hey, thanks for coming over! I hope you enjoy my art sideblog ✧ദ്ദി( ˶^ᗜ^˶ ) just as a heads up, I'm currently working two separate freelancer jobs and don't have a lot of time to draw. please be aware of my low-effort sketches...
I've been focused in posting about baldur's gate 3 and dragon age: the veilguard due to being two major sources of comfort for me. astarion (bg3) and lucanis (da:v) in particular have character arcs that helped me work through stuff I'd been struggling with for a while, so I'm extremely grateful to everyone involved in developing them
take a look at my DA:V tag directory below the read more for a bunch of thoughts on lucanis, spite and dragon age lore in general (╭ರ_•́) 🔎
dividers by saradika-graphics found here: [x]
FEATURED TAVS / ROOKS
ZYRA MIRTHVEIL he/she/they || tiefling of asmodeus, charlatan, bard || college of lore
BRRANWIN (@muffinapologist) she/they || half-orc, folk hero, fighter || battle master
EZORR (@ink-cartoon) they/them || blue dragonborn, folk hero, wizard || school of abjuration
SAAR LAIDIR he/him || qunari, lord of fortune, rogue
CASTER (@dandyboyandy) he/him || dwarf, veil jumper, rogue
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I remember when I deleted the original post because I made it as a joke (I meant to delete this follow-up too but never did), thinking I wouldn't be in the fandom for long... now I really wish I'd kept it up, because it's been 7 months and I've fully converted into a "da: veilguard apologist"
So... do we think Spite gets antsy wearing socks? He's used to wearing gloves, obviously. Lucanis wears them SO MUCH it's just a thing he's used to by now, maneuvering and grasping things with gloved hands.
Socks? I don't know if Lucanis always has them on. They're just shirts for your feet, AND you can't even wiggle your toes while drinking coffee wearing them! Just seems like a waste. Like, what does a foot in a sock do that is overtly different from a foot without one? It almost feels like dampening your senses. Plus, Spite gets overly hot, and it SUCKS!!! >:[
Lucanis makes a fair point in that socks can keep your feet dry, as well as help with sweat and... [clears throat] natural odors. But this is Spite we're talking about, and I doubt any of this bothers him very much. So, when he's the one in control of the body, he walks around the Dellamorte villa sockless and shoeless. Naturally, the courtyard area is no exception.
The rest includes my Rook (Saar, he/him) specifically, so I'm keeping it under a read more in case anyone wants to skip it. ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧
Saar has to watch him closely, because when they go on outings Spite WILL try to just go without socks and shoes. Most elves don't wear shoes, even Solas keeps those dogs out, why does Lucanis have to be so boring! There's something to be said about walking barefoot and being able to feel the energy of the earth beneath your feet, as well, which Saar might pinpoint as one of the reasons why Spite's attracted to the idea.
There's so many sensations you can feel through your extremities alone, it probably feels dull for Spite to keep his feet covered all the time. He can't feel the grass, or the dirt, or the mud. I don't know, but I imagine a spirit would instinctively gravitate towards things like that. It shouldn't be a problem, though: I'm sure the sprawling estate has a mudroom.
Then again, it's probably at the front of the house. And they can't risk running tracks across the whole villa by getting in through the back door, so Saar has to convince Spite to walk all the way around to go through the mudroom (he says this squishing Spite's suddenly grumpy face). He eventually learns to not make the whole place messy, but...
Once the three of them have kids? Well, sometimes he forgets. And right at the scene of the crime, there's his footprints along with prints from little feet behind him. Saar hears all their pattering feet and comes out to see the mud trails (I do genuinely feel bad for the staff) with his lovelies all dirty... and he's filled with SUCH affection, all like "bath time!!! ^w^".
It's usually Lucanis who takes care of bathing their shared body, since getting Spite to clean himself is like trying to shove a cat into a water basin. So the moment Saar says that, he's like >:O [GRUMBLES], which the kids echo with their own complaints. That is, until Saar's got one under each arm and they're giggling and trying to wiggle away. At which point it becomes sort of a game in and of itself, and Spite loves games.
This would manifest other ways too, of course. In the summer or during the hotter days of the rainy season, everything he wants is to slot his head between Saar's titties and cuddle. But their bed has multiple layers of covers, and Lucanis had to wear socks to sleep AGAIN, so he has to disentangle himself from Saar for a bit (as much as he doesn't want to).
Spite occasionally has to stick a leg out so his exposed foot can lower the body heat, because he doesn't WANT to not be right up against Saar, but it can get uncomfortable. Either that or he's doing that thing under the covers where he's trying to get a sock off with his other foot, pushing it down his ankles to the heels and shaking until it lands on the floor.
I don't know why I'm so deeply enchanted by the logbooks to the point I've already talked about them on this very post, but like. The mention of Lucanis wiggling his toes while "he drinks the brew" makes me wonder if Spite would like stimming. And he'd be disappointed that people aren't just doing that all the time. What are y'all using your appendages for?!
Saar felt like he was in tune with living in the moment, but stuff like this makes him laugh fondly as he thinks, "when was the last time I thought about my toes AT ALL?". Maybe he and Lucanis teach Spite a lot, but… that spirit sure teaches them to appreciate the little things in return. 💜
Characters: Rook [Saar] Laidir, Spite Dellamorte, Lucanis Dellamorte (mentioned)
Pairing: Rook/Spite
Word count: 610 words
Content warnings: it gets, as you might imagine, suggestive near the end
Spite's like a cat in some ways. Not in a condescending manner, despite what most would think - he's not a pet that needs to be chastised. He's more like a werewolf displaying shared traits with a dog. It's part of who he is, and he's perfectly capable of making his own decisions.
Spite might not be a grown man, but he's a spirit inhabiting one!
And, as the equivalent of a grown man, he has decided "wet" is an awful sensation. It leads us back to the initial assertion that Spite's much like a cat with human (for the lack of a better word) cognition. And this is a new development that Lucanis couldn't have foreseen in the Ossuary.
Spite LOATHES taking baths. It comes up shortly after their alliance is formalized, when Lucanis started becoming comfortable with handing control over to Spite without being asleep. He noticed the spirit would always pass the body back to him before treading a river or entering a bathhouse. Naturally, the first thing that comes to Lucanis's mind is that Spite's afraid of water after being held in an underwater prison.
Turns out it wasn't even remotely the case, and Lucanis had to learn it second-hand. Saar was giggling about his gondola date with Spite when it came up. He went on about how Spite tried gliding his hand over the surface of the water without taking off his gloves, his reaction to how cold it was (Saar leaves out the moment they shared when Spite decided to warm his hand on the Qunari's cheek), and his disdain for being "wet".
Thus, Lucanis decides to take a more direct approach and ask him.
"Wet" is heavy. When he and Lucanis are out on a contract and it starts to rain, the droplets tend to find a way to soak into their underclothes, seeping in from where pieces of armor meet. It creates a thin sheen of moisture over their skin that makes the rooftops feel colder than usual.
It sticks to the cuffs of their pants and weighs them down like blocks of cement, slows their movement to a crawl as they course through water. Spite gets increasingly frustrated when he's restrained against his will. Swamps so far are the worst offender, Hossberg Wetlands in particular landing amongst his least favorite places.
"Wet" dulls your strikes against the enemy. The slippery thud of hitting someone when you're both wet, combined with the awkward slide of a blade that's been exposed to the elements, often get in the way of their syncronized blows. It's a threat to their survival, to his Lucanis.
But the main reason why Spite didn't like taking baths was simple: it messed with his sense of smell. Whenever Saar got clean, Spite had to get his and Lucanis's scent on the Qunari all over again, rubbing his head against the leathery skin like a cat marking his territory. Saar didn't even smell like himself anymore, he reeked of bath soaps.
What's so nice about baths if they undo his diligent work? He hated not being able to smell the unique musk leftover after a difficult battle, and this included Lucanis's own body odors. Why his favorite people in the world preferred smelling like cleaning products was beyond him.
There is a "good" kind of wet, which Saar has taught him about. Well... less taught, more showed him time and time again, sometimes two or three times during the same night. It activates every single one of his senses and makes everything more intense rather than numb it down.
Those are the moments Spite won't ask Lucanis to switch places.
do most people on Thedas even know wtf their blood type is
neve would find this cute, in retrospect. she'd tell lucanis about it with a shit-eating grin and watch him stammer for 2 to 5 solid seconds before thanking her for coming to rook's rescue and excusing himself
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I've been meaning to polish this since JANUARY, but the dialogue is so iconic to me I feel like focusing on the art would take away from it (the original, much funnier version is THIS one!)
There's ONLY one situation in which I'll accept putting Spite in the cuck chair: if it's used to rile him up so he fucks Lucanis and Rook extra hard afterwards. Hear me out, play with me in this space, alright?
To set the scene, they're all in the Lighthouse, Rook can both see and touch Spite separatedly from Lucanis. They bring silk to wrap around Spite's wrists and ankles, tying him to a chair - not too tight, just to serve as a reminder of their little game. The spirit may feel tempted to touch himself, but trying to move will tug at the restraints, and he'll let out a frustrated growl... while grinning, because he likes playing along.
Rook and Lucanis will put on a show for him, tempt Spite to join them, but simultaneously praise him for holding back so well. Meanwhile, he's clawing at the chair, bouncing his legs, near barking and foaming at the mouth. And when Spite's at his limit, the restraints are frail enough that he can break free like a feral animal (earning the satisfaction of breaking through the bonds) and finally, at last, claim his ultimate prize >:3
Meant to get this finished & posted yesterday but well, you know, best laid plans & all that. BUT technically got done. Near-ish midnight so I still take the W that it was done yesterday.
Preparing for Art Fight (I'll put a link to mine in my pinned if anyone's interested.... 👀) so uh, needed a character sheet for my dear man Caster! Very satisfied w/ it (This is a casual outfit)
Characters: Rook [Saar] Laidir, Lucanis Dellamorte
Pairing: Rook/Lucanis (Rookanis)
Word count: 242 words
Content warnings: a single NSFW line at the end
Saar really likes Lucanis's voice. It's smooth and warm like a cioccolata calda, tinged with a thick Antivan accent that made his heart skip a beat.
He's pretty sure he could pick it out from a crowd. Once, when they were infiltrating a Venatori settlement, Saar was sure he heard a soldier that sounded just like his Lucanis. The accent was missing, though.
Lucanis isn't as great of an actor as Illario: his voice turned too soft, the lilts were much more noticeable. He might not stumble over his words, but he sounded almost uncertain of what's being said.
Like every sentence ends with a question mark and the assassin needs to convince himself, first.
Saar noticed a pattern to the way he speaks, not just in vocabulary but in cadence. It's a very unique set of quirks that makes Lucanis so… himself. The rhythm of his highs and lows are like a song to the Qunari.
His melodious speech is at its most noticeable when he's being romantic. You don't have to understand what he's saying to know what the words convey. His tone of voice and inflections betray the subtlety.
Lucanis has a poet's soul, and it really shows in the heat of passion - it doesn't matter if he's speaking Common or Antivan. It works out pretty well for Saar, too, since when he's getting his brains fucked out he has no idea what his husband's saying either way.
@dandyboyandy showed me this gifset the other day and it sent me on a journey thinking about the Dellamorte men's hands.
It's safe to assume Illario's hands are smoother by comparison: he likely needs a routine to keep them soft, since his whole thing is touch. His weapons are not what he holds, they're his hands themselves, along with honeyed words and lingering stares.
And while I do think Lucanis's hands are rougher, they're still well-taken care of, because he's a rich boy with a reputation to uphold and who's always wearing gloves out on a job. I mean, he wields knives, daggers or swords like an extension of his body! I bet their hilts are embedded on his palms. It's a sign of the dedication to his craft... so maybe he's proud of it, like they're his battle scars?
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Characters: Lucanis Dellamorte, Spite, Rook Laidir (Spiterookcanis) (Rook only appears in fantasies; specific descriptions are due to this being written with @the-muffin-master 's Rook, Saar in mind)
Summary: Left at the Lighthouse for a mandatory break by Rook, every thought seems to return to Rook, and, mind unfiltered by exhaustion, Spite takes advantage to push the imagined scenarios.
Word count: 1,954
Content: Masturbation, kind of? (Technically Spite is controlling an arm but its all the same body, so....)
Extra: This Rook, Saar, in addition to Common, speaks a Thedas equivalent to Portuguese.
If Lucanis thought it was hard to focus before, it was impossible now. As a Crow there was an expectation that one could solve, or kill, the impossible.
But this? The Lighthouse made his eyes itch and throb. Spite, even when he chose to be quiet, which was rare, sat in his mind like a boulder wedged against his brain.
He was slowly but surely getting sleep back with his new partnership with Spite and Rook’s affections….but the amount of time he’d spent over indulging in coffee and forcing himself awake, on top of going out to fight had left him mentally and physically drained.
It would take time to recover from the self destruction he’d put himself through. Longer than he’d prefer. He had a job to do. And…people to protect.
Sometimes he was barely making memories. Maybe whole days were fuzzy. No one had said anything. He hadn’t accidentally stabbed someone he wasn’t supposed to. He wondered if that clarity was Spite carrying him where he faltered…
Today was a Rook assigned down day. He'd already left with Bellara and Davrin.
Lucanis wrote in his logbook, hoping if he scheduled his day it would help him remember it. Sleeping the whole thing through was tempting but the thought of it had him grinding his teeth.
Breakfast.
The funny thing was that despite his hapless state his mind was conjuring more things than less. He supposed it had to do with an inability to filter thoughts. So the word ‘breakfast’ conjured images of food, then Rook, then of Rook making him breakfast.
Maybe he’d be in a real bed and not this cot in the pantry. His bed back in the villa with the silken sheets. Maybe Rook would be there, not at the door with food but in his bed. Maybe he’d feel ravenous but not for food–
He mentally clapped his hands together.
“OoOoh!” Went Spite. “Touch. RoOK.”
Lucanis didn’t need to tell Spite that Rook wasn’t actually there. Now that the demon understood space better, the both of them knew that Spite was teasing him.
Alright. After breakfast would be an opportune time for extended exercise. It wasn’t as though he didn’t get exercise. It was more about stretching and re-familiarizing himself with his body. It was easy to take something's function for granted until it stopped doing what you wanted it to do.
Better to take the time to identify cricks in his back or soreness in his legs so he could work on leveling out the amount of strain he was putting on them.
This conjured images of him stretching, doing handstands on a balancing beam. He was good enough to do full splits with ease. But then most master assassins were.
His mind wandered to Rook again, wondering how flexible he was. The man was a Qunari, his Rook – He paused, a blush blooming across his cheeks. He mentally coughed into his fist. Rook was interesting in regards to what one imagined a Qunari to be.
He was just as towering but thinner. For a Qunari, anyway; he was still wider than, at minimum, one and a half Lucanis’s. But it did give him a sleekness that said speed instead of bulk like most Qunari.
And it was true, the man had a speed that you might not expect. He shook his head to blow away the thoughts like so many dandelion seeds.
But the Rook part stuck. Flexibility was good for anyone to learn…he imagined going through the motions of his typical Crow stretching routines with him. Maybe…Rook wouldn’t get the position quite right. And saying ‘stretch further’ wasn’t helpful advice.
He’d need to go to him and correct it himself, spreading Rook’s legs, hands on his thighs…
His breathing quickened at the thought.
Then he’d have Rook lean forward with his arms out and hands clasped. It worked itself over like dreams would. His position in space snapped him to whatever spot was relevant to the fantasy – he bit his lip, groaning in frustration, wiping at the word. To the imagined scenario.
So now he was behind Rook, his hands back on the Qunari’s thighs. Just to help him keep that good stretch going. And he whispered in Rook’s ear, the same things he always told Rook in the heat of battle but the tone was…different.
“Good job, Rook.” His imagined self purred to the imagined Rook.
His trousers were getting tight.
No, no, no. He needed to get up and do something. A bit of toast, some jam, and a coffee. Perfectly serviceable breakfast. So out of the pantry and into the kitchen he went, bustling around on auto pilot as his thoughts continued to turn. He hated that he couldn’t even blame his previous thoughts on Spite.
“Eat. Rook.”
“No. Rook is out.”
“NO.” Spite ground out. “Rook is. Here.” The ‘here’ sounded slithery, like a snake wrapping around his mind. It drew back the thoughts of Rook in his bed and Rook stretched out across the floor.
Well now it was just a full erection. Wonderful. In the dining room. Lucky for him no one else had bothered coming through to eat yet. He carried his plate and his coffee as he walked quickly back to the pantry.
“Mierda,” He muttered, “Over eager demon.” He stuffed a barrel in front of the door, his toast and coffee sat atop it and wrestled with his pants. Just take care of it. He sat askew on the cot. As though it hadn’t been he himself who’d been doing most of the fantasizing…
Something happened. Not like when Spite took over and pushed him to the back of his mind. This was a touch different. Just one of his hands, Spite’s purple energy wafting off it like steam. When it gripped his cock he bowled over and groaned.
It was both his and not his hand at that moment. Unfamiliar enough.
“Spite..!” He ground out through gritted teeth.
“Rook.” Spite responded smoothly.
Lucanis understood the intention. Right now Spite didn’t want Lucanis thinking about what he was looking to do for the day or even about Spite himself.
Spite wanted to touch him while he fantasized about Rook.
…And unfortunately for Lucanis that very thought ripped a pathetic moan from him. He nodded, closed his eyes, leaned back and…imagined.
Rook in his bed. Not on this cot or on that couch of Rook’s (where did that Qunari even sleep? As though Lucanis had any place to talk, really…) but his large bed back at villa Dellamorte.
Maybe he’d wake to the sheets and blankets askew, Rook’s exposed hip a tease. Squeeze. Spite helpfully interjected. Spite’s word was accompanied by that same action being taken on his cock and Lucanis accidentally bit his tongue. As before the fantasy did a jump and Lucanis’s hand was massaging one of Rook’s lovely breasts.
His Rook, our, stirred, bleary eyed and sweet.
“Meu amor.” Cooed fantasy Rook to him. This qunari was all kinds of impossible. Gigantic with those large curved horns. But sweet as a lamb and at times endearingly shy. If Lucanis was caught unawares Rook could choose to break the assassin in twain.
But, as with Spite, he had found trust to extend. He knew what Rook was capable of and he also knew that Rook would never hurt him.
He was jumped out of such saccharine musings by a twist of his cock by Spite that made him gasp. Seems a certain demon wanted him to get back on track….
His mind returned to his and Rook’s stretching in an endless white room. The backdrop didn’t matter all that much. Rook wasn’t…wearing a damn thing this time though. And he was sweaty with exertion from whatever pretend exercise Lucanis’s mind had run him through.
A shift and his arms were loosely looped over Rook’s hips. He leaned forward while Rook was sitting back, arms out behind him to keep from flopping to the floor.
Lucanis licked the sweat from Rook’s skin, brushing over his breasts; it made Rook shiver.
This wasn’t Lucanis’s usual go-to start but this…he sighed. Fantasy had now become a joint effort between Spite and himself. Which meant that, seemingly, Spite’s inclinations rippled across the scenarios and influenced him.
Not that Lucanis was put off by it. Rook’s breathing was shallow, quick and his back arched. Lucanis suckled on a breast and growled in satisfaction at Rook’s needy noises.
Lucanis was dwarfed by this man and yet, with clever hand and tongue the mountain was chiseled to a hill. Pliant. There was satisfaction in that.
Another shift – Rook was on his back. The fantasy had brushed past all the preamble and preparation that actual sex required and had him pressed deep into Rook’s pussy. If Lucanis weren’t overcome by his lust he might be concerned by how good Spite was at giving a hand job.
Did it have to do with feelings? Was Spite watching these fantasies too, stroking just so to match whatever ‘scene’ Lucanis was in? ‘An opera in a brothel’, Lucanis mused.
Of course Rook felt just right. But there was a sort of numbness in fantasy. A baseline of imagined pleasure that couldn’t be brought up or down. It just, was. He wondered how Rook would truly feel. To have his fingers in the man’s muscled thighs as he thrust…
He choked on his own saliva, forcing his tongue back before he could bite it again. Spite was speeding up. And then, the touch was gone – He opened his eyes to find his own hand trying to shove itself in his mouth.
No thought was voiced in his mind, only the visualization of slick, wet fingers caressing his cock. That was more than enough to get him to open wide and suck.
It really should have felt strange to suck his own fingers like that. But it didn’t. It felt like someone else’s. And he supposed in a way they were.
Fingers slick enough by Spite’s standards, he drew the hand away.
Lucanis was going to burn with embarrassment later when he remembered how he leaned forward to chase those fingers with his mouth.
Eyes closed. Position readjusted for comfort. Spite knew just when to start, as the fantasy resumed with him thrusting into Rook. His pussy soft, his legs strong and muscled.
“Rook,” His fantasy self called out, breathless. Lucanis was hot, sweating through his clothes.
And maybe. Maybe? Maybe Rook would...maybe he would say…
“Lucanis.” The sound was sweet, syrupy, and needy. Unfortunately that was all the dialogue Lucanis could dream up. He wasn’t a writer.
That was alright. There was...feeling. He held one of Rook’s hands. His mind converted sounds he hadn’t even known he’d cataloged into perfectly edited in moans and groans for Rook.
He could only hope his first thought back into battle beside the Qunari wasn’t….all this the next he heard Rook’s grunts of excursion.
“Mierda…!” He could barely breath, the drop off was just a moment, a singular moment away --
He imagined how beautiful Rook would look cumming, overtaken and breathless. Sweat soaked and glistening. He’d look up at Lucanis and smile. The open smile that spoke his joy fearlessly, his eyes soft and sparkling.
His free hand was slapped over his mouth to muffle him as he came.
“Maker….” He breathed out. Spite rumbled. Or purred? In his mind. This did not sound like laughter at his expense; more like the sound of a contented cat.
I've been replaying Veilguard and it's so interesting to note how, during the time we're still in the Ossuary, Lucanis avoids using Spite's name for the majority of the dialogue: it's always <he / him / we> or "the demon".
And saying stuff like "[sighs] he says he can help" often prompts Rook to ask "who's he?", which is always met with "the demon". It's unhelpful and vague, but it feels very intentional. He's trying to distance himself from Spite. There's a couple of reasons why I see him doing it 🤔💭
To separate himself from Spite down to the existential sense. He's afraid of losing his true self in the corruption, a sentiment that reminds me of that note we find in one of the cells with a "failed experiment":
The act of giving something a name kind of humanizes it, which could be a problem. First of all, he doesn't want to get emotionally attached to Spite, since he wants to find a way to separate them. But the fact of the matter is Lucanis already emphatizes with the spirit.
Talking to him after Spite's "tantrum" proves as much - he says no-one ended up in the Ossuary willingly, not even the demons. You can tell he's conflicted between wanting to get rid of Spite and not wanting to think about it too deeply, because if he does, he might change his mind.
Isn't that why one of the rules in a Nuzlocke is to name everything you catch? Isn't that why sometimes people won't acknowledge what their relationship to each other is? Without a name, it's easier to let it go. Not to mention he can't be caught suddenly ~caring~ about Spite when the other companions (except Emmrich) are still freaked out by him.
So, instead of calling him by name, Lucanis is trying to establish that he's on the same level as his rescuers about this whole "demon" thing. If he started treating Spite like a person, suddenly there'd be doubt about how far along the possession is. Lucanis doesn't need us to find him to be more of an "abomination" than he already is.
I haven't ever chosen Minrathous and I don't think I'd be able to, but I wonder if there's a clear difference in treatment from Lucanis's end...
A Copa do Mundo da FIFA 2026 começa HOJE, e pra comemorar:
BEASTIEBALL JÁ ESTÁ DISPONÍVEL EM PORTUGUÊS BRASILEIRO! ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜
(Sim, é um jogo de vôlei e não futebol. E nem são os humanos que praticam esportes. Mas sei lá... vai que é isso que a gente precisa pra finalmente trazer o Hexa pra casa?)
This lovely image was made by one of my best friends, @ink-cartoon
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A couple of months ago, I had a conversation with @dandyboyandy about what Spite would buy if you left him unattended at the market. I mean, other than ingredients that smell nice (with no regards to if Lucanis can make a single, coherent dish out of all that random crap).
I asked if he thought Spite would buy seemingly "useless" things from pawn shops, because they used to be sentimental objects so they're imbued with a vast array of energy and feeling. To a random buyer, it might just look like a shitty pottery vase no-one else wanted, but to a spirit? There's potential for so much history there.
Something else he'd get: those clay "plates" made in school where a kid puts their hand in it for the imprint (then usually has their name and age in it). @dandyboyandy mentioned "he'd definitely buy those things, and try to fit even his pinky in the hand imprint" which is so cute to me...
Spite would also buy things that are clearly PERSONALIZED gifts that found their way to thrift stores (and if those don't exist in Thedas, just pretend it's set in a modern AU). Lucanis would later be looking through their wardrobe just thinking "where did we get all these knit sweaters with other people's names on them ∘ ∘ ∘ ( °ヮ° ) ?"
