ecto necessary for her to continue functioning properly. Which then brought up the whole ‘how are metas handled in the Olympics?’ debate. One that Jazz politely listened to but didn’t contribute a lot to. Seeing as she was still technically a non-sentient being by the government’s standards. Even if they didn’t actually know that’s how they classified her. Enough about that though, she was going on a mental rant about the food provided to them.

Not to mention that the athletes that don’t need to eat calorie dense meals were given the same options as those that did need it. Was it healthy? Yes actually, it was very healthy. Was it what she was expecting? No, not at all. She wasn’t enjoying it in the slightest either. Jazz had built up this amazing expectation of what kinds of international and local cuisine was going to be offered only for those expectations to be completely and utterly crushed. At least the chocolate muffins were good.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That had to have been the longest boat ride Jazz had ever been on. Sure it hadn’t poured rain the entire time but it was enough to be annoying. Her face hurt quite a bit from how much smiling she did while on the boat. It wasn’t a pleasant kind of pain either, more of the ‘forced customer service smile’ pain. And sure it was a really cool experience that Jazz would be able to tell her future children as well as future nieces and nephews. She really wasn’t sure how some of these athletes could do this kind of thing multiple years. At least the Olympics weren’t something that happened yearly. And even if they did, Jazz was very firmly not going to go again. Even if they asked nicely.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It wasn’t until the morning of the 27th that Jazz was finally able to catch her first glimpse of the elusive ‘Wayne boy’ that was supposedly competing in the men’s team gymnastics. He was tall but still wasn’t quite as tall as she is. Though with black hair and icy blue eyes, he looked like he could be related to herself and Danny. He was slim but extremely fit, which made sense since gymnastics was a very demanding sport.

Richard Grayson was the perfect picture of a billionaire’s son, adoptive or otherwise. Rich enough to pull people in, charming enough to keep people engaged, and yet still horrendously shallow. Jazz rolled her eyes and kept going past Richard and his posse of onlookers to go get some breakfast. She thought that that would be the last she saw of him.

How sorely was she wrong.

The gymnastics were one of the first events held that day. They also took the longest since they weren’t a single event but several mashed together under one name. Jazz had tried to spend her time practicing at the ranges they were provided with but was instead dragged away to watch some of the other events. Lucy was currently holding her hostage and forcing her to watch as the men’s gymnastics team did their routines. You could tell exactly when a fangirl spotted Mr. Grayson by the screaming and cheers and frenzied ‘I love you Dick!’s that would ring out across the stadium. And every time Jazz would roll her eyes. She was used to working with people that had pHDs, sometimes even multiple. People that knew how she thought and could actually understand and keep up with her when she talked. All of which Richard Grayson could not do so why would she be interested?

Jazz is ripped from her thoughts by Lucy shaking her fairly violently. “Oh, oh no, oh no!!! Jazz, Jazz! He’s looking over here! The Dick Grayson is actually looking over here! Directly at us!” Lucy squealed in fevered delight, a dreamy look on her face.

“That’s nice Lucy.” Jazz looks up to see that Team USA were starting to gather up and head out, presumably for a late lunch or early dinner. “Why don’t you go over and talk to him? I’m sure he’d love to talk to you.”

Lucy gasps and clutches at Jazz’s arm. “No! He’s like, famous and his family is stupid rich and how could I even compare to that?”

Jazz shrugs. “My little brother is dating an heiress. Of course, she also goes against everything, or at least tries to, her mom tries to get her to be. I’m pretty sure she’s had extensive education in politeness, manners and pretty much every form of etiquette you can possibly think of.” Jazz says as she discreetly maneuvers herself and Lucy through the crowds and towards one Mr. Grayson. How Lucy hadn’t noticed yet was a mystery though. “Sam is a lovely young lady though. Never grew out of her gothic phase and now lives it like any other lifestyle. She’s vegetarian and incredibly involved in animals’ rights. If anything, you’d think that she’s just like any other 19 year old.”

“Ok, but-” Was all Lucy could get out before she noticed just how close they were to the competition floor with Richard only a few meters away from them, surrounded by teammates and coaches. “Holy shit, he’s so close.” She whispers with wide eyes as she stops dead in her tracks.

“Mhm, and you’re going to go talk to him. Because if I have to listen to you sigh dreamily over him one more time I think I’ll be sleeping in Jessica’s room on the floor.” Jazz hums before pushing Lucy just those few feet closer to the barrier.

She leans over the railing and waves to Grayson. It takes a moment, but she’s actually able to catch his attention. He says something to the teammate he’d been talking to before walking over to them. Lucy squeals again and clutches even tighter to Jazz’s arm. At this rate she’s going to make herself pass out.

“Hey there ladies. What can I do for you?” Richard says, his tone is suave and Jazz will admit that he has a very nice voice to listen to. An easy, wide smile graces his lips.

Jazz leans on the railing with her arms folded under her. “My friend here thinks you are absolutely amazing and so cute and handsome.” She points to Lucy.

Lucy then comes back from her starstruck state just enough to blush bright red and smack Jazz on her arm. “Shut up!” Lucy hisses before giving the gymnast a nervous smile.

Jazz raises a brow at Lucy. “I’m just repeating what I’ve heard. And let’s be honest, I could repeat much worse.” Jazz throws her friend a sly smile.

Lucy buries her head in her hands. Mumble jumbled curses are the only things Jazz can hear from her extremely fluster teammate. She smiles and laughs a bit. This is what she gets for non-stop chattering about the man in front of them. Another good natured laugh startles her a bit and she glances back down at the gymnast.

“Thank you, I appreciate it, but I think red heads are a personal favorite of mine.” He winks at Jazz and she’s not entirely sure how she feels about this. She can still feel it as her face flushes though.

Lucy’s head shoots up out of her hands. Initially, Jazz thinks that she’s hurt from being so thoroughly rejected. Realization dawns on her just a moment too late. Instead of tears, Lucy has a nearly manic grin on her face and a teasing glint in her eyes. She grips the railing and leans as far forward as she can to get just that much closer to the gymnast.

“Jazz is single. She says that you’re not her type but I’ve seen her staring at your wonderful, glorious ass. If you want I can drag her to the-” Lucy blurts before Jazz is able to pounce on her. She slaps a hand over her teammate’s mouth, effectively shutting her up.

“Well would you look at the time!” Jazz says, a bit of embarrassed desperation making her voice a much higher pitch than it usually is. Jazz tries to get Lucy to back up and away from the railing. It does not work all that well but she tries anyway. “We need to get going for our warm ups Lucy!”

Jazz is able to get them two steps away from the railing when Lucy is able to get free from Jazz. She runs back to the railing where Richard is still standing, looking up at their antics with a genuine smile. She grips the railing as Jazz tries her damnedest to pull her away.

“We’re having dinner at 6:30 tonight! I’ll make sure she’s there!” Lucy shouts with a manic smile on her face.

“I’ll make sure to be there too!” Richard shouts back. “I’ll see you then Jazz!”

Jazz is finally able to get her friend away from the railing. Sure, she had to use a bit of her liminal strength, but she did it. Jazz didn’t put her down until they were out of the stadium and on their way to the shooting range.

Jazz stares down at her friend, hands on hips and an enraged disappointed expression on her face. “You, are a menace.”

Lucy smiles sweetly up at Jazz. “A menace that just got you a date.”

Jazz stares down at her for a moment. “I will not thank you.”

“You will when you get laid!” And with that Lucy took off down the street, Jazz hot on her heels.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jazz sighed as she sat down with her tray of food. Sure this wasn’t where she really wanted to sit, but Lucy had said that she absolutely had to sit here and wait for her while she got her own dinner. Which was kind of strange but whatever. It wasn’t the weirdest thing she’s experienced or dealt with in her life, and she was willing to bet just about anything that this wasn’t going to be even the weirdest thing she’ll experience on this trip alone.

Ugh, her head pounded a bit. She was due for another dose of ecto soon but that would have to wait until after dinner. She stretched a bit and took note of what hurt the worst. Her arm was incredibly sore and her head was ringing. Apparently her shooting style was something that most people didn’t expect. So what if she didn’t care for any of the fancy equipment? It wasn’t all that difficult to shoot the way she does. Either way, Jazz was just looking forward to taking a hot shower after eating dinner.

Of course, there was something that she was forgetting and it was really bugging her. Something that didn’t quite seem right. She spent a moment trying to figure out when a familiar black haired, blue eyed man sat directly in front of her with his own tray of food.

She stares at him for a moment, not really knowing what to do in this situation. “Um, hi?” She ends up saying dumbly.

“Hi.” Richard ‘Dick’ Grayson responds with a wide smile. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to catch you before you left. Good thing I found you though.”

“Uhhhh, thanks? I guess?” Jazz responds, still unsure of the situation and how to proceed. She massages her temples, she really didn’t have the capacity to sit through more bullshit. “And why, pray tell, were you looking for me?”

“Because your friend set us up on a date, obviously.” He says, his smile not slipping in the slightest.

Jazz raises an eyebrow. “A date? Is that what this is?” She continues to eat, not bothering to look at him again.

“I would think so at least.”

Jazz hums, contemplating. “If this is a date then you’re not doing very well, are you?”

“How so?” He raises an eyebrow.

“For starters, you haven’t bothered to actually introduce yourself. Are you just used to people already knowing who you are that you don’t have basic manners anymore? What a shame.” She gives him an unimpressed look.

Laughter spills out of him. A joyous sound that Jazz actually really liked. It sounded genuine too, which was a nice plus.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m Richard but you can just call me Dick. And yes, that is the name I prefer.” Dick grins widely, humor saturating his entire expression.

“Nice to finally officially meet you Dick. My name is Jasmine, please call me Jazz though. Only my mother uses my full name.” She says with a chortle and smiles. “Now what is it that you usually do on first dates? I haven’t had many considering my family’s reputation and my major.”

“Really?” Dick asks, eyes wide with curiosity. She nods. “Well, I guess you talk about yourselves. Get to know each other more to see if you’re interested and compatible with each other. Why don’t you tell me about your major. I didn’t know that you’re in college. What do you study?”

And that was how the rest of the night went. Talking and sharing stories and lamenting over shenanigans that their younger siblings had done. She learned that he had three officially adopted younger brothers, but the Wayne household was home to quite a few of their friends and ‘honorary’ siblings. Jazz told him a little about the time she was growing up, a very curated version but necessary alteration.

By the end of the night, Dick walked her back to her room and bade her goodnight. As soon as she walked into her shared apartment Lucy and Jessica were on her like wolves on an injured animal. They just about backed her up against the door as they crowded in and basically shouted questions over top of each other.

“Was that Dick?” Lucy demanded. “Did he walk you back?”

“Oh my god, did he kiss you? Did you like it?” Jessica questioned with fierce determination in her eyes.

Lucy gasps. “No, he wouldn’t go that far yet, right? Jazzy here wouldn’t let him.”

Jessica nods wisely. “You’re right, you’re right. She’s far too uptight to let him do that.”

“Wha- hey!” Was all Jazz was able to get out before her two friends, and teammates, bulldozed over her.

“Holy shit, you are so right. It probably has to do with her always psychoanalyzing everyone she meets.”

“See, see. But he did walk her back so there has to be some kind of interest. Right?”

“Right.” They both turn back to Jazz. “So are you gonna tell us about him or are you just going to stand there?”

There’s a moment of silence where Jazz makes sure that they’ll actually let her talk. She gives them both a look and they nod, encouraging her to go on. “He was, nice.” Was all she was able to say before a bright red blush made its home on her face.

Lucy and Jessica both burst into twittering giggles. Jazz just sighs. It was going to be one hell of a long night and she fears that it will be an even longer time before she could indulge in a hot shower. She’d really been looking forward to that. Oh well.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jazz couldn’t believe it.

She had placed. In the Olympics. How in all of the Infinite Realms, did she manage to do that? It didn’t feel like something she could accomplish. Sure Jazz had started bettering her aim when it became apparent that she was more of a danger than a help to Danny. But that didn’t explain just how all of this happened. It felt like she’d somehow stumbled upon the most unbelievable series of events and the following consequences.

“Jazz! Good job!” Her coach cheered when she came back from the podium. “I think in celebration, we should take the whole team out for a nice dinner!”

Jazz just nodded. She wasn’t quite sure if the reality she was currently experiencing actually was reality or just a trick some ghost was playing on her. In the end she decided that she might as well enjoy the moment, if it ended up not being real she could kick the ecto entity’s ass into next millennium. So she spent the rest of the night in a fancy French restaurant surrounded by her teammates as they all cheered for her and showed her their unwavering support. It had to be the most fun she’d had in a long time, maybe the most fun she’s ever had to begin with.

When dinner had been finished and cleaned up, they all stumbled out into the streets. Now that all of their events were over, they were free to go sightseeing until their ride home in a week or so. Jazz could feel the sheer amount of ecto that radiated throughout the older parts of Paris. And it may be a bad thing that the ambient ecto was starting to make her feel a bit buzzed. Like she’d had a couple drinks and was now somewhere between waking and unconsciousness. Everything felt warm and fuzzy, as if nothing bad could ever happen. Not now, not ever. Soon the fuzziness was interrupted by one very handsome and dashing Dick Grayson.

She smiled widely at him. She couldn’t really string together words to make a coherent sentence at the moment but she knew that actions spoke louder than words.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jazz woke with a start. The first thing she noticed was how badly her head hurt. A pounding headache was overtaking her entire thought process to the point of wanting to just go back to sleep. And she was really considering it as well. But when she settled back into her cardboard bed, another presence in her bed made themselves known. Jazz is frozen in place, afraid that if she moves at all the other person will wake up. But with her sudden stiffening the other person carelessly ensnares her in their hold and presses her to them. Now there’s a delightfully toned and warm body that is fully pressed to her back. One strong arm encircles her waist as the other pillows her head.

This, this was bad. Jazz tried to wrack her brain to figure out what happened or even how it happened. The last thing she remembered was that she came in third place in the finals, everyone being ecstatic over the placement, and them all going out to eat at a local restaurant. Then she came back? Jazz wasn’t sure, that’s when it started to get hazy. First of all, before she did anything else, she needed to figure out who the hell was in bed with her and how the hell to get out of this specific situation. So, carefully, she turned around to get a look at the person that was currently sharing her bed. And why was she not surprised to come face to face with a naked Dick Grayson?

‘Wait, naked?’ Was all she could think.

A cursory glance down tells her that she is also buck naked. There are constellations of hickeys and love bites all down her chest and torso, with a few decorating her arms and legs. She had absolutely no doubt that if her body looked like this, her neck would more than likely look like a scarf of blues and purples. Of course, with a closer look, Dick didn’t seem to come out of whatever happened unscathed either. He had his own intricate pattern of hickeys and love bites across his skin. There were a few surface level scratches along his arms and shoulders though.

Jazz was staring at Dick, in all his fully naked glory, when he woke up. It was a slow process. A lot slower than her own jolting into consciousness. His eyes fluttered open for a split second before closing again. He pulls her in even closer, twining his legs with hers, the arm under her head shifting so that he had better access to card through her messy red locks, his other hand drifting down to caress her butt. With how close they were now pressed together, Jazz could feel his erection firming up against her stomach.

Jazz lets out a little squeak at all of the contact. She’s still uncertain about if this is ok, but she sure as hell knows that it all feels really damn good. His eyes jump open and he holds her in a more protective way as he scans the room for some unknown danger or threat. When his sleepy brain finally figures out that there wasn’t anything of the likes in the room he settles again before glancing down at her. They lock eyes and he smiles. It’s a wide and sleepy thing, like he still isn’t quite fully awake. It makes Jazz blush like none other.

“Mornin’ beautiful. Di’n’t think you’d s’ill be here when I woke up. Nice to see you’re s’ill ’ere though.” Dick’s voice is an even deeper timbre with sleep roughness softening his words.

“I’m, I’m not sure what exactly happened?” Jazz says in an unconfident tone. She shifts away from her bed partner to try and gain just a little more space between them. Though with how narrow the bed was, she didn’t have much success. “How, exactly, did we get here?”

That woke Dick up a bit more. Clarity was slowly starting to show in his eyes as the sleepiness began to fade. “What’d you mean? Here, like in your room, or here like in your bed?”

“Um, both?” Jazz answers honestly.

Dick hums, relaxing back into the tiny twin mattress. “We went on another date after you had a celebratory dinner with your team.” Luckily he wasn’t slurring his words too badly. Meaning Jazz could understand him more clearly. “We took a tour down into the tunnels. You know, the ones filled with bones?” Jazz nods, not really like where this was going. “After we’d been down there for a little while you started acting weird. Kind of like you had alcohol or you somehow got drugged. And I swear, I didn’t do anything like that to you. If you don’t believe me, that's alright.” He leans back and stares up at the ceiling.

“I believe you.” Jazz says in quiet confidence.

Dick whips his gaze back to hers. “You do?”

She nods. “I know this feeling and sadly it’s nothing a mortal could ever inflict.” She sighs heavily and slumps into Dick’s chest.

She really should’ve been more careful traveling around a city that had so much death. The ecto was deep seated and older than anything she could ever hope to find in America. It was no wonder her body reacted the way it had. It didn’t help that the centuries and centuries of ghostly wants and needs that had piled up had found a way to become fulfilled through her. Jazz knew that she was a far more likely choice as a conduit for the dead than others.

“Anything a mortal could inflict?” Dick repeated, though it sounded like he was repeating it more to himself than back to her.

Jazz hummed. “Yep. Lucky you, you seemed to have been able to bed the former Queen Regent of the Infinite Realms. I don’t really count as fully human or mortal anymore.” She closes her eyes, suddenly feeling more tired than she should be. They should be able to squeeze in a nap before anyone came looking for them, right?

“Jazz?” Dick tries to shake her awake. She just groans and shifts to hide her face in his chest. If she’s gone as far as the situation implies, then she’s going to enjoy it, dammit. Dick shakes her again, a little more firmly now. “Jazz, you can’t just dump that on me and expect to not have to explain.” His voice sounds reedy and stressed.

She hums and further cuddles into his chest. “Later.” She says. “Not now. Sleep now, talk later.”

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And later they did talk.

It took a few hours but Jazz patiently answered all of the questions she could over a late lunch. With just the two of them in the room, Jazz was more than willing to answer any questions Dick might’ve had. They exchanged numbers and promised to stay in contact. Sure they still had at least another week to spend in Paris but she sure as hell hoped that he’d stay away from her until they were back in the States. Of course, the universe couldn’t make this too easy otherwise she wouldn’t be a Fenton.

“Mr. Wayne, how nice to meet you.” Jazz says with a slightly strained smile as she shakes Bruce Wayne’s hand. She shoots Dick a scathing look. “I didn’t realize you were even in the country.”

“Of course I would be in the country.” Mr. Wayne says with that kind of air headedness that only those born with too much money have. “It’s not every year that my eldest son competes in the Olympics.”

Dick clears his throat. “This is the third time I’ve been in the Olympics, dad. You came to see me in Tokyo too.” He was wearing a fond smile and it made Jazz’s heart do a little flip in her chest.

“Really?” Mr. Wayne asks, his brows knit together in deep thought. Trying to figure out how he’d forgotten the event. Dick nods. “Hmm, my memory must be slipping from me in my old age.” Mr. Wayne says with some sort of faux concern.

Jazz keeps a pleasant smile on her face. Sure she might not be as knowledgeable about nearly all celebrities, but even she knew who Mr. Wayne was. It was kind of hard not to when Tucker would talk about Wayne Tech near constantly. Now that she thought about it, Jazz was fairly certain that she’d heard Sam complain about Mr. Wayne and his gaggle of adopted children. How had she not made the connection earlier?

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Jessica walking into the room. Jazz perks up at the potential escape. She catches her friend’s eye and they have a silent conversation with Jazz asking for her help and Jessica rolling her eyes but agreeing anyway.

“Jazz! Lucy and I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Jessica loudly calls as she walks over to the group. “C’mon! You’re gonna be late for your interview!”

Jessica didn’t even stop to consider just who she’d interrupted but ended up shuffling Jazz out of the room quite successfully.

“I-wait, I had an interview today?” Jazz asked in confused surprise.

“Uh, yeah.” Jessica said, rolling her eyes. “You’d think for a psych major you’d be more organized.”

“Hey!” Jazz complained with a pout. “I’ll have you know that I am actually very organized.”

“And yet here we are.” The smirk obvious in her voice, even if Jazz couldn't personally see her face.

Jazz rolled her own eyes and looked over her shoulder. “I’ll see you guys later! It was nice to meet you Mr. Wayne!” She shouts with a mildly embarrassed expression.

Once they’re a safe distance away, Jazz slows down and looks over at Jessica. “I don’t actually have an interview that I seriously forgot about, right?”

“No, you do. It starts in like 10 minutes. So you better start running missy.” Jessica says with a devilish grin.

Jazz stares at her, wide eyed and disbelieving. “Seriously? Jess, what the hell!” And with that Jazz took off running with Jessica laughing manically in the background.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jazz sighed deeply as she relaxed into her economy class plane seat. It had been a very stressful last few days. What with dodging not only Dick but also Mr. Wayne. Because she had a feeling that they were going to pin her down and demand even more information out of her that she didn’t feel comfortable sharing without Danny’s consent. Though, as soon as she was able to get back home and talk with her little brother, she had a feeling that she’d be seeing more of Dick and his family.

Jazz sighs again and leans against the wall, looking out the window at the painted clouds beneath the plane. In all honesty she was just ready for a nap and a full course meal of Ectoplasm. Even with the surplus of ecto that was in Paris, it didn’t taste quite right. And it didn’t help when the whole waking up naked in bed with someone thing happened. She should probably ask Frostbite about that and if it had any lasting consequences.

“You ready to head home?” Lucy says, a large smile plastered on her face.

Jazz hums and closes her eyes for a moment. “Yeah. I think I’m ready to just be home right now. It’s been a stressful couple of weeks.”

“True that. Kinda sucks that we weren’t able to stay for the closing ceremonies as well. Hopefully next time we’ll be able to.” Lucy says in a cheerful tone. How was she so chipper when Jazz could feel the exhaustion dragging at her bones?

“I’m not sure I’ll even make it on the team for the next Olympics. Besides, this isn’t what I want to do for a living. I just got here through a very lucky set of circumstances.” Jazz gives Lucy a tired smile before laying down against the wall, looking back out at the slowly fading sun set.

“I don’t think you’ll be that lucky Jazz.” Jessica says as she twists around in her seat to face them. “I don’t think Coach would let you skip out after placing on the podium.”

Jazz just sighs overdramatically as her two friends giggle at her antics. And maybe it wasn’t all that bad? She had a new community that supported her and friends that didn’t judge her because of her background. Maybe she could keep doing this. And maybe, just maybe, she’ll see Dick at the next Olympics too. Jazz smiles softly at that thought. Yeah, that sounded nice.

DPxDC the Olympics AU.

Jazz is competing for sharpshooting

Dick is competing for team gymnastics

Y’all can work it out from there :)

#now i’m imaging maddie and jack going ‘ah yes do you remember when we went to the olympics mads?’ to the shock their kids and everyone #maddie placed in martial arts/rhythm gymnastics #jack placed in one of the ‘heavy weight’ sports like weight lifting or hammer or sumo etc #possibly even getting a medal - but not gold - and they just never mentioned it ever #maybe he’s solo men’s gymnastics too i just think he’d be in a team to put less eyes on him #dpxdc #danny phantom #dp x dc #bones prompts #and yet i just think they would get along great as both older siblings and people with too much weight in their shoulders #prev tags #paris olympics #2024 paris olympics #ao3 #I wrote fanfic instead of sleeping #such is life #there is no other way of doing it -w-

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