#this is just me rambling about my stories

[isaisliterallyhim]

heyyyy love your fics <333

can you do sugar daddy Kaiser who's always been rude and rough with reader but one day when he realises he's falling in love with them he's really gentle, asking how they feel and praising them? if possible can you do fluff along with nsfw???

ahh hii anon!! thank uu i appreciate ur words <33 anywayss i love the plot ohh gosh ygs r so creative omg

"And all I wanna do is stay with HER"

ft. michael kaiser . sugar daddy! kaiser . ooc! kaiser lol... . ness is in the story omg! . is ness ooc! too... . yes ness is ooc asw . character development.? . eventual smut . sex gulp... . piv ! . afab! reader . mistreated! reader ... . fluff asw . unreliable narrator

wc: 1.0k

"she's annoying." kaiser grumbled, taking a sip of wine. ness looked at him, "[name] cares about you that's why." the magician tried to lighten the mood. clearly, it didn't work.

"she just wants fucking money." he retorted. ness frowned, "can't you look at it in a positive way.? at least she's trying. take a look at all the others you've had."

that sentence had kaiser reflecting for a bit. "huh. i suppose you have a point for once, ness." the prodigy felt himself get a little flushed. "you're treating her so rough, how often does she even ask for money.?" ness continued. "don't be so harsh man! she's trying..."

the emperor tsked. "if she's so 'perfect' you take her then." he grumbled. jeez this guy is really helpless man... ness looked at kaiser disgusted for the first time.

"keep acting like that and she's bound to become who you think she really is." ness thought as he picked himself up and left kaiser to his thoughts.

later within the night, kaiser found himself scrolling through your photos after sending you some money (oh need that.) it hit him you were gorgeous. pretty face with a kind heart.. he was going to go insane.

the more he scrolled the more he admired your beauty. you radiated an aura that he just couldn't place his finger on. perfection was a word too vague to describe it.

shaking his head, he set his phone down. hands on his head, he was wondering. what the literal hell was he doing.? all he's ever done was treat you like shit because he had such horrendous experiences with others.

i mean, you were like the others. you were just there for the money... and attention i guess. but there was something more to it. he was just to blind to see it. (tf r ur glasses for mihya bro.)

it was late — hella late. 2:32 A.M.? there's no way you'd come over right? so what the heck were you doing at his door in a matter of moments?

kaiser opened his door, surprised. "you — you actually came?" he asked, somewhat in disbelief. "i'm right here aren't i, dumbass.. plus you called." you shrugged.

the satin on the bed somewhat wrinkled as the both of you sat down. "um, so why'd you want me to come ove-" you were quickly interrupted by an apology. "[name], liebling. i'm sorry. i'm sorry for my behaviour, how i treated you. scheiße, i'm so fuckin' sorry."

he held your visibly smaller and softer hands. his hands feeling quite the opposite. you were kinda a dumbass, "wha — michael huh...?" you shook your head giggling, "what are you apologizing for?"

his gorgeous blue eyes stared into yours. "don't act coy with me, [name]. you don't need to forgive me. i'll do whatever for your forgiveness. please. do you want more money? gifts.? flowers..? wha.. god. what do you want?!" kaiser asked desperately.

you looked at him with a deadpan expression. god, has this man ever been treated alright.? "mihya, i don't really want anything. yea i mean i love money i mean — who doesn't love money. but i'm not here solely because of money." you sighed.

"yes, you have money is definitely a positive trait but, you have more to it. money isn't the only thing that makes you lovable." you continued to ramble. his hands released yours. you were caught in his embrace.

"mihya.?" you whispered. kaiser knew how scary it was to love someone. the amount of devotion you must give. the time and effort. one wrong move? it could all crumble.

his embrace got tighter, you were tensing a little bit up. was he gonna beat you like what the heck is goin' on?! he knew you were always running away from love, 'cause your daddy never gave you enough :((

hey, same for him as well, no? "meine liebe." kaiser breathed, "let's try again together. i'm done with the 'you deserve better' bullshit. i have the choice to be better and i'm taking it."

he loosened his embrace on you, hands on your shoulders. you met his gaze. all it could scream was blue of desperation. not going to even lie, most dedication you've seen in your whole life.

you were still skeptical — hell, i can't blame you! you've been mistreated all the time by partners, getting taken advantage of... what change is this rich and attractive man going to do? he has the money, the women ugh... thinking about it made your head hurt.

"what do you say, liebling. let me show you.?" he leaned in, mumbling into your ear. hah! as if you'd believe what he said and give him a chance.

kaiser would be lying if he said he didn't regret making up with you earlier. he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss you. hell! every bit of fiber within him missed you! his lips on yours, oh gosh. he's going crazy. :c

a little while after what was supposed to be a sweet make out, he found himself aligning his tip to your slit. you had glossy eyes as you stared back up at him. he had you pinned onto the bed...

"are you sure?" he asked stroking your stomach, his hands then tracing your curves. "fuu-uck. you're perfect." he mumbled. you nodded in response.

as he buried his length into your warmth he swore he got sent to heaven. "sh-shit.. scheißescheißescheiße...! please you're made for me..." he continued, his lips once more pressed onto yours.

nah, at this point his cock was stretching your opening... it hurt. kaiser broke off the kiss as he groaned, "you take me so damn well.. i'm sorry for being so horrid to you."

you were practically crying, was it cause the sex was good? cause of kaiser? you didn't know! "m-hya.." you sobbed out so sweetly. it was kaiser's last straw.

your walls were sucking his member in man..! how could he not..? your noises could kill him oh gosh! one last thrust and his length was kissing your womb :c "i'm sorry meine liebe, i-" the emperor didn't even get to finish his sentence as he finished in you <3

he pulled out just to push his fingers back in. admiring your form and expression. maaaan, kaiser couldn't ask for a better girl >< dawn came, so did kaiser, 'cept he n you came multiple times :3 kaiser could make it better. all he needed was just one more day with ya.

— ©isaisliterallyhim, 2025

tags !! : @twijaxx ♡, @kyvkc

a/n: hey guys.. hey anon.. guess who's finally back heh... my writers block actually fried me so bad its diabolical man.. yes i lost motivation half way along w the plot tbf i had this in my drafts for 2 weeks or smth... i'm so sorry if this wasn't what y'all wanted ill cook for the future ones ;-; not proofread btw good GAWDDDD if kaiser was my sugar daddy man.. money and hes hot YES PLSS (no im nawt shallow but tuition fees are booty bro yall cant blame me.) yes this is all yap ALL MY NOTES ARE YAP OK </3 but um.. yay ilygs a lot mwa mwa <3

[mrs-delaney]

Hide | The Set-Up | Chapter One

Summary: Joe Burrow never liked talk shows, but a post-Super Bowl appearance on The Tonight Show was part of the job. He expected scripted questions, football talk, and a few forced laughs with Jimmy Fallon. What he didn’t expect? A surprise guest—Riley Carter, the lead singer of The Rambles, a band he’s quietly admired for years. A harmless game of “Love Match” turns into national TV humiliation when Joe picks Riley over every celebrity presented—only to have her walk out onto the stage moments later. What started as his worst nightmare might just turn into something much more interesting.

Pairings: Joe Burrow x Riley Carter (OC)

Word Count: 5.6k

Requested: No | Yes

Warnings: Mild language, talk show ambush, secondhand embarrassment, and undeniable chemistry

This story is ONLY posted on Wattpad and Tumblr under miss_delaney. If you see it anywhere else, it has been stolen. Do NOT copy, repost, translate, or distribute my work on any other platform. Please respect my writing.

Want to be added to the taglist? Drop a comment or message me! 💕

Requests: Open

Author’s Note: And so it begins! I wanted to set the stage for Joe and Riley’s story with an unforgettable (and hilariouslyuncomfortable) first meeting. Their chemistry is immediate but unexpected, and this talk show moment will definitely be something neither of them forgets. Buckle up—this is only the beginning! Let me know what you think! 😊💛

The air in the greenroom was stuffy, the leather couch sticking to Joe's palms as he shifted uncomfortably. A half-empty bottle of water sat on the glass table in front of him, condensation pooling around its base. He glanced at his phone—thirty minutes until showtime. Thirty minutes until he would be paraded out in front of a live studio audience like some kind of trained animal, expected to perform and charm and be witty.

He knew when he signed up to be a professional football player that there would be specific commitments he'd be uncomfortable with. At the top of that list? Talk show interviews. Yet, here he was, just weeks after his team's heartbreaking Super Bowl loss, sitting under the fluorescent lights of a Tonight Show greenroom, mentally preparing himself to face Jimmy Fallon and millions of viewers.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, carefully styled by the show's hair and makeup team despite his protests that he "looked fine." In his navy blue varsity-style sweater with white collar, dark blue pants, and silver Converse sneakers, he felt more comfortable than he would have in a suit and tie. He liked to keep things casual, understated—nothing that would draw unnecessary attention. His personal style was cool and effortlessly stylish, and thankfully his stylist had allowed him to wear his own clothes rather than forcing him into formal attire for this appearance.

"Ten minutes, Mr. Burrow," a production assistant called, poking her head through the door with a clipboard pressed to her chest. "Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?"

"I'm good," Joe said, forcing a polite smile. "Thanks."

As the door closed again, he exhaled heavily. Why had he agreed to this? It wasn't that he disliked Jimmy—by all accounts, the host was a decent guy. But there was something about these talk shows that made Joe feel exposed, vulnerable. Football was different. On the field, he was in control. He knew the plays, understood the game, could anticipate the defense's moves. But talk shows? They were unpredictable. And Joe Burrow didn't do unpredictable if he could help it.

His phone buzzed with a text from his mom: *Good luck tonight! We're all watching!*

Great. More pressure.

The same PA appeared again, this time with more urgency. "Mr. Burrow? We're ready for you."

Joe stood, straightening his sweater and taking one last deep breath. Game face on. Just like preparing to take the field, except the arena was a brightly lit stage, and the opponents were awkward questions and his own social anxiety.

As he followed the PA through the maze of corridors, the dull roar of the audience grew louder. The studio was packed, every seat filled, the energy palpable even from backstage. A makeup artist rushed over for a final touch-up, dabbing powder on his forehead with practiced efficiency.

"You're on after the monologue," the stage manager explained, positioning Joe just offstage. "When Jimmy introduces you, just walk out, wave to the audience, and take a seat on the couch."

Joe nodded, his throat suddenly dry. Simple enough.

The show's theme music blared, and Joe could see Jimmy bound onto the stage, his trademark enthusiasm drawing immediate cheers from the audience. As the host launched into his monologue, Joe tried to focus on his breathing, on the solid ground beneath his feet, on anything but the fact that in a few minutes, he'd be on national television.

The audience's laughter ebbed and flowed with Jimmy's jokes, a few about the Super Bowl making Joe wince internally. Still too soon.

"Our first guest tonight is one of the NFL's brightest stars," Jimmy was saying now, his voice cutting through Joe's thoughts. "Quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals, please welcome Joe Burrow!"

The audience erupted, and Joe stepped onto the stage, the bright lights momentarily blinding him. He raised a hand in greeting, mustering a smile as he crossed to Jimmy, exchanged a brief handshake and half-hug, then settled onto the couch.

"Joe Burrow!" Jimmy exclaimed, as if they were old friends reuniting after years apart. "Man, it's great to have you here. How are you feeling after the Super Bowl? You guys played an incredible game."

And so it began—the usual questions about the season, about his teammates, about his plans for next year. Joe fell into the familiar rhythm of athlete interviews, giving just enough to seem engaged without revealing anything too personal. Always polite, occasionally funny, but careful. Measured. The Joe Burrow the public knew and the media expected.

Jimmy was mid-monologue when Joe realized this was going to be far worse than he thought. The host's expression shifted into something mischievous, a clear signal that the carefully structured interview was about to veer off course.

"So, Joe, we're going to play a little game tonight. I think you're going to love it. Or hate it. I don't know—you tell me after."

Joe's shoulders tensed, his fingers curling imperceptibly into the couch cushion beneath him. This wasn't part of the prep his publicist had gone over. "Uh... okay?" he managed, already feeling a cold sweat forming at the base of his neck.

"It's called Love Match. It's simple—I'll show you two people, and you pick who you'd rather hang out with. No pressure, totally harmless."

The audience tittered with anticipation, and Joe felt his pulse quicken. He hated these kinds of segments—the ones designed to create viral moments at the expense of guests' dignity. But there was no graceful way to refuse now, not with the cameras rolling and millions watching.

Joe wiped his palms on his jeans, the denim rough against his clammy hands. He was already regretting saying yes to this interview, already calculating how he'd face his teammates after whatever embarrassment was about to unfold. "Sure, let's do it," he muttered, earning knowing laughter from the audience who clearly recognized his discomfort.

Jimmy grinned and turned to the screen behind them, clearly enjoying himself. "Alright, first up—Bella Hadid or Riley Carter?"

Joe blinked, the name triggering an immediate reaction he couldn't control. Riley Carter. The name hit him like a freight train, derailing his carefully maintained composure. He knew her. Well, he didn't know her, but he knew *of* her. The lead singer of The Rambles, a band he'd been following since his college days. Her voice had been the soundtrack to some of his most significant moments—draft night, his first NFL win, even the quiet moments on the team bus when he needed to center himself.

It was more than just appreciating her music. There was something about her that had always caught his attention. The raw honesty in her lyrics, the way she carried herself in interviews, a confidence that seemed effortless and real. She was stunning too—blonde hair that fell in perfect waves, piercing blue eyes that always seemed to be looking right through you, a smile that could light up a room. It was a crush he'd been keeping to himself for a long time, not even sharing it with teammates during those late-night conversations when everyone else revealed their celebrity fantasies.

"Uh..." He shifted in his seat, stalling as his mind raced. He could lie, pick Bella Hadid like most guys probably would. The safe choice. The expected answer. But something made him hesitate. "Riley Carter," he finally said, the name feeling strange to say out loud in this context.

The audience cheered, and Jimmy's eyebrows shot up in exaggerated surprise. "Interesting! Alright, Riley Carter or Zendaya?"

Joe gave a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck as he realized he was now committed to this path. "Riley Carter."

"Oh, wow, she's on a roll!" Jimmy teased, clearly enjoying Joe's discomfort. "Alright, Riley or Kendall Jenner?"

Joe shook his head and smiled to himself, resigned to his fate. If he was going to be embarrassed on national TV, he might as well be honest. "Still Riley."

Jimmy leaned back in his chair, feigning shock as the audience's cheers grew louder. "Well, folks, I think we've found the most loyal man in Hollywood. Joe, it seems like Riley Carter's got your full attention!"

Joe tried to laugh it off, though he could feel the heat rising in his face, the telltale warmth that he knew meant he was turning crimson. "Yeah, I guess so," he managed, trying to seem casual despite the fact that his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

Jimmy glanced offstage with a sly grin that immediately set off alarm bells in Joe's head. That look—he'd seen it before on other talk shows. It was the look that preceded the ambush, the surprise that made for great TV but terrible personal experiences.

"Well, that's convenient because—surprise—I happen to know Riley personally. In fact, I invited her to the show tonight. Everyone, please welcome Riley Carter!"

The audience roared, a wall of sound that seemed to fade into the background as Joe's world narrowed to a single point. This couldn't be happening. His private admiration—not even admitted to his closest friends—was about to be thrust into the spotlight in the most mortifying way possible.

And then she was there, emerging from the wings, walking toward him with the easy grace he'd only seen in music videos and concert footage. Riley appeared from backstage, looking effortlessly stunning in a white silk crop top and high-waisted flared pants that accentuated her figure perfectly. Her blonde hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, framing a face that was even more beautiful in person than on screen. The studio lights caught the subtle highlights in her hair, the gleam of her simple gold earrings, and the soft pink of her lips.

Joe's stomach dropped, a physical sensation like missing a step on a staircase. Pure, unadulterated panic coursed through him as the distance between them closed. He shot to his feet, operating on autopilot, his mom's voice in his head reminding him to stand when a woman entered the room.

She approached with a smile that seemed genuinely warm rather than the practiced expression of a celebrity forced into an uncomfortable situation. Up close, Joe noticed details he'd never been able to see on screens—the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the striking blue of her eyes, the small scar near her left eyebrow.

"Hi, how are you?" she asked as she leaned in for a quick hug, her voice softer in person than he'd expected.

The scent of her perfume—something subtle and warm, like vanilla and bergamot—briefly surrounded him as they embraced. Joe's brain short-circuited, processing the surreal reality that Riley Carter—*the* Riley Carter—was hugging him on national television after he'd just admitted to basically having a crush on her.

"Good. Huge fan, by the way," Joe managed, his voice slightly shaky, aware of how utterly inadequate the words were. *Huge fan*? Could he sound any more like a cliché?

"Thanks," Riley said warmly, showing no sign that she found this situation as bizarre as he did. She took her seat on the couch beside him, close enough that he could see the delicate gold bracelet on her wrist, could smell that subtle perfume again.

Jimmy clapped his hands together, clearly thrilled with the success of his surprise. "Alright, Joe, Riley, this is already off to a great start. Riley, I hope you don't mind, but I've been telling Joe all about you."

Riley turned to Joe, her brow raised playfully, a hint of mischief in her striking blue eyes. "Oh, really? Should I be worried?"

Joe chuckled nervously, hyperaware of the cameras capturing every expression, every movement. "Probably."

Jimmy laughed, leaning forward in his chair. "Joe's been very consistent tonight, Riley. Picked you over everyone. Kendall Jenner? Nope. Zendaya? Nope. It was Riley Carter every time. You're basically his MVP."

Joe fought the urge to slide down into the couch and disappear. This was beyond embarrassing—it was excruciating. Having his private thoughts broadcast not just to an audience but to the very person those thoughts centered on made him want to evaporate on the spot.

But Riley seemed to take it all in stride, grinning as she looked over at Joe with what appeared to be genuine amusement rather than discomfort. "Well, loyalty is important, right?"

Her easy response gave Joe a lifeline, something to grasp onto in this sea of mortification. "That's what I was going for," he replied, a small smile finding its way to his lips despite the circumstances. Maybe, just maybe, he could survive this.

Jimmy leaned forward, his voice dropping as if sharing a secret, though of course his microphone ensured the entire studio audience—and millions of viewers—could hear every word. "You know, Riley, Joe told me earlier that this is his worst nightmare."

Joe groaned, running a hand down his face, wishing he'd never confided that particular fear to the host during their pre-show chat. "Jimmy, don't do this to me," he pleaded, but there was no stopping the train now.

Riley laughed, the sound light and musical, clearly enjoying his discomfort but not in a malicious way. "Oh, really? And why's that, Joe?"

He glanced at her, his cheeks tinged red, feeling like he was back in high school being called on in class when he hadn't done the reading. "Uh... because now I look like a total idiot?"

"You're doing fine," she said, her voice soft and reassuring in a way that suggested she understood exactly how uncomfortable he was.

Jimmy clapped his hands, clearly pleased with the chemistry unfolding before him. "See? She thinks you're doing fine. That's progress! Alright, we've got to take a quick commercial break, but don't go anywhere—we'll be back with more from Joe Burrow and Riley Carter!"

As the red light on the main camera switched off, signaling they were no longer live, Joe exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping slightly with the temporary reprieve. The studio lights remained bright, the audience still watching expectantly, but at least they had a moment's pause from the national spotlight.

The camera crew moved into position for the commercial break, adjusting equipment and checking angles. Jimmy turned his attention to a producer who had approached with a clipboard, leaving Joe and Riley with a moment to themselves on the couch.

Riley leaned slightly toward Joe, her voice low enough that only he could hear. "So, this is your worst nightmare, huh?"

The proximity, the subtle scent of her perfume, the direct eye contact—it was overwhelming in the best possible way. Joe exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "You have no idea," he admitted, surprised by his own honesty.

She laughed softly, the sound more intimate now that it wasn't performative for an audience. "You know, I think it's sweet. I mean, you didn't know this was going to happen, right?"

Joe met her eyes, grateful for the understanding he found there. "Not at all. I thought I was just playing a dumb game for laughs. I didn't think you'd actually be here."

"Well, surprise," she said, smiling, a genuine warmth in her expression that made his chest tighten strangely. "It's not so bad, is it?"

Joe shrugged, a small grin tugging at his lips despite himself. "It could be worse. You could've said I was weird or something."

Riley tilted her head thoughtfully, her eyes studying his face in a way that made him feel simultaneously exposed and seen. "Weird? No. Nervous? Definitely. But it's kind of endearing."

The compliment caught him off guard, and Joe chuckled, running a hand through his carefully styled hair, probably ruining the makeup team's hard work. "Yeah, well, it's not every day you get ambushed by your celebrity crush on national TV."

The words escaped before he could filter them, his usual carefully maintained guard momentarily lowered by the surreal situation and Riley's disarming presence. As soon as he said it, he wished he could take it back, stuff the admission back into the private corner of his mind where it belonged.

Riley blinked, caught off guard by his honesty, before her lips curled into a slow smile that transformed her entire face. Something playful and pleased sparked in her blue eyes. "Celebrity crush, huh?"

Joe's face turned bright red, the heat spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He looked away, focusing on a random spot on the stage floor. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Just a little," she teased, her voice laced with amusement but no judgment. "But don't worry—I'm flattered."

Before Joe could respond, Jimmy returned, clapping his hands together with renewed energy. "Alright, we're back, folks! Let's jump right back into it!"

The red light on the camera blinked on, and just like that, they were live again. Joe straightened slightly, trying to regain his composure as the interview continued.

The rest of the segment flowed more easily than Joe could have anticipated. The initial shock had worn off, and there was something about Riley's presence—the way she effortlessly filled silences, laughed at the right moments, and occasionally glanced at him with what seemed like genuine interest—that made the experience almost... enjoyable?

Riley talked about her new album and upcoming tour with her band, her passion evident in the way she leaned forward, hands animated as she described the creative process. Joe found himself watching her more than he should, captivated by the little details—the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was thinking, the slight crinkle around her eyes when she smiled genuinely.

When the conversation turned to him, Joe surprised himself by opening up about his plans for the offseason, including a long-overdue vacation in the Bahamas with his family. Normally, he kept such details vague, offering just enough to satisfy the question without revealing anything too personal. But something about the night—maybe the fact that his carefully constructed wall had already been breached—made it easier to share.

Despite his earlier nerves, Joe found himself relaxing more as the conversation went on. Riley laughed at his jokes, even the bad ones, and they shared a few lingering glances that left him wondering if she might actually be into him too—a possibility so far-fetched he could barely allow himself to consider it.

By the time the segment ended, Joe felt almost disappointed. He'd survived what he thought would be a nightmare, only to find it had transformed into something unexpectedly pleasant.

Jimmy stood to thank them both, his expression satisfied—he'd gotten exactly the kind of segment producers dream about. "Alright, let's give it up for Joe Burrow and Riley Carter, everyone! Thanks for being such good sports tonight!"

"Thanks for having us," Riley said with a bright smile, the picture of graciousness.

Joe, finding a bit of his usual humor despite the circumstances, added, "Yeah, this was... something. But I think I survived."

Jimmy laughed, already angling for a follow-up story. "You did great, Joe. Just make sure I get invited to the wedding someday."

The audience roared with approval, and Joe shook his head, laughing despite himself. "Yeah, we'll see about that."

As the cameras stopped rolling and the show moved to its next segment, Riley turned to him, her expression unreadable for a moment. Joe braced himself for the letdown, for the polite but distant thank you and goodbye that would signal the end of this strange interaction.

Instead, she surprised him. "See you backstage?" she asked, her voice carrying a hint of hopefulness that sent a rush of something warm through his chest.

Joe nodded, trying not to look too eager. "Yeah. Definitely."

As they both rose and made their way off the stage, Joe felt a strange mixture of emotions—lingering embarrassment from the ambush, adrenaline from the live performance, and something else. Something that felt dangerously like hope.

Joe was a private person; this was something he worked very hard to maintain. Despite his career, he tried to keep his life as normal as possible. He carefully separated Joe Burrow the quarterback from Joe Burrow the person. He limited his social media presence, declined most endorsement deals that would put him in the spotlight more than necessary, and cultivated a small, tight-knit circle of trusted friends.

So, as he left the stage after what was probably the most humiliating interview of his life, Joe was crossing his fingers that Riley wasn't just pretending not to be weirded out by the whole thing. If she was weirded out, he'd have to retire immediately, move to a remote island, and never show his face in public again.

Okay, maybe that was a little dramatic, but he was certain of one thing: he would never agree to another talk show again. No matter how much his agent insisted it was "good for his brand."

The backstage area was a maze of corridors, production equipment, and busy staff members. Joe nodded politely to various crew members as he made his way through the hallways, his signature navy varsity sweater with white collar and blue pants making him easily recognizable despite his attempts to slip by unnoticed. He grabbed his duffel bag from where his assistant had left it backstage, slung it over his shoulder, and considered his next move.

The logical thing would be to head straight back to his hotel, call his agent to complain about the ambush, and try to forget the whole embarrassing episode. But the thought of leaving without talking to Riley again felt wrong somehow.

As Joe rounded a corner, he spotted a sign with Riley's name on a dressing room door at the end of the hallway. He paused, taking a deep breath to steady himself. Inside, he was a mess of nerves and uncertainty, but outwardly, he maintained the same cool composure he carried onto the field before big games. It was a skill he'd perfected years ago - never let them see you sweat.

Meanwhile, back on the stage, Riley turned to Jimmy with a playful but pointed glare as soon as the cameras were off.

"Alright, Jimmy, what the hell was that?" she asked, crossing her arms with a look that was half-amused, half-exasperated.

Jimmy laughed, throwing up his hands in mock defense, his expression utterly unrepentant. "Hey, don't blame me! I wasn't planning for things to go that well. I just thought it would be a fun little game—Joe's the one who went all-in on picking you every single time."

Riley shook her head, clearly flustered but unable to maintain real anger at the host's matchmaking attempt. "I mean, yeah, but still. You didn't warn me this was going to turn into a matchmaking ambush on live television."

Jimmy leaned in with a knowing grin, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Come on, admit it—you were into it. He was practically blushing the entire time! And don't think I didn't notice the way you kept sneaking glances at him."

The observation hit closer to home than Riley was comfortable acknowledging. She'd been genuinely charmed by Joe's obvious nervousness, by the unfiltered honesty that had slipped out when he admitted to his crush. It was refreshing—most men she met in the industry were all polished lines and practiced confidence. Joe's authenticity had caught her off guard in the best possible way.

"Jimmy," Riley groaned, wanting to end the conversation before the host could see too much in her reaction. "I am never coming on this show again."

"Oh, sure," he teased, clearly not believing her for a second. "Just make sure to thank me in your wedding toast."

Riley rolled her eyes, already heading for the door, but she couldn't quite suppress the smile that threatened to break through. "Goodbye, Jimmy."

"Goodbye, Riley! Love you!" Jimmy called after her with a laugh that followed her down the corridor.

As soon as Riley stepped into her dressing room, she was ambushed by her publicist, Jesse, who had been watching the segment on the monitor and was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Riley! Oh my God, that was amazing!" Jesse exclaimed, her dark curls bobbing as she gestured enthusiastically. "The way you two kept sneaking glances at each other? And the blushing? I mean, seriously, the entire audience was eating it up!"

Riley groaned, collapsing onto the plush couch as she covered her face with her hands, the cool metal of her rings pressing against her warm skin. "Please tell me it wasn't as bad as it felt."

"Bad? Are you kidding me? That was the stuff rom coms are made of," Jesse said, sitting on the armrest of the couch with a dramatic flourish, her tailored pantsuit crinkling slightly. "You were charming, he was adorable—it was perfect. Social media is already buzzing, by the way. 'Riley Carter and Joe Burrow' is trending."

Riley peeked out from behind her hands, narrowing her eyes at her publicist and longtime friend. "Seriously? That fast?"

"Uh, yeah." Jesse held up her phone, the screen illuminated with a flood of tweets and Instagram posts. "The second he turned bright red when you walked out, it was over for him. Everyone loves it. But forget Twitter for a second—did you see the way he looked at you? Riley, the man is smitten."

The thought sent a strange flutter through Riley's stomach, one she hadn't felt in a long time. She'd met plenty of attractive men over the years—fellow musicians, actors, models—but there was something about Joe Burrow's unassuming charm, the way he seemed almost reluctant to be in the spotlight despite his career, that intrigued her.

"Oh my God, Jesse, stop," Riley said, half-laughing, half-groaning as she pushed herself up from the couch.

Jesse smirked, smoothing her blazer as she stood. "Alright, fine. I'll stop. But only if you march down to his dressing room right now and give him your number."

Riley's eyes widened, a rush of unexpected nerves flooding her system. "What? No. That's not happening."

Despite her words, a part of her considered it. What was the harm? If nothing else, she'd have a funny story about the time she gave her number to Joe Burrow after Jimmy Fallon tried to set them up on national television.

"Okay, fine," Jesse said, crossing her arms with a determined expression that Riley recognized all too well. "Then he can come here. Either way, this is happening, because the energy between you two was insane, and if you don't do something about it, I will."

Riley opened her mouth to argue, to tell Jesse that she was being ridiculous, that whatever chemistry the audience thought they saw was just the product of an awkward situation handled with mutual grace. But before she could get the words out, there was a soft knock at the door.

The sound sliced through the room like a thunderclap despite its gentleness. Both women froze, staring at the door as if it might reveal its secrets without being opened.

Jesse's eyes lit up, and she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. "Holy shit. What if it's him?"

"Stop," Riley hissed, suddenly feeling very aware of how fast her heart was beating. She sat frozen for a moment, her stomach doing somersaults, caught between hoping it was Joe and hoping it was literally anyone else.

"What are you waiting for? Go open it!" Jesse urged, waving her toward the door with frantic gestures.aving her toward the door with frantic gestures.

Taking a deep breath to calm her inexplicably racing heart, Riley stood, smoothed her hands down her pants, and crossed to the door. Her fingers hesitated on the handle for just a second before she pulled it open.

Standing in the hallway was Joe Burrow, his navy blue varsity-style sweater with white collar, dark blue pants, and white Converse sneakers making him look effortlessly cool. His stance exuded quiet confidence - one hand casually in his pocket, shoulders relaxed, posture perfect - the same easy self-assurance he displayed walking through stadium tunnels before games.

Inside, Joe's panic was at maximum level, his heart pounding against his ribs like it was trying to escape, thoughts racing through his mind at lightning speed. But none of this showed on his face. Outwardly, he maintained perfect composure, the same unflappable demeanor he'd perfected for high-pressure game situations. He leaned slightly against the doorframe with practiced nonchalance, his expression giving away nothing of the chaos inside.

"Hey," Joe said, his voice smooth and controlled, with just the right balance of confidence and warmth. "I, uh, just wanted to come by and say I'm really sorry about what happened out there. Jimmy kind of blindsided me."

Riley leaned against the doorframe, a small smile tugging at her lips. She was conscious of Jesse hovering just out of sight, no doubt drinking in every word of this interaction for future teasing material. "You don't have to apologize. Honestly, I thought it was kind of sweet."

Joe blinked, relief flickering across his face, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "You did?"

"Yeah," she said, her smile widening. "I mean, it was awkward, sure, but in a cute way. You handled it way better than I would've."

Joe laughed softly, glancing down at his shoes—expensive-looking leather loafers that somehow didn't seem like his style. "Well, I seriously considered running for the exit at one point."

Riley laughed, the sound genuine and unrestrained. "I believe that."

The moment felt lighter now, the initial awkwardness dissolving into something more comfortable. Joe looked back at her, a playful glint in his eye that she hadn't noticed during the interview. "So... I don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing that Jimmy was basically narrating my humiliation out there, but you seemed to handle it like a pro."

"Are you kidding? I was dying," Riley said, grinning. "You're the one who stayed cool the whole time."

Joe tilted his head, raising an eyebrow in a way that transformed his face, adding a mischievous quality to his otherwise clean-cut appearance. "Pretty sure sweating through my shirt doesn't count as staying cool."

Riley laughed again, shaking her head, one hand reaching up to tuck a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "Fair enough. But still—it was fun. In a totally ridiculous way."

Joe rubbed the back of his neck, his smile softening into something more genuine, less performative. "Yeah, ridiculous sounds about right."

There was a beat of quiet between them, not awkward, but charged in the best way. The kind of silence that felt like its own conversation. Finally, Joe broke it, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"So, uh..." He hesitated, then let out a small laugh that betrayed his nervousness. "Man, I'm terrible at this."

"At what?" Riley asked, tilting her head, though she had a pretty good idea of what was coming next.

Joe took a breath, his gaze meeting hers directly, a determined set to his jaw like he was facing down a defensive line rather than asking a simple question. "I was wondering if maybe you'd want to grab dinner sometime. While you're in town, I mean."

Riley blinked, caught off guard but pleasantly surprised by his directness. She'd expected more hesitation, maybe even a non-committal suggestion to "keep in touch." "Dinner?"

"Yeah," Joe said quickly, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets, his eyes searching her face for clues to her thoughts. "No pressure or anything. I just thought... if you're free, maybe we could—"

"I'd love that," Riley interrupted, her smile soft but genuine. The decision felt right, spontaneous in a way she'd been trying to embrace more lately.

Joe paused, clearly not expecting that answer, his eyes widening slightly. "Really?"

"Really," Riley said with a small laugh, amused by his surprise. Was it so hard to believe she'd want to have dinner with him?

Joe's face lit up, a smile spreading across his features that transformed him completely. Gone was the careful, controlled athlete from the interview; in his place was someone younger, more open, almost boyishly pleased. He pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocking it before handing it to her. "Here, put your number in?"

Riley took the phone with a nod, quickly typing in her number before handing it back to him. Their fingers brushed in the exchange, a brief moment of contact that shouldn't have registered but somehow did.

"There you go," she said, her tone teasing but kind.

Joe stared at the screen for a moment, her name now sitting there in his contacts, as if he couldn't quite believe what had just happened. "Thanks. I, uh... I'll text you soon. For real."

"I'll hold you to that," Riley said with a smile that felt more genuine than most she'd given that day.

Joe hesitated for a moment, a brief internal debate playing out in his eyes, before he leaned in and pressed a light kiss to her cheek. The gesture was sweet, unexpected, and over almost as soon as it began. "Goodnight, Riley."

The brief contact left a warm spot on her skin, and Riley found herself momentarily at a loss for words. "Goodnight, Joe," she managed, her voice warm despite her surprise.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Riley leaned back against it with a soft sigh, her lips curling into a smile she couldn't fight if she tried. Behind her, Jesse let out a gleeful squeal that Riley chose to ignore, too caught up in replaying the last few minutes in her head.

A talk show ambush, a mutual admission of attraction, and a dinner date—all in one night. Not at all how she'd expected her evening to go when she'd agreed to appear on The Tonight Show.

But as she touched her fingers lightly to the spot where Joe's lips had brushed her cheek, Riley found herself looking forward to what might come next.

[taliabhattwrites]

On the topic of the Edelgard rambling… I’d love to see it! I have so, so many thoughts about her story and character, about how she’s maligned at every turn by readers, about how she’s clearly using her own heart as fuel at every turn (written in BIG BOLD LETTERS AFTER Arianrhod, for the people who missed it), and so on. But I don’t… have the words. I’m not especially well versed in theory as a whole, I have struggle expressing the emotions and thoughts inside of my mind as form.

I’d just like to be able to see both where my interpretation falls against someone much more learned than me, as well as challenge myself if it is different. Give me a chance to enjoy El more, from angles I never conceived of.

Of course, I absolutely understand your concern! This is the blorbo site. And they’ve shown time and again that they fall into the same misogynistic lines about Edelgard and other women in fiction time and again. Just… if you did do it, there’s at least one person who would greatly enjoy the dialogue!

The thing you have to remember is that the story we love is ultimately a product of decisions by creatives, not a living world. We do not need to defend characters as though they are real people with a consistent internal logic, free of the critiques of poor storytelling choices and bad characterization.

And let's just say that when a videogame ends 3/4 routes with you killing a powerful woman, who was irresponsible and "driven mad" by her power due to not being fit for that power innately ... for the ultimate aggrandizement of the presumed-male self-insert (do not deflect with the gender-choice excuse y'all KNOW the self-insert is presumed male narratively) ... you fucking notice the pattern

FE3H could have been an epic where the various factions struggling against the tyrannical rule of an absolute theocracy drew on realistic political histories ... but instead we had to have Two Antisemitic Conspiracy Type Shadowy Agents to prop up A Very Azor Ahai Tale for 3/4 routes

Note that I'm dinging Crimson Flower here too. Everything good about Crimson Flower is an accident, in spite and not because of artistic intent.

So that's my Edelgard take. The creator wrote her wrong.

Do not appeal to 'authority' to me, I am better than your 'authorities'.

[vaguely-concerned]

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

[aspenmissing]

Hi there~ First off, just wanna say I absolutely love your writing — I have notifications set up so I can read everything you post! ❤️

Second, I’d love to submit a request for something a little specific. Please feel free to ignore it if you aren’t feeling it! Apologies for the incoming ramble as well. Just wanted to give a little context. 😅

I am, unfortunately, highly genetically predisposed to cancer — most of my family members have developed some type of it. My luck of the draw has been skin cancer, which is luckily something that’s highly treatable and mostly preventable. The good thing is that I’m a goth introvert who doesn’t mind avoiding the sun, so I haven’t gotten a positive diagnosis yet! (Little wins, lol.)

That being said, I’ve had to have several abnormal moles fully removed as preventative care. And while I’m grateful that doing so catches the issue before it fully develops and spreads, each surgery requires several stitches and leaves some fairly big and ugly scars. Most have been on my back, out of my sight. But this last removal was on my chest, and seeing it has definitely been a blow to my self confidence and body image. There’s a high likelihood that the next one will be on my face, too.

I was hoping I could maybe read something about Arcane characters reassuring a self-conscious reader over their medical scars? Something along the lines of telling them they’re still beautiful and loved? I would enjoy reading any characters you feel open to writing, but my favorites are Jayce, Viktor, and Silco.

If anything, thanks for reading my long message! You’re amazing at what you do. ❤️

ᴍᴀʀᴋꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴍᴇʟ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ꜱᴘɪᴄᴇ || 4135 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴇʟꜰ-ᴄᴏɴꜱᴄɪᴏᴜꜱ, ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴄᴀʀꜱ, ꜱᴘɪᴄᴇ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ, ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴡᴇʟʟ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ, ɪ'ᴍ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ! ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀᴍʙʟɪɴɢ (ᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʀᴀᴍʙʟᴇꜱ). ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱᴄᴀʀ ᴏɴ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ɪꜱ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪꜰᴜʟ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ꜱᴀʏꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ, ᴀʀᴇ ᴀꜱꜱʜᴏʟᴇꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴍᴇʟ

JAYCE

The candlelight flickered softly in the dimly lit bedroom, casting golden hues over the walls as the sound of rain pattered gently against the windowpane. You sat on the edge of the bed, your fingers absentmindedly tracing over the scars that lined your arms—silent reminders of surgeries, of painful recoveries, of the battle your body had waged against illness. The faint, raised lines told a story of resilience, but in moments like these, they only reminded you of what had been taken.

You hated how your mind spiraled in these moments, how the weight of insecurity wrapped around your chest like a vice. You had tried to push past it, to pretend that you didn't care. But some days were harder than others.

Jayce noticed, of course he did. He always did.

"Y/N?" His voice was gentle, laced with concern as he approached, kneeling in front of you. His large hands found yours, warm and grounding. "Talk to me."

You hesitated, chewing on the inside of your cheek. "It’s nothing," you murmured, eyes fixated on the floor.

Jayce wasn’t having it. He carefully loosened your fingers from their grip around your wrist, his gaze following the scars you tried to hide. He traced them lightly, his touch reverent rather than hesitant. There was no pity in his expression—only warmth, only love.

"You don’t have to pretend with me," he said softly. "I see you, Y/N. Every part of you. And I love you."

Your throat tightened at his words, emotions welling up before you could stop them. "They make me feel…less," you admitted in a whisper. "Like I’ll never be beautiful again. Like my body is ruined."

Jayce exhaled softly, shaking his head as his hands came to cup your cheeks, thumbs brushing gently against your skin. "No, Y/N. You're not ‘less’ because of them. They don’t take anything away from you. If anything, they show how strong you are. How much you've been through. They’re a part of you, but they don’t define you. And they sure as hell don’t make you any less beautiful."

Your breath hitched as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss against each mark with slow, deliberate care. His lips whispered love into every line, every faded wound, as if willing away your pain with every gentle touch.

"Do you know what I see when I look at you?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion. "I see someone who has fought battles I can only imagine. Someone who faced fear, pain, and uncertainty and still found the strength to keep going. That’s beauty, Y/N. That’s the kind of beauty that never fades."

Your chest ached at his words, the tightness loosening as warmth flooded in its place. "But what if I never feel that way about myself?" you asked, voice small.

Jayce smiled softly, resting his forehead against yours. "Then I'll remind you. Every single day, for as long as it takes."

A shaky breath escaped you, the weight in your chest easing as you let yourself lean into his touch. Jayce had always had a way of making you feel safe, seen—loved.

"You really mean that?" your voice wavered, and he chuckled softly, his grip on you tightening just slightly as if anchoring you to the truth in his words.

"With everything I have."

You closed your eyes, letting his warmth surround you, letting yourself believe him. Because with Jayce, love was never anything less than whole.

VIKTOR

The sun hung high over Piltover, casting shimmering waves of heat along the stone streets. The city bustled with life, citizens fanning themselves with delicate lace and folded paper as they sought respite from the sweltering day. Even in the Academy, where thick walls and towering shelves provided some relief, the air remained heavy.

Viktor leaned against his cane as he wiped the sweat from his brow, sighing before looking over at you. His sharp eyes lingered on the long sleeves covering your arms, fabric clinging uncomfortably to your skin despite the oppressive warmth.

"You must be boiling in that," he remarked, voice light but laced with concern.

You forced a small smile, gripping your sleeve as if to hold it in place. "I'm fine. Just… comfortable like this."

Viktor frowned, his sharp mind already piecing things together. He had noticed it before—how you flinched when someone brushed against your arm, how you tugged at your sleeves when passing reflective surfaces. He knew all too well the silent battles fought in the mirror, the way old wounds whispered insecurities long after they had healed.

His gaze softened as he exhaled, shifting his weight to lean closer. His cane tapped against the floor with each slow step before he settled beside you. His fingers, calloused from hours of invention, brushed against your wrist—a silent request rather than a demand.

"May I?"

You hesitated. Even with him—even with Viktor, who bore his own scars, who knew pain as intimately as you did—the thought of revealing them made your stomach twist. But his touch was patient, steady, warm. Slowly, you let go of your sleeve.

The fabric slid down, exposing the scars beneath. Jagged, uneven lines stretched across your skin—some faded to a soft silver, others still pink, as if whispering the pain they once held. These were not simple scrapes or childhood accidents. No, they were the remnants of something deeper. Something medical.

Viktor's gaze traced over them, not in horror or pity, but in reverence.

"How did this happen?" His voice was quiet, careful, as though he feared pushing too hard.

You swallowed, the memory thick on your tongue. "I was sick. When I was younger. There were… surgeries. Treatments. Some of them worked, some of them didn’t. These—" You glanced down at your arms, tracing one of the scars yourself. "These are what’s left of it."

Viktor was silent for a moment, his golden eyes studying every inch of the marks you had spent years hiding. Then, without hesitation, he reached for your hand, threading his fingers with yours.

"You are not hiding something ugly," he murmured, voice thick with emotion. "These marks, they tell stories of what you have endured. They are part of you. And I love every part of you."

Your throat tightened. "But—"

"No," he interrupted gently, his eyes meeting yours with unwavering certainty. "I know what it is to feel like your body betrays you. To think others might see weakness where you feel strength. But you are not weak. You are…" His fingers curled over yours, holding you steady. "You are breathtaking."

You blinked, feeling the sting of unshed tears. "You really think that?"

Viktor exhaled a soft chuckle, his thumb running absentmindedly over your knuckles. "Of course I do. Do you think I would love you any less because of these?" He motioned toward your arm. "I have scars too, you know."

You looked at him then, really looked. At the way he carried himself, the way he leaned on his cane, the way his own body bore the marks of battles fought—not with swords, but with time and toil. You had always admired him for his mind, his relentless drive, but in this moment, you saw him as something more. Someone who understood.

"You don't have to cover yourself for my sake," he continued, squeezing your hand. "Not ever."

A warm breeze drifted through the open window, shifting the light against the room's walls. You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling a warmth in your chest that had nothing to do with the summer heat. Maybe, just maybe, you could start believing him.

And as Viktor leaned in, pressing a feather-light kiss to one of your scars, you felt, for the first time in a long while, something like peace.

JAYVIK

The dim light from the bedside lamp cast a soft glow over the room as you stood in front of the mirror, clad only in your underwear. Your fingers traced over the scars, following the paths left behind by each removed mole. Your back, your arms, your stomach—all bore evidence of battles fought before they could begin. Rationally, you knew they were victories, but each one felt like a reminder of something stolen from you. The thought of more, especially on your face, sent a shiver down your spine, an uneasy weight settling in your chest.

You let out a slow breath, willing yourself to see past the imperfections your mind magnified, but it was difficult. The scars were a testament to resilience, to survival, and yet, all you could feel was loss. The soft hum of the night filled the space around you, the quiet almost suffocating as you stood there, trapped in your own thoughts.

The quiet click of the door and the familiar creak of the floorboards pulled you from your thoughts. Viktor entered first, his gaze immediately finding yours in the reflection. He approached with careful steps, resting his cane against the dresser before standing behind you. Jayce followed moments later, his larger frame warm and solid as he moved to your side, his presence an immediate comfort.

Neither of them spoke at first. Instead, Viktor’s fingers brushed against yours, coaxing them away from your scars. His golden eyes, always sharp and filled with thought, softened as they roamed over you. Jayce’s hands found your shoulders, rubbing gentle circles before one slid down to rest over your heart, feeling the steady rhythm beneath his palm.

“You’re doing it again,” Viktor murmured, his voice thick with warmth. “Worrying about things that do not lessen you in the slightest.” His breath was gentle against your neck, the weight of his words sinking into your skin.

Jayce hummed in agreement, his lips pressing to your temple. “He’s right, you know. You’re still the same incredible woman we love.” His voice carried certainty, a deep warmth that settled into your bones.

Your throat tightened. “I just… I don’t feel like myself,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Every time I look at them, all I see is—”

Viktor silenced you with a kiss to your shoulder, his lips gentle against the scarred skin, his hands coming to rest on your arms, grounding you. “Strength,” he interrupted, firm but kind. “Proof that you are fighting, that you are winning.” His hands ran down your arms in slow, reverent strokes, a silent reminder that every mark was something he cherished.

Jayce followed his lead, dipping his head to press a kiss over a mark on your collarbone, lingering there as if to soak in every part of you. “Do you think so little of us that we would see anything less?” His voice was almost teasing, but the seriousness in his gaze as he pulled back told you just how much he meant it.

Your breath hitched as their hands and lips continued to trace the places you had been so self-conscious about. Viktor kissed the curve of your spine, the scars dotting your back like constellations only they could read, a map of survival painted across your skin.

Jayce knelt, pressing reverent kisses along your thigh, your knee, your calf, his hands stroking up and down your legs in slow, soothing patterns. Their touch wasn’t just reassurance—it was worship, devotion, an unspoken promise that they would always love you, no matter what.

Viktor’s voice was a whisper against your skin, a warmth that seeped into you. “Your scars are not imperfections, můj drahý. They are simply another part of you—one we cherish as much as the rest.” (My Dear)

Jayce stood again, his strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you against his chest as Viktor followed suit until you were enveloped in them, in their warmth, their certainty, their unwavering love. You felt the steady beat of their hearts against you, solid and real.

“We love you,” Jayce murmured into your hair, his lips brushing against your forehead. “All of you.”

And, for the first time since seeing your reflection, you believed them.

And maybe, just maybe, you could begin to love yourself the way they did.

VANDER

The warm, amber glow of the Last Drop cast soft shadows across the wooden walls, the scent of ale and faint smoke lingering in the air. It was a slow evening, and Vander relished the rare moment of quiet. He leaned against the counter, polishing a glass absently, his sharp blue eyes flicking over to where you sat by the fireplace, lost in thought.

Your fingers ghosted over the scar tracing down your cheek, a mark left behind from one of your many mole removals—an act of precaution, but still a reminder of battles fought against your own body. You weren’t new to scars. The ones beneath your clothes, hidden from view, told their own stories. But this one, out in the open for all to see, felt different. It made you different.

Your thoughts were pulled away when a small voice piped up.

“Why does your face have that line?” Powder, ever curious, tilted her head, her large, expressive eyes locked onto you. She had no malice in her question, only genuine wonder. Still, your stomach tightened as you lowered your hand from your face.

“Powder,” Vander warned gently, setting the glass down, but you shook your head. You knew the child meant no harm.

“It’s... a scar,” you answered softly, forcing a small smile. “Something that had to be done to keep me safe.”

“Oh.” Powder considered this for a moment, then her little face scrunched up in thought. “Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

Vi, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her sister, eyed you with a look far too knowing for someone her age. “Does it bother you?”

You hesitated, caught between wanting to reassure the girls and the raw honesty of your own insecurities. “Sometimes,” you admitted, looking away. “People stare.”

A warm, heavy hand settled over yours, grounding you. You hadn’t even noticed Vander moving, but there he was, standing beside you with that steady, reassuring presence that always made you feel safe.

“Let ‘em stare,” he rumbled, his voice firm but gentle. “What do they know? You’ve got more strength in you than they could dream of.”

Your throat tightened at his words, but you let him continue.

He knelt slightly to catch your gaze, his hand lifting to brush his knuckles tenderly along the length of your scar. “You think this changes how I see you? How much I love you?” His voice dropped to something meant only for you. “Nothing could.”

Your eyes stung with unshed tears. He always had a way of saying exactly what you needed to hear, as if he could read your heart without you speaking a word.

Powder grinned suddenly, hopping up onto the chair beside you. “I think it makes you look cool! Like you fought a beast and won.”

Vi nodded in agreement. “Yeah, like a warrior.”

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it, the tightness in your chest easing. You glanced up at Vander, who was already watching you with a soft smile, his thumb now idly tracing circles on the back of your hand.

“See?” he murmured. “Even the kids know what I do.”

You sighed, leaning slightly into his warmth. Maybe he was right. Maybe, just maybe, there was nothing about you that needed to be hidden.

Vander pressed a lingering kiss to your temple before pulling you into his arms, wrapping you in an embrace that made the world outside seem small and insignificant. His arms around you were solid, unyielding, a fortress you could always retreat into. You let yourself relax against him, breathing in the familiar scent of leather, smoke, and the faintest hint of ale.

“I don’t get why people would stare,” Powder mused, tilting her head again. “It’s just a part of you. Like how I’ve got freckles.”

Vi smirked. “Or how Vander’s got that big ol’ beard.”

Vander let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. “That so? My beard’s just a part of me, huh?”

The girls giggled, and you couldn’t help but join in, the sound light and unburdened. The fire crackled, casting a comforting warmth over the room, and for the first time in a long while, you felt at ease.

Vander squeezed your hand again, a silent promise that no matter what, you would always have a place here. With him. With them.

Because in their eyes—in Vander’s eyes—you were already enough.

SILCO

The dim lantern light flickered against the water-stained walls of his office. The scent of cigar smoke and whiskey clung to the air, mingling with the sharper tang of chemicals from the Shimmer vials stacked along the desk. Silco sat in his leather chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin, mismatched eyes tracing over you as you stood near the edge of the room—hesitant, withdrawn, guarded.

He noticed, of course. Silco always noticed.

His sharp gaze flickered to the pile of your discarded clothing, then back to you, wrapped in one of his silk sheets, clinging to the fabric like armor. You should have been glowing in the dim light, reveling in the aftermath of passion, but instead… there was a weight in your eyes. A flicker of something you tried to hide.

"You’re thinking too much." His voice was smooth, laced with authority.

You swallowed, gripping the sheet tighter, the fabric bunched between your fingers. Don’t do this. Don’t ruin the moment. But still, you couldn't shake the creeping insecurity wrapping around your mind.

His gaze narrowed. "Come here."

You hesitated. Silco was not a man you disobeyed, but…

"Now, darling" he coaxed, his voice lower, dangerous—yet still patient.

Your breath hitched as you stepped forward, the sheet slipping lower with each movement, baring more of your skin—and the scars that littered it. Marks of past removals, of flesh cut away in the name of preservation. You’d long since stopped counting them, but they were there, a roadmap of battles fought against something lurking beneath your skin.

You watched as Silco’s expression darkened—not with disgust, but with something deeper. Something possessive.

The scarred side of his face twitched as he exhaled, long fingers reaching for your wrist, tugging you forward until you stood between his legs, so close you could smell the whiskey on his breath.

"Let me see," he murmured, gaze dragging over every inch of exposed skin, over every line, every imperfection. Devouring. Reverent.

You flinched, moving to pull away, but his grip tightened—not painful, just firm.

"Don’t hide from me," he commanded, his voice almost a whisper. "I want to see all of you."

Your lips parted, your breath uneven. "They’re—"

"Beautiful," Silco interrupted, his other hand moving to trace the scar that ran across your collarbone, fingertips feather-light. "Like maps carved into flesh. Like proof that you still stand despite what tried to consume you."

Your throat tightened, emotion welling up. "You don’t have to say that."

Silco scoffed, lips twitching in amusement. "You think me a liar, darling?"

His hand slid lower, ghosting over your ribs, then your waist, fingers tracing each mark with the kind of reverence usually reserved for worship.

"You speak as if I don’t understand," he murmured, tilting his head, his own scar catching the lantern light. "As if I don’t know what it is to be reshaped by pain."

Your breath hitched when he leaned forward, lips brushing against the line of a particularly deep scar along your stomach. Heat pooled low in your belly, your skin prickling under his attention.

"Yet here you are," he continued, voice dropping, turning molten. "Still mine. Still exquisite."

A shiver rolled through you, his touch no longer gentle but possessive, demanding. Fingers sliding over bare skin, tracing the dips of your hips, the curve of your thighs.

"You think this makes you less desirable?" he rasped, eyes flicking up, dark and hungry. "Then let me remind you—properly."

His fingers hooked into the silk, pulling it away, leaving you bare before him. You gasped, but before you could protest, his lips pressed to your scars, his tongue following, slow and deliberate.

Silco had never seen flaws. Only devotion to be carved into flesh.

And he would spend all night proving it.

MEL

Golden candlelight flickered across the opulent room, painting warmth across silk sheets and marble floors. Mel lay beside you, her golden skin glowing beneath the soft light, her dark eyes tracing over you with a gaze so intense it felt like a caress. You couldn’t meet it.

You had turned away, arms curled around yourself, fingers ghosting over the ridges of scars that marred your skin. Old reminders—each one a moment of caution, of necessity. But reminders, too, that you were not like her.

Mel Medarda was exquisite. A painting given breath, carved from gold and power. There was not a single imperfection on her. And you—

"You are quiet tonight," she murmured, reaching out. Her fingertips brushed your shoulder, featherlight, before trailing down your back. Her touch followed the path of your scars, tracing them with the kind of reverence you couldn't understand.

You shivered but said nothing.

"You think I do not see you, don’t you?" Mel's voice was soft, carrying the weight of understanding.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. "It’s not that. It’s just..." You exhaled. "When I look at you, I see someone so perfect, so untouchable. And then I look at myself, and all I see are—" You hesitated, unable to say the word aloud.

Mel didn’t let you. Instead, she shifted, pressing closer until her warmth enveloped you. "Strength," she whispered against your shoulder. "I see strength. I see resilience. I see a body that has carried you through more than anyone should ever have to endure. And that is beautiful."

Your breath hitched as she tilted your chin up, finally making you meet her gaze. Her expression was tender, but there was steel in her eyes—fierce and unwavering.

"Do you know what true beauty is, my love?" She traced the curve of your jaw, her thumb brushing over your cheek with aching gentleness. "It is not flawlessness. It is not perfection. It is the way someone endures and still dares to love, to be loved. And you, my darling, are beautiful beyond measure."

You felt your throat tighten, something inside you cracking open at her words.

Mel smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering as if she could pour all her devotion into you. "You do not need to compare yourself to me, because I have already decided—there is no one else in this world who could be more perfect for me than you."

A shaky breath left your lips, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe her.

Mel moved then, slipping from the bed with the grace of royalty. You watched as she walked towards her ornate vanity, reaching for something small and delicate. When she returned, her hands held a tiny jar of gold pigment, its surface shimmering beneath the candlelight.

"What is that?" you asked, puzzled as she settled beside you again.

"A tradition," she murmured, dipping two fingers into the rich, golden paint. "In my home, we do not discard things that are broken. We mend them with gold. We honour the cracks, because they tell a story of resilience."

Slowly, carefully, she touched your skin. The cool paint met the warmth of your scars, her fingers tracing each one with deliberate reverence. She painted along the ridges, following the paths they carved across your body like rivers of history.

She worked in silence, her expression focused, yet soft with affection. The gold shimmered as it dried, a gilded map of the battles you had fought and survived.

When she was done, she leaned back, admiring her work with a quiet satisfaction. "Now," she whispered, cupping your cheek, "you are even more radiant than before."

You looked down at yourself, at the way the gold caught the light, transforming each scar into something beautiful, something cherished. The weight of self-consciousness did not vanish entirely—but it shifted, just enough.

"You always do this," you murmured, your voice thick with emotion.

Mel arched an elegant brow. "Do what?"

"Turn the things I hate into something precious."

Her lips curved in a slow, knowing smile. "That’s because they already are."

You exhaled a soft laugh, letting your forehead rest against hers. And when Mel kissed you next, slow and deep, you let yourself be loved. Scars and all.

And this time, you let yourself believe you were worthy of it.

[questionablecuttlefish]

How do you think the girls show affection to each other?

my fics go into a lot of them.

but I think they are both touch starved in their own special ways.

We see Jinx flinch away from touch in Arcane a few times but its when she hasn't initiated it. When she does initiate it or she's comfortable with the person, she's very touchy feely.

And Lux comes from a society built out of cavernous spaces and barriers of literal armor, she gives me big 'hugger' vibes but it must be tough to be a warm caring person in freaking Demacia.

But we also see how affectionate both of them are inside and I think with those barriers removed they would be extremely physically tender with each other.

Cuddles, kisses, snuggling up to sleep, playing with each other's hair, and my H/C that Jinx has sharpened senses from the Shimmer and is maybe a little fixated on Lux's "sunlight" scent, the girl from the Undercity being close to a person who grew up in clean air and bright skies for the first time + being able to almost literally smell Lux's magic, a lot of the physical affection both of them have been starved of by the world around them.

Jinx is an inventor, a tinkerer and a people pleaser and we've seen that despite seeming wrapped up in her own head, Jinx can be very thoughtful when it comes to others. Her interactions show it, with Silco, Isha, and even building Sevika the gambler a literal slot machine arm.

I think she would just randomly tinker and build things for Lux that would make Lux's life easier or more fun, things she would think Lux would like, and gift them to her like a cat dropping dead birds on the porch, only they're actually useful ones.

Some of these would be literal works of genius and Lux would recognize them as such and treasure every one.

Lux for her part has a lot of empathetic traits and would fit naturally into a nurturing role with Jinx, comforting her when the voices are loud, talking her through things, holding her when she needs it, giving her space when she needs it.

I also think if Jinx was open to it, Lux would be only too happy to tutor her through any gaps in knowledge that Jinx's upbringing might not have given her the opportunities to learn and introduce her to the joy of books and reading. Lux is a big old book nerd and the kind of person who'll babble excitedly about the latest story she's read or scientific theory she's heard about for hours.

Jinx listens to her excited nerd rambles with chin hands and eyes aglow. If it was anyone else she'd be bored out of her brain, but Lux makes boring beautiful.

[mvrdermeharder]

So in the wake of ch 294, i’ve been thinking about what’s left for Kaiser’s development…

Unfortunately, as i had expressed in one of my prev posts, i think his story has a very high chance of ending in tragedy (by which i mean death).

BUT, as he’s my fav trash boy, i’m not willing to give up on hope just yet. So i kinda want to ramble a bit about Archangel Michael’s history and iconography to find a leeway towards a better ending… and i’ll possibly do a deep dive in another post.

As i’m in the midst of editing… “deep dive” lmao as if this post didn’t end up as long as it did.

So basically, it’s a fact that bllk is full of christian symbology and references (mainly when it comes to kainess, to be specific), and it’s obvious that not only Kaiser’s given name, but also his appearance is inspired by how Saint Michael is represented in the most famous paintings:

Long(er) blond hair, androgynous facial features, wearing a blue tunic + often a red piece of cloth floating around him (Kaiser is permanently wearing these two colors on his body: red eyeliner tattoo, blue rose tattoo. Blue is also just his signature color in general.)

But here’s what i find even more interesting: Kaiser’s character is not only based on Archangel Michael, but it also incorpores a lot of visual elements that Lucifer is represented with (Lucifer is God’s ex-favorite angel, who CHALLENGED AND REBELLED AGAINST GOD, so then God kicked him out of heaven basically… you’ll likely know this angel by the name of Satan)

Now, the representations of Lucifer/Satan vary throughout history, with the earliest representations being in Egypt… so i won’t mention everything bc we’d be here for hours, instead i’ll just boil it down to only those characteristics that Kaiser and Lucifer have in common in SOME representations.

So, Lucifer/Satan is often represented as the most beautiful angel of all, sometimes in blue/red clothing, completely nude, OR in a demon like form: a goat-man with hooves, horns, and bat like wings. In the panel below, Kaiser takes up an anthropomorphic form (humanlike traits mixed with animalistic traits) as he immerses himself in his own malice: his legs and feet remind me of the hooves of a goat-man, aka Lucifer.

So despite Kaiser being a sort of reincarnation of Archangel Michael, his personality morphs into that of the cruel and sadistic Lucifer. He wants to rebel against God, he longs to cast his malice on the world’s football players to feel joy (just like how Satan finds enjoyment in tormenting humans), and in the latest chapter he claims that it was wrong to let go of his malice towards Yoichi, and that he should rely on his malicious urges to steal…

(For context, i’m using panels w the official translations, NOT the more widespread PO2 ones)

So now that i’ve explained how Kaiser takes on the characteristics of both of these angels, i want you to scroll back a bit to the paintings of St. Michael.

What we see in these paintings is the battle between St. Michael and Lucifer. We see Michael stepping down on Lucifer, in a complete victory. (The sword in his hands represents rightful justice, but that’s not very important rn)

And the way i see it, the manga might follow this story. But not in the traditional way of physical conflict between two bodies, instead, it’s an incredible internal and psychological conflict!

The great battle takes place in Kaiser’s mind, and if Kaneshiro intends to follow the famous biblical story, this conflict will end with the “defeat” of Kaiser’s unhealthy mentality (=defeat of his satan-like qualities).

Or at least that’s what I’m hoping for w this theory. I really don’t want to see my boy dead due to his fucked up mentality (Mick Moon theory… oh how i loathe u)

Paintings that i’ve used for reference:

Guido Reni - Archangel Michael defeats Satan

Luca Giordano - Saint Michael

Antonio Maria Esquivel - The Fall of Lucifer

Luca Giordano - The Fall of the Rebel Angels

Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino - (Little) Saint Michael

Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino - Saint Michael Vanquishing Satan

Francisco Goya - Witches' Sabbath

[takendruid]

This is the video! I saw it and was pretty interested. There are some things I just don’t agree with in the video, but the bit about concept-based vs gameplay-based games made me have my epiphany. I think the actual point comes from a take I massively disagree with, but yeah.

Massive Bleach spoilers ahead, but I haven’t been able to talk about this with anyone other than my friend because Bleach fans are boring asf people who don’t care about trauma and the effects of trauma and being killed like I do. Because I’m a Jason Todd fan. But I’m gonna go on a huge fucking ramble because… I need to talk about this and have someone listen to me.

I’m a huge mental health, trauma, and realistic trauma responses freak when it comes to characters. People acknowledging characters having PTSD makes me so happy, which is why I love the fandom around Jason so much. BECAUSE PEOPLE ACKNOWLEDGE HIS TRAUMA!!

One of my favourite characters in media is Ichigo Kurosaki from Bleach, and I have heard not a single person even whisper about the fact that he blatantly has PTSD, or should at least be heavily affected by the shit he went through. Yes, he’s an anime protagonist so he can’t really have it for story reasons, but… HE VERY CLEARLY DOES HAVE IT! AND HE VERY CLEARLY HAS SURVIVOR’S GUILT!! This is why I love Evangelion so much.

Ichigo’s ENTIRE motivation for becoming a Soul Reaper (I’m a dub watcher) and wanting to help people is because his mother was killed protecting him. One of the reasons season 1 of Bleach is my favourite animated arc is because of how much it actually delves into the fact that Ichigo was severely affected by his mother’s passing. His entire personality, his entire person, his entire motivations and desires were fundamentally changed because of that one event when he was 9. It’s talked about so much in season 1 and I LOVE IT!!! Obviously it’s redundant to constantly bring it up over the rest of the series, but I’m certain Ichigo and Bleach are why I’m such a freak over this stuff.

BUT IT GETS EVEN BETTER!! Because in the final arc, he can’t get to his final level of power because the trauma of losing his mum IS STILL AFFECTING HIM! HE STILL HASN’T BEEN ABLE TO MOVE ON AND HEAL DESPITE EVERYTHING! Until his dad finally tells him what really happened, and it allows Ichigo to finally move on, heal, and accept that IT WASN’T HIS FAULT HIS MUM DIED!! AND THEN HE GETS HIS FINAL POWER UP!!!!! I love Ichigo so much, he’s an amazingly well-done and grounded protagonist.

It upsets me that people hate him as a protagonist, and say he’s unrelatable because he is extremely relatable (also I kin him a lot. I haven’t lost any parents per se, but I see myself in him). Those guys just want a loud, silly guy who isn’t scowling 24/7 and isn’t objectively the straight man the entire show. BUT THAT’S WHAT I LOVE. Like I’m sorry, we can’t have silly loud guys who are extremely goofy for all three of the Big 3, Goku will never be a Big 3 protagonist because he is the founding father of those three anime/manga.

Also Ichigo… in less than 12 hours, died TWICE in EXTREMELY TRAUMATIC WAYS to the SAME FUCKING GUY and then COMES BACK without ANY TIME TO MENTALLY PROCESS. I have been a Bleach and Ichigo fan for 13 years, and a Jason Todd fan for about 3 months. Jason didn’t need to teach me anything because I can use my own brain to realise that DYING IS TRAUMATIC. I need Ichigo with PTSD around dying. Please. For the love of god. He was 16. He acts and looks older than 16 so I think everyone forgets how young he actually fucking was, but he was killed twice at 16 within the span of 12 hours without any time to process because he had to continue fighting, and then go to the World of the Living to fight another even bigger threat; where he ends up watching his friends and comrades all get cut down and nearly killed, EVEN HIS OWN DAD AND MENTORS. And then he’s stuck fighting for 3 months to unlock a power that will LOSE HIM HIS POWERS THAT HE’S ONLY HAD FOR ABOUT 8 MONTHS.

Jason Todd 🤝 Ichigo Kurosaki: dying as a teenager, and also fighting bad guys, and isn’t really able to properly get therapy about it because what? The fuck? Do you mean? You died and came back?????

Only four people knows he has died, only two people know he has died TWICE.

But to go onto that second death. Holy fucking shit.

I have not seen a single person talk about how much this affected Ichigo mentally. No one. Not a single person.

It’s extremely clear it affected Ichigo in-universe, because he can’t use his hollow mask correctly after it, and he’s very clearly shaken up by it when he sees it with his own two eyes. And yeah, you could argue “well if it’s focused on in the story then there’s no need to talk about it otherwise” I THINK BATMAN FANS WOULD LIKE TO HAVE A WORD WITH YOU. Because that’s just something I really like with Batman as a whole, and Batman fans. In-universe, and in fandom, people talk about Bruce’s trauma, Dick’s trauma, Jason’s trauma. The entire reason Bruce is Batman and Dick became Robin is because of the trauma of losing their parents. In Batman & Robin: Year One, Bruce literally says “as a trauma survivor” like?? This stuff is talked about frequently, and acknowledged. And I never see the same thing with manga…

Anyway, Ichigo doesn’t get time to process this. Maybe he does in the 18 months where he’s not a Shinigami, but he doesn’t get time to process it before losing his powers. Yes, he’s fighting in a time warp thing for 3 months when it’s actually 1 or 2 hours irl in-universe, so maybe he gets time to think about it during that… but he’s more focused on learning the final Getsuga Tensho to take down the ultimate evil bastard of the series at the time.

Again, sorry this rant is even longer. Can you tell I have been waiting to talk to someone about this? /lh

Gotham Knights is so fun when you don’t have a little bitch in your ear telling you it’s shit, and that Arkham Knight is better

[burningcheese-merchant]

No, Merchant, feel free to complain to your hearts content. I'm certainly much meaner to ugly blue alastoroncelerbillcipherspamton from temu and every last inch of his undeserved popularity. I seethe because as an Ovenbreak player of SEVEN YEARS, none of my faves get remembered in a tweet, let alone merchandise. The dragons, who all took over five years to collectively come out, got a pin set and devsis wiped their asses with them then moved on. I waited over a YEAR for another sugar nova odyssey update to come out because xylitol nova and astronaut are my favorite cookies ever and I'm still fucking waiting 🫠 meanwhile the beasts are getting shat out every 3 months with the most rushed nonsensical recycled plotlines held together with scotch tape because making profit is what really matters here, not competent storytelling. I wouldn't even be this furious if the beasts got equal attention and spotlight but we both know that's not true hahaha 😬 they love to shove their (really badly designed) golden cow in our faces because Smilk was lab engineered to get sexyman tumblr girlies screaming their heads off while not even being 1/4th the interesting character they want you desperately think he is. JUSTICE for burning spice, mystic flour, and everyone else who will get done dirty for this boring walmart Jevil 😒

Oh my gosh 🤣🤣🤣 tell us how you REALLY feel, Anon, let it all out. It's not healthy to bottle up your emotions like that (you might want to stay anonymous though, I don't think either of us want an angry mob at your doorstep lol)

I'm anticipating a ramble (as I am wont to do) so under the cut it goes

Gonna start by saying I DO like Shadow Milk. I really do. It took me a little while for him to grow on me when he first appeared, admittedly (ESPECIALLY his voice...), but I am genuinely fond of the little blue jester man. But he's certainly not my favorite, far from it. That title belongs to Burning Spice and Burning Spice alone lol. The only reason I ever turned the English audio back on (I usually play the game in Japanese, I love hearing my fave anime characters speak lol) was so I could hear that gorgeous baritone of his... Burning Spice is everything to me. I love his design, I love his voice, I love his dialogue, I love his personality, I love him soooooo much. He's my babygirl. If Silent Salt turns out anything like the character I've constructed inside of my head, then he will share the #1 spot with Spice. I'll go ahead and say that right away

I'm upset because, like you said, it feels like he got majorly shafted while Shadow Milk gets all the praise and attention. Mystic Flour as well, poor girl, but I'm focusing on Spice just to drive the point home a bit better. He didn't even get a fucking countdown. What was his little merch thing? That weird ass candle (I thought it was a vase at first lol) and that's it. Furthermore, his story feels the least developed. There was and is SO MUCH that could have been said about him as a person as well as his dynamic/connection with Golden Cheese, that wasn't for whatever reason. Episodes 5 and 6 feel like they're missing something (and you feel what the "something" is in that brief flashback to Spice's past. There's more to what became of him than "I was bored", there HAS to be. Boredom is a symptom, not the cause. I maintain that this theory of mine has merit, and it would've been nice if they dove deeper into it than they did), you know? And I hate it. I hate that Spice is basically the forgotten middle child of the Beasts while Shadow Milk gets all the glory. Seriously, for Shadow Milk:

They changed their YT avatar to him for a while (it has ALWAYS been Gingerbrave, they never changed it once to anyone else all these years). iirc they did this on Twitter too

They dedicate an HOUR LONG commentary video to episode 7 and Shadow Milk (arguably fair, because it WAS the 4th anniversary. But even so. Did they do this for any other Beast? Any other episode? Any other anniversary?)

They give him a costume (a legendary one, at that) plus a set with his Ancient. NO OTHER Beast/Ancient pair has that, and I struggle to imagine they ever will. Do you understand what I would do to have a BS/GC costume set? DO YOU???

They make an exclusive, limited edition plushie (that caused a massive shitstorm iirc, justice for everyone that got fucked over during that and fuck scalpers)

They make a whole ass pop-up store event themed entirely around Shadow Milk and episodes 7 and 8

Why? Because he's the fan favorite lol. He's long since been the golden child of this community, and now we know he's Devsisters' golden child, too. (And they're desperate for money because they're drowning in debt. That's also probably why they released Shadow Milk on the 3rd anniversary: to drum up interest on a milestone anniversary by bringing in a beloved character. Thematically/narratively, Shadow Milk should've been released last. But that's just my opinion.)

Again, I really do like Shadow Milk. I call him "Walmart Bill Cipher" affectionately (and because he genuinely does remind me of Bill. In fact, I think Bill might've inspired SM to some degree). But it's unfortunate that other characters, the other Beasts especially, are pushed aside and ignored just so Shadow Milk can hog all the spotlight. It is with a very intense grimace that I agree that Shadow Milk is a Tumble sexyman. He fits the stereotype to a T. It would serve us all well to accept that truth. He even got added to the Tumblr sexyman wiki before it turned to flour lol. Burning Spice is... NOT a Tumblr sexyman. He is a regular old hunk. Tumblr was never in the business of liking big, beefy hunks, at least not the Tumblr I knew 10 years ago lol.

I'm also, to reference it again, just really disappointed that so little was and is done to explore the other Beast/Ancient pairs - and the fandom is guilty of this, too (not to knock the PV/SM anaylses at all! They're all fantastic and I genuinely do understand and love the deep, complex connection between them!). To go back to BS and GC, because they're my lifeblood (not just for shipping reasons I swear)... it's particularly egregious to me that THEIR dynamic wasn't given the attention and detail it deserves. They are LIFE AND DEATH, the very foundation of the world itself, things I (personally) consider significantly more important than truth and deceit because it is from life and death that all else springs forth. Truth and deceit are things you actively look for; life (abundance) and death (destruction) are just there, everywhere you look, even within yourself. You can close your eyes, ears, heart to the truth and you can learn to shun, decipher, defend against deceit; there is no escape from life nor death. None whatsoever. And so much can be done with that. So much can be done with them. Burning Spice and Golden Cheese need each other in the exact same way that Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla need each other. They parallel each other quite a bit, too. They're so similar and so different. They could have and SHOULD HAVE had so much to say to and about each other, like what Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla have. But that didn't happen. Didn't happen with Dark Cacao and Mystic Flour, either. All of that love and care and philosophical exploration goes to the clown and the Jesus Christ allegory. Which is FINE, I'm not saying to leave those two hanging, just... show some of that love to the beefcake and the bird, too. And Korean Batman (Cacao reminds me of Batman, I'm sorry 🤣) and Ms. Angel of Death, too. Please, man. Truth and Deceit aren't the only dichotomy that matters and is worthy of thought and discussion

(and oh my God, dude. The Ovenbreak shit. I've been playing for as long as you, and that shit is diabolical at this point. We get ONE dragon update a year, and they always leave us on the most painful cliffhanger of all time each time. (And this last one... I have many issues, but the most glaring one of all: WHERE THE FUCK IS FIRE SPIRIT??? WHY ISN'T HE IN THE STORY??? HE IS INTRINSICALLY LINKED TO PITAYA DRAGON! THEY HAVE AN UNBREAKABLE BOND BECAUSE OF THEIR DEAL THAT GRANTED HIM SOME OF PITAYA'S POWER AND SAVED HIS LIFE! HE SHOULD BE AN INTEGRAL PART OF THIS ARC! HE SHOULD BE AT THE FOREFRONT! IF PITAYA GETS HURT, HE GETS HURT! FIRE SPIRIT'S WELL-BEING IS DIRECTLY TIED TO PITAYA'S AND THE DRAGON'S VALLEY AND BOTH ARE IN SERIOUS JEOPARDY!!! Oh God I can scream about this for so long. I have a similar issue with the Red Dragon arc in CRK, WHY WASN'T FIRE SPIRIT THERE?) I LOVE the dragons, I love their relationship with each other, I love the conflict between them, even the unique bonds/quarrels between specific ones! And their storyline is picked up and dropped over and over again, left to collect dust until they feel like continuing the story. Hell, remember Gingerbrave and co.'s quest to find where that wizard compass is pointing, and to find a place for them to build a peaceful life away from the Witches? Me neither lol. Sea Fairy's great sacrifice with Sugarteara and the cursed pearl? (SF was done SO dirty in Kingdom, she's an actual character in OB and in CRK all she cares about is Moonlight, to the point that she lets an entire civilization fall to ruin because she refuses to do her fucking job) The Xylitol gang... Well, as of writing this, that's the next update... Which will give us another legendary cookie, hardly 3 months after Dreamweaver lol. Fuck Stevia Nova, I already don't give a damn. Give me more Xylitol Nova and Astronaut and that's it

I have a lot more to say (especially about BS and GC, God I could talk about them FOREVER, they're so interesting to me), but I think I've rambled enough lol. All the love for Shadow Milk, truly, but all the love and justice for Burning Spice and the other Beasts and every other character that gets ignored, too

[dr-spectre]

I heard about how in Bancala Walker there was a short story about Marina and Acht and their time in the domes. And I'm gonna be 100% honest with you. It kinda makes me mad, and it really highlights a massive problem with Splatoon as a whole, and that's how it treats its stories.

(Yep I'm rambling about Splatoon's storytelling for the 500th time, welcome to my blog.)

Since Splatoon 2, the series has had a weird relationship with its storytelling, the main stories of each campaign are very simplistic and are very video game like plots. "Go get the Great Zapfish back and save Captain Cuttlefish. Go get the Great Zapfish again and find Callie. Find the thangs and get out. GO GET THE ZAPFISH AGAIN AND SAVE CAPTAIN CUTTLEFISH AGAIN!!! Climb up the tower." Splatoon 1 got away with this because it's clearly the most "tutorial" mode out of any of the single player campaigns and it doesn't really try to say any deeper messages or express a character arc.

Now, obviously video game stories must have goals for the player to work towards, I'm not complaining about that, you gotta have that stuff in games to motivate the player, however, what really drives me up a wall is when they decide to add depth and interesting things relating to the characters and world, yet they intentionally throw away that same depth and chuck it to the side. Hell they sometimes retcon the optional hard to find lore or make it more confusing just because!! If you're gonna add depth and something else to these stories, you HAVE to actually explore it and expand upon it WITHIN THE STORY! You cannot add it as "extra lore" when it's stuff that should have been in the main storyline to begin with. It's like not adding seasoning to chicken and that you boiled the fucking chicken and wrapped it in lettuce and mayonnaise.

I could obviously talk about the elephant in the room... you know... this little goober right here. This freak.

And I'm going to.

From the concept art we were given, we know that Callie was originally gonna have more exploration into her troubling mental health issues as seen by her being in the shadows and being comforted by Octarians. It's a significantly different tone compared to the final product.

However in the final game, they tossed MOST of this shit away and say in the game as well as in official media, "naw she was kidnapped and brainwashed forcefully because she's a dumb clutz lmao." They tried to backtrack with an obscure relationship chart, the sunken scrolls and Squid Sisters web prequel series, but then they backtracked AGAIN with the Splatoon 3 artbook that states that she was "brainwashed." It's an incredibly simplified and frankly insulting version of events that are TECHNICALLY canon but Nintendo and others don't treat it as such and i don't know why. I dont know why they treat Callie like this. Is it because she's silly?

Wouldn't it be more interesting and more powerful as a story if they made Callie had more control and awareness of her actions? That she was truly acting upon her mental illness and isolation? Putting DJ Octavio, the fucking funny octopus guy on the same level as Talon from Overwatch and Hydra from Marvel, the literal nazis who damaged Bucky Barnes' brain and removed all of his memories, making him into the Winter Solider, is fucking psychotic and actually insane of Nintendo to do.

There is also Acht and how they were shown between Octo Expansion and Side Order.

Some of the most powerful stories in media have strong character arcs and characters overcoming their struggles and pain. It is inspirating and incredibly real to see a loved one reach out to a person that they care about who have lost their way, either from mental illness or drugs. Trying to bring them back and help them go through their pain together. When someone is under distress and mental health troubles, they can act like a completely different person and the fact that Nintendo half assed serious topics like this and made shit WAY WORSE boils my blood to no end.

In Octo Expansion, we were told that they went under Sanitization willingly in order to remove doubts in their mind and put their all into music. Now due to the unknowns of Sanitization at the time, this made for a really interesting character and brought up a lot of interesting questions as to why they would do this and who they are.

However, in Side Order when they explained Sanitization further and told us that Acht lost all of their free will and were FORCED to make music for Tartar, it kinda damaged their story a little bit. Like sure, Acht still probably wanted to go under Sanitization to clear their doubts and remove emotion, but the added information kinda goes against the interesting story they were trying to tell with Acht. Acht doesn't even mention why they went under Sanitization in Side Order and their reasoning is only found IN A SOCIAL MEDIA POST BACK IN 2018!!! THEY DON'T RESTATE IT AT ALL WHEN IT WOULD HAVE BEEN IMPORTANT TO DO SO! They kinda tell us via their letters, but guess when you get those, IN THE POST GAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This leads me to another big talking point, most of the lore is hidden and hard to find. You have to go out of your way to find most of the shit Splatoon has to offer. Sunken Scrolls are hidden collectables and most people don't wanna go through the effort of finding them all in the stages, the chat logs in Octo Expansion are completely optional due to entries being tied to specific stations and you can choose to easily skip them, the dev diaries are locked behind lockers and some people may complete Side Order in a manner where they can get to the final boss and be done with the main campaign before seeing most of the entries. Now I'm not saying that there cannot be extra lore tidbits for players to find, hell no, i love extra stuff like that, i think Splatoon 1 and 3's hero modes did a really job of that. BUT WHEN YOU HIDE AWAY IMPORTANT DETAILS LIKE CALLIE'S MOTIVATION IN SPLATOON 2 AND MARINA'S AND PEARL'S BACKSTORIES!?!? YEAH I GOT A FUCKING PROBLEM RIGHT THERE!

In other games, these would be cutscenes or a bunch of mandatory dialogue, BUT NOPE! THEY ARE IN HARD TO FIND SPOTS!

Some of the other lore details are found on social media posts and some of them are YEARS old or on Splatoon's dead Tumblr account. Most people would rather go to Inkipedia and even they can sometimes make vital mistakes or have wording that gives people the wrong idea on what happened in particular events, which heavily impacts the community and discussion. When i talk about my perspective on what happened to Callie in Splatoon 2, I've seen people say to me "wait really? Huh?! I didn't know that." The amount of research you gotta do to go into these characters is an absolute nightmare, AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE SPLATBANDS!!! Their lore is literally locked behind Japanese exclusive expensive artbooks!!! WHY?!?!

I really do wanna stress again, is it cool to get cool lore outside of the games and as collectables?! ABSOLUTELY! You know how awesome it was to read the Alterna logs for the first time? The smile on my face seeing Pearl and Marina back in the Final Fest in Side Order. But when the main stories suffer because of important information being tossed to the side and not applied to the main games... I dont know man, it just becomes incredibly frustrating to me personally. Especially with all the misconceptions and other things that occur within the community, the fandom has an information problem and honestly, it's Nintendo's fault. Imagine if Side Order had flashbacks to a younger Marina and Acht, it would have helped with the middle chunk of the story being so... nothing.

[puppysuke]

daisuke boyfriend hc + drabbles.

hi my first head canon post :3 i am so hyperfixated on daisuke and mouthwashing itself. please someone save me. continue reading below cut! these are both sfw and nsfw, minors dni past the sfw hcs! header made by me :3

🌺 --- daisuke 100% will yap your ear off ALL day. he will not shut his mouth. not that you want him too, anyway. you love listening to him rant and ramble to no end. ~ "swansea was so mean today!" he tells you as he nuzzles into your neck, cuddling contently on the couch of the lounge room after a long day of working with swansea.

you let out a little giggle and ruffle his hair. "i'm sorry, bug," you press a soft kiss to the crown of his head.

"yeah, and then curly wouldn't give me a break, i don't even know what he was talking about. i wasn't paying attention, honestly..." daisuke admits sheepishly. you sigh softly and stay quiet, letting him ramble until he eventually passes out with his arms around your waist and his head on your shoulder. 🌺 --- daisuke daydreams a lot about going home and starting something more with you. after so long in space, going back to earth sounded like heaven, and then in top of that, knowing you'd be with him! he loves it! ~ daisuke had been zoned out all day, a small smile on his face as he seems miles and miles away from reality. by the time swansea delivers him back to you, he's oddly....quiet. "'suke?" you frown as you sit on your bed in the sleeping quarters. you and anya share a room since you were the only girls (sorry guys </3) on the ship, but she was currently in medical, so it was just you and daisuke alone. "are you okay?" you question. he turns to you with a big, toothy grin on his pretty face. "do you think we should get a puppy or a kitten when we're back on earth?" daisuke looked at you with big, happy eyes. he didn't even give you a chance to respond before his next question comes in. "what about our house? maybe we should just start with an apartment? do you wanna be in the city or more in the country? what about decorations? oh! and i can't wait til i can introduce you to my mom! oh, she'll love you! maybe a little more than she loves me, i-" "hey, hey," you interrupt with a chuckle, your hand flying over his lips. "calm down. is this why swansea sent you back to me?" daisuke licked your palm, laughing hard when you pulled your hand away. he was so happy with you. 🌺 --- daisuke wants nothing more than to make you laugh and smile. he will do anything to make you feel better when you're in a bad mood. ~ daisuke looked at you with a frown as you walked down the hall beside him. you seemed to be upset. he had seen you upset before, but this seemed different. you were stressed. being anya's intern, you had a lot of learning to do and today? it felt like you were doing everything wrong. as you went back to your sleeping quarters, daisuke took hold of your hand, linking your pinkie finger in his as he slowed the pace you two were walking at to a stop. "bumble bee," he starts with a pout, turning himself to face you. "are you okay? i mean, i know you're upset, but..." he trailed off for a moment. "tell me what'll make you feel better." "hmm..." you thought a moment, looking down at the ground. you knew there were a few things that could help you feel better, more like yourself. finally, you decided. "can you and i sleep in the lounge tonight and you can sing to me and tell me stories?" a smile graced daisuke's lips. he didn't much like singing, especially to other people, but for you? "of course. anything, for you," he leaned close and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. minors dni past this point. bonus nsfw hc. 🌺 --- daisuke is a soft dom. everyone writes him as a sub, but i do not see this man as a sub. he is 1000% a soft dom and very heavy on praise both giving and receiving. ~ daisuke let out soft pants as he had you under him. he held your hands above your head in one of yours, the other hand cupping your cheeks. you were face to face, inches apart. his favorite position was missionary and you had no complaints, getting to look into those pretty eyes of him. "doing so good for me, sweetheart," daisuke says in a soft and gentle voice as he kissed your forehead with a gentleness that wasn't even describable. "feeling good, hm? am i making you feel good?" he asks, rubbing his thumb over your cheek in soft strokes.

you nod, looking up into his eyes as your mouth hangs open. you gasp and turn your head to the side, leaning into his touch. "m-mhm, feels good, feels perfect. love you so much." you whine out in a breathy voice. daisuke lets out a soft laugh and kissed your temple.

"i love you too, sweets." 🌺 --- he is super vocal in bed. whines, whimpers, grunts, babbling, you name it. much like how he never stops talking, he never stops making noises in bed. ~ daisuke has his head in between your legs, his hands gripping the flesh of your thighs tightly to keep them spread enough. you're lying with you back of the bed and your legs hanging off the edge so he can have you there. despite him giving you head, he's the one that's louder. he whines as he sucks on your clit, he gasps when he prods at your entrance with his tongue, the cold metal of his tongue piercing making you whine too, wiggling your hips.

much to your dismay, daisuke pulls away. you sit up and look at him, confused. he looked up into your eyes and pouts, his chin and lips, even the tip of your nose, glistening in the dim led lights of the room.

"you're so fuckin' sweet!" he puts his chin on your knee, resting his head there for a minute. "it was like...perfect!" you knew he had to have been lying. all you had eaten was whatever the fuck curly those machines in the lounge made and cans of soup, you were in no way having a healthy, balanced diet, but you still appreciated the sentiment.

[itadooori]

I desire to see more of Hyun-ju in your style, please (and tell me more about your oc's as well, I like people's oc's)

hyun-ju the most beautiful girl ever (⸝⸝⸝• ω •⸝⸝⸝) ♡ i love her sm!!! thank u for giving me an excuse to draw her haha

as for my squid game ocs, i'll put my ramble under the cut as i have quite a bit to say lol

so! my ocs :3 as i previously mentioned before, they are a father and daughter pair! (i also finally came up with names for them, adhika is the daughter and dakila is the father)

much like geum-ja and yong-sik, i think that they both joined the games separately and only knew abt each other when they arrived. their family is def struggling, with adhika's father in debt and having a hard time finding work while her mother takes care of her younger siblings. adhika just turned 18 a few months ago, and has been working odd jobs here and there in attempts to support her family and pay off their debt, but the money is just a drop in the bucket.

adhika feels a very strong sense of responsibility towards her family, and wants to help out. she even refused to leave to go to university, despite being very smart and having a bright future in academics, to help out her family. but also sometimes, she also feels...burdened? it's a very conflicting feeling. she loves her family, but she'd be lying if she said didn't feel a twinge of resentment at this situation. i hope that makes sense lol

i haven't yet decided if my ocs are gonna just be fun little canon inserts or if im giving them their own story. both options seem rlly fun to me so kjssdkfjh im having a tough time deciding

some fun little tidbits about dakila and adhika's way of going about the games:

adhika is locked the fuck in. she's already at a disadvantage being a young, 5 foot tall, non-korean girl, so she's working twice or thrice as hard to get thru this shit

as i said before, adhika is very smart. she has good people-reading skills, and the ability to kinda morph into whatever people need her to be, or fit into whatever dynamic she believes people want her to fit (a skill that she picked up from just. life experience as the oldest sibling in a struggling family LMAO)

dakila is trying to look out for his daughter, but the games put a strain on their relationship

adhika has lowkey manipulative tendencies. they come out and worsen during the games. honestly, just think of her as a nasty mix of sang-woo and mi-nyeo. absolutely FOUL things coming from this girl i love her

this isnt really important at all nor does it really come up within her story but i still want to mention adhika is a lesbian. she joins the doomed squid game lesbian roster with sae-byeok ji-yeong and young-mi LMAO

akjfhdskjhf sorry this is so jumbled i just have a lot of thoughts. i'm still ironing out dakila and his personality so unfortunately i dont have as much on him as i do with adhika. but i hope that this information is interesting enough for now!! thank you SO much for giving me the chance to ramble abt my silly guys

[toniko]

brief words about impersonalization and Kim Soleum (spoilers up to 161

Kim Soleum rides such a hypocritical line between believing this is all a fictional world and the realness of this world. I really don’t blame him actually, the combination of toxic work culture and the base setting of him being transported into the world is like really numbing.

I mean the field exploration team uses masks that depict them as animals and as good of an item it is for exploration, that is one of the elements that dehumanizes them. It’s one thing for the groups to be split into the alphabet but it’s a whole different thing when you identify every employee by their group. You literally can not differentiate the employees in the logs (I mean look at that interview with Baek Saheon, this may be a bit of a bad example because I can see why anonymity would be kept here. Ah but it seems to be like that with every document? Mystery person here, mystery group here, finishing team). It’s awfully impersonal and while an interpretation of it just being useful code names is valid, in a profession with a high death rate, I doubt that’s the only reason. Oh yeah, highly expendable employees. But we can’t say we’re killing people, dare say individuals with their own entire lives and histories, so company employees sound a lot better. Everyone perpetuates it, it’s easy, team members die quickly and often, deal with it. Except not really right? Being human is to inherently care for your fellow human.

But hiring employees with looser personalities does help in that aspect. Capitalism win for the Daydream co. I guess. I have a small comment about how the Supernatural Management Bureau (now what is it called in the fan-translation? I’ll replace it someone let me know, I’m picking off namu wiki rn). It does purposely hire righteous but orderly folks but it seems both Agent Bronze & Choi are affected by past member deaths.

It feels like Kim Soleum keeps trying to draw a line and it doesn’t work. He says that he will have left before [big catastrophic event] but unconsciously forms attachments super quickly. I think his time away from the griptok and wiki is really making him accept the reality of these characters. Agent Choi’s survival gives Soleum a little brain blast acceptance that character’s fates really can change. Of course, didn’t it take a shockingly long time for that? I think it’s implication that he was still using the same excuse of them all being from a fictional world to shield his mentality. Gotta do what you gotta do Soleum.

He does all in his power to keep as many people alive (because he’s an empath 🙂‍↕️, we know) but the hangman game was obviously super personal.

btw I think Soleum has a bias in how he treats “named” characters as well. This is just my personal opinion, but the relationship with Lee Jaheon felt purposely professional up until recently (say 130s or so I think, I’m just rambling out), since Soleum inner monologue tended to emphasize the elements he remembered. The reader would notice that Lee Jaheon really does care a lot but you might have to dig through a couple of lizard and defeating darkness through force comments. It feels this stereotype he has of the named characters stick a lot longer! It makes sense, in the kind of format the original records were in, they were in fact character stereotypes to fill the semi-anthology esque story structure (would it be appropriate just to say SCP foundation?). Again, this divorce from the griptok is what I think a big contributor of his reality check is.

There’s also this uh, Baek Saheon in the room that I haven’t talked about. Probably the meanest thing Soleum does in this novel is bullying this guy lol. But that’s because Kim Soleum’s interpretation of him is so overblown and far in time compared to the current guy we know. At this point, I’d pin down Baek Saheon as a character that would maybe let someone die but wouldn’t kill them himself (yet). But that’s it, Kim Soleum having read so far into his story, operates with the assumption that he’s a comically evil bad guy. But this guy, all he does with his hypnosis pen is hide away like a mouse? Sorry for being a much more horrible person, I would’ve tried stealing his items but he was doing something so pointless even Braun didn’t think to let Soleum know (now is that a whole nother thing? Braun being more suspicious leading up to his darkness arc? Yeah.)

Braun being an all powerful ghost story entity btw without Kim Soleum having to mask his identity almost completely was like the total kryptonite of Soleum’s “I care too much about everyone’s lives but I can’t do that because they are all fictional but also alive”. Soleum isn’t against making relationships but he often calls Braun his only friend. Isn’t that a bit out of touch Soleum, I think there’s a couple of people who would find a friend in you.

J3, for example, who was looking for him after he went missing! Actually, color me a conspiracist but I think it’s much less a self esteem issue but a reaction of realizing the people he’s (trying to) push away actually like and care about him. I mean he’s trying to get out of this fictional world. He doesn’t want the people of this world to care about him, so he’s shocked at the revelation that they do. So I don’t think it’s out of a dislike of himself but in many ways, he’s forced to act unlike himself because of this world. Well anyway that’s just my opinion anyway…

some final personal (personal) thoughts down here…

Kim Soleum’s monologue drives me nuts. I know! That’s the whole novel! But it’s something like Baek Deoksu’s style, where I sit there and shake my head going “Young man, I know you’re playing tricks with me”. I mean seriously, it’s not a bad thing. Just don’t make me work hard every chapter hooo, I’m a lazy kind of guy yk read for fun and leisure. ghost story ooo so scary…

[nagichi-boop]

Why Emmet will be in Pokémon Legends ZA (/silly)

Disclaimer: I don’t actually believe he will be, but here’s my wild ramblings anyway. Please don’t take this seriously. But also like just imagine I was right and how epic that would be!!

Okay so like why else would they show a train station? “Maybe it’s because they are modernising the city and want tourists.” OR MAYBE EMMET THE SUBWAY MASTER IS HERE CUZ HE DIDN’T WANNA STAY IN NIMBASA BY HIMSELF-

Also heeey, signature Pokémon spotted! It’s a hint of Emmet (and maybe Ingo) returning fr fr. The shopping area also just kinda looks like a train station to me, but maybe I’m reading too much into it. (Again, this is all for giggles anyways, I’m fairly certain Emmet won’t be in PLZA.)

It’s very curious that they have so many Unova Pokémon though, no? (I can’t remember if XY had this many but shhh, this is totally evidence.)

I know there’s speculation about what the bit at the end of the Presents meant, but like…what if it’s a Battle Subway- oops hehe, I mean a battle facility.

If there is a battle system, it would make sense for Emmet to run it. His brother is in the previous Legends game and is the one who runs the Path of Solitude, so it makes sense to me that Emmet would run something similar in the second game. Also since this game takes place after the events of XY and so takes place in the modern day, Emmet being there wouldn’t be unusual. He wouldn’t need to travel through time, but instead he would just be moving from Unova to Kalos, maybe in search of a change of scenery. There is also the chance Ingo will be there, but who knows.

Anyways, thanks for reading this dumb speculative post. I reaaally would love to see Emmet and/or Ingo in Legends ZA since they never resolved that story, but I heavily doubt either of them will be. :’)

[super-who-locked-me-in-here]

Okay so I might have fully developed Supernatural brainrot with everything going on but bear with me as I ramble, okay?

So I made this post yesterday freaking out about Jared and Misha guest starring in The Boys s5 at some point, right? And I've come up with the most batshit insane headcanon/theory about what could happen. If it does happen, I might perish. If it doesn't happen, well, at the very least I have the basis for a really cool fanfiction once I finish The Boys and my rewatch of Supernatural. So here's the thing: in Supernatural, Chuck is a writer, right? In the TV series, Sam and Dean find this whole book series based on their lives written under the pen name Carver Edlund and they find out the author is Chuck and they think he's just a prophet but they later find out he's God. And in 15x12 Galaxy Brain, Chuck reveals to a random Radio Shed worker that he's created hundreds of alternate universes where Sam and Dean exist, but the universe that they are currently standing in, that Sam and Dean, they are his favorite. They excite him. They disappoint him. This version of Sam and Dean, our version of Sam and Dean, is his favorite. He then decides that all other versions of Sam and Dean and the stories that he wrote for them in those alternate universes were "failed drafts" and that it was time to "cancel" them. Of course the gang is able to defeat Chuck by the end of the show, but not before he goes on a rampage destroying all these alternate universes and versions of Sam and Dean (and other key story members). However, it is revealed in the prequel show The Winchesters that after Jack was instated as the new God, he reverted the multiverse to its original state.

Which leads me to The Boys.

What if The Boys is one of Chuck's alternate universe's where he's playing with Sam and Dean as his favorite toys, but he decided to really spice things up in this one, so they aren't even Sam and Dean, they're Sam and Dean playing other characters that Chuck has designed? I mean, we're looking at Jared, Misha, and Jensen all working together in the final season of The Boys, I don't see why this couldn't happen. You could argue that Vought Rising could get in the way of that happening but that's going to be a prequel series. There's no telling what Jared and Misha's roles are going to be in The Boys and when in s5 they'll show up and what will happen after the show. What I'm implying is that this is our segue into Supernatural s16. Because what if The Boys was Chuck's backup Sam and Dean? What leads me specifically to question this (aside from the fact that it's another Eric Kripke show and we're getting a Team Free Will team up) is an interaction in Supernatural 3x10 Dream a Little Dream of Me. While helping Bobby in his comatose state, Dean runs into a nightmarish demon version of himself that prods at his deepest insecurities. The interaction goes as follows: "I mean after all, you got nothing outside of Sam. You are nothing. You're as mindless and obedient as an attack dog." "That's not true..." "No? What are the things that you want? What are the things that you dream? I mean your car? That's Dad's. Your favorite leather jacket? Dad's. Your music? Dad's...do you even have an original thought? No. No all there is is 'Watch out for Sammy! Watch after your little brother boy!' You can still hear your dad's voice in your head can't you? Clear as a bell..." "Just shut up." "Think about it...all he ever did was train you, boss you around; but Sam? Sam he doted on. Sam he loved." "You made it. I'm getting angry." "Dad knew who you really were...a good soldier and nothing else...Daddy's blunt little instrument. Your own father didn't care if you lived or died, WHY SHOULD YOU?!" (Part 2 in reblogs bc of character count)

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hello! :3 First I wanted to thank you for all the resources. I wish I had this when I first started art!

Second, I just now so the BHM challenge and the posts where you weren’t sure about it. I harbor similar feelings, and felt so hopeless abt them. I started making more Black characters as a Black artist and felt so liberated, but when I showed them to non-black people they would cheer and compliment them… but they never were motivated to make their own Black characters. At first I could enjoy it, but it gradually bothered me how often I saw people call us beautiful but never consider us when making designs/ stories/ art. Whether it was bc they didn’t think of it or they were scared to “mess up” or seem anti black… There was so much worry about how they were seen instead of on making a Black character.

I want to thank you for continuing on with the challenge. That feeling had been consuming me… and I felt alone or petty for thinking so. I saw the challenge and it made my day. Bc instead of being overwhelmed by all of that that I can scroll thru the tag and see lots of awesome Black characters and a community that makes me feel valid!

Thank you again and sorry for rambling hehehe <3

You are not petty at all for thinking that! It's the truth! It's easy to say "oh yeah I believe in and agree with someone else's statement, you guys are awesome!", but it's different- and a lot less comfortable, when it comes to Blackness- to actually act according to those beliefs!

Yeah, I was kind of ready to cancel it fr because I overestimated myself and my communication, but every opportunity is a learning opportunity. If nothing else, folks were able to learn and reflect and that's what matters!

It also matters that Black folks like you got to see people challenged to show love for you, rather than just your image. That you deserve to be included and thought about, rather than just watching people play Barbies with a token of you while not caring about you as a human at all. I'm happy to hear that you feel validated and I hope you continue to feel so. ☺️