#something something the first one was silly and fun!!!

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 2

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

Chapter warnings: First kiss with this Yoongi (have fun with that), one sexist remark from your dummy bestie, baby mama shows up, cliffhanger

Word count: 5.3k

Posting date: November 19, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. Icymi, we did a poll and results show y’all wanted to break this into two parts so we shall have a part 3. Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕🫶🏼

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Masterlist

Ever since that dinner when you inadvertently confessed about your age-old attraction to him and assured him that any residual feelings are buried in a metaphorical time capsule, Yoongi seems to have made it his personal mission to rizz you up on purpose.

Haneul’s been especially rambunctious all day. Mealtime is no exception. Yoongi volunteers to feed him, thinking he can rein in some of the pent-up energy. At some point, Haneul squeezes his pouch of organic muesli and carrot puree with so much enthusiasm that it explodes everywhere, sending bright orange flecks across Yoongi’s face and pristine white tee.

“GAHHH!” Yoongi yelps, staring down at the mess, while Haneul absolutely loses it, tiny belly-shaking laughter filling the room.

“Silly, silly sarang,” you coo, using the pet name you’d started calling Haneul lately. It’s adorable how he beams every time he hears it, flashing you that gummy grin like he knows he’s your favorite troublemaker. You laugh too, as you wipe a splatter of puree from Haneul’s cheek with the muslin cloth you were holding.

“Do I have something on my face, too?” Yoongi leans towards you expectantly with the barest of smirks.

“Uh… yeah.” You say, flipping the cloth to a clean side and wiping off the smudge on his cheeks and his chin, and that pesky little morsel on the side of his lip.

For some reason, you seem to need a blast of oxygen straight to your lungs. Stat.

With a lick of his lips, Yoongi nods his thanks. “Gotta change,” he mumbles, lifting the shirt away from his chest with a grimace and walks towards the hallway to his room.

And you almost regret your decision to look back, almost.

Because, oh wow, he’s taking his shirt off. Yep. Fuckin’ dammit. The shirt is off.

Christ.

His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing as he runs a hand through his hair. The infamous “7” tattoo on his shoulder is taunting you. You are unable to pull your eyes away, already knowing you’re doomed.

Then, before he mercifully disappears into his room, he glances over his shoulder and catches you staring. Shit. Your heart plummets straight to your ass. He smirks, U-turns towards you shirtless and utterly shameless.

Your nerves short-circuit as he reaches out, just barely brushing your thigh to pick up his phone from the mat. His eyes hold yours, a dark glint of mischief in them, “You good?”

“Huh?” The brain fog is crazy. You will yourself to keep your eyes above his chest, but of course you gone did it.

Why are his nipples so cute? And damn is that a happy trail?

He snickers softly, like he knows exactly what’s going through your head. “I’ll be back. Han’s eating the remote by the way.”

And with that, he saunters off, leaving you there, a blushing, flustered mess as you find Haneul gnawing on the remote control.

You pull it quickly from his grasp, muttering under your breath, “Sarang, why are you and your appa being such a menace?”

He babbles happily at you, as if he knows he’s not the only troublemaker with a gummy grin in this house that got you wrapped around their finger.

The next time you’re at the Min’s, Yoongi is clearly in a rush, checking his phone and mumbling to himself as he zips up his jacket. “Just text me if you need anything, okay?” he calls over his shoulder, already half out the door.

“Got it,” you reply, bending to set your shoes on the rack. You glance down, expecting to see your usual house slippers—but something else catches your eye.

It’s a… capybara? Big, fluffy, and incredibly cozy-looking slippers, with soft little ears and embroidered eyes, just waiting for you. They’re exactly your size. They’re yours, right? It’s in your usual spot. Beside it… another pair. Same goofy capybara face, but larger. Did Yoongi get a pair for himself, too?

You slip them on, feeling their warmth, their plushness, and a little shiver of wonder and disbelief spreads through you. Yoongi thought of this—thought of you. The butterflies in your stomach are in a frenzy now, and you can’t help but smile, giddy and a little stunned. 

The door swings open. “I forgot my—” Yoongi stops mid-sentence.

You’re standing there, wiggling your toes inside the ridiculous capybara slippers, and when you look up, you catch the slight flush creeping across his cheeks. There’s something so unmistakably soft about his expression and it makes your heart do a strange little flip.

“Please tell me they’re mine,” you jut your bottom lip out, a hopefulness you can’t quite hide.

Yoongi steps inside just enough to grab his keys from the table, shrugs, “Who else would they be for?”

And just like that, he’s gone, the door clicking shut behind him.

You’re left standing there, the capybara slippers snug around your feet, Yoongi’s words replaying in your mind. Your heart flutters as you stare down at them, wondering if maybe, just maybe, this small, thoughtful gesture means as much to him as it does to you.

Since then, you start noticing the small ways Yoongi shows his care. Each time he heads out, he leaves little comforts behind—an extra pillow for you on the couch, a plate of fruit on the coffee table, a cup of Silver Moon tea he prepared for you.

More and more, you start to extend your day to night that Yoongi almost expects you now to stay for dinner or join him for Haneul’s nighttime rituals.

Haneul’s bedtime stories have become a team effort—one night you’re reading, the next it’s Yoongi, who’s surprisingly great with voice acting and sound effects. (You should have known!) When Haneul finally drifts off, Yoongi always waits a moment, exchanging a small, tired smile with you as if to say, We did it.

And before you know it, that age-old crush that you said was buried in a metaphorical time capsule? Yoongi just dug it right back up.

One evening, as you rock Haneul to sleep in your arms, Yoongi comes in quietly, setting down a couple of takeout boxes and two cans of Coke on the coffee table. The baby’s small breaths are warm against your shoulder, his eyelids fluttering as he settles into sleep. You gently lay him down in his crib, brushing a hand over his soft hair before joining Yoongi on the couch. 

“Hungry?” Yoongi asks, sliding a takeout box in your direction. He’s not looking directly at you, focused instead on peeling back the lid of his own food.

“Starving,” you admit, smiling as you pick up your chopsticks. “Thank you.”

The quiet clinks of chopsticks and soft laughter fill the room as you both dig in. Conversation with Yoongi has started to come easier lately, and tonight, it flows so naturally you barely notice the time passing. 

“So, what got you into teaching?” he asks, glancing over at you between bites. “You seem good at it. Really good, actually. Haneul has so many party tricks now.”

You pause, laughing a little to mask the warmth in your cheeks. “I just love kids. I enjoy their energy, even if it’s chaotic.” You glance down. “I’ve always wanted my own. Just… hasn’t quite worked out that way yet.”

He nods, not pressing you, just letting you continue.

“I was in a long-term relationship, but things ended because he wasn’t looking for that kind of future,” you say quietly. “I really wanted a family, kids, but he didn’t. He didn’t even believe in marriage. So, it ended, and I guess that’s why I left and went back home.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that. Must have been so difficult for you.”

You nod, swallowing down the ache that lingers. “Yeah. I think part of me is still working through it, honestly. I hope you don’t think this is weird. But being here, with Han…” you sigh. “I don’t know, it’s helping. Even if he’s not quite mine.”

He’s quiet for a moment, his gaze shifting to his hands, fingers tracing the rim of his soda can. “It’s not weird. Look, you’ve helped us a lot, too. Having you here has made things feel… lighter. Happier.”

The words send a flutter through you, a feeling that scares you as much as it comforts you. Because this feels too domestic. A taste of that life you’ve always longed for. With Jiyong, for years. But now, it’s only Yoongi’s face you see in your mind’s eye. Yoongi and Haneul. You then realize how badly you want this, but you’re afraid of wanting it–afraid of what it might mean to get attached to someone like Yoongi.

“I appreciate that.” You reply. “How have you been adjusting to life as a single dad?” 

Yoongi glances over at you, his gaze thoughtful. “I didn’t expect that it would be this rewarding,” he says, his voice soft, but it trails off. “But… it’s lonely sometimes.” He pauses, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the edge of his sleeve. “Not just the parenting stuff, but the other parts. Like when Haneul does something for the first time—takes a step, says a new word—and I just… look around.”

He shrugs, his lips twitching into a small, self-conscious smile. “And it hits me that there’s no one there to share it with. No one to laugh with, to say like, ‘Hey, did you see that?’”

He laughs quietly, a little embarrassed. “I don’t know. Maybe that sounds selfish. But it’s the truth.”

You shake your head. “It’s not. I think we all want someone to share our life with. It’s not wrong to want that.”

He looks over at you, his gaze holding yours with a gentle intensity. “I guess… it’s easier to admit that with you here. It’s funny because in some ways, you’ve been that person for me, for us.”

The words hang between you and the silence stretches, buzzing with a feeling you can’t quite name. You’re painfully aware of every detail—the curve of his lips, the way his hand rests on his lap, the tenderness in his eyes. You know there’s something there, simmering, and you wonder if he can feel it too.

Finally, he breaks the silence. “Thanks for being here tonight. Really.”

You smile back, heart racing. “Thank you for trusting me. I know… this isn’t easy for you.”

As you sit there, side by side in your matching capybara slippers, the feeling of wanting more, of something real and lasting, settles into your chest. It’s a feeling you thought you’d put on the backburner, but here, with Yoongi, it’s igniting again.

You find yourself chilling at Namjoon’s apartment, days after that dinner, sprawled across his couch with a plate of instant jjajangmyeon balanced precariously on your lap. Some indie album is playing in the background, and you’re too caught up in your spiraling thoughts to even notice Namjoon observing you between bites.

“I’m screwed,” you say suddenly, poking at your noodles with your chopsticks.

Namjoon doesn’t even look affected. “What now?”

“It’s your fault, you big oaf.”

“K stop being cryptic,” he says, motioning for you to explain. “What did I do this time?”

You drop your chopsticks with an exasperated sigh. “Yoongi.”

“Mhm… What about hyung?”

You hesitate, pressing your lips together before blurting out, “I think… I think I like him… again.”

For a moment, Namjoon just stares at you, his expression unreadable. And then he has the audacity to laugh, nearly choking on his noodles as he leans back against the cushions.

“You’re so predictable,” he says between chuckles, shaking his head. “God I knew this was coming.”

You narrow your eyes at him, offended. “What do you mean you knew this was coming?”

“I mean, come on,” he says, gesturing at you with his chopsticks. “You’ve been spending all this time at his place, basically co-parenting Haneul with him. You’re acting like this is some big revelation when it’s been written all over your face.”

You stare at him. “Wow. Are you done?”

Namjoon smirks, tossing his empty takeout box onto the table before leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Okay, okay. Let’s unpack this,” he says, mock-serious. “You like him again. Fine. Why is that a bad thing?”

“Because, dude, it’s Yoongi. What if he’s not actually feeling it, which won’t be the first time? And! I still don't know why he suddenly has a son.”

“You have to ask him that.” Namjoon sets his drink down, his expression sobering slightly. “But answer this—Are you over Jiyong?”

The mention of your ex makes your stomach twist, but you nod, sighing. “Yeah. I’m over him. I’ve come to terms with it. He wasn’t the one for me.”

“Damn right, he wasn’t,” Namjoon mutters, shaking his head. “That guy was an asshole. I never liked him, you know.”

“I know,” you say, laughing softly. “You made it pretty obvious.”

“Good,” he replies firmly. “Because you deserve better. Way better.”

You glance at him, your heart warming a little. “Thanks, Joon.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, leaning back against the couch. “We’re not done talking about hyung.”

You groan again, flopping back against the cushions. “This is so pathetic.”

“No, it’s not,” Namjoon says, his voice softening. “It’s cute. Gross, but cute. And honestly, if hyung’s finally starting to let someone in, I’d rather it be you than some rando.”

You blink, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. “You’re really still shipping us after all these years?”

“Of course,” he says, nudging your knee with his. “You’re good for each other. I’ve known this all along.”

A pause settles as you finish your meal and Namjoon, his drink.

Then, he shakes his head like he’s just realized something. “So this is why Yoongi hyung has been sneaking in some extra work out time in between rehearsals.”

“He’s been walking around his house shirtless. Well, it’s his house, so…” you shrug, pretending you dgaf when really you’ve been thwarting mini heart attacks.

Namjoon’s eyes widen. “No fuckin’ way.”

“Don’t you dare tell him,” you warn, pointing your chopsticks at him.

He smiles wide, teeth blackened by the jajangmyeon sauce. “Only if you say yes to a night out.”

You groan, already mourning the loss of a perfectly good night of doom scrolling, as you toss him a paper towel. “Fine. When?”

You arrive at the bar later than planned. It’s some newly opened speak-easy in Gangnam owned by Joon’s friend. As you push the door that looks like a bookcase from outside, a rush of cool air ruffles the skirt you’re wearing. You definitely took a bit of time selecting your outfit and doing your makeup today, and now you feel really good, great even, even though you initially dreaded going out.

As you scan the room, you spot Namjoon in a large circular booth near the back, surrounded by familiar faces. He spots you first, waving you over with that dimpled grin of his. As you approach, you notice that the atmosphere is already loose and lively, evidenced by the various bottles and half-consumed glasses already on the table. 

Jin is leaning back, looking exasperated, and Hobi is covering his mouth as he laughs, his face flushed from the drinks he’s clearly had more than a few of. And there’s a girl beside him, who you vaguely recognize as the same one from when you watched their rehearsals.

“Look who finally decided to show up!” Namjoon calls out, standing up to envelop you in a hug.

“The star has arrived,” you jest, doing a flower pose on your face. Hobi rises to give you a hug, then Jin follows suit. 

“This is Yunjin,” Hobi introduces the redhead beside him. “My lovely wife.”

Yunjin has the same megawatt smile to match Hobi’s. “Glad to meet you.”

“Good to meet you, too!” you say back as you hug.

“You clean up nice,” your best friend comments as you all settle back inside the booth. “When you’re not acting like a hermit in your condo.”

“I know,” you roll your eyes, surreptitiously scanning the vicinity. “Who else is coming?” you hope you’re not painfully obvious on who you were wishing would be there.

“Just us,” Joon side eyes you, before adding. “Yoongi-hyung just stepped away for a second.”

“Ah.” 

As if on cue, Yoongi steps into view.

And goddamn. Your brain corrupts for a moment, and you swear you hear soft K-drama OST music in the background.

He runs a hand through his hair as he surveys the room as if he has some invisible wind machine following him. He’s wearing a black blazer that fits perfectly over a simple white tank. There’s a flash of silver at his waist from his belt that hugs his light-wash jeans. A small pop of pink on his neck somehow softens the whole look, a cute touch.

He looks so effortlessly good it’s almost obnoxious. The thing is, you’re pretty sure he knows it. That smirk on his face is very telling.

“Hey, you made it,” he says quietly, sliding into the seat next to you as if he belongs there. He grabs the drink by your elbow to take a sip and you get a whiff of his scent—musky, woody, dangerous.

“Yeah,” you squeak, no clue how you will manage to act normally around him now, but a joke seemed appropriate. “Shit. Nobody said my ‘employer’ was gonna be here. Now I have to be on my best behavior.” You say to the others in a whisper.

“DON’T,” Yoongi groans, shaking his head, lower lip bitten in mock irritation.

The rest laugh at your exchange. Hobi slides a shot of whatever to you, and you take it, grateful.

“You missed a big reveal by the way,” Namjoon says. “Apparently, Jin-hyung has officially sworn off women for all eternity.”

Jin rolls his eyes. “Ha-ha. It’s called having a life outside of getting your dick wet, thank you very much. Not everyone needs to be a simp like you.”

“Who is it this time, Joonie?” You ask, taking a tiny sip from the shot glass.

“Soyeon.” Everyone says in chorus. Even Yoongi says it under his breath.

“Oh, god,” you breathe out. “You’re on again?”

Namjoon sighs, “I know, I know. She’s got me in a chokehold.”

Jin raises his drink. “To Namjoon-ah, the biggest simp we know.”

Namjoon shakes his head, laughing in defeat as everyone clinks glasses.

“…and to Seokjin being forever bitchless.” You add under your breath, exchanging giggles with Yunjin.

“Yah!” Jin shouts from his beer glass and you throw him a wink.

“Speaking of simping,” Hobi says, drawing out the word as he looks pointedly at Yoongi. 

“Hoba.” Yoongi warns. You’re curious now.

“The new songwriters Si-hyuk on-boarded from America. They saw you with Haneul. I heard them calling you a DILF.”

Hobi practically falls apart, laughing so hard he clutches his sides. Jin and Namjoon aren’t far behind, their cackling attracting stares from neighboring tables. Even Yoongi can’t fully suppress his grin, though he tries valiantly to play it off. You laugh along, but you feel your face heating up and you don’t know exactly why.

“So you already have an in,” Jin says, reaching over to give Yoongi a hearty slap on the back. “Even you could use a good distraction once in a while.”

“Hajimaaaa,” Yoongi complains, brushing off Jin’s grasp on his shoulder. “Hoba’s just making shit up.”

“I’m not lying!” Hobi raises his right hand up as if he’s swearing an oath. Then he mock-complains, “Nobody ever calls me a DILF.”

Yunjin elbows him on the stomach and Hobi splutters, as they start bickering playfully.

Then Namjoon turns his sights on you. “Hey y/n, you're a girl,” he starts and immediately, you know he is setting you up for something.

“Keen eye,” you deadpan, placing the shot glass on your lips.

“So,” Namjoon says, dimples deepening as he leans in, gestures to Yoongi, “objectively… is he?”

“Is he what?” you grit, but your eyes are screaming ‘Don’t you dare, Kim Namjoon. Don’t you fucking dare, you piece of shit.’

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, looking every bit the trouble-maker. “A DILF?”

Motherfucker.

You nearly choke on your drink, fighting the urge to strangle your best friend as his grin widens, clearly enjoying your discomfort. 

“You’re an asshole, objectively speaking. And I need a real drink if this is how tonight’s gonna go,” you down the entire shot before moving to slide out of the booth to escape before you’re forced to answer.

Yoongi moves out to give you space and decides, “I’ll go with you.” 

As you head toward the bar together, you feel the warmth of Yoongi’s hand on the small of your back. You chance a quick look back at Namjoon, who’s wearing an absolute shit-eating grin, clearly pleased with himself, like this has been his master plan all along—more than ten years in the making.

You decide to go to the bar outside. It’s quieter here and you also need the fresh air.

“Sorry about that…” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck.

“Oh please, no need to apologize for Namjoon’s dumb behavior.” You wave a hand, as if it’s really no big deal. But your insides are still churning.

“So who’s with Haneul tonight?” You ask as you perch on the bar stool.

“My eomma. She’s going to be staying in town for the next two weeks since it’s Han’s birthday.”

“Wow,” you say, excited. “What’s the plan?”

Yoongi shrugs. “Ah, something small. Just family, maybe a couple of friends. Nothing too big. He won’t even remember it.”

You laugh lightly. “Yeah, but you should be celebrating your first year as a dad, too.”

He smiles faintly at that, nodding. “Maybe. But I’m terrible at planning stuff like this. I was gonna keep it simple—a cake, some balloons, that’s it.”

“Well, if you need help, let me know,” you offer casually, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach flutters at the thought of being part of something so special.

“You sure?”

“100%,” you say, nudging him lightly with your elbow. 

“I don’t want to impose, though. You already do so much.”

“You’re not imposing,” you reply firmly. “I want to help. Besides, I’m already halfway to being Han’s favorite person.”

“Halfway?” he repeats, huffing. “You’ve already taken that spot–100%.”

You grin, feeling your cheeks warm. “What can I say? I’m irresistible to one-year-olds.”

Yoongi’s still for a moment, his gaze lingering on you. There’s something thoughtful in his expression, before mumbling under his breath, “Maybe not just to one-year-olds.”

Eh?

But before you can say anything, he already gestures to call the bartender to take your drink orders.

You’re glad you went out tonight. It’s been a while since you had spent time with a group that made you feel so welcome. Despite the jovial mood you’re in, your social battery is definitely drained. Yoongi notices and asks if you want a ride home since he also needs to go for father duties. You both say your goodbyes and head to his car in the parking lot.

The drive is quiet but not awkward, the soft music filling the space between you during the quick drive to your apartment. When he pulls up in front of your place, you hesitate for a second, debating whether to invite him in. But then you remember the absolute disaster inside—clothes flung everywhere, shoes scattered, your makeup bag abandoned on the kitchen counter in your rush to get ready. Plus, you don’t even have a couch, so…

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt. “I’d invite you in, but, uh… my place looks like a crime scene right now.”

He has a confused look on his face, so you explain, “Tried on half my closet before settling on this.”

His gaze sweeps over your outfit, but not in a way that feels invasive. If anything, he looks appreciative. “Worth it,” he says simply, and your heart does a somersault.

There’s a moment, a pause where you should say goodnight. Get out of the car. But something about the way Yoongi’s eyes are still on you makes your pulse quicken, and suddenly, it’s like the air between you feels heavier.

“Stay here,” he says softly, stepping out of the car and walking around to your side. He opens your door, his hand outstretched to help you out, and you take it, letting him guide you onto the sidewalk.

He doesn’t let go of your hand. The short walk up to your apartment feels longer than it should, yet you don’t want it to end.

When you reach your door, you turn to face him, suddenly unsure of what to say. “Well… goodnight, I guess.”

Yoongi hesitates for a moment, hand still lightly grasping yours. “I need to tell you something.”

“Okay…” Your throat felt dry saying that.

“I umm found Haneul a nanny. Youngbae-hyung recommended this agency they used to find theirs and I’ve signed on someone who’s starting soon.”

You’re a little shocked at the news. This is good though because Yoongi really needs a more reliable and constant solution to their caregiving needs. Despite the heavy feeling that has settled in your chest, you try to lighten the mood with a joke that doesn’t quite land, “Why does this feel like a break-up?”

Yoongi shakes his head, lips curved into a small smirk, as he tucks a stray hair behind your ear, “Not even close.” He releases a sigh. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you nod, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I kiss you goodnight?”

The question takes you by surprise, the vulnerability in his voice making your heart ache, but this time, in the best way. You nod, smiling softly. “Yeah. You can.”

He steps closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm before tilting your chin up gently. The kiss is soft, tentative, like he’s savoring every second. You are, too. It’s just… sweet. Like a first kiss should be. Perfect.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests lightly against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips. For a moment, neither of you moves, like you can’t believe what just happened.

Yoongi’s eyes flutter shut as he confesses, “Is it bad that I want to do that again already?”

“No, ‘cause same…” Your hands reach out, grasping the lapels of his jacket, and you pull him back in.

Yoongi responds instantly, his hands sliding to your waist as he presses you gently against the wall, his warmth and weight upon you dangerously addictive. His tongue brushes yours, soft and slick, that spark of contact so electric that you feel yourself melting further into him. Your arms loop around his neck, bringing him closer, and when his lips part against yours, his teeth catch your bottom lip, sucking on it softly before letting it go. The sensation sends a shiver racing down your spine, and you can’t help the quiet moan that escapes you.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, threading through the silky strands before one hand slides down to find the belt loop of his jeans. You tug on it, pulling him impossibly closer, until there’s no space left between your bodies.

Yoongi groans against your mouth as your bodies collide, your chest against his, his leg in between your thighs, fitting into each other like tetris pieces. As your nails scratch the tufts of hair by his nape, a rumble, low and rough, escapes his throat, sending another wave of heat straight to your core. His hands grip your waist tighter, grounding you even as your world shifts.

When you finally pull back, your breaths come fast and uneven. His hair is slightly mussed from your fingers, his lips flushed and slightly parted, and he looks at you with a mix of wonder. You feel kind of proud, taking in his sexy, disheveled appearance.

“I really should’ve tidied up my place,” you murmur, your fingers still loosely hooked in his belt loop.

Yoongi blinks, dazed for a moment, before letting out a soft chuckle. “It’s fine. There will be other times.” His fingers brush against your shoulder as he gently hooks the strap of your top that had slipped down, carefully sliding it back into place.

“Other times, huh?” you tease.

He licks his kiss-bitten lip, smirks and says, “Good night.”

“Good night,” you reply as you watch him retreat down the hall.

“I’ll text you,” he calls over his shoulder before disappearing into the elevator, leaving you standing at your doorway, your lips still tingling and your heart on your sleeve.

You close the door, leaning back against it with a sigh.

That same night, you resolve to go to IKEA to finally buy a damn couch and a bedframe. You know, just in case. For those other times.

Yoongi: haneul says he misses you You: Oh, rly? He talks full sentences now? Yoongi: yes? You: I miss him, too. Yoongi: good. see u tomorrow? You: I’m so there, no question Yoongi: good night

Yoongi’s apartment is alive with energy, the living room transformed into a whimsical—but slightly chaotic—mix of cats and capybaras. It’s a theme that feels both playful and oddly fitting, a nod to Haneul’s love for capybaras (which you take full credit for) and Yoongi being a literal cat daddy. Yours, hopefully, but the thing is… it’s been awkward. At least for you.

You spent the morning hanging streamers, tying balloons, and carefully setting up the decorations while Yoongi grumbled about the sheer number of things to assemble.

At some point, Yoongi takes your hand and introduces you to his mom. Just your name—no label, no context, no indication of what you are to him beyond someone who is here, present, and involved. It had been a brief, polite exchange, but you couldn’t help the twinge of awkwardness that followed, even if Yoongi’s hand stayed clasped with yours and he may have dropped a chaste kiss on top of your head before he had to go say hi to other guests. 

Your relationship—or lack thereof—still feels undefined. You haven’t had the talk with Yoongi since that kiss after the night out. You’re in this off, lukewarm state, caught somewhere between the heat of semi-flirty late-night texts and the cold hard truth that he’s been too busy to really sit down and talk. With their comeback just weeks away, his rehearsals have been relentless, and you’ve told yourself not to take it personally. You know how this goes.

But still. Seeing him now, watching him laugh softly at something Namjoon said while adjusting Haneul’s tiny party hat, a knot twists in your stomach. You just don’t know how to properly operate in this space that’s in flux.

You shake the thoughts away, willing yourself to shelf the conversation for later. It’s Haneul’s day, you remind yourself. Whatever questions you have about you and Yoongi can wait.

“Noona, these cupcakes are so good!” Jungkook calls out, holding up one with a cat face on it.

“Thank you, Kook! Can’t take credit for them though. I just got them from a pastry shop near my place.”

“Still, you’ve got good taste,” he says, licking the frosting that makes up the cat’s tail.

Suddenly, the doorbell rings. Yoongi, closest to the door, moves to answer it. You don’t think much of it until you hear Yoongi’s voice croak. “What are you doing here?”

Curiosity piqued, you glance toward the doorway, and that’s when you see her.

Tall, gorgeous, and impossible to miss. Lee Sung Kyung steps inside, her polished, effortless elegance making her stand out. She barely spares a glance at anyone else, her focus entirely on Yoongi.

Your stomach drops. You have a bad feeling about this.

Namjoon is at your side in an instant, his voice low. “Hey… I think we need to talk.”

“What?” you ask, forcing a smile as you pick up a napkin, pretending to tidy the already-organized table. But your eyes are glued to the scene by the entrance, at Yoongi’s clenched jaw, and Sung Kyung’s outstretched arm.

You feel a little miffed that Namjoon takes you by the elbow, voice insistent as he says, “NOW.”

"Joon," You ask, mustering all your courage, even though you are terrified of the answer. "Who is she?"

"She's Lee Sung Kyung."

Your ears are ringing and you grit your teeth as you respond, "I fucking know her name." You repeat the question, slower, a little angrier. "Who. is. she."

Namjoon hesitates, his jaw tightening before he answers. “She’s Haneul’s mom.”

Part Three >

A/N: dun dun DUN. 🙉 I need y'all in the comments! <3 How are you feeling??? Feedback is super appreciated and helps keep my motivation high ✨

I am so excited to share part 3.

Hope you all are sattt 🪑

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! 💜

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[ordinaryschmuck]

With Gooseworx all but confirming that the Jax being an AI thing is bullshit, I personally want to talk about an interesting part about Jax that a lot of theorists used as "evidence" that validates the theory:

Jax's fourth wall breaks are a common topic brought up amongst the "Jax is an NPC" theory. After all, Caine broke the fourth wall in the pilot, knowing full well that the world of The Amazing Digital Circus isn't real and is talking to some unseen viewer as he introduces the Circus Crew.

There's also this bit of official art surrounding Jax's pin:

Where everyone else is inside their room, Jax is outside as pieces of the circus fall apart around him and all of reality to crash. Certainly lends itself to this idea that Jax knows he's not a real person and that his presence could cause great disruption to this world. And he doesn't care because none of it is real. Might as well have fun and cause chaos in a world that doesn't exist.

And I'll admit, all of this seems like valid claims for how the theory could be true. I saw it all and thought that it surely COULD be possible...but there are some things that stop me from being convinced.

Firstly, Caine breaking the fourth wall in the pilot doesn't really seem like an AI talking to the audience. It looks more like an AI programmed to talk to a player as a game boots up. What we saw in the opening could be more like a morning routine that he has to do at least once a day. Plus, we've yet to see any other NPC talk to the audience like Jax has. He explicitly called out the viewers in episode three, knowing full well he's being watched by SOMEONE. Or, at the very least, acting like he is. What do I mean by that? Well, to explain, I'd like to use one of my favorite fourth wall breakers as an example:

Deadpool, in most adaptations, knows fully well that he's a fictional character. He'll talk to the readers/viewers, move the camera around, and constantly talk shit to the writers/studio for occasionally screwing him over. It's all in good (Sometimes bloody) fun...but there's a canonical reason for this. It's not like She-Hulk where the fourth wall breaks are a way to tell HER stories HER way. You see, Deadpool...is just fucking insane.

No, really, that's the reason. Due to the trauma of gaining his powers, Deadpool's mind breaks and he's led to believe that he MUST be a fictional character. In comics, he actually gets voices in his head that makes him think he must be some comic book superhero, and the movies implied that something similar happened given how he never broke the fourth wall ONCE before getting his powers. This means him breaking the fourth wall could be seen as a coping mechanism. After all, it's better to believe you're a fictional character designed to entertain some invisible audience than believe that all of the shitty things that happened to you and people close to you is just a cruel joke from the universe.

Sound familiar?

Going back to the pilot, remember how Pomni's first instinct was to say that the Circus was all just a dream? To her, it's better to live in a lie that everything around her isn't real than to accept the reality that she's stuck in digital purgatory. Jax very well could be going through something similar, but unlike Pomni who seemed to just accept her reality, Jax never did. The trauma of being stuck in the Circus had led to his mind breaking just like Pomni's, Kinger's, and anyone else's. It's just that, for him, he thinks he's coping with it better because he discovered the secret that no one else did: None of this is real.

They're not actually people trapped in some hellscape while an AI unintentionally tortures them. They're all just fictional characters whose tragedies and silly antics are used to entertain viewers. I mean, it's either that or they're real people forever trapped in the circus with the closest thing to death being a full, psychotic break as they give up their sanity because they no longer want to exist in this hell anymore...But that possibly can't be true. Because if that IS true, then Jax has to face that he's a real person stuck in a real, awful situation that he can't joke his way out of. So, it's best to think nothing is real and nothing they do matter. So, might as well have fun with it.

Going back to the pin...

I don't think this is damning evidence about Jax being an NPC. Actually, it perfectly captures who he is as a character. He knows the circus isn't real. He even thinks HE isn't real. So instead of grappling with that, Jax lets himself believe that if nothing is real than nothing he does matters. He can break things, ruin lives, and assist in torturing the others in the circus. It's what he thinks will make the show more entertaining, even though all he's really entertaining is himself so his mind doesn't break more than it does.

Now, could the same apply if he's an NPC? Well...maybe. Gumigoo definitely proves how far someone could fall when they're told their world is fake. He was about ready to give up on life because he didn't think he had one. If Jax was an NPC, I could see him having a similar break, but going in the far opposite direction where, instead of giving up on life, he chooses to live the way HE wants it. Instead of being some one-off NPC for a lame adventure, he could go off on adventures of his own and ruin the lives of others now that his is thoroughly ruined.

However, Gooseworx makes a good point: "...a lot of people come up with theories based on how unexpected they'd be, and not because they make sense or align with the show's themes."

If Jax is an NPC, it would harm the overall message of the show. That there's meaning to be found in a stagnant life, and you find that meaning with people close to you who make that life worth living. Jax represents a sort of foil to that idea, with his way of coping with the madness being pure chaos and breaking others. It's his coping mechanism, and it works because it shows how human Jax really is. They're ALL human and they have human desires and wants, with the Circus pretty much stripping that away and leaving them...as they are now. They're emotionally broken, their sanity is decreasing, and some of them are losing all sense of self. By making Jax an NPC, it would definitely be surprising, but it would take away from that idea. It no longer makes him a human facing his own tragedy but instead an AI that's just as broken as Gummigoo. More than that, it gives the others an easy out. All the crew has to do is tell Caine that Jax is an NPC and POOF! No more annoyance. So making him someone who HAS to stay with the others and they're forever forced to deal with him also adds more to THEIR tragedy and torture.

Jax being an NPC is an interesting theory, but I don't think it's one that SHOULD be true. To me, it's more fascinating watching Jax treat the world around him as meaningless knowing he's a human instead of a rogue NPC breaking everything. And Gooseworx made it clear how they feel about it. Now, could it potentially be a mislead to get fans off the trail? Genuinely...I don't think so. That sounded very "I don't like this idea so it's not gonna happen" type of response. Still, we won't know until the show wraps up. Anything can happen, but don't get your hopes up if a character who does bad things to people that don't deserve it is more human than you think.

[writerfromshikahr]

I want to state this is not a "hate Neve" piece. I wrote this originally as a bit of a tongue in cheek nod to players (perceived) frustrations about the flirting between Neve and Lucanis if you're romancing him. It was a one off piece originally and then a friend of mine encouraged me to write the whole damn thing. It's silly and probably not the best writing I have ever done, but it's a fun read (oh and long)!

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First Cut - Lucanis X Rook Fanfic

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It had been a mistake to stay in the room earlier, to stand there and watch Lucanis and Neve exchange flirtatious banter.

Neve had laughed, bright and melodious, and Lucanis had responded with a smile that seemed to light up the whole damn Lighthouse. Right in front of her. In front of her. The pang in her chest had been immediate and deep, leaving her breathless and struggling to maintain her composure.

Now, as she stood in the quietest corner she could find, away from everyone else, the hurt replayed itself over and over, accompanied by the cruel voice of self-doubt that she couldn’t quiet. What did you think would happen, Rook?…she chided herself. That he’d notice you when someone like Neve exists?

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling the familiar burn of embarrassment. Of course, Lucanis liked her. Why wouldn’t he? Neve was stunning, with her sleek, sophisticated appearance and the grace of a refined Minrathous mage. She always had the perfect thing to say, remaining calm under pressure and exuding an effortless charm that captivated everyone. Neve was flawless. Neve was everything a woman should be.

Rook, on the other hand, was… well, she let out a humourless laugh. She was “pleasantly plump,” as one Crow had called her, with thick thighs and a belly she had long since stopped trying to hide. Her Crow leathers had to be adjusted to fit her more comfortably around her hips and legs. Where Neve embodied elegance, Rook was simply Rook. Awkward, self-conscious, and hopelessly bad at saying anything clever, she always seemed to trip over her words or, worse, blurt out something completely foolish at the worst possible moments.

You thought he felt the same way about you, didn’t you? Her heart twisted painfully at the realization. What a cruel joke. The way he had looked at Neve today was proof enough, wasn’t it? She wasn’t his type. The message was received—loud and clear.

----------------------------------------------------------

Rook had become a master at avoidance over the past few days, though it was starting to wear her thin. Every time she caught a glimpse of Lucanis, her heart clenched painfully, so she did what she could to keep her distance. She slipped out of rooms when he walked in, buried herself in tasks that required her full attention, and, when it came to conversation, she only offered clipped, polite responses to Neve, refusing to engage in anything more. It hurt to keep her walls up, but it was the only way she could cope.

Instead, she found herself spending more time with Davrin and Assan, grateful for the easy friendship they shared. Davrin, with all his swagger and occasional theatrics, had a way of making her smile even when her heart felt heavy. He was like the big brother she never had, someone who made her feel safe and seen without any of the complications that seemed to swirl around Lucanis. And with the added charm of Assan, Davrin’s adorable toddler griffon companion, there was always something to laugh about.

Today, they’d ventured out to the Arlathan Forest, a welcome reprieve from the Lighthouse and all the tangled emotions that currently lived there. The forest was peaceful, a canopy of golden leaves rustling overhead, and Rook felt some of her tension ease. She and Davrin found a small clearing atop a rocky outcrop, perfect for Assan to practice his flying. The young griffon flapped his wings with eager determination, making little leaps and swoops that brought a genuine smile to Rook’s face.

They settled on the smooth granite, sharing a simple lunch of bread and cheese, and conversation flowed easily between them. Davrin regaled her with tales of growing up in Arlathan, his voice full of life and humour, and she listened, fascinated by his stories. In turn, he asked her questions about the Crows, and she answered as best she could, occasionally making light of some of the darker aspects of her life. They even exchanged stories about their respective fights—the Grey Wardens and their eternal struggle against Archdemons, and the Crows with their endless contracts and rivalries. Despite Davrin’s opinions about her line of work, he respected her. They had built a solid friendship, and she had come to value it deeply.

He could tell she needed this time away, and so he did what he did best: kept her entertained and laughing. Still, even with all the humour and warmth between them, Davrin wasn’t blind. He’d noticed that something seemed off, that Rook was more distracted than usual. And, more curiously, he’d noticed the absence of Lucanis. Usually, the two were practically joined at the hip, their bond undeniable. But now… there was a definite shift, and he wasn’t sure how—or if—he should bring it up. As he watched her thoughtfully, he finally spoke up, trying to sound casual.

“So… you gonna tell me what’s got you all twisted up, or are we just gonna pretend you haven’t been acting like your mind’s somewhere else entirely?”

Rook looked at him, startled by the question, but then she sighed, her shoulders sagging. She had hoped that spending time with Davrin and Assan would make her forget the pain, but there was no escaping how deeply it cut her. “It’s nothing,” she said softly, but even she could hear the lie in her voice.

Davrin didn’t push. He knew her well enough to know when to leave things be. Still, he reached out and gave her shoulder a squeeze, his usual cheeky grin softening. “Well, whatever it is, you know I’ve got your back, right?” Assan warbled in agreement, flapping his wings like he was seconding the sentiment.

Rook’s lips twitched into a small smile. It wasn’t much, but for now, it was enough to have someone who cared, someone who could make the world feel a little bit brighter. Even if she couldn’t outrun her feelings, at least she had friends who made the burden easier to carry.

----------------------------------------------------------

Lucanis’s gaze lingered on Rook, his expression dark with confusion and frustration. She had gone out of her way to placing as much distance between them as possible, choosing the spot farthest from him at the table, right between Davrin and Taash. She occasionally spoke, and her lips curved into a soft smile when Davrin leaned in to whisper something that made her laugh. The sound, bright and genuine, only twisted the knife deeper into Lucanis’s chest. She hadn’t even spared him a single glance.

He took a sip of his soup, the taste barely registering, and let out a sigh that was loud enough to draw Lace’s attention as she grabbed seconds and plopped down beside him. “This is one of the best meals you’ve cooked, Lucanis,” she said with a grin. “Seriously, it’s delicious.”

He mustered a small smile at the compliment, but his eyes drifted back to Rook. He missed her terribly—her company, their conversations, and, most of all, the way her laughter used to be directed at him. Now, it was as if he had become invisible. What did I do? he thought, trying to piece together where he’d gone wrong.

Neve, who had also taken a seat nearby, picked up on his brooding mood. She arched an eyebrow and gave him a teasing smile. “Don’t tell me my assassin is feeling broody this evening?” she asked, her tone playful.

Lucanis’s eyes flicked over to her, unfocused. “What?”

Neve rolled her eyes, grabbing a piece of bread and dipping it into her soup. “I said, you seem broody tonight,” she repeated, though she didn’t seem all that concerned about it.

He nodded, distracted, and looked back at Rook, who was still doing her best to ignore him. “Perhaps I am, Neve,” he replied, the words tasting bitter. It was infuriating how Rook refused to acknowledge him as if he’d become a ghost. He had replayed every conversation and every moment from the past few days, trying to figure out when he might have crossed a line, said something careless, or given any reason for her to pull away. Yet he kept coming up empty.

Spite, normally full of commentary and sass, had fallen unusually silent. Then again, Spite tended to grow quieter whenever Neve was around.

Neve leaned closer, trying to pull his attention back to her. “Do you want to catch up this evening?” she asked, eyes sparkling with interest. “I found a book I think will be right up your alley.”

Lucanis had barely registered her words, his mind too full of the ache that was Rook. He blinked at Neve, his expression blank. “A book?” he echoed, his voice distant.

Neve, clearly unimpressed, shook her head. “Yes, Lucanis. I have one for you,” she repeated, with a touch of exasperation.

“Oh,” he said, realizing he’d made her repeat herself. “Sure, I’ll swing by later and get it from you.” His reply sounded mechanical like he was going through the motions. But then, out of nowhere, Rook’s laughter cut through the air, loud and free, a burst of joy that caught everyone’s attention. Even Taash choked on her drink, snorting with amusement.

Lucanis felt his heart sink further. Yeah, he thought miserably. I hate it here. Watching Rook smile at Davrin felt like punishment, and not knowing how to fix things between them was driving him mad. He had no idea how to bridge the growing distance or why he had ended up here in the first place, and that, more than anything, was the most frustrating part.

----------------------------------------------------------

Rook’s heart hammered in her chest as she froze in the hallway, seeing Lucanis waiting for her. Every instinct screamed at her to turn around and walk the other way, to avoid whatever painful conversation was about to unfold, but she knew she couldn’t keep running. You can do this, she told herself, her throat tightening. She drew in a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and forced herself to speak.

“Lucanis,” she greeted, her voice carefully cool. “Is there something I can do for you?”

His brow furrowed, confusion and frustration warring on his face. “What is happening, Rook?” he asked, a hint of exasperation leaking through. “Why are you avoiding me?”

She looked away from his gaze, her eyes fixing firmly on the stone floor. If she looked at him—into those deep, dark eyes that always managed to see straight through her—she knew she’d cave. She wasn’t ready for that. For once, she was determined not to fold, to hang onto her anger, even if it pained her. “I’m not avoiding you,” she replied, her tone clipped. “I’ve been busy, you know, saving the world, fighting ancient gods… that kind of thing.”

Lucanis regarded her quietly, the weight of his gaze like a physical thing pressing down on her. “I see, have I said something or done something?”

Rook forced a smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “No, I’m fine,” she said, her voice flat and devoid of the warmth she usually reserved for him. The fine was a lie, but she clung to it desperately. It felt safer than admitting how badly he’d wounded her. And it gave her a semblance of control over her heart, a way to shield herself from the crushing weight of feeling like she wasn’t enough.

Lucanis tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “Fine?” he repeated, scepticism heavy in his voice. “Hmm. It doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing.”

He took a step closer, and Rook instinctively backed up, keeping the same distance between them. She wouldn’t let him close, not when her heart was so fragile. “Perhaps you should go pick up that book from Neve,” she shot back, “I’m sure she’ll have your favourite coffee brewed and waiting.”

Lucanis’s eyes widened a fraction, the hurt flashing across his features unmistakable. Before he could respond, she brushed past him, retreating into her room and closing the door behind her. She leaned against it, breathing hard, fighting the urge to cry.

In the hallway, Lucanis stood in stunned silence, the shadows around him deepening as he tried to piece together what had just happened. His head tilted slightly, confusion etched on his face. Was this about Neve? The question churned in his mind, sending him spiralling back through every conversation, every interaction with Neve, searching for any clue. Why would Rook mention her?

It was then that Spite finally spoke up, his voice echoing in the corners of Lucanis’s mind. “Tastes like… envy,” the demon mused, each word slow and almost thoughtful. “Yes. Bitter. Sharp.”

Lucanis’s eyes widened in sudden realization. Envy. Rook was jealous? His heart lurched at the thought, a mix of confusion, guilt, and something else he couldn’t quite name. Jealous of what? That was the bigger question, but he had a place to start, which was more than he had moments before.

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Lucanis listened to Neve, his gaze thoughtful as he leaned back into the couch, sipping his coffee. The cozy yet refined atmosphere of her room couldn’t fully soothe his restless mind. "Jealous? Of me? Odd," Neve mused, sounding genuinely perplexed. "We aren't exactly bosom buddies, but we've always had a good working relationship. She's a capable mage, highly recommended if you listen to House de Riva. And she’s... well, sweet. Maybe a little too sweet at times. The world can be harsh, and people like Rook don't always make it out in one piece."

Lucanis tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “Sweet? Yes, she is,” he agreed, but there was more to it. “there’s strength in her, too. The kind that can get us through this, no matter how bad things get.” He paused, searching Neve’s eyes. “You know why Viago sent her out of Antiva, right?”

Neve nodded, her brow knitting together slightly. “I got the gist from him. He seemed… displeased.”

Lucanis’s smile widened a fraction. “Viago is always displeased,” he said with a hint of humour, “but he does have a soft spot for Rook, even if he won’t admit it. She climbed the ranks fast. Full membership with the Crows at a young age. Orphaned and taken in by House de Riva when she was around eight. But what got her exiled was taking initiative where she shouldn’t have.” He swirled his coffee, his eyes reflecting a complicated mix of pride and sadness. “She has heart—a soft one, maybe—but she freed a group of prisoners and slaves one night, prisoners the Antaam would’ve had executed. Varric was among them. You know that part.”

Neve leaned forward, her interest piqued. “Yes, but?”

“But,” Lucanis continued, “her actions derailed a much larger operation. She saved lives, but it cost the Crows.. That’s what led to her downfall.” He stared into his coffee, the steam curling up like ghostly whispers. “She’s got a good heart.”

Neve considered his words, sitting beside him and absorbing the weight of what he’d said. “A good heart that ultimately got her kicked out of her city,” she pointed out, “But that doesn’t explain why she’s jealous of me.”

Lucanis gave her a wry smile, one brow lifting slightly. “I figured the renowned Minrathous detective might have some insight to bestow upon me.”

Neve laughed, the sound warm and clear. “Oh, sure. Because I’m great with people, right?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Tell you what: maybe I’ll have a word with Davrin. They’re close. Leave it with me, and I’ll get back to you.”

Lucanis's smile softened, but his heart felt heavy with uncertainty. "I appreciate it," he said, though the thought of Rook feeling hurt, even if it was out of jealousy, left an ache in his chest that he couldn't quite shake.

----------------------------------------------------------

“Jealous?” Davrin echoed, his eyebrows rising with genuine surprise. “Of you? Hmm... nope. She hasn’t said anything to me, but she has been distracted. Yeah, that’s the right word.” He set down his latest whittling project, a small wooden figure of what looked like a griffon, and studied Neve with his usual thoughtful expression. “But she hasn’t said anything to you?”

Neve shook her head. “Nothing, I’m afraid.”

Davrin let out a sigh, leaning back. “Look, Rook is a good person, but even I know some people need space from time to time. I’m not going to pressure her into telling me anything she doesn’t want to share. But...” he trailed off, tapping his chin, “she and Lucanis used to be practically joined at the hip. Wherever he was, she’d be right there. If you ask me, she’s sweet on him, and it’s not just that whole Crow loyalty thing.”

Neve’s eyes widened slightly. “She has a crush?”

Davrin shook his head with a small smile. “No, not a crush. She likes him. I can see it in the way she is around him, and I know her pretty well.”

Neve frowned, her mind racing. “So... what do I have to do with all of this? Seems a little strange that I’d be involved.”

Davrin tilted his head, smirking a little. “Well, who told you she was jealous?”

“Lucanis,” Neve replied, sounding almost exasperated.

“But who told him?” Davrin shot back, a knowing grin on his face.

Neve paused, then rolled her eyes. “Spite told him,” she admitted with a touch of reluctance.

Davrin’s laughter burst out, loud and unapologetic. “Oh, so we’re taking the word of a demon now?” He shook his head, clearly entertained. “This is hilarious.”

Neve threw her hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, Lucanis takes him seriously! And to be fair, that demon has never led us astray.” Her lips twitched with a hint of amusement despite herself.

Davrin exhaled, the humour fading to something more contemplative. “All right, leave it with me. Rook and I are heading out to Lavendel together soon. I’ll have a chat with her, and see if I can make sense of this mess.”

Neve nodded, a small smile of relief crossing her face. “Thanks, Davrin. Just... tread carefully, okay? Whatever’s going on, it matters a lot to her.”

Davrin gave her a mock salute. “Don’t worry. I’ve got this.” But as he picked up his whittling project again, he couldn’t help but wonder if his friend was ready to admit the truth to herself.

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"What the fuck, Davrin? Who told you that?!"

Davrin blinked in surprise at Rook's outburst. "Who told you I was jealous of Neve?!"

"Hey, I’m just asking for interested parties. They figured I’d know what’s up with my friend," he replied, holding his hands up defensively.

Rook turned away from him, her fists clenched at her sides. She was too angry to speak—not at Davrin, no. Davrin could annoy her, sure, but Lucanis? He could make her seethe. And knowing that this line of questioning was coming from Neve of all people made her want to throw herself straight into the Fade, never to return.

"Rook," Davrin said quietly, his tone unusually gentle, "I promise, I won’t breathe a word if you tell me what’s bothering you. Warden’s honor."

Rook glanced at him, catching the earnestness in his expression. For once, he wasn’t cracking a joke to lighten the mood. She let out a sharp exhale and looked away again, debating whether to open up. Finally, she gave in.

“I swear to the Maker, if you report back to them, I’ll take out a contract on you,” she grumbled before the words burst out of her. “It’s the fucking flirting! Neve and Lucanis flirt all the fucking time, and I’M RIGHT FUCKING THERE! They just flirt like I’m invisible. I—well…” She hesitated, then plunged ahead. “I like him, and he never flirts with me. Never mentions anything about buying me something at the markets, or, ‘Hey, Rook, here’s a flower I picked for you,’ or anything like that. Nothing! I get nothing. It’s infuriating. What is wrong with me? Well, I know what’s wrong with me. Look at me. Look at this!”

She grabbed her thigh angrily, gesturing in frustration.

Davrin didn’t interrupt. He just listened, his expression calm and steady, letting her vent it all out.

“She’s perfect,” Rook continued, her voice shaking with anger. “Perfect hair, perfect outfits, perfect everything. And then there’s me—always saying the wrong thing, always crumpled. And he’s all, ‘Wow, Neve, great shot,’ while I’ve just literally slaughtered ten thousand darkspawn and not once does that man say anything.”

Davrin waited a beat to make sure she was finished before speaking. “I see. Well, thank you for finally telling me. I feel like we’re making progress here.”

Rook shot him a sharp look, her frustration now turning toward him.

“So, you like Lucanis,” Davrin said with a knowing smile. “I thought as much. I mean, it was obvious to me—everyone else seems to be walking around with blinders on.”

Rook groaned, dramatically flopping her head into her hands. “Don’t tell me that, Dav. It’s not making me feel any better. I already feel like the biggest idiot alive. I guess Viago was right.”

Davrin slung an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in, his tone soft but firm. “That’s my friend you’re talking about, and I don’t take kindly to people putting her down. Question is, where do you go from here?”

Rook let out a long, exhausted sigh. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I’m so angry at him right now. And unfairly pissed off at Neve. But I can’t forgive him yet. I’m far too in my ‘petty era’ right now.”

“I can tell, Rook,” Davrin began, his voice steady but not unkind. “Thing is, he doesn’t know what he’s done. Not sure how the man is supposed to make amends if he isn’t told.”

Rook stared off into the small village that Davrin and her had spent the last two days protecting from the Blight, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. “How does he not know? The man is a walking romance novel with her! Why doesn’t he do that with me?” She paused, her voice dropping into something quieter. “I know I’m not like her… I get that…”

Davrin cut her off before she could spiral any further. “For the love of the Maker, Rook, you’re gorgeous. Why do you keep comparing yourself to her? Sure, you’re nothing like Neve, but you’re you, and that ain’t bad.”

Rook gave him a deadpan stare, one eyebrow arching. “Really? Now you’re hitting on me?”

“Fuck no,” Davrin shot back with mock indignation. “I know who your boyfriend is... and he terrifies me.”

Rook snorted, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “He’s not my boyfriend. I have no idea what we are. At the moment, he just annoys me.” She let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping. “I’m going to have to talk to him, aren’t I?”

There was a note of defeat in her voice, like she was resigning herself to some inevitable punishment.

“Fuck… why do I have to be the one to do it? I want him to apologize. I want him to beg for forgiveness.” She groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “Wow, I really am being petty.”

Davrin grinned, his expression both amused and supportive. “Yes, but it suits you.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Do you want me to say something to him? Informing him of his gross oversight of sneaking around trying to find out what’s wrong with you and then maybe steer him toward an ‘ah-ha’ moment?”

“You’d do that for me?” she asked quietly, her voice softer now, vulnerable.

“Of course,” Davrin said with a mock-serious nod. “Killing darkspawn, being a baby daddy to Assan, and sorting out budding romances at the Lighthouse? Those are my specialties.”

Rook rolled her eyes and playfully swatted his arm. “Dumbass.”

Davrin grinned, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly charming way. “Maybe so,” he said, leaning back with exaggerated confidence, “but I’m your dumbass. And where would you be without me?”

----------------------------------------------------------

Lucanis had been quiet all day. Davrin knew he was a man of few words, but today’s outing with him and Lace had been decidedly less chatty than normal. Now, they sat around a tavern table, finally letting some warmth soak into their bones. The Lighthouse’s perpetual twilight made it easy to forget the biting cold of Thedas, but the roaring fire beside them was a rare luxury this evening.

Davrin watched Lucanis as he stared into his coffee mug, the steam curling up like ghosts between his hands. Lace was busy chatting with the patrons at a nearby table, her laughter carrying faintly over the hum of conversation.

“So, Lucanis,” Davrin said casually, breaking the silence. “You’ve been a little quiet today. Anything amiss?”

Lucanis looked up, his dark eyes sharp as they met Warden's. “I’m not in the mood.” His tone was flat, cold.

For a moment, silence hung between them, but Davrin wasn’t one to back down so easily. He leaned back in his chair, watching Lucanis carefully. “I see that,” he said finally. “Wondering if I can help you out with that?”

Lucanis sipped his coffee, his gaze distant, and he could tell he was mulling something over. “You know Rook well,” the assassin said after a long pause. “Probably better than I.”

Davrin shifted in his chair, not entirely sure where this was going. He prayed to the Maker it didn’t involve knives. “Ahhh, yes,” he replied cautiously. “Though I’d say you know our fearless leader pretty well too.”

“I’m not so sure of that.” Lucanis’s words were quiet but firm, his eyes flicking back to him for a moment before returning to his coffee cup.

Davrin leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “I’m guessing you’re looking for answers,” he said lightly, nodding toward the mug. “Doubtful you’ll find them in there, my friend.”

A faint, almost reluctant smile tugged at Lucanis’s lips. “Perhaps not,” he admitted. “But coffee is good for reflection.” He paused, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him visibly. “I’ve done something. I know I have. But she won’t tell me what it is, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Well, I know what you’ve done.”

Davrin smiled slyly, taking a sip of his beer like he wasn’t about to drop a bombshell. “It’s your lucky day, Crow.”

Lucanis stared at him, his mouth slightly agape. “You know?”

The Warden nodded, leaning back in his chair with a grin. “Sure do. And I can’t say it’s an easy fix—for you, at least. But,” he added, setting his mug down with a heavy clink, “if you applied as much effort into correcting your mistake as you do into flirting with a certain detective, you might just win her heart back.”

Davrin punctuated his sentence with a deep, exaggerated gulp of his drink, clearly pleased with himself.

Lucanis just looked at him, his face blank, and said nothing for the longest while. The lively chatter and laughter of the tavern seemed to fill the silence as Davrin waited, unsure if he had heard him.

“Flirting?” Lucanis repeated, his tone a mix of disbelief and offense. “With Neve? Flirting, as in me being suggestive with Neve?”

Davrin smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Do you need to say it a third time, Crow? Whatever way you cut it, it still sounds a bit... shit.”

Lucanis blinked, his mouth opening slightly as if to argue, but Davrin pressed on, clearly enjoying himself.

“I guess Rook just got fed up with hearing about you wanting to buy Neve fresh fish and flowers at the market.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “Oh, and I think she said—” Davrin cleared his throat for dramatic effect—“and I quote: ‘And he’s all, “Wow, Neve, great shot,” while I’ve just literally slaughtered ten thousand darkspawn, and not once does that man say anything.’”

He leaned back with a satisfied grin, taking another sip of his beer. “Yeah, I think that about covers the gist of what she vented to me for a solid 45 minutes.”

“Mierda,” Lucanis muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair.

Davrin waved at the serving girl over with a grin. “Yes, you’re screwed, Lucanis,” he said cheerfully. “But, as I mentioned, you can make this better… I think.” He ordered another beer for himself and a fresh coffee for his brooding friend.

Lucanis’s brow furrowed, his voice low and resigned. “What else did she say? I need to know just how much of a gilipollas I’ve been.”

Davrin laughed, the sound loud enough to turn a few heads nearby. “I’m assuming that’s something bad—and if it is, you deserve it.” He leaned back, his grin widening. “Let’s see… what else did she say? Oh, right!”

Davrin sat forward, lowering his voice to mimic Rook’s, exaggerating her frustration: ‘Nothing! I get nothing. It’s infuriating. What is wrong with me? Neve and Lucanis flirt all the fucking time, and I’M RIGHT FUCKING THERE! They just flirt like I’m invisible.’ He leaned back with a satisfied smirk. “And, of course, more liberal usage of the word ‘fuck.’”

“I don’t know what to say,” Lucanis muttered, his voice low. He slumped back in his chair, looking more defeated than Davrin had ever seen him. “I’m not sure what I’m meant to say. I don’t mean anything by it—the flirting. I never thought…”

“No, you didn’t,” Davrin cut in sharply, holding up a hand to stop him. “Why would you? You ask her for advice on gifts for Neve, buy her nothing, and expect everything to be fine?” He shook his head, leaning forward. “Shit, Lucanis, you could pick Rook a flower off a random bush in Arlathan, and she’d be insufferably happy for days. I do it all the time for her, and I don’t even want to fuck her.”

Lucanis’s brow furrowed deeper, but he didn’t interrupt.

Davrin leaned back with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Bare minimum, my friend. Bare. Minimum. And you’ve somehow managed to fall below that. Impressive, really.”

He punctuated his words with a long swig of his beer, shaking his head as he set the mug down.

“So, this is how you’re going to fix this,” Davrin began, pointing a finger at Lucanis for emphasis. “After we’re done at this outpost, we’re heading home, and you are going to beg for some kind of forgiveness. Kneel if you have to. Hell, throw in a prayer to the Maker while you’re at it and hope that gorgeous woman decides to give you another chance.”

Lucanis stared at him, his mouth opening slightly, but Davrin didn’t give him the chance to speak.

“And keep your damn mouth shut around Neve,” Davrin continued, leaning forward for extra emphasis. “I get it—Neve is damn fine to look at. But those thoughts? Inside thoughts, not outside thoughts, Lucanis. And for the love of everything holy, make sure your demon is on board with this too.”

Lucanis fiddle with the handle on his cup, guilt practically radiating off him, but Davrin wasn’t done.

“She likes you, I know she does. But she’s hurt, and a woman scorned is a terrifying force of nature.”

Davrin sat back, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “So what’s the plan, Crow?”

“I have no fucking idea,” Lucanis muttered, running a hand down his face. “I’ll think of something. I’ll fix this.”

He sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Davrin.

“It better be good,” Davrin said pointedly, leaning back in his chair. “Because she is pissed, and I don’t blame her. And for the love of the Maker, can you tell her that you like her? It’s clear as day to me, but she has no idea. She thinks you don’t even see her.”

Lucanis opened his mouth to retort, but Davrin barreled on.

“This whole ‘I’m possessed by a demon and I can’t love anyone’ trope is old, Lucanis. If you can charm Neve halfway around Minrathous, you can bloody well lavish some of that charm on Rook.”

“I’ll fix it,” Lucanis said firmly, though the conviction in his voice wavered just slightly. “And… thank you, for letting me know.”

Davrin gave him a hearty pat on the back, his grin equal parts teasing and supportive. “I don’t envy you, Lucanis. I thought fighting the ancient Gods was going to be tough, but this? Seems like you’ve got your work cut out for you.”

Lucanis let out a quiet breath, half a smile tugging at his lips. He knew Davrin was right.

----------------------------------------------------------

He found her up on the balcony, as he expected. Rook often went there to read when she needed space from everyone else. Davrin slid onto the bench beside her, and they sat in comfortable silence, the quiet of the moment broken only by the rustle of pages and the distant sounds of the Lighthouse.

Assan nuzzled his head against Rook’s arm, demanding pats, which she happily obliged, scratching behind the young griffon’s ears.

“It’s good to have you back,” she said finally, her voice soft but genuine. “I missed you. Did it go well?”

Davrin smiled, leaning back. “Of course it did. Harding is a terrible cook, though... but apart from that, we got the job done.”

Rook huffed a laugh, but before she could reply, Davrin added, almost too casually, “Oh, and I spoke to the Crow.”

Rook froze for a moment, her smile faltering. “Oh, Maker, how did that go?” She waved a hand before he could answer. “You know what? Don’t tell me. I’ve been perfectly happy here without him.”

Davrin turned his head, giving her a pointed side-eye. “Sure, sure... you’ve been perfectly happy.”

Rook glared at him over the top of her book, but he wasn’t done.

“He knows what he’s done wrong now,” Davrin continued with a shrug, “and is, and I quote, ‘formulating a plan,’ whatever the fuck that means.”

“A plan?” Rook repeated, her gaze drifting off into the endless expanse of the Fade sky. She hesitated, her fingers absently scratching Assan’s feathers as she gathered her thoughts. “I’m going to ask you something, and I want complete honesty. Even if it’s not what I want to hear.”

Davrin tilted his head, his smile softening. “Always.”

Rook turned to him, her voice quieter now, almost vulnerable. “Does the man even remotely like me?”

Davrin’s grin widened as he leaned back against the railing, taking a moment before answering. “Rook,” he said slowly, “I watched the blood drain out of the his face when I laid it all out on the table for him. I have never seen such a sorry sight.” He paused, his tone turning more sincere. “If that’s any indication of what he’s feeling, I think he’s sweet on you.”

Rook’s lips pressed into a thin line, her expression unreadable.

“He’s clueless,” Davrin added with a shrug. “I doubt he’s ever had a relationship before. Doesn’t excuse what he did, but I know he’ll fix it—or at least try to.”

Rook leaned her head on his shoulder, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why is life so hard? Everything feels so complicated, and I’m so tired. I know you said I shouldn’t compare myself to anyone, but… I don’t always feel strong, you know?” She paused, her fingers idly stroking Assan’s feathers. “Have I blown this all out of proportion? I think… I think I need to speak to Neve. She’s lovely—I know she is.”

Davrin stayed quiet for a long moment, his usual humor replaced by a thoughtful stillness.

“I think, sometimes, Rook,” he said softly, “you don’t see yourself the way the rest of us see you. At the heart of it all, you’re a good person. And yes, you’re beautiful too.”

Rook shifted slightly, about to protest, but Davrin pressed on.

“People come in all shapes and sizes. That doesn’t make anyone worth less than the next person. Maybe instead of comparing yourself to what you’re not, you should take a hard look at all the amazing things you are. All the shit you’ve accomplished under impossible odds. Hell, you’ve even put Solas in his place a few times—and that guy’s a dick.”

“That’s a weird way to ask me out on a date, Dav,” Rook said with a small smile, her eyes glinting with playful mischief.

Davrin laughed out loud, the sound echoing through the balcony. “You wish, de Riva. You and me would never work out.” He leaned back, grinning. “Besides, I come with a kid in tow—parenthood is tough.”

Rook chuckled, scratching Assan under the chin as the griffon chirped contentedly.

“Nah,” Davrin continued, “I think you’re more suited to the stabbity-stab life of Crow intrigue. I’m just a simple man, a Grey Warden with modest needs. You’d outlive me, no doubt, and I can’t have you being all mopey about the charming and heroic warrior you once knew.”

----------------------------------------------------------

She heard the faint rustle of a note slipping under her door just as she was drifting off to sleep. For a moment, she considered leaving it there until morning, her exhaustion tugging at her. But curiosity got the better of her.

Pulling the blanket tightly around her shoulders, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, shivering as her feet touched the cold floor. With a quiet sigh, she padded across the room, picked up the envelope, and sank into the worn couch by the window.

The candlelight flickered softly, casting long shadows as she slid her finger under the seal. The handwriting inside was instantly familiar, and her breath caught as she unfolded the letter.

-----

Rook,

I have thought about what to write in this letter to you for days as we made our way back home. I am usually good at making plans and coming up with solutions to any problem. Unfortunately, in this case, I am the problem, and I don’t know how to fix the hurt I’ve caused you.

That being said, I will try to make this right. If you decide not to accept my apology, I will understand. But if you can find it in your heart to let me make this up to you, I would be grateful.

Meet me in Treviso tomorrow evening at my favourite café—you know the one. We went there not long after I joined you at the Lighthouse.

I will wait for you.

—Lucanis

-----

Rook sank back into her couch, the letter still clutched against her chest. Stupid Antivan man, she thought, her lips twitching into a faint smile despite herself.

She couldn’t deny it—no matter how frustrated she was, no matter how much she wanted to stay angry—she was willing to hear him out.

----------------------------------------------------------

There was a knock at the door.

“Can I come in, Rook?” Neve’s voice was soft but firm.

From inside, she heard a flurry of shuffling, a thud, and several muffled expletives. Finally, the door creaked open.

“Yes, come in,” Rook said, rubbing her toe with a wince. “I’m just getting ready to…”

Neve smiled knowingly. “Meet Lucanis in Treviso. I know.”

Rook sighed, slumping back slightly. “Of course you know. He probably told you.”

She moved to the couch, sitting down to pull on her boots, her movements stiff with nervous energy. Neve stepped inside, her gaze drifting to the window where the shimmering fish swam lazily outside.

“You really do have the best room at the Lighthouse,” Neve remarked, her voice distant. “No wisps, just the fish.” She turned back to Rook, her expression softening. “No, he didn’t tell me. Davrin did.”

Rook paused, her hands hovering over her laces.

“I wanted to stop by and tell you to enjoy yourself,” Neve continued. “If I know Lucanis, he’ll have a wonderful evening planned for you.” She hesitated for a moment, then stepped closer, her tone quieter but no less sincere. “And I also wanted to tell you... I envy you.”

Rook’s head snapped up in surprise. “Envy me?”

Neve gave a small, bittersweet smile. “He’s a good man, apart from the whole abomination thing he’s got going on.” Her smile widened slightly, a hint of humor in her voice. “I’ll admit, I entertained the idea of him and me once. But it was clear his heart had already chosen another.”

Rook opened her mouth to respond, but Neve cut her off gently.

“Like all men, he’s a bit of an idiot, and he’s made mistakes,” Neve said, her gaze steady. “But if you let him, he’ll spend the rest of his life making it up to you.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Rook admitted, her voice quieter now. “I do feel stupid for being unkind to you. I’m sorry about that.”

Neve waved the apology away with a small smile. “No need for deep and meaningfuls, Rook. We’re both busy women with jobs to do. But tonight?” She stepped closer, her expression softening. “You have a date with a Crow.”

Rook shifted awkwardly, Neve’s eyes scanning her as if assessing her readiness. “I know,” Rook said, glancing down at herself. “I’m in my leathers. I probably should have dressed—”

Neve cut her off with a laugh. “I saw Lucanis leave for the Eluvian. He was dressed in his too. Are you Crows ever not on the clock?”

Rook chuckled despite herself. “You’ve met my boss, right? Viago?”

Neve grinned. “Point taken.” She reached for the door, her hand hovering for a moment before turning back. “Anyway, enjoy your evening. I hope it’s everything you need and want.”

----------------------------------------------------------

Davrin had insisted on accompanying her through the Eluvian to Treviso, despite her protests.

“You didn’t need to escort me, Dav,” Rook said as they stepped out into the bustling city. She smoothed down her cloak, her tone exasperated but affectionate. “I’m more than capable of navigating a city I’ve lived in most of my life.”

“Yeah, I know,” Davrin replied with a casual shrug. “But I did need to come here. Lucanis has me set up with his blacksmith. And, well…” He paused, glancing sideways at her. “I wanted to make sure you got here okay. If things go south, you know I’m around.”

Rook nudged him with her elbow, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I’ve never had a brother, but you are bordering on the whole ‘protective big brother’ vibes right now. And I have to say, it suits you.”

Davrin smiled shyly, looking away as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know you’re pissed at Dellamorte,” he said softly. “I get it. But let him speak. Give him a chance, Rook.”

She sighed, her gaze dropping for a moment. “I’m not that angry anymore. I spoke to Neve before heading here—she came to my room.”

Davrin raised an eyebrow, his expression suddenly amused. “Please tell me she left said room. I know what you Crows are like,” he added with a chuckle.

Rook rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a grin. “She’s very much alive, thank you. And she said something… odd. Something I wasn’t expecting.”

“Oh?” Davrin leaned in, curious.

“She said she was envious of me,” Rook admitted, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Davrin stopped in his tracks, raising both eyebrows now. “Well, well,” he said with exaggerated flair. “It seems we’ve come full circle. Now she’s jealous of you! I believe I’m experiencing whiplash.”

As they walked along the bustling streets of her hometown, Rook couldn’t ignore the faint queasiness in her stomach. She wasn’t angry anymore—not really. More… disgruntled. But there was no venom behind the feeling now. Lucanis had made a mistake, and, if she was being honest with herself, she’d probably blown it out of proportion—a tendency she sometimes leaned into more than she should.

At least she’d managed to entertain everyone at the Lighthouse with the intrigue and drama.

“Ahhh, I love it here,” Davrin mused, breaking her train of thought. His eyes roamed the lively street, the laughter and chatter of the city swirling around them. “Great atmosphere, excellent food, and some rather beautiful distractions for the taking.”

Rook rolled her eyes, her nerves briefly forgotten as she fought back a smirk.

“And it seems,” Davrin added with a dramatic flourish as they neared the café, “I have delivered you to your destination, my Queen.” He swept into an exaggerated bow, his grin practically splitting his face.

“Maker, you’re an idiot,” Rook said, shaking her head with a smile. “But I love you despite it.”

Davrin grinned and placed both hands firmly on her shoulders, leaning in just slightly. “You’ve got this, Rook. Go forth and get your man and—let him speak. He can actually be pretty good at it, you know, when he’s not saying all the wrong things.”

Rook took a deep breath, her nerves settling just enough to nod. “Wish me luck?” she asked, her voice wavering slightly.

Davrin shook his head, his grin softening into something more earnest. “Nah, you don’t need it. You’ve got this, girl. No luck required.”

He stepped ahead and held the door open for her. She squared her shoulders and walked through, the warm hum of the café greeting her as she crossed the threshold.

Davrin lingered outside for a moment, watching her disappear inside. He knew, deep down, it would all be okay. But still, a small pang of worry tugged at him—for his friend, for her heart, and for the man she was about to face.

----------------------------------------------------------

The café was empty.

Anxiety, her old and unwelcome friend, crept up her spine as she glanced around the dimly lit space. Had she gotten the wrong day? The wrong time? Her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she dug into her bag, pulling out the note Lucanis had sent. She unfolded it with shaky fingers, scanning the words again, double-checking that she hadn’t misread anything.

No. She was in the right place.

But as her eyes flicked to the counter, the absence of anyone behind it made her chest tighten further. The café felt eerily quiet, the usual hum of conversation replaced by the soft ticking of a clock.

Now she felt like the idiot. Where was he? And why was she standing awkwardly in an empty coffee shop at eight o’clock at night?

As a Crow, this screamed assassination attempt, and the thought made her pulse quicken. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, but her hand instinctively drifted to the hilt of the blade hidden beneath her cloak.

Not that she’d ever killed anyone with a dirk before—magic was her usual go-to—but the weight of the blade under her fingers offered some small comfort. Her unease grew as she wandered further into the café, cautiously checking dark corners and peeking around the pillars.

She moved closer to the counter, her nerves prickling with every step, when suddenly, Lucanis popped up from behind it.

“Maker’s breath!” Rook yelped, jumping back, her heart hammering as she glared at him.

Lucanis stood there, his dark eyes warm as they met hers, and a small, gorgeous smile spread across his lips—the one that always managed to disarm her.

“Rook,” he said softly, almost as if he couldn’t believe it. “You came.”

“Why were you hiding behind the counter?!” Rook exclaimed, her voice sharp with surprise.

Lucanis straightened, brushing imaginary dust from his leathers. “I was looking for sugar,” he said matter-of-factly. “I know you like your coffee sweet and hot. Good news: I found it.”

He turned his attention to the coffee pot, busying himself with making their drinks as if nothing about this was out of the ordinary.

Rook crossed her arms, glancing around the empty café. “And you now own this place?” she asked, her tone tinged with amusement.

Lucanis smirked, glancing at her over his shoulder. “I asked the owner for a favor and promised to pay him back with a free contract.”

Rook blinked in surprise before letting out a laugh. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or not,” she said, shaking her head. “You never work for free.”

“Sometimes I do,” Lucanis said with a small smile, handing her the steaming cup. “Let’s sit… the table over there.”

He gestured toward a cozy corner, and Rook’s gaze followed. The table had been set perfectly, a small display of her favorite desserts arranged neatly on a plate, waiting for her.

Her lips twitched in a faint smile as she followed him. They settled into their chairs, and for a moment, a comfortable silence fell between them as they both enjoyed the first few sips of their drinks.

Lucanis leaned back, cradling his cup in his hands. “Good coffee...And yours?”

Rook took another sip, savoring the warmth and sweetness. It was perfect—just the way she liked it. “You know it’s good,” she replied, glancing at him over the rim of her cup. “If there’s one thing you never fail at, it’s making it exactly the way I like it.”

A satisfied smile spread across his face, lighting his dark eyes.

Setting her cup down, Rook slipped off her gloves and laid them neatly on the table, the nervous energy in her hands too much to contain. Lucanis noticed, of course—he always did. He knew her tells. Whenever she was anxious, she’d fidget, her fingers tracing the stitching of her coat over and over again or right now, fiddling with her gloves,

“Rook…” he began, his voice soft, testing the waters, “I’m sorry—” , but Rook cut him off.

“I know I’m an idiot,” she blurted, her words tumbling out in a rush. “I should have just told you, and instead it became this whole thing involving everyone, and I didn’t mean for it to get so... big. It was stupid of me.”

Lucanis watched her for a long moment, his gaze steady and unreadable. Then, without a word, he placed his hand gently over hers.

“Rook,” he said softly, his voice calm but firm. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what? I’m not doing anything,” she replied, immediately defensive. She picked up her cup again, taking a long sip—anything to avoid his gaze.

“Blaming yourself. Apologising for things you don’t need to apologise for,” he said, his thumb brushing lightly against her knuckles. “I am the one to blame for your worries. I was the one who hurt you.”

“Yes, but you didn’t know,” Rook said quickly, her words tumbling out before she could think better of them. “And if I hadn’t been so damn stubborn—or dare I say petulant—I could have just told you. But I felt… well, I did feel stupid.”

Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, her voice softening as she admitted, “You were an arse though.”

A faint smile flickered across his face, but he stayed quiet, waiting.

“Why did you do it?” she asked, her eyes meeting his briefly before darting away. “It’s okay if you want to—”

She stopped herself mid-sentence, before her mouth could betray her further, she grabbed one of the neatly arranged cakes from the plate and shoved it into her mouth.

It worked—a bit too well. She sat frozen for a moment, cheeks puffed with cake, as the realisation of what she’d just done hit her. Across the table, Lucanis raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching as he tried not to laugh.

It took forever to get through the sugary treat—she’d completely forgotten how chewy they were. Looking effortlessly graceful with a mouthful of cake was not the impression she’d been going for.

Lucanis, ever observant, seized the opportunity to speak before she could finish. It might be the only way to get a word in.

“Yes,” he began, his tone quiet but deliberate. “I fully accept your blunt observation of myself.”

Rook raised an eyebrow at him, still chewing, but didn’t interrupt.

“Why I did it?” Lucanis continued, his gaze dropping briefly to the table. “It’s… was easy to flirt with Neve. A distraction from what’s in my mind, who shares my body, and everything else—fighting Gods, dealing with the Blight…” He paused, his voice softening. “But, also, it means nothing. And when it means nothing, there’s no possibility of consequences.”

“Consequences?” she managed, still chewing, her words slightly muffled.

“Yes,” Lucanis replied, his voice steady but quieter now. “If I don’t say those things to you, it’s not because I don’t notice you, enjoy your company, or desire someone else. It’s quite the opposite.”

Rook froze mid-chew, her eyes widening slightly as she watched him, his gaze fixed firmly on her.

“But how would you know this?” he continued, his tone filled with a rare vulnerability. “I’ve never told you. And I have never reciprocated any of the affection you have so generously given me.”

“But you said consequences, and I’m still not following,” Rook said, finally finishing her cake.

Lucanis sighed, frustration flickering across his face. Maker, he wished he were better with words—like his cousin Illario. “Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck I’m trying to say right now.” He ran a hand through his hair, glancing away before meeting her eyes again.

“I’m not good at this, Rook,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “But I struggle with you because… because you mean something to me. You’re not just a distraction. You’re something that has—” He hesitated, the next word slipping out before he could stop it. “...weight.”

He saw her gaze drop instantly to her coffee, her expression unreadable.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Lucanis’s stomach dropped. Why the fuck did you say that? Davrin had specifically told him not to mention the word weight.

“Yes, I’m aware I have ‘weight,’” she replied, her tone dry as she raised an eyebrow at him.

Lucanis opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, gesturing to the plate. “Thank you for highlighting that right after watching me devour at least three of these cakes.”

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a mock-serious expression. “And for the record, they were delicious, and I have zero regrets eating them.”

“What I meant is… you’re special to me,” Lucanis said, his voice quieter now, his dark eyes meeting hers. “To Spite, as well. And that’s dangerous to admit. It’s information that could be used against me—or you. And Maker knows Viago will not be pleased.”

He paused, frustration clear on his face. “I never flirted with you because… because I care for you. More than a friend.” His voice softened, the words weighted with sincerity. “Hopefully, I get to be more. But I’m the most foolish of men when it comes to matters of the heart. I’m not good at… any of this.”

Rook’s gaze shifted, taking in the café around her. The warm, romantic glow of the lights, the beautifully laid-out table, the intimacy of the setting—it all seemed so deliberate, so unlike the Lucanis she thought she knew.

Her eyes landed back on him, and she arched an eyebrow. “You’re not good at being romantic? Or apologies? Because, by the way, you still haven’t said sorry.”

“Despite my Antivan heritage, we aren’t all blessed with my cousin’s gift for romance,” Lucanis said with a wry smile. “But I’ll try—for you.”

He stood, pushing his chair back with a soft scrape against the floor, and stepped around the table.

“And this,” he continued, his voice dropping to something softer, almost reverent, “is where I kneel at your feet and beg for your forgiveness.”

Before Rook could react, he sank to one knee before her, taking her hand gently in his. His eyes lifted to meet hers, his expression utterly sincere.

“I am sorry,” he began, his voice steady but weighted with emotion. “For any hurt I caused you. I am sorry for my misplaced charm. I am sorry for letting you think you are anything less than breathtaking to me.”

Her breath caught, the words hitting her like a wave.

“I am sorry you ever felt you were not enough,” he went on, his thumb brushing softly against her knuckles, “when you are—more than enough in every way a woman can be. I am sorry. Truly sorry.”

He paused, his voice softening even further as he added, “If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I swear to you—you will never doubt my affection for you for as long as I breathe.”

Rook sat in silence, her gaze fixed on the man kneeling before her. She turned her hand slightly in his, lacing her fingers through his as she searched for the right words.

“How am I supposed to stay angry at you now?” she said finally, her voice soft but tinged with exasperation. “The cakes, the candlelight, and that—” she gestured toward him with her free hand—“what you just said… Maker’s breath, you’re impossible.”

Lucanis’s lips curved into a hesitant smile, hope flickering in his eyes.

She sighed, shaking her head slightly. “And… I forgive you,” she added, her voice steady now, but her cheeks flushed.

“But I swear,” Rook continued, her eyes narrowing slightly, “if you ever make me feel that way again, I’ll take a contract out on you. Better than that—” she leaned forward, her tone dropping for emphasis—“I’ll kill you myself.”

Lucanis tilted his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he rose to his feet.

“I’d like to see you try,” he replied smoothly, settling back into his chair across from her, “Promise me there will be lots of struggling,” Lucanis added, his voice dropping into a playful drawl. “Rolling around, grabbing for each other’s daggers…” He leaned forward slightly, a wicked glint in his eyes. “And sweaty. It’ll be sweaty, right?”

Urrgghhhh. She hated it when he turned it back on her like that.

Rook crossed her arms, trying to maintain her composure, but she could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks. She wasn’t nearly as good as he was at making death threats sound… sultry.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, grabbing her coffee and taking a long sip to avoid saying anything else that might give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d flustered her.

“Are you flirting with me, Dellamorte?” Rook asked, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “I thought you didn’t do that.”

Lucanis leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. “First time for everything, de Riva,” he replied smoothly. “You could say I’m making up for lost time.”

“I’m not sure if I should say yes or no,” Rook admitted, a nervous smile playing at her lips.

Lucanis leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady, his voice soft but teasing. “Say yes. Take a risk. See what happens.”

He could see the conflict in her eyes, the struggle between protecting her heart and giving in to her curiosity.

“Yes,” she said finally, her voice quiet but steady.

Lucanis half-smiled, standing as he offered his hand. She took it, and together they walked to the balcony overlooking the canal. The soft light reflected off the water below, casting shimmering patterns onto the stone railing.

He leaned against the cool stone, his hand still firmly holding hers.

“So… I said yes, and now we’re looking at…” Rook began, her voice tinged with nervous humor.

“For the love of the Maker, Rook,” Lucanis interrupted, turning to face her fully. “Shut up and let me kiss you. Just stop… talking.”

Before she could respond, he closed the distance between them, his mouth brushing against hers in a soft, deliberate kiss. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened, and Rook melted into him, her heart racing.

He was a good kisser.

Cliché as it was, she slowed time around them with a spell, savoring the moment as the rest of the world blurred into nothing.

Lucanis smiled against her lips, not breaking the kiss, his voice low and warm. “I know what you’re doing, Rook,” he murmured, his lips still grazing hers.

And she didn’t care.

[albaskies]

hehe i loved your short hinny fic!! it was soo great!! ❤️❤️❤️ can you please write another hinny fic, maybe hbp and include lots of yearning from harry 🙈🙈 whether that yearning is satisfied is completely up to you!!

thank you so much, anon, that's very kind ❤️ i managed to scramble something up based on your prompt, and had lots of fun doing it. i couldn't make hbp work, so i hope you don't mind i went with early dh instead. i hope you enjoy some angsty yearning courtesy of our very own hj potter!

***

Don’t look at her.

Harry repeats those words to himself like a mantra as he absent-mindedly stacks different kinds of desserts on his plate. The air under the marquee has become thicker now that several guests have stood up to dance, and Harry has started to feel very uncomfortable in Barny Weasley’s sweatier-than-normal body.

He grunts at the dessert selection available on the buffet table, wondering what kind of boring wedding does not serve treacle tart. But then again, he has never been to a wedding before, so what does he know, really.

He walks away in search of somewhere to sit down, carefully trying to shut down his peripheral vision, his gaze dutifully fixed right in front of him. 

Don’t look at her.

Since after the ceremony, he has decided to avoid looking at the dance floor at all costs. He is convinced this is the safest way to keep his mind clear. without being distracted by stupid promises made to stupid best mates, or by the temptation to throttle big-headed Quidditch players - nobody in particular, of course.

He slouches in the first empty chair he finds, his eyes focused on his plate and the assortment of sweets he is never going to eat. He nervously starts drumming with his fingers on the table, while conversation and laughter bubble all around him.

He could take a look at the dancefloor, he reckons, just to check that Ron and Hermione have not started bickering. A quick peek won’t hurt anybody, right?

Do not. Look. At her.

Except that he cannot not look at her. He cannot help but make silly excuses to steal a glance at her every now and then; he cannot help but look for her in the colourful crowd. He cannot help but know exactly where she is under the marquee, even when he is talking to somebody else, when he is eating a bite, or when she is joining Luna in her extravagant dance.

Because Ginny is pure, burning light. He is drawn to her like a flower is drawn to the sun, and he does not know how to contain this dangerous feeling building up in his chest. It’s powerful, urgent, and it makes his heart ache like never before. 

Defeated by his own sorry arse, he looks up and quickly scans the room, trying to convince himself that he is actually checking on Ron and Hermione. He is not fooling anyone, really. 

It only takes him a split second to find her. Because this time she is not talking to somebody else, or eating a bite, or dancing with Luna. This time she is right there in front of him. No, she is actually walking towards him.

Oh bloody hell.

The room seems to blur around her, its noise and chaos fading to a hum as Harry helplessly watches her drawing closer and closer.

He wishes he had the strength to stop her, he really does. But there’s only so much that a man can do when the woman he loves is walking towards him surrounded by that golden aura of light, so painfully beautiful, so painfully real.

She sits in the empty chair right next to him. She doesn't say anything, and yet he understands everything. 

Silence has always been easy with Ginny. It has been easy for longer than he can remember. 

He really should have known, the miserable prat. He should have known that love is a quiet, secret language shared through the simplest of glances. Love is moving together without speaking and understanding each other in a way that no one else ever could. He should have known that clammy hands, fumbling conversations and awkward silences over hot chocolate at Madam Puddifoot’s are an absolute pile of nothing compared to this.

And yet - he couldn’t have known, could he, that he would have found love in a hard, blazing gaze, in the sweet sound of laughter lingering in the air, in little elbows and butter dishes, in a gloriously setting sun. Maybe the realisation would not have struck him so hard, if he had. And maybe, with Ginny, he cannot have it in any other way.

He does not know for how long they remain sitting like that, a foot from each other, without uttering a single word. Their bodies are not remotely touching, and yet he feels engulfed by her, by her flowery scent, by her blazing and unwavering light. Their bodies are not even touching, and yet he feels her warmth everywhere on his body, under his skin, brushing his soul.

The other guests might think he looks like a miserable sod, stiffly glued to his chair just to be around her, just to drink her in for one more minute.

Or maybe they just think he is the weird cousin who creeps on younger girls at family functions. Whatever. He is not even sure he cares.

After all, she has not left yet. She is, too, sitting there on the edge of her chair, incapable of walking away. She stays, and that’s all that matters to him.

A sudden glint of yellow, and Harry notices Luna waving at Ginny from the crowd, calling her to the dance floor. 

They both sigh. The spell of silent and blissful oblivion around them is broken once again.

‘I think I’m going to join Luna,’ Ginny says quietly. 

He is so grateful, like a pathetic, smitten idiot, to hear her voice again. Even if what she says rips a hole through his heart.

When she finally does get up from her chair, it looks like she is wearing a weighted vest around her shoulders. He feels something breaking inside of him.

‘Oh.’ He chokes, clears his throat. ‘Yeah. Have fun.’

Her beautiful, sad eyes linger on him for a moment too long before she gives him a curt nod, and slowly walks away.

What a stupid thing to say, he tells himself. What a stupid, idiotic thing to say, when all he should have done instead was ask her, please stay. Please don’t go, please don’t leave me. I can’t bear to be away from you, I just can’t let you go. I’m sorry. I love you. Do you hear me? I love you. I am so sorry.

A miserable man, he is. A miserable, miserable man who is about to go on a suicide mission but has to push away the only person who makes him feel truly invincible. 

Would it be so bad to dive into the crowd, grab her hand, hold her close to his chest, and drown in that blissful oblivion again? Would it be so bad to kiss her soft, burning red lips, traumatising all the guests and the Weasleys together, hearing someone try and remedy the scandal by explaining that Oh but he’s not really a cousin, you know, more of a distant relative.

Maybe he really should go in there, ask her to run away with him and be just the two of them forever, forget about Dumbledore’s instructions, sod all this Chosen One nonsense. Choose his own happiness, just this once.

But then a silver lynx brings the news that the Ministry’s fallen and chaos unravels. He later ends up wondering to himself if those stupid, idiotic words will be the last ones he will ever say to her.

[awesomelly]

There is something I need to get off my chest in the Nimona fandom:

I dislike the depiction of Ballister being a subservient, emotional and fragile man, especially when in comparison to Ambrosius who is often pictured as the manly protector and voice of reason in their relationship - both in pre-canon and post-canon fanfics.

This isn't correct. I have to state it that way.

Let me explain:

The basic principle of a good narrative is to have people/characters act opposite to their nature. That means to put those characters in situations where they are forced to adapt and overcome obstacles, otherwise situations wouldn't be obstacles if it was easy.

And this is true for both Ambrosius and Ballister in the movie as well.

As you can see even in this tiny glimpse of the scene before the knighting ceremony (where everything was still sorted and their lives were still adjusted to their characters), you can see how Ambrosius is the one fuming at Todd's teasing. And Ballister is the one who stops him with a simple gesture and a slight headshake no. In the lair scene and the innocent's wall Ballister even corrects himself for repeating Nimona that Todd needs a good punching, so that scene above must have happened more than once beforehand during their time as squires - Ballister is the one with a straight determination, a cool head and a reasonable attitude while Ambrosius is righteously emotional at the provocation of his boyfriend.

Ambrosius proves his righteous and emotional character trait by forcing Ballister out of his brooding and trying to lighten him up by goofing around. Don't get me wrong, I love this trait of Ambrosius, and it gives us a perfect insight how the relationship works; apparently very well in their different ways of calming their nerves:

Another proof is the way Ballister ascends the steps during the knighting ceremony. He is determined despite his nerves whereas Ambrosius whoo-hooed at the spectators and then at Ballister after he is knighted. Again, a perfect opposite of reason (Ballister) and emotional outlet (Ambrosius):

And then everything goes to shit. This is where the story begins - can begin in the first place, actually.

Ballister's and Ambrosius' controlled lives crumble to dust and they are faced with exact opposites: Ambrosius is forced to take the role as a leader and a cool-minded persecutor of the man that he loves. A starker contrast is nearly impossible. And we can see an exposure of his true nature during the scene in the carriage with the Director, where he loses it in his mind but has to (and succeeds!) in suppressing his true emotions.

He even succeeds while he is facing Ballister but the struggle in his face is visible:

Ballister, on the other hand, loses his focus and goal in life in one single strike (literally). He is badly injured and still manages to hide, take care of his wound, and build himself a functioning prosthetic. He is on edge, worsened by the fact that a kid rampages in his life that has an overflow of emotions and attitudes. Ballister is forced to accept his new role and has to cope with a variety of very difficult and deep emotions. This is hilarious and fun, of course, but why is it that way? Because it is the exact opposite to his nature.

During the movie, depths of his character get exposed that would normally never come to the surface. That does not mean that Ballister isn't per se emotional or sometimes silly but the large mimics and gestures of him during the movie are a sign of his absolute overextension:

Both their characters are developing in this movie. Ambrosius becomes responsible without losing his sunny nature while Ballister breaks old habits of keeping to himself to become more expressive without losing his autonomy and his integrity. He is strong because of his fears and pushing through it with bravery, he is independent because he develops a deep connection to Nimona and ultimately saves her from herself, and he is manly because he shows his emotions with such intensity during the movie.

In summary: You need characters to face difficult situations because that's how character development is possible at all! It's the same thing in real life.

So, please understand that a superficial view on the pairing just does not suffice. Especially considering Ballister. And no, a simple hand placement, the crook of an eyebrow, or a slight difference in height does not depict who is top or bottom in a relationship!

I want you to know that every headcannon and alternation of the original canon is absolutely fine bc everyone deserves to build their own headspace, but please don't project anything ooc on these characters when it is a dysfunctional power play or a degradation of one character.

Thank you for reading! I am open for discussion!

[mage-ical-character-person]

Time for more because. Because!

first off: wanna point this out: Meme games

The fact that the minigame format like Meme is used for WOTFI instead of the using the usual non-minigame challenges, or the choose your own adventure of WOTFI 2023 despite the whole “We should really do this again sometime”

And Just... That's Puzzles' whole thing. Don't know what to make of that!

and... this

hehehe… sillies… Second, some stuff from other posts I’ve made and discussions I’ve had I wanna stick here so it’s all in one place. Colored text is new stuff if you've read the other posts already and don't want to read repeat info and musings. Alternatively if you haven’t read the post and you want to. I got links.

First from here: Puzzles and Four both struggle with empathy to some extent. Four has more practice with the aspects of empathy that can be learned (cognitive empathy) but it’s still something he usually needs to actively think about, which is something he forgets to do sometimes. Puzzles sucks at just about every form of empathy. But they both still care very deeply for the people they consider friends (see reblog above about protectiveness)

Also Four and Puzzles both put people through torment for content. Puzzles with just about everything he does, Four with stuff like “I put Mario in Danger for Views” “Mario Does Literally Anything for Views” and this

Next, this.

Mario only is friends with SMG4 as a result of not being the Mario he was before Four showed up. When Mario is briefly turned back during the Lawsuit arc, Four and Meggy make him back into the Mario they're friends with without any input from him. This sorta parallels the whole Leggy situation in a weird way. In addition, Puzzles brainwashes people to make them more entertaining and cooperative for his shows. The USB SMG4 arrived in did the same thing for Four automatically as soon as he arrived.

And!

We're talking about It's Gotta Be Perfect again. Puzzles gets a fatal error that tells him to contact the manufacturers, then we get eye imagery. Then we get the IGBP Goop.

Notably, this happens when Leggy is turned back into Meggy. In other words, when Puzzles loses his only friend and source of support. I've gone on and on about how what snapped Four out of it in IGBP is his friends and being reassured they'll always be by his side, and what that means for Puzzles. and this is just... another instance of that.

But with the Goop, there's something else. It seems to be tied to strong emotions, but the fact that it shows up when Four is worried about being left behind for not being good enough--and being reassured otherwise is what allows him to break free-- AND the fact that with Puzzles it shows up when he loses his only friend and wants her back...

And, well... This...

(Seriously what was up with the stuff that happened to Three in IGBP I feel like we don’t talk about it enough) It's... well, it's something. Puzzles would do ANYTHING anything to not lose his friend, regardless of if said friend is okay with it. I don't know if Four's quite to that point, but he's... adjacent to that, at the very least.

The desperation to be seen... and the eye imagery associated with the Goop... it’s something

...Not wanting to be left behind, wanting to hold on to the people you have... wanting to be perfect...

Well... I mean, it parallels other characters, too.

(With Niles Specifically, I can't help but think that the Goop is some kind of virus similar to Niles/Eldritch Zero. I mean, it was invoked by an adware)

On the subject of characters other than SMG3 and SMG4 that parallel Puzzles, let's talk about Clench and Tari.

Both Puzzles' TV head Clench are prosthetics in a way, and Puzzles can transport people into TV shows, while Tari can, with Clench, do the same with video games. And for what it's worth, with Western Spaghetti, they're sort of on the same... frequency? Tari being able to interface with the simulation and hijack Puzzles' signal to bring forth dancing Mario.

AND

Oh and also Puzzle has parallels with Axol as well.

I mean just...

friendless childhood to becoming obsessed with media to creating that media (still obsessive).

And.. resourcefulness?

Yeah we'll call it resourcefulness.

Puzzles Parallels Post

feel like I keep repeating things over various reblog chains and stuff and my thoughts are never all in one place so. This where I keep linking said reblog chains. One of which has an endpoint that does not involve me but sshhh.

Mr. Puzzles and SMG4 have SO much in common. Four comes pretty close to Puzzles-level bad on some occasions and they share a lot of the same insecurities

I believe part of the reason Puzzles targeted Four in the first place (because I doubt “You’re the stupidest show I’ve ever seen!” Is the only reason) is because it’s easy to exploit the insecurities of someone who has the same insecurities as you, because you know that feeling in and out. Even if for Puzzles he probably didn’t have a lot of self awareness about it. Probably something more along the lines of “Oh, this guy clearly cares the correct amount about pleasing an audience and the quality of his content! But he’s not even good at it! I can use this!”

The difference is that Four has friends. He has a support system to pull him out of it when these insecurities start to make him spiral. Puzzles does not have that and frankly seems to have given up on ever attaining it. Twice.

AND THEN THERE’S ALSO THE PARALLELS WITH SMG3

Because part of it is because SMG3 and SMG4 already parallel each other so you can’t have Puzzles parallel one without the other.

But ALSO! Very similar motivations of wanting to be seen and appreciated. With a side of pettiness and jealousy. Also this

And this was also an incredibly SMG3 adjacent moment

But also the show keeps calling attention to SMG3’s difficulty making friends. Which is also Puzzles’ whole thing.

I need them to actually go somewhere with this so bad. Because 3 and 4 might be the only people who can actually understand Puzzles. Or at least let them understand themselves better as a result of Puzzles.

I NEED the “You and I aren’t so different” moment SO BAD!!

[bluecapsicum]

hi Blue! I am absolutely IN LOVE with the "Reports From Unknown Places" series. If you don't mind me asking, how did you learn to draw the clouds and the sky so well? I've always found the prospect very daunting, but you draw them in a way that simply amazing! Do you have any tips for brushes/practice?

Hello!

Thank you so much for the message, and your kind words! I'm so glad you enjoy Reports.

I completely understand how one might find drawing the sky daunting. I still regularly give myself headaches when working on reports. Everyone has their own issues when it comes to drawing, though.

For instance, this might sound a bit absurd, but one of my main issues as an illustrator is that I don't think well in 3D, and I ended up realising that I was unconsciously thinking about the sky as a flat image. When I started drawing clouds as objects moving in space, everything became a little easier.

(This is the kind of epiphany that I had. Truly a revolution in my mind. Now I can totally rotate clouds in my brain.)

This all came about as I kept on drawing more and more, sure, but the most important part really was watching clouds for myself, as much as possible, and to try and notice things every time. It's mostly silly stuff, especially at first, like oh yeah, I guess clouds produce shadows on other clouds too. Wow! Or, huh, this cloud doesn't have the same density throughout, so the light scatters differently inside of it.

Because it's all fundamentally physics, it ended up sounding incredibly simple once I had noticed it. Of course! It's all logical! I had just never connected the dots before I saw it in person.

So I also bought some books, and watched videos (all those airplane videos are fantastic), read websites, looked at pictures. Everything was helpful in one way or another. Listen, I knew about cirrus and cumulonimbus and that was pretty much it, at first. So looking at diagrams about how high cirrus are in comparison to stratocumulus, for instance, was a revelation. Looking at the life cycle of cumulonimbus explained so much for me.

These are studies I did on the side of Reports, in November 2020, then April 2021, and the third one in September 2023:

I think I'm able to look at these and tell that I got progressively more confident because I understood what I was drawing a lot better.

If I had to say, a few concrete things I learned that work for me is being bold, not to be afraid of contrast and sharp edges, and to treat light as an actor of its own. I can't find it right now, but I once read a quote by (I think!) Cezanne that went something like "I'm not painting the mountain, I'm painting the air between me and the mountain". I think it's the most helpful thing I've ever heard for painting and drawing. It's obviously especially relevant here. The air changes everything.

Anyway, I could go for ages more, I'm totally rambling, so I'll just leave a few references I find helpful:

The International Cloud Atlas

The Cloud Appreciation Society

What's This Cloud

In the end it's just fun, and good for the soul, to spend quality time with clouds, so nothing is ever lost!

[snotty-zombie]

Rageous-tober part 2!!

Day 11: Date

Day 13: Ritzneer

Day 17: Veneer

bigger images and a bit of writing under the cut if your'e interested in hearing me yap!!!

Day 11: date A few different kinds of dates these characters go on- Velvet and Rhinestone having an awkward but cute first date TV Girl and Peachy… spending their time well?? Ig? And Team Ritzneer keeping MR sushi buffets in business 😈😈😈😈 I much prefer doing like collage sort of things (rather than 1 scene or character) where there’s like 10 different things going on at once on the page like total word vomit but in picture form

Day 13: Ritzneer

IM A HUGE RITZNEER FAN like definitely my fav canon x canon ship (if you can call Kid Ritz canon? Like his name and design yeah but atp everyone’s interpretation of him is entirely different from one another like I’ve very rarely seen someone characterise him the same as someone else haha so I group him in with my ocs to make things less complicated)

ANYWAY RITZNEER love these guys idk what it is about them but I love it, I hc them as very different people but very much in love and they have a lot of fun

Day 17: Veneer!!!

Not very proud of this one I must admit- I think I remember I totally rushed it and ran out of ideas so I just did a line up of some costumes I think Veneer would wear (ten points if you can name them all) and then deciding he’d wear something else entirely

Matching costumes with Kid!!! For some reason I associate Kid with Oogie Boogie so hard like idk what it is about them but they are so similar in my eyes- like an evil version of KR idk.. then there’s Veneer and Jack come on they’re both like 10ft tall and awkward and silly and fully of joy, it just makes sense to me

Part 1! Part 2! Part 3! Part 4!

[nikoniclove]

Out of curiosity, what made you first start writing the Ace in the Hole series? Did you think it would garner such a following?

I wrote “A Good Use of Adrenaline” first on a whim because I got the idea of the trio with reader stuck in my head, and it rooted around until I finally typed it out.

An Ao3 reader, YellowRoguerose, commented and I asked if they had anything specific they wanted to see in terms of JJ x reader or Emily x reader fics. One of the prompts from them was “Jemily are an established, strong couple for multiple years or or what not. Younger reader, less experienced, slightly naive. I mean I guess that’s cliche? But ya know a little cliche never hurt anyone haha. Starts off as fun, turns into something more serious. Happens more quickly for the reader who then doubts themself and their perceived worth with Jemily because they’re older and established etc.”

This series was spawned. Not only did I not think I would still be writing it 1 million words in, but it still baffles me that it has as much engagement as it does. The requests and the engagement are the big reasons I’ve continued it. It’s fun to connect with folks, and I love hearing other people’s ideas for stories. I’ll keep it going as long as it’s fun for me to write.

I also only recently started engaging with the tumblr tags a few months ago, and I definitely squealed when I realized that someone was talking about Ace like a legit character and not some silly figment in my head.

[mrsfrecklesmarauders]

Sirius had a strong knot on his throat right now.

He had to be a supportive friend for Remus. He had promised himself that. That no one would break them apart again.

Now that Remus had come out as gay, Sirius didn't mind, he was being very supportive.

What he didn't expect was to hear Remus talking about boys. Not a lot of boys. Just generally who he found fit at Hogwarts. And then worse, the bloke he had a crush on for years.

His name was Grant Chapman. Funny name, wasn't it?

Apparently he was older, wiser, with more experience. Remus had many fun stories about him that seemed out of an action movie. And he was the friend. The best friend that Remus had when he needed the most. The one that had taught him a lot of things like drinking, and smoking and kissing. The one who had been supportive through his transition. The one who had been there when his mother died.

It was not that Sirius thought Remus hadn't had crushes before. Well, it was kind of weird because Sirius didn't think about that aspect of Remus's life at all.

Now that Remus was openly gay with everyone and was telling Sirius about Grant, Sirius wanted to tore something apart. He didn't know why. He should be happy for his friend, right?

Maybe because he thought there had been someone else there for Remus when Sirius should have been.

"So, yeah" Remus chuckled as he stared at his cigarrette "I was an idiot who had a silly crush when Grant had a new boy each week"

Grant was also very gay which was worse since Remus had more possibilities to be with him.

Sirius tried to disguise his anger? What was this anyway? He just nodded and continued smoking.

"Although Grant was one of those crushes that are fleeting" Remus added as he blinked.

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked curiously.

"One of those crushes when you idiolize the other person because they are unreachable. But can be over fast as well" Remus explained "It is definitely not like being in love"

Sirius found himself smiling like a silly schoolgirl.

"So, you don't love Grant"

Remus's eyes focused on Sirius.

"Oh, I love him" Remus said, making Sirius freeze for a bit "But like you love James..." Sirius let out a soft breath "My heart doesn't belong to him"

Sirius hadn't snogged James, though.

Sirius snorted "You're a sappy romantic, Moons"

Remus smiled "What?"

"My heart doesn't belong to him?" Sirius asked clearly mocking.

Remus rolled his eyes "You think it is funny because you haven't fallen in love"

Sirius raised an eyebrow "Oh, so you have?" he asked, and his heart started beating fast for a reason "With Grant?"

God! Why did he sound so pissed?

Remus simply shook his head. He mumbled something that sounded like "With someone else" but Sirius wasn't sure.

"What?"

Sirius wasn't sure for the poor light. But he could have sworn Remus was blushing.

"I said I haven't" Remus answered with a soft giggle in his voice "I just read many romantic books"

Remus kept smoking and silence while Sirius raised an eyebrow. He decided to look at the beautiful stars tonight. Next to the moon, of course.

"So, that's how you spent your summer?" Sirius commented, trying to sound indifferent "With your friend Grant?" he smirked "Is that why you ignored me?"

Remus looked up in alert.

"I didn't ignore you"

"You ghosted me all summer, Moony" Why did it sound like a claim?

"You ghosted me as well, Pads" Remus shrugged.

"Just because you ghosted me first!" Sirius said, trying to tease. "All to be with your bff"

Remus laughed, making Sirius feel a nice sensation inside of him "My bff? Jealous much?"

Sirius shrugged, being dramatic. Maybe he was...

Remus's smile disappeared.

"I didn't know you wanted to talk to me"

Sirius frowned "Why not?"

"Because of what happened before leaving Hogwarts..." Remus said as he swallowed nervously. He wasn't looking at Sirius. Only down.

Sirius knew too well what Remus was talking about. That first awkward kiss. Sirius had that image tattooed in his mind like a mantra. He hadn't stopped thinking about it. It was bloody torturing him. And he didn't know why.

Maybe it was because of what he had found this summer. How much he had been remembering when he was ten years old and Remus was his favorite person when he was Rosie. And how guilty he felt for the family he had. How much it hurt to lose Remus before.

"What are you talking about?"

However, it was better to play dumb. Because talking about it was Sirius's worse fear. Facing his confusing feelings, was his worse fear.

Remus looked disappointed.

"You don't remember?"

Sirius acted confused. "No, about what?"

Remus was clearly blinking away his anger.

"Before climbing the train... Our dorm... We were packing..."

Sirius remembered every single detail of that day. However he shook his head, acting clueless.

"Seriously? Are you that dumb?"

Sirius swallowed his tears "Yeah, siriusly" he joked like an idiot.

Remus took a deep breath and looked away.

"Forget it, Sirius"

Remus was clearly pissed and Sirius felt like a fool. He was such a coward.

People said he was cool, reckless and brave. But in reality he was a scared little boy that couldn't admit what he felt.

A stupid boy that couldn't admit he wanted to kiss Remus again. So badly.

"Faggot! A cissy boy just like your Uncle" a voice that sounded like his father screamed inside his head.

"Fuck it, I don't care!" he answered to that voice.

Sirius's heart was beating so fast, it should be dangerous. He felt a shot of adrenaline rushing through him.

"You mean this?"

As soon as Sirius finished saying that, he grabbed Remus's neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

And when their lips touched, Sirius felt fireworks inside his tummy and goosebumps all over his skin. Especially when Remus kissed him back.

It was ten times better than their first kiss when Sirius panicked. Sirius knew now how much he wanted this as long as he didn't think about what it made him. But it was clear as water how much he cared for Remus. How much he loved him. Even if he didn't know in what way.

More, more, more and more of this. His brain was yelling. How could we live without this?

Remus seemed to be thinking the same. Because he kept going. He kept opening his lips for Sirius. He let Sirius ran his fingers through his hair.

They only stopped when they were out of breath.

"Is that...What you... Meant?"

Sirius could feel his cheeks on fire and he was clearly catching his breath. It would have been awfully embarrassed if Remus wouldn't have been the same.

And how adorable did he look. Damn.

"Yeah" Remus nodded, still mesmerized. He let out a soft giggle "But that was so much better than the last one"

Sirius couldn't avoid smiling embarrassed.

"So, you remember"

Sirius snorted "Of course I remember, Moony"

"You dumbass"

Sirius laughed.

Remus seemed so happy, he touched Sirius's hair, which sent shivers down his spine.

"Yeah" he chuckled "But it is not a big deal, ok?"

Remus stop smiling "What?"

"Don't get hooked, Moony" Sirius said nervously "It was just like with Grant this summer. Just an innocent snog... To break the ice" he snorted at the end although he was dying inside.

He was so embarrassed with Remus and himself that he wished he could go back in time and never give in with his desires.

Remus looked disappointed, sad or angry. Sirius didn't know.

"So, you didn't want to kiss me?"

"Of course I did!" Sirius exclaimed immediately only because Remus looked like a lost puppy "I liked kissing you" he smiled slighty and touched Remus's cheek "But I am not looking for a relationship or anything, you know? And I don't want to ruin our friendship or hurt you"

Remus frowned, trying to consider what Sirius was saying. Sirius was kind of panicking thinking he just fucked everything up between them.

"So, you want to continue snogging me?"

Sirius didn't know what was the correct answer here.

"Just as friends?"

Sirius didn't know how much he needed Remus's lips until he tasted them for the first time months ago. But it was not only about that. It was about Remus and what they had. The beautiful relationship they had rebuilt. The jokes, the dynamic, the closeness, the peace Sirius felt around his friend.

"Isn't it what you used to do with Grant?" Sirius asked carefully.

Remus could have told him to fuck off. But he didn't. Instead, he said:

"Yeah, I guess. Although I didn't know you were into blokes"

"I'm not!" Sirius snapped then he sighed "I mean I like you. I like kissing you" he shrugged "What's the big deal?"

Remus leaned in and Sirius thought he was going to kiss him again. Like an idiot he expected it with bloody desire.

"I don't want to ruin our friendship either"

"We won't" Sirius swallowed as he stared at Remus's lips "I promise"

When Remus kissed him this time, Sirius melted immediately into it. It felt amazing. He hadn't liked to kiss someone this much. He mostly did it with girls because he thought he was supposed to. Not because he needed their lips like air. Not because he wanted to merge into one with them by kissing them forever.

What was Remus doing to him?

After what felt like ages of intense snogging because none of them wanted to stop, they had to eventually catch some air.

Eventhough Sirius loved it when Remus placed his forehead apong his, it felt like it was getting out of hand.

"You could love him, couldn't you?" a voice said inside his mind. "What if you already do? Remember how you felt on the top of the world when you were ten and he was around? Remember when you felt like dying when he left?"

"Oh, do you miss your little girlfriend, Sirius?" his mother used to ask with a mocking tone when she caught Sirius crying "Well, it seems she has forgotten about you"

"NO! THAT'S NOT TRUE! ROSIE IS MY BEST FRIEND!"

"More girls would come, Sirius" his father would say, he didn't believe his son was so weak to cry for someone "Prettier girls... My son doesn't cry like a cissy for a silly girl"

What a pair of arseholes his parents were.

Sirius broke apart in alert.

"So, do I kiss better than you friend Grant?" he said to break the ice.

It worked because it made Remus laugh.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night" Remus said and Sirius gasped.

Then Remus added "Yeah you do"

Sirius's heart jumped inside his chest. They smiled at each other with blushy cheeks they were so pathetic.

"Soooo....." Remus snorted.

Sirius chuckled.

"I do have to remind you" Remus smirked "That we are students and we have to come back because it is getting late and we have class tomorrow"

Sirius groaned, dropping his head back. Remus giggled.

"Alright!" Sirius shrugged "Let's go"

Remus didn't move though. He kept staring at Sirius in a way that it was out of this world. In that instant, Sirius felt perfect and flawless under Remus's eyes.

"Or maybe..." Remus took a step closer "It wouldn't hurt to snog for a bit longer... Let's say five more minutes?"

Sirius grinned so hard that his cheeks hurt.

He grabbed Remus's sweater and pulled him closer.

"That sounds great"

"Yeah?" Remus asked staring at Sirius's lips.

"Shut up, Moony, and bloody kiss me"

Sirius kissed Remus's giggle and in an instant, they got lost into each other's lips and melted into each other's arms.

Maybe Sirius was fucked.

[whentherewerebicycles]

my baby is six months old today!!! he’s been alive for half a year!!!!! it somehow feels both like he's been in my life forever and like i just gave birth days ago. I love him so much it makes me feel a little frantic sometimes. he is down for his first nap now and I can hear him in his crib grumbling to himself about the terrible indignities they subject sweet little babies to these days (chief among them being wrapped in blankets in a soft little sleeping bag in a cozy warm room for a nice restorative nap).

I think I want to journal a bit today—six things about the baby + six thoughts about my experience of parenting thus far. baby first!

well i mean. he is just perfect. he is just the best little guy ever. all babies are the best little guy ever but he is MY best little guy you know? i love him so much. what is his personality like? i would say he has definitely retained something of the watchfulness and slight reserve he had as a newborn. he has these huge dark eyes and he studies things very intently and in general likes to Observe the Situation before wading in. but he is, so far, not especially shy? the stranger danger phase has not set in yet so he enjoys being held by a wide range of people and will warm up to new faces after a bit, especially if they make silly expressions at him or sing to him. he also definitely has His People, who he is not reserved with at all. the second my sister walks in he starts kicking his legs furiously and babbling to her to get her to come over and talk to him. he looooves my mom and is way snugglier with her than anyone else. he adores his primary babysitters (his nanny + liz's husband A) and is sooo chatty with them. he was slow to smile (liz's baby was beaming at everybody from like five weeks on but i don't think O was smiling regularly until about 12 weeks) and he is still pretty selective with them (strangers do NOT get smiles unless they make a very silly surprising noise). but his general temperament is just like… he’s a calm, even-keeled, good-natured little guy who is down for pretty much whatever. this kid can hang.

he is REALLY good at independent play. if he's fed and changed he can pretty much entertain himself for 45-60 min at a time without any input from me. he just kicks around on his mat and plays with his toys. in the morning he wakes up around 6:30 but the family does not get up until 7:20 and he will just hang out in his crib making his hands dance in the air and chattering happily to himself. i think this is probably like 80% inborn temperament... my mom says i was the exact same way as a baby, just like totally content to chill and think and talk to myself. but i think maybe 20% of it is also things i consciously did to encourage this from about four weeks on and i am proud of that! i think one of the qualities i like best in myself is that i have a high tolerance for boredom because i can just get lost in my thoughts/imagination. as long as i have something to think about or some imaginary situation to play out in my head i am content. i really want that for him too! idk more thoughts about this when i journal about parenting lol. but i appreciate that he doesn't have to be entertained 24/7 (at least at this age). he is content to just be on his own or just be in the room watching people do other stuff.

obviously i adored him from the start lol but i would say that four months marked a big turning point in terms of how much fun he was to hang out with. he just started seeming so much more alert and engaged around then. and then this last five to six months span of time has just been SO fun. he's fully a little person. he has preferences and opinions and favorite toys and favorite people and favorite animals (ruthie). he is learning ALL the time. you can see him puzzling things out and beginning to develop a rudimentary understanding of cause and effect. right now, like in the past week or so, he is extremely into TEXTURES. he must scritch-scratch absolutely everything with his little baby nails. he is obsessed with his "baby paper" (crinkly paper) and he is much more open to tummy time now mainly because it allows him to scritch-scratch all the different quilts we use as playmats. he likes to scritch-scratch the glass when i take him to the window in the morning to show him his friends the trees, and if there is any kind of graphic on my t-shirts he MUST scratch the edges of it. and he does all of this with a look of total focus lol this kid is LOCKED IN on scritch-scratching.

he laughs so much these days. he also seems to have figured out that people react positively and often rush over to engage with him when he laughs, so sometimes if i'm on the other side of the room and he wants me to pay attention to him he will just do this "huh-huh-HAH-HA! HA!" belly laugh so i'll come over and make silly faces at him. i do pretty much nonstop funny accents and comedy bits for him and i'd say i get a laugh 50% of the time... the other 50% of the time he just gives me this wide-eyed look that clearly says "ok... this lady is nutso and i seem to be trapped in her care... i need to proceed carefully here..." which is also very funny.

he is really into being gently manhandled right now haha. i think it is probably related to developing proprioception? but he loves to be "flying baby" (where you lift him over your head and zoom him around like an airplane) and he loves being a pendulum in a giant clock (where you hold him under his arms and swing his body back and forth as you lift him up and down) and he REALLY loves it when you wrap him up in your arms and roll into a ball and roll over and over a bunch of times. also it delights him when you play-wrestle with him and tickle him even though he cannot yet really wrestle back lol. bonus points if you also growl at him and pretend you are going to eat him up... that's a big hit right now. when i was a kid my dad would wrestle with us all the time and pretend to be a bear chasing us around the house on all fours and let us ride on his back and stuff and it was so much fun. so far it is also pretty fun for the grownup lol i feel like it's a great way to get some silly energy out. but also i think i need to start lifting weights lol because this kid is already so heavy and i want to be able to keep tossing him around and wrestling with him when he's even bigger!!

on a related note: he is getting much stronger!! he is a big boy (as of today: 75th percentile for weight, 98th percentile for height, and wearing 12 month clothes). some of the physical milestones have been challenging for him because he weighs a lot and has a big ol noggin, so it's a lot of work to lift/maneuver his body. but he is rolling over pretty regularly and happily now, and in the last day or two he's started pushing up on his hands a little when he's on his tummy which was the big tummy time milestone he hadn't hit yet. he can also sit up with hip support and is starting to brace himself on his hands while sitting. the contrast with my nephew has been so funny to watch... my nephew is two and a half months older and is the tiniest, springiest little guy, so it's a lot easier for him to monkey around lol. but my nephew also just has this truly nonstop internal motor that seems to drive him to MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE MOVE at all times. my baby uhh does not have that motor lol. he finds my nephew's frenetic energy a little overwhelming and is like actually i would prefer to lounge around here on my mat scritch-scratching a quilt, thank you. truly my child lol. why "move around" when you could instead sit in one place daydreaming. it's funny to watch them together and just be like ohhh kids are SO different there's such a wide spectrum of normal.

ok there are six things!!! some other rapidfire facts just for my files: he is still quite gloriously bald but he's started getting hair! no eyebrows yet though lol and no sign that they are on the horizon. he loves taking baths with me except maybe "loves" is the wrong word... he takes bathtime deathly seriously because it is Water Kicking Time and he was put on this earth to Kick Water. so bathtimes are training sessions... he does not smile at ALL during baths he is too Locked In, but he screams and screams when you try to take him out because he was STILL TRAINING. his eyes still have a little bit of that newborn dark blue left but are mostly dark brown now with perhaps the barest hint of hazel. he is really into music and will go into a trance state when you sing to him or play instruments for him. he loves to chomp on his toys. he used to "kiss" your cheek but now just wants to nom nom nom on your face. his cheeks get so rosy when he's worked up or chilly or excited. he is transfixed by his own hands. he does this sharp startled little inhale when something surprises him. he can now take his pacifier out of his mouth and sometimes put it back in (i'd say we have a 20% success rate of getting the pacifier back in the right way). he is almost always a perfect sleeper although we had a little rough patch last night so i'm holding my breath hoping he's not about to have some kind of regression. he loves to kvetch and has mastered the fine art of lowgrade grumbling and complaining. he is teething and so there is a lot of drool everywhere all the time. he likes to hold his board books while i read to him i think it makes him feel important and involved lol. he is very soft and warm and smells good. he loves to snuggle in the big bed with mom. he is the best. he is just the best!!! i am the luckiest person in the world. i love him so much and i love being his mom. what a good baby!!!

[adamnablelittledevil]

Only Blood Communion and Interview With the Vampire to go now. I'll make more elaborated posts about my thoughts once I'm done with everything, but here are some of my opinions:

TVA is absolutely my favorite (I've said it before and will say it again: the most purifying cry I had in my life, it destroyed and restored me in the best possible way), TVL, TQOTD and Prince Lestat are also on my top 4, though I don't know where to place the latter on my personal ranking. The others are sort of tied and the order changes according to specific aspects. Like, Blood and Gold covers a lot of eras and places of the world, has multiple interesting characters, so it's fun in the sense there's a lot of stuff to see, even if I'm not a Marius's fan and he isn't the best narrator imo. On the other hand, something like Merrick is more packed, just her, Louis and David (and some Lestat), but I just love her as a character and the whole story of her family. I can't really choose.

Memnoch would be the last because it was the one I struggled with (tho I loved Armand on it), I thought the concept was great and I could've loved it with a more active, intense and eventful execution. Prince Lestat and the Realms of Atlantis is second-to-last because most of the plot was dumb to me, the part that made sense was solved in an unconvincing way, I had to do a lot of suspending disbelief even for a supernatural/sci-fi story... But it was nice to have so many characters I love reunited, even if some didn't have lines, it's nice to know they're around and I enjoy the vampires having sort of a healthy little community.

Favorite character is definitely Armand, then Lestat, then Pandora, Maharet, Mekare, Flavius, Merrick, Bianca, Gabrielle, Mona, Benji, Avicus and Petronia (they didn't appear much and did awful brutal stuff, yes, but having an intersex/gender-fluid character was great and they had so much baggage I could empathize with them). Most after Armand and Lestat are tied. I don't know if I'd call Benedict a fave, but I'm somewhat attached to him (and I KNOW about those spoilers). I LOVE Vittorio and Ursula too and I hope they can appear in some shape or form on the show. I don't looooove Antoine, but he's alright to me. He just seems to be a poor/broke dude who wants to live, have friends and dedicate his existence to his hyperfixations and I can relate because same lol. I get him.

Favorite pairings (either as an OTP or brotp): Lesmand (👑👑👑), Pandora and Flavius (👑👑), Maharet and Mekare (👑, they just don't get more crowns because they don't appear as much as I wanted 😔), Armand and Benji and Sybelle (as duos and a trio), Armand and Riccardo, Armand and Bianca (pretty much Armand and everyone that isn't Marius lol), Lestat and Mona (their childish siblings-coded beef entertains me), Maharet and Jesse and Vittorio and Ursula (👑👑). I wish I had seen more of some characters/dynamics, tho.

MAYBE I could tolerate Marius and even love Magnus (he seems to have a sad and interesting story) if all I'd seen of them had been the content of the last trilogy, but given the previous books, I'm not sure I can enjoy Anne's decisions. I have a lot of mixed feelings about Magnus apologizing and Marius's behavior not even being seen as something to apologize for in the first place, but that's for another post.

Some of the books I would've been able to read and love with or without the show, some I only read to get information, but I'm mostly glad I'm equipped with so much of the lore now. That's not to say there aren't problematic things even for the genre that I need to compartmentalize and ignore (to some extent and not completely) for my enjoyment, because there is a lot of that, but it hasn't been a waste of time. And I'm glad I know what can happen in the future, make silly little fancasts and have events to look forward to seeing on the series. Obviously, opinions can change with the next books, when I re-read the novels or even with conversations and discussions... And that makes me excited as well.

[carmineskiesandspidereyes]

How would one get into batfam 🤨 there are so many graphic novels dios mios

oh man, I don’t know if I’m the one to ask, but I’ll try—

(and uh. Warning in advance lmao because holy SHIT this answer got long—whoops—)

But yeah, the way I got into dc and the batfam was by first listening to my beloved @bluutunes ramble about Jason Todd at 2 am,,, and then by reading the 2 fics they sent me afterwards that had made them so rabid about him. I, too, was quickly ensnared. (We then watched Under The Red Hood, now we’re on young justice—if the comics are daunting, you can 100% ask around and get good dc movie/show recs too! :)

From there? I just kept interacting w the fandom. I went looking for more Jason stuff, (and ofc, where there’s good Jason stuff there’s inevitably also other bat family dynamics.) They’re all entwined enough that you eventually get a vibe for the others no matter who you start with. before i knew it I’m reading Damian-centric fics and watching YJ89 just for silly young Dick Grayson and—you get the point lmao. Jason hooked me right off the bat because a) he was bluu’s fav, and b) because. Well.)

I am, in my heart of hearts, a shameless sucker for undead/revived characters. (But beyond that, there’s also his particular lovely mix of “terrifyingly smart and terrifyingly strong and a vengeful force of nature. This character is a reckoning. This character is a consequence.” Slotted in riiiiiiight next to “untethered barely-adult who can’t to fully trust his mind and body not do something he’ll regret, and his entire mission since returning—the core reason he does any of it, takes over an ENTIRE criminal underground—is just to gain proof that. That he’s cared about. by any parental figure. ever.”

Ouwgh. Yeag. I just think .he’s neat

And like. ALL of the siblings have stuff like that. Every single one has their own wealth of lore, experiences, roles, trauma, literally all else that you can delve into as deep as you please <3. (Dick narrowly avoided getting his brain overrides to be a bird soldier. Tim is missing an entire spleen. Duke is the only meta in the whole batfamily (and the only one besides Jason to grow up in Gotham’s slums.) Damian could take down a fully grown and trained assassin three times his size by the time he was like. six. Steph got told by pretty much every other batfam member, REPEATEDLY, that she should put the mask down and stop fighting crime. (Spoiler alert. She did not.) (why yes, I do think I’m funny.) and cass…man, I need to learn more about. I should have a random fun fact on hand for her. Damn. She’s cool as hell though👍)

Gods—ok, I think I’m done. I hope this wasn’t too egregiously long but also. Ask and ye shall receive :)

happy batfamily-ing my guy

[lexosaurus]

From Goth to Ghost

Here is my second fic for @ecto-implosion! I was so excited to get @blonchie's art for this round. It is sooooo fun and silly and ah it made for such a great writing experience! Please do yourself a favor and CHECK IT OUT!

Thank you to @lexiepiper and @fridurwrites for betaing!

Characters: Sam, Danny, Tucker Tags/warnings: No Warnings, Halfa!Sam (temporarily) Summary: The last thing Sam expected to wake up to was her body frozen on her bed. But unfortunately, thanks to a certain jock's midnight ponderings and the interference of one wish-granting ghost, that was exactly how she started off her morning.

[read on ao3]

[part 2]

****

In a land far, far away, a figure sat on his bed staring wistfully out his window. The moon gazed back at him, bright and round as it was. A shining beacon of hope for all teen boys around the globe. A message that no matter what trials lay ahead, they could face anything.

This boy in particular didn't just hear that message, but he internalized it deep inside his very soul. He pondered it, he tossed and turned it in his head, folding it gently like a baker mixing fluffy, delicate cake batter. He tasted it, added a pinch of salt, some sugar, a little more flour, mixing—but not over-mixing—until the batter was just right.

It was a powerful feeling, these sorts of deep, poetic thoughts. When most of his day was spent replaying football plays in his brain, or thinking of nicknames for a certain, dweeby classmate of his, having moments where he could just be one with his deepest thoughts was almost meditative.

Not that he meditated, of course. Meditating was for hippies and girls, and he was neither of these things.

For he was strong, he was powerful, and he was truly the master of his own brain. This was why, as he pondered the essence of the Universe and all its inhabitants, he was so lost in thought that he nearly missed the shooting star jetting across the sky.

But, of course, he didn't miss that shooting star—which could have been an airplane, actually—because he could never miss such fine, delectable details about life such as that.

Well, it didn't really matter if that shooting star was moving far too slowly to be a shooting star after all. Perhaps it was a satellite?

This was a topic that a certain nerd would know. Not that this boy cared at all about that dweeb.

Most important, was addressing the reason for all his pondering in the first place. Which was the fact that the local ghost boy was, confusingly, very attractive.

Which made no sense. Phantom was dead. And also a boy. And this intelligent, strong, charismatic soul pondering out his window was a boy, too, and also very much alive.

Was it gay if he was dead?

Either way, it didn't make any sense for him to be attracted to that ghost. Even if they were both very amazing, handsome guys, and even if maybe it would be very cool to date a hero.

Well, as this charismatic and kind young teen stared out his window at the passing definitely-not-a-satellite shooting star and the full moon beside it, an idea suddenly popped into his head.

It was a great idea, really, following the storybooks.

And so, Dash opened his mouth and wished upon a shooting star, "I wish Phantom was a chick."

****

"So you have wished it, so it shall be."

****

Something was off.

That was the first thing Sam knew, even before she was fully conscious. She lay there in her half-asleep daze, trying to fight the looming dread of her morning alarm, and the only thing that her brain could think of was the ever-encroaching feeling in her chest and mind that something, somewhere, was off.

But her alarm hadn't gone off yet, so really, what was there to worry about? It was probably just the vestiges of her mother's voice from last night needling her brain. Sam couldn't even remember now what they'd been arguing about—probably about her wardrobe, again—but either way, it wasn't important.

So, she fell back asleep.

...

And shot up in her bed.

Wait, why did it feel like she was breathing ice?

That wasn't right.

She placed a hand on her chest, and something pushed back.

She froze. Her blood ran cold.

Literally.

She froze herself to her bed.

Sam stared down at her frost-covered legs, her blanket doing little more to keep her warm than acting as a decorative set piece. Her jaw unhinged in a manner that would have had her mom screaming at her to mind your manners, young lady—but her screams were silent, and each breath sent shards of microscopic ice from her lips.

Her room's temperature plummeted, surely, but Sam could hardly feel it. In fact, it felt better to her now that the air was cold.

And then, her brain caught up, too quickly, and began moving light-years beyond her body. Because holy shit, she'd seen this before, she'd heard of this before, from one person, from Danny.

This she felt in her chest was a core. A ghost core. And this frost was ghost powers, and her ice was ecto-ice, and everything about her screamed Danny's ghost powers.

She must have been dreaming. That was right, she was definitely dreaming. There was no way she was a ghost. She hadn't died! She'd gone to sleep last night healthy and happy—okay, she'd gotten in a fight with her mom. But still! Her mom was a total Karen, but she wouldn't have killed Sam in her sleep. She was crazy, but not that kind of crazy.

Before her brain could spiral too far, the cursed sound of her alarm snapped her back to reality. Except, her hands had frozen to her pajamas.

And she had no idea how to turn her powers off.

Great. So, not only was she dead, but she was also cursed to be the most obnoxiously annoying haunted-mansion ghost that Amity Park's ever known.

Perfect. It was just what every goth always dreamed.

How did Danny turn this thing off? His powers tended to flare when he was agitated, which meant she just had to calm down.

Okay.

Yeah.

She could totally calm down.

She sat there, head spinning, the alarm still blaring, and half expecting her mother to storm the gate that was her bedroom door and demand Sam get out of bed right this instant, but no, that wasn't helping.

So she closed her eyes and breathed.

Just breathed.

She thought of a warm day. Even if the goth inside her wanted shadows, she thought of the sun. A human sun, on a warm day, with a full-blue sky that turned into a warm, summer night. Peaceful, surrounded by nature, roasting vegetarian hot dogs around the campfire with her two geeky homebody friends who'd finally put down their technology to join her in this moment.

Her fingers wiggled, and it took Sam a moment to realize that the ecto-frost was gone. When she opened her eyes, her clothing and bedding were dry like the frost had never been there to begin with.

But before she could wonder if she'd gone crazy, she felt another pulse from that alien chill in her chest, and reality hit her like a truck all over again.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!

She shut off her alarm.

The world was finally, finally silent.

And Sam was afraid to move. Afraid that one wrong twitch would set off her new ghost powers again. Afraid that next time, her mother really was going to barrel through her door and gasp and faint because, "Oh, Sammykins! What happened to you?"

She looked at her hands, but human skin stared back at her.

Human skin. Not glowing, green-tinged ghost skin. Human skin.

She peeled back her comforter, but her legs didn't glow either. They were dressed in the same black and purple fleece pants she always wore to sleep. Not a ghost outfit, a human one.

What. The. Hell.

Without thinking, she grabbed her phone from her nightstand and swiped to the one name on her contact list she knew could help.

Or, she hoped.

The phone rang in her ear. One ring, two, then three. Sam's heart thudded in her ears. Wait, heart? Since when did she have a heart?

This idiot had better be awake.

Four rings, then five.

If she had a heart, then maybe she wasn't dead. Danny had a functioning heart, didn't he? Sam couldn't remember. His biology was so strange and inconsistent. Maybe he did, which meant that maybe Sam wasn't dead dead; maybe she was just a halfa!

But how?

On the sixth ring, he picked up. His voice was thick, full of unshed sleep as he mumbled in a scratchy, drawn-out voice, "Sam? Wha...?"

"Danny!" Sam could taste the relief on her lips. "Danny, I need your help. I don't—something—"

"Whoa." Danny's voice on the other end was low, and oddly alert.

But whatever issue he was having could hold off. "I don't know how to explain this! I just. You need to. Ugh, I don't know what's happening!"

"Wait," he said, almost distracted, as if he weren't actually talking to Sam.

No, her problems came first right now. "Danny, please!"

"Wait, wait, wait. Hang on, Sam, something—"

"I have a ghost core!"

"My core is missing!"

Silence echoed off the walls of the cell line between them. Sam's body was a cacophony of both wanting to breathe hard because that was what her body was used to, and also scoffing at the idea of breathing to calm down because breathing was pointless and she was a ghost, damnit! She could do better than that! Even though she wasn't a ghost. She was alive, she reminded herself. 

Even if absolutely none of this should be possible.

It was Danny who broke the silence first. "Wait, what?"

Sam needed no further prompting to let the words spill from her mouth. "I have a ghost core now! I just woke up like this and I have no idea how it happened!"

To Sam's surprise, Danny began to laugh.

Genuinely laugh.

"What the hell, Danny?" Sam hissed. Around her, the lights flickered.

"No, sorry, it's just that I'm glad that this mystery is already halfway solved. If you were anyone else, I don't know what I would have done."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm saying my core is gone, Sam! Not off, but like, gone. It's not in my chest anymore. I'm human. But you have a ghost core. So somehow it seems like my core moved into your body."

Sam jerked back in bed, leaning against her disheveled cushions and scoffing. "That's ridiculous."

Danny didn't miss a beat. "Yeah, but my entire life is ridiculous. That's kind of part of the deal."

"Okay, fair. But still, what the hell am I going to do? I don't know how to use this core! I'm going to get discovered by first period!"

"Sam." Danny laughed. "Be real. I've transformed in the middle of the street and no one's ever caught me."

Well, he did have a point.

"Seriously, you'll be fine. And besides, even if you do accidentally turn invisible in front of someone, everyone in this town knows that when people get ecto-contamination, they sometimes show weird ghostly side effects. It wouldn't be too hard to say, oh I don't know, you accidentally dropped a beaker of one of my parents' inventions on you and you're just having some side effects while it wears off!"

If Sam wasn't trying to reassure herself that everything would be okay, she might have been impressed at how easily Danny thought of that simple lie. Impressed, and also maybe a little concerned.

"You'll be fine! Just hang tight ‘til we can figure out what's going on, anyway."

"Sure," she said. She breathed, releasing the knot in her stomach as she did. "Okay, okay, I'm good now."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Okay, see you in a bit."

She clicked off before he could respond, and her phone slipped through intangible fingers, bouncing against her mattress and settling next to her leg. 

She had ghost powers.

Not just any ghost powers, but Danny's ghost powers.

Somehow.

Inexplicably.

Neither of them had a single clue why, but somehow, they'd managed to swap human-halfa statuses.

So, Sam had Danny's ghost powers. His Phantom powers. The powers he, an overpowered halfa, used to fight other ghosts. And now, Sam had them in the palm of her hand.

Literally.

And she had to act normal. 

Right. Yes. Yup, that was fine. This was all totally fine.

"Sammykins!" the nails-on-chalkboard sound of her mother's shrill voice called from the bannister. "Get up! You're going to be late for school!"

Sam could feel the ectoblast tingling at her fingertips. 

But no, this wasn't a dangerous creature. Okay, her mother was absolutely a dangerous creature, especially when given the power of the PTA on her side.

Sam shuddered. The PTA was everyone in town's worst nightmare.

But still, this was her mother, a human. A very annoying, preppy woman. Not a dangerous ghost. So, she squashed the tingling of the ectoplasm and jumped from her bed. "I know!"

Showering was odd. More than odd, actually, it was downright outrageous. 

The hot water licked her skin like fire. It was muggy, and the humidity, once relaxing, suffocated her. Her internal body temperature rose with each passing second, and where she used to cry a defensive, "Goths don't sweat, we simmer!" to those who would poke fun at her not-so-summer attire, now, that simmering felt more like actual boiling.

Her hand shot out and yanked the lever to the cold setting. Almost immediately, the water went from trying to slow-roast her alive, to gently kissing her skin.

She sighed, both relief and horror filling her at once.

Relief because wow, this cold shower was seriously amazing. 

And horror because to her recollection, the only people on Earth who enjoyed icy cold showers were male social media influencers who posted about waking up at five in the morning for the daily rise and grind.

If ghost powers turned her into a rise and grinder, Sam was going to kill herself.

Miraculously, she managed to get through the morning without her mother noticing anything. Well, probably because Sam and her mother rarely if ever interacted face-to-face in the morning. If they did, all Pam could manage was a comment about how Sam's outfit wasn't ladylike, while Sam could only respond with a scowl in her mother's direction. So, for both of their sanities, they found it best to interact as little as possible before they had their morning coffees.

Intangibility only caused her to drop her spider backpack once before she was able to sling the straps over her shoulders. It really was such a pesky thing, and she almost regretted all the times when she'd made fun of Danny's sudden clumsiness post-accident.

Almost.

But not quite.

Because what were best friends for if not to make fun of each other?

"Bye, Mom!" she yelled to the empty air and then stepped through the threshold of the door.

Or, tried.

She hadn't meant to literally step through the threshold. As in, begin sinking through the floor.

Heart pounding, she swung her hands out and caught the side of the doorframe. Using a mix of adrenaline and physical training, she pulled her body back up. Her legs returned to the world of tangibility, and she sat on the floor, breathing rapidly. 

Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. 

What the hell was that?

She'd just stepped through the floor. She'd just stepped through the floor.

"Sam!" yelled out a voice from the street.

She'd never been so thankful to see the obnoxious yellow of Tucker's sweater before.

She opened her mouth, but the words caught in her throat, and her vision began swimming. Had Danny told him? Or was Tucker blissfully unaware? How was Sam going to explain all this?

Thankfully, Sam was saved.

"Need some help?" Tucker asked. "Danny texted!"

Normally, she would have felt insulted that anyone dare ask if she needed help up. But this time? Screw it.

"Yeah, actually."

"Are you leaving?" Sam's mother called from the bathroom upstairs where Sam knew she was layering her face under a mountain of anti-ageing products. 

"Yup! Going now!" Sam answered. "Tucker's here!"

"Tell him not to walk on the lawn! I just got it trimmed!"

Sam rolled her eyes, turning back to the sound of Tucker’s footsteps traversing up their flawlessly power-washed walkway. 

"Here." He held out his arm. "Don't worry, no one's looking."

Once convinced she wasn't going to start sinking to the other side of the planet again, Sam gingerly stood and tested her feet against the floor.

Her brain was happy to report that the floor was, in fact, solid.

Thank goodness.

She made quick work of shutting the door behind her, darting off her property, and, most importantly, getting away from her mother's prying eyes.

Once they were safely on the other side of the tall, privacy hedges, she whipped around to face Tucker and said, "I don't know what the hell Danny told you, but I'm kind of freaking out right now."

"So is he," Tucker said. "He said he'd meet us at school, by the way. He's poking around in his basement for any leads and then is gonna get a ride from Jazz. But I'll be honest, I thought y'all were pulling my leg ‘til I saw you going through the floor."

"Yeah, this is legit." Sam stuck her palm out and let the cold crystals surface on her skin, gathering them until they formed a sheet of ice on her palm. She saw Tucker's eyes widen and heard a sharp inhale with her newly acquired acute hearing, but otherwise, he didn't say anything until she tipped her palm over and let the ice fracture on the ground.

"What the hell?" Tucker breathed.

"Right?" Sam groaned. "I don't know what I'm going to do! I only barely have a lid on these powers right now."

"You'll be fine. Danny was, wasn't he?"

"Yeah, but Danny's core was a lot weaker back then. I've got it at full power right now, and I have zero idea where the brakes are in this thing."

Tucker didn't seem fazed, his stride overly bouncy and dare Sam say joyful for the situation at hand. "Yeah, but you're way more athletic and into the whole occult thing than Danny is anyway. You're a goth! I'm sure you'll figure it out. And if it makes you feel better, Danny's transformed in broad daylight loads of times and nobody's noticed."

"Yeah, he mentioned that over the phone too."

"Right? You'll be fine."

"Thanks, Tuck," Sam said, then faltered, her body flickering out of visibility for a split second before she rounded on Tucker, mouth gaping. "Wait, were you, Tucker Foley, trying to make me feel better? Me, the ultra recyclo vegetarian? Doesn't that go against your meat code of ethics or something?"

"Yeah, I know, right? What has the world come to where I'm out here consoling you? Tragic times and all."

Sam slugged his arm playfully.

"Don't tell Danny or he'll never let me live it down," Tucker added.

Sam snorted, adjusting her purple spider backpack straps and bounding forward. They walked in a comfortable silence for half a minute before Tucker broke her tranquility to talk about some game he was playing (badly, Sam mentally thought). He narrated his great epic about how much he'd grinded until he found some hack—a hack that Sam knew he didn't actually find but probably read about on Reddit—and at that point Sam was forced to interject because if Tucker had just played the game's tutorial properly or not skipped over all the cutscenes, he would have known a far easier way to level up than grinding those low-level monsters he'd been fighting and—ugh, Tucker could be so infuriating sometimes.

"See, I know you're mad at me right now because your eyes are literally glowing."

"I'm not mad at you!" Sam argued, pinching the bridge of her nose like she'd seen Danny do dozens of times to calm his eyes down. It didn't feel like it was doing much for her, though. "I just can't believe you're seriously so inept that you're resorting to digging for hacks on Reddit instead of just playing the game properly! See, this is why you suck at gaming. I don't play video games nearly as much as you but I always kick your ass because I try."

"And I don't?" Tucker said, affronted.

"No! You just look for cheats!"

"Because I'm working smarter, not harder!"

"And that's why you never get any better!" 

They rounded the corner, and the school campus began peeking into view. 

"Oh shit, hang on. I need to make my eyes stop glowing." Sam turned around to face the window of a closed store. Her reflection was faint, but even then she could see her eyes glowing fiercely. "Shit. How do I turn this off?"

"Don't be such a hothead."

Sam stamped her foot. "I'm not a hothead!"

"Oh damn, what am I walking into?" said a voice that had never filled Sam with so much relief as it did now.

A hand touched her shoulder, and Sam peered through her bangs to see the bright blue eyes of Danny Fenton. She took a deep breath from her gut just like she'd always practiced in her weekly yoga classes and felt the power recede into her body. 

"Hey, Danny," she said sheepishly.

"You looked like you were about to punch Tucker through the window."

"I did want to punch Tucker through the window."

"What did that poor window ever do to you?" Tucker quipped.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Yeah, it's the window I was arguing with. You were just the projectile, for sure."

"Seems like you got pretty good control over these powers, though," Danny said, eyeing her up and down.

Sam imagined he was expecting to find her in his typical state: covered in some amount of blood, ectoplasm, and dirt. Fortunately, she'd managed to make it to school unscathed.

"Oh no, you totally missed the part where she literally ate shit going through her door," Tucker cackled, wiping an invisible tear from his eye. "It was amazing. You should have been there. I've never seen our girl look so uncoordinated in her life."

Sam didn't even try to suppress the glow from her eyes as she rounded back on their very annoying friend and glared. "Another word and I will throw you through this window!"

"Yeah, yeah, sure you will!"

Danny stuck his hand out and flicked Tucker's cheek. "So, we going to class or what? Bell's about to ring and if I get one more tardy this week, Lancer said I'll owe him a Saturday detention."

Sam steeled herself, looking across the street at her biggest adversary this year: the school. "Fine, let's go." 

****

Somehow, Sam prevailed through homeroom without falling through her chair. Although, her new ghost core had certainly threatened to send her ass not just through her chair, but into the goddamn floor multiple times.

She had also managed to weather their English written check-in on the assigned book they were reading. Or, the book that some of them had been reading. Sam, of course, was one of the people who had legitimately read it. Persepolis was an easy read, after all, with it being a graphic novel and all. And besides, Sam could never call herself a feminist if she neglected to read the stories of women from other parts of the world.

On the other hand, Sam was pretty sure that both Danny and Tucker had thoroughly failed the open response question, even with her giving a verbal synopsis of the book before class had started. 

"Wait, who's Ebi?" Tucker had asked.

Sam wanted to throttle him. "He's Marji's father!"

"Who's Marji?" Danny asked.

"The main character, Danny. "

Yeah, they'd definitely failed the check-in.

But since the class had finished early, they had the rest of the period to chat. Or, in Sam's case, sit there trying to stay visible and in her chair.

"You have too much energy," Danny explained, looking thoroughly too unconcerned for their current predicament as he doodled spirals in the margins of his notebook. "You just need to burn it off."

"How the hell am I supposed to do that?" Sam asked. "We're in fucking school!"

"You can do it after school."

"Wow, gee, you're so helpful. I'm so glad you told me this at the beginning of the school day instead of, you know, texting me or something before school!"

"I forgot," Danny said, waving his hand as if to shoo her away.

"You're useless is what you are."

And he truly was. For as long as Danny had ghost powers, Sam realized that he didn't actually understand them to a shocking degree. Well, he was a boy after all, and boys could be a bit dense. Then again, there was a bit dense and then there was Danny, who seemed like such an airhead at times, that Sam was concerned that all those ghost fights had knocked all his brains from his skull.

"You'll figure it out," is what Danny said.

Sam did not win the fight to resist throwing her pencil at him.

Mr. Lancer, who seemed to have a knack for turning his head to see the exact moment when a student was breaking a rule, tilted his head in an expression that plainly read: are you fucking serious?

"Sorry!" Sam called. "Danny was being annoying!"

"When isn't Fentwerp being annoying?" Dash snickered.

Danny glared at Dash. "I'll stop being annoying if you take this pencil and shove it up your—"

"Boys!" Lancer's voice boomed through the classroom. "It's too early for this. Stop."

Dash grumbled something under his breath but otherwise turned back to his conversation with Kwan.

"And Ms. Manson," Lancer added, his expression rotating to its previous exasperation, "please don't throw pencils in my classroom."

"Fine, sorry," Sam said without conviction.

Apparently, though, that was enough for Mr. Lancer, who seemed content to return his attention down to the stack of papers and the red pen in his fingers.

"You are annoying me, you know," Sam told Danny. "Seriously, you haven't given me one bit of useful advice this entire day."

"Yeah, well, I don't know. I'm not a god, you know." Then he paused his doodling, chuckling to himself. "I'm not Clockwork."

"Clockwork, oh gracious god of time!" Tucker raised his hands up to the ceiling. "If you can hear us, please do grace us with your presence so Miss Sammykins can not eat shit on the floor! Even if from a purely objective standpoint that would be incredibly funny!"

"No it would not be!" Sam hissed.

Danny glanced up. "He's not gonna come for this, you know. He wouldn't even show up when Vlad had kidnapped me in his basement that one time."

Sam and Tucker rounded on him, simultaneously crying, "He did what?"

Once again, Danny looked far too unconcerned. "Oh yeah, he was trying to get my mid-morph DNA. Did I not tell you about that? The loser was using it for his stupid clone project. Seriously, he's such a creep."

"Oh, so that's how Danielle got stabilized? Vlad stole your mid-morph DNA after he kidnapped you?" Tucker asked.

"Yup."

Sam realized her mouth was gaping like a fish, and she forced her jaw back together. "Your life is so fucked up, you know that?"

Danny just continued doodling in his notebook. "Yeah, well, now you have my core so...good luck!"

If luck was what she needed, then she was about to cast every Wiccan spell she knew to get it. 

Fortunately, she managed to stay mostly intact through the rest of the period. Though, her legs did flicker in and out of visibility a few times. They were under her desk, so no one could see. But for good measure, she stole Tucker's jacket to cover her lap like a blanket, much to his protest.

A blunt "you'll live" was just about all the sympathy that he'd gotten from Sam.

As the day droned on, Sam began to get used to the core in her chest. It was a constant cold presence that seemed to send chill gusts anytime it was looking to cause mayhem in the form of intangibility or invisibility. And once she recognized the feeling of that cool energy balling up, she began learning how to brace herself for when it striked.

Of course, she wasn't successful in stopping all the cool gusts of energy. She was a novice, after all. But she was very proud of herself that she'd managed to begin teaching herself the first steps.

And also, very annoyed because that meant Danny's nails-on-chalkboard advice of "you'll figure it out" actually had some merit to it.

Not that she'd ever admit that to him. He and his advice could eat rocks for all she cared.

Point was, she had actually begun to get a grasp on whatever the hell was going on with her body. In the half hour before the lunch bell, she'd even started to hone her new abilities enough to make tiny ecto-ice crystals in the palm of her hand under her desk. She was at least partially certain that she could make these crystals on a bigger scale given the opportunity, but for some reason, she didn't think her teachers or the school administration would appreciate a seemingly-human student erecting giant crystals of unmeltable ice in the middle of their classrooms.

Though, their reactions would be very funny.

When the lunch bell rang, Sam was—for the first time—the first person out of the room, darting through the halls as if she'd personally been victimized by that biology class. Which, given the amount of worksheets that teacher loved to hand out, wasn't actually too far off from the truth.

Regardless, Sam was already halfway down the hall before she remembered to sling her spider backpack over both shoulders. She was the first to claim refuge in the trio's normally near-empty table, and given her boys seemed to be really taking their time today, to refrain from squirming in her seat like a toddler, she hid one hand in her lap and willed an ice crystal to her fist. This time, she was testing to see if she could make a simple shape with it. A flat disc, she decided. 

The crystal that formed wasn't exactly the smooth, flat disc she'd been envisioning. It was a bit rough, and it wasn't that thin either. But it wasn't like the round, perl-like ecto-ice that she'd willed to existence on a previous attempt. This one was different, and different meant that she was improving.

"You surviving?" a voice called over her shoulder.

She startled, getting so consumed by the ecto-ice, that she forgot that she'd been waiting for her friends to arrive. 

"Barely, but I'm doing it," she responded to Tucker, who'd practically fallen into his normal lunch seat.

"Well, that makes one of us. I thought Mr. Falluca was actually trying to murder us with the amount of homework he assigned."

"Tuck, he gave time in class to do it."

"And I clearly didn't work on it during class. That's what I have you for!" He leaned forward and pressed his fingers into a prayer. "I have you here to lend me your answers!"

Sam frowned. "And what are you offering in return?"

"A free hug?"

"Yeah, I don't think so"

"I know, I was just messing with you." Tucker grinned. "How about the bio homework?"

Sam tapped her chin, pretending to think about it. "Well, well, well, Mr. Foley. You've got yourself a deal." She stuck her hand out, and Tucker was quick to grasp her palm and shake her one hand with his two in an exaggerated motion. 

"Thanks, Sam! You're the best."

"Well," Sam said, taking her hand back. "Don't thank me yet. You still have to do the bio homework. Knowing that class, that could be a whole thing."

"It's fine. Bio homework is usually fast for me."

"We're talking about Bio?" Danny asked, placing his lunch tray down and taking his seat across the table.

Sam looked over, brightening. "Oh hey, Danny! Yeah, we are. Unfortunately."

Danny suddenly looked like he wanted to throw up. "Ugh, hate that class."

"Don't we all?" Tucker lamented

"I don't even know what we're learning right now," Danny said

"I don't think anyone knows," Tucker said.

"And you're doing my homework for me?" Sam asked as Tucker shoveled a bite of food into his mouth.

He chewed for a moment as if to be polite, and then decided to abandon that idea and talk with a full mouth instead. "Don't worry, I'll figure it out. I always do!"

"Gross," Sam scoffed. "I don't need to see your gory, spit-covered meat disaster."

"The school's gory, spit-covered meat disaster, actually." Tucker gestured to his lunch tray. 

"That doesn't make it any better."

"Guys," Danny interrupted, his face contorting into that exasperated expression it always did when she and Tucker started fighting about food. "Seriously? If you two get into this, Sam's eyes are gonna turn green again."

Sam squeezed the edges of the ecto-ice in her palms, anticipation clawing at her skin. "Actually, I've made some progress with it."

Danny perked up. "With figuring out how to switch things back to normal?"

"No. Better! I've starting figuring out how these powers work." Sam presented her palm to the two boys, the misshapen ice-disc proudly on display.

It took Sam a moment too late to realize that she probably looked like a toddler presenting their scribbled drawing to their parents that could be either a human or a cat depending on which angle the parent was looking at the scribbles from.

And she could see in their faces that this was exactly how Tucker and Danny were taking it. From Danny, a police nod at her lump of ice, and from Tucker, a squint through his glasses and a look that said, "huh?"

"The ice," Sam explained. "I've started to figure out how to shape and size it."

"Oh, that makes a lot more sense," Danny said, clearly relieved.

"Yeah, I thought all that ectoenergy managed to loosen a few screws, if you know what I'm saying." Tucker circled his pointer finger around the size of his head in the universal crazy gesture. "But, uh, congrats?"

"That awesome, Sam! Jeez, you're picking this up fast. It took me weeks before I figured out how to not turn the entire room into a blizzard whenever I turned the powers on."

"If it makes you feel better, I'm just copying you." Sam shrugged, placing the ice on the table. She stabbed her lettuce with her fork and held it in the air for a moment, amusement seeping into her at Danny who scooped the ice up like a dog being given a new squeaky toy for its birthday. 

He turned it around in his fingers, inspecting every scratch in the ice. "Hey, this is actually pretty good. It takes a while to get the hang of it. You really have to be specific on how you picture the item. Well, at first anyway. Over time, it gets a lot easier. But when I was first starting out, I had to clear my brain out before I made anything."

"Clearing your brain out? That shouldn't be too hard for you. There's nothing there to begin with."

Danny shot Tucker a glare. "Very funny."

"Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all night."

Sam ignored him. "I just need to practice." She shivered, and intangibility threatened to send her crashing to the ground. It took all her might to stave it off. "And, I need to burn this energy off. Hey, can you show me how right after school? Since we have no idea how long we'll be switched like this and all."

"Yeah, sure," Danny said.

Sam straightened, and began eating her salad with newfound vigor. She was going to burn the energy off regardless, but having someone there to coach her and help her control it would be immensely helpful.

All she had to do was make it through the rest of her school day.

****

part 2 >

[fountainpenguin]

Mind Over Magic

Crocker stuffing the cafeteria ceiling full of Fs...

So funny that A.J.'s reaction to Timmy getting answers right on a quiz is that he's lucky and Chester just assumes Timmy cheated somehow.

Wanda really has no filter... She'll just call her godchild a jerk with no hesitation. lmao.

I love Veronica's crush on Timmy.

Elmer has life so freakin' rough. There's just one kid in this class who's inexplicably possessed... incredible. <- Has a sudden urge to binge "Never Had a Friend Like Me" again.

I totally forgot Crocker knows about Elmer's mind control situation (or at least, we know Elmer asked him about it and Crocker promised to help him).

Wanda holding an entire armful of candy while Timmy gets only one piece... lol.

Hard Copy

Remembering how afraid Cosmo is of the doctor... Me glancing awkwardly at my 'fics like "Yeah, that tracks."

Cracks me up that Wanda and Juandissimo have an ongoing relationship of her using him "as bait." That's just what they are and he will play along every time... They are so funny.

This is such a good episode for Wanda... All the magical mistakes and poor choices in this episode are hers. I like when she pulls a jar of jam from the copier and starts eating it, completely forgetting what Timmy asked for... or when she and Timmy eat cake instead of solving the magical mishap affecting them. Very Season 7-esque when they have a tea party while Cosmo's gone ("Super Zero").

RIP Flipsie's indoctrination into a life of crime.

Parenthoods

Still so funny that Cosmo loves Canada in this episode and then in Season 7, you learn he's convinced his brother invented Canada.

I want Hazel to meet Schnozmo so bad...

Every time Mr. Turner calls his wife nicknames like Snugglebutt I lose my mind. Man just loves fawning over his wife.

Lol, there's a scene in Frayed Knots I wrote years ago that we're almost upon, and it draws directly from this episode (Anti-Wanda convinced the Anti-Fairy legal system will see her through).

Timmy has some really cute body language in this episode.

Honestly, this is one of my favorite episodes- it's just so silly and cute. Good use of magic and shapeshifting, lots of fun jokes like magic bending the fabric of the world like a map (or Timmy trying to assist with a theft).

-> I have a draft somewhere where I note down odd things that aren't against Da Rules, and I think "Assisting with crime" is one I need to add.

THERE THEY ARE! Cosmo and Wanda turn into rats at the end of this episode, and I think that's the shape of the rat I saw during my first watch of "1500 Minutes of Fame" and wondered if I'd seen it before. I'll have to compare these sometime.

The Big Superhero Wish

I have a soft spot for "Big Superhero Wish" because it's one of the first episodes I ever saw (during a visit to a pizza place when the sound was muted).

-> I think it's a fun one in the way it looks at relationships between random schoolkids (Especially Veronica). I also enjoy how Chester gets to chew through matter in this episode and then when you get to Season 5, he's trying to chew his way out of the F.U.N. Academy with the same "Munch munch munch" dialogue he does here.

Apparently Nega-Chin can tell Timmy and Remy apart even though regular Crimson Chin can't.

Timmy drowning in papers marked F followed by "Cool, there's a D in here!"

I like watching Timmy's average problems like getting picked on and wanting a glass of milk to cheer him up, but not even getting that.

Minotaur Francis is everything to me...

I like how Crocker knows a lot about comics, but specifically because he's confiscated them from kids during class. Playing that against his miserable child upbringing is kind of funny... I wonder if he read many comics as a kid, or if that's not something he ever really wished for.

Actually, Timmy being cut off before finishing a wish is something I would've liked to see more often. It's just silly. The tension balance in this episode once the heroes are wished away and villains stay is pretty good.

ksdlkfj, "I used my regular kid window-opening powers!" Elmer...

Totally forgot Chester ran up to Vicky and bit her on the leg, oh geez.

"My nega-vision will cut through your bodies like nega-vision!"

I would've loved an episode where Timmy goes into the real world to rescue the writer of the Crimson Chin comics since this episode ends with the Nega-Chin taking him captive. Alas. I guess I could write a 'fic about that, but I think it defeats the point a little when the visuals aren't going to change, haha.

I really want to watch "Masked Magician" again now, but I think that's later in Season 5 so it'll come up later in my binge.

Vicky Loses Her Icky

Ooh, Sanderson head gag means "Pixies Inc." is coming up after this!

This episode is so goofy. Timmy's parents hire Vicky to babysit Timmy while they sit in the car in the driveway, waiting to be hungry enough to leave to the restaurant.

I wonder why I always see people complain this episode is annoying for "giving Vicky the backstory of being evil due to being bitten by a bug," because it's clearly stated that the bug came about because she was mean and Cosmo and Wanda had to give it physical form to remove it [Wanda claiming "All that evil has to go somewhere"]. /shrug

Here it is! I've been trying to remember what the "corn on Pluto" episode was.

I don't... I don't love Vicky saying she's leaving to donate organs. Are they HER organs?

Alarm bells instantly ringing when Vicky offers to dig people basements. I don't think Dale would like that.

Shout-out to Timmy's dad being rescued from the evil bug and immediately saying, "Hey, we're at the Cake 'N Bacon... Are we at least being nice?"

President dressing up like George Washington was such a funny way to avoid depicting a specific president.

Pixies Inc.

My boys are in the house!!

How have I literally never noticed Timmy's in the Future Business Leaders of America club...

Y'know, I always thought H.P. was just blatantly losing the golf game despite cheating, but watching again, the reason he has more strokes than Timmy in golf is because he went first.

Never not funny how many emotions the Pixies show when they're actually spooked or sad. They talk in monotone, but still make expressions... and that's not even counting their silly dialogue. I love them.

Dale Dimmadome & H.P. dynamic is so silly to me... Dale grew up around Dimmadome Farms [implied] and runs a burger chain, and the soy- & rice-loving Pixies aren't exactly known for eating meat. I just want them to try getting on the same page and continually hit roadblocks that make it weird.

Baby Face

I had no memory of "Baby Face" coming immediately after "Pixies Inc.," but oh my gosh does that make the "Gary and Betty seemingly knew about Pixies the whole time" theory funnier.

There they are! My other sillies are in the house!

Wait.......... hold up. Were Gary and Betty in the room when Timmy made his baby wish? -> There... there's no door behind them when the camera pans over.

They are so dang sus. Why were these babies unsupervised. Why did they not hesitate for a split-second before cramming Francis in a teeny tiny cage..... They are my everything.

crying at the huge crash sound effect that hits as Gary and Betty open the door off-screen. Why are they like that...

I say this every time I watch this episode, but Gary and Betty opting not to help a crying child and instead lock him in a soundproof dome is so dang funny. These two should not be left with kids. If they show up in New Wish with the Pixies, I will die actually... I still can't believe we got a Flappy Bob cameo. My son.

I feel like Vicky knowing Gary's and Betty's fun box song by heart is such a neat detail. Why is she hanging out with them. Why would they ever hang out with her. Fascinating...

Mr. Right

Another of the episodes I watched muted at a pizza place once upon a time...

Timmy and Melvin shoved into the same locker is giving me Leonard/Tammy flashbacks.

Elmer really doesn't keep his problems secret, huh? ("The boil doesn't like to be touched!")

Shout-out to the running gag of Francis scheduling his beatings.

I wonder why Vicky didn't go to school. The elementary school got out early. Maybe "recording Timmy's pain for future generations as a short film" was her homework.

...... Okay, actually.... I can TOTALLY see why A.J. goes on to found the Galax Institute in A New Wish based on his sudden uptick of interest in Timmy after noticing he's right all the time. I guess he really will chase the unexplained!

I love Francis... "Guess what I have behind my back. And don't say scorpion, because I checked." <- Guy who's really itching to finish my "Francis with a fairy godparent" 'fic...

lol, is Wanda's signature in her poof cloud the same as her signature when she signed papers in "Pixies Inc."? I think it might be.

That's all for now.

[butdaddyilovehimmm]

S1 // S5