#actually i have an idea for who she might end up being

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

#feel like you would have a wild story to contribute on this

you would be correct

I also worked at a Lifeline and boy I wish my story was this wholesome but alas mine is instead hilarious

I come in one day, sorting the dvds as usual and my supervisor brings me a large box of items wondering what on earth they could possibly be, and as I am a fountain of knowledge for weird trivia she thought I was the best person to ask

my friends

I knew I was in for a ride when she pulls out of this box a flogger and paddle

next thing I know I'm looking my mild mannered middle aged supervisor in the eye and explaining to her what a spreader bar is

so of course I say 'there is no way in hell we can put these out the front without people knowing exactly what they are and possibly being scandalised and also even though this all looks very clean and well maintained (just a little dusty) they might technically be a biohazard'

she says something along the lines of 'this stuff looks like it might be expensive though, this might even be real leather, should we really just throw it out?'

none of the staff in the store, understandably, want to take it, but also we really really could not sell it, but also it was some well looked after good quality gear, the leather cuffs didn't even look worn down so if it had been used it hadn't been used often and by the state of the dust probably not for a very long time, I agreed it would be a waste to throw it out

so I say 'hypothetically if I had a friend who might be into this could we sell it to them on the downlow and have them come in through the back way to pick it up?'

and she said 'that would be great actually'

and so I message my freakiest bestie with 'hypothetically if I had some second hand bondage gear that desperately needed a home would you be willing to sneak into the back of a store to stealth buy it?'

and they said 'absolutely yes I would'

so 20min later they come sauntering in through the back and net themselves some pretty damn good quality hardly used bondage gear at an absolute steal in respect to the fact that they would need to clean and disinfect it all themselves

I have no idea what could possibly have happened to that gear had I not happened to have a very kinky friend on hand, it probably would have either ended up in a bin or shoved in a box for my manager to deal with in whatever way she deemed appropriate

but now I can very confidently say it has found a very loving home

and I am now excitedly informed every time they get the chance to use it

[sunseed-fandump]

The Tarot from the new trailer has me FLIPPING OUT (Sorry for the shitty screenshot) I was already making an analysis on the previous cards we got, but THIS has really got me doing backflips in my head because of the implications.

Let me explain.

First off, have you noticed that one of these cards is not like the others?

The first card, Strawberry Cookie, is in reverse. She is on the major arcana card XII - The Hanged Man. When the Hanged Man is in Reverse, it represents Delays, resistance, stalling, indecision, stagnation.

"The upright Hanged Man encourages you to pause for a moment and see things from a different perspective. Reversed, this card can show that you know you need to hit the pause button, but you are resisting it. Instead, you fill your days with tasks and projects, keeping busy and distracting yourself from the actual issue that needs your attention. Your spirit and body are asking you to slow down, but your mind keeps racing. Stop and rest before it’s too late. The Universe will only dial up the volume if you ignore it, and as a result, you may end up crashing. So, as soon as you hear the call, clear your schedule and make the space so you can tune in and listen."

Next we move on to Gingerbrave's card: 0 - The Fool.

In the Upright Position, the Fool represents new beginnings, innocence, spontaneity, a free spirit, and adventure.

"To see the The Fool generally means a beginning of a new journey, one where you will be filled with optimism and freedom from the usual constraints in life. When we meet him, he approaches each day as an adventure, in an almost childish way. He believes that anything can happen in life and there are many opportunities that are lying out there, in the world, waiting to be explored and developed. He leads a simple life, having no worries, and does not seem troubled by the fact that he cannot tell what he will encounter ahead."

Finally we have Wizard Cookie's card: I - The Magician.

In the Upright position, the Magician symbolizes logic, desire, resourcefulness, willpower, intelligence, skill, and manifestation.

"When you get the Magician in your reading, it might mean that it's time to tap into your full potential without hesitation. As a master manifestor, The Magician brings you the tools, resources and energy you need to make your dreams come true. Now is the perfect time to move forward on an idea that you recently conceived. The seed of potential has sprouted, and you are being called to take action and bring your intention to fruition. The skills, knowledge and capabilities you have gathered along your life path have led you to where you are now, and whether or not you know it, you are ready to turn your ideas into reality."

So what do these 3 cards mean together? Well, we have someone who is stagnating, who is stuck and unable to move forward. But they go through a rebirth - an epiphany - and start on the path of a new journey. And on that new path they unlock their full potential.

This is Pure Vanilla Cookie's story in the next update in a nutshell!

Sorry for the sorta long post, i just wanted to geek out about this since I love love love it when Tarot is used as a narrative device :)

[astrxq]

Borrowed Time

modern!cregan stark x reader

words: 17.4k

notes: this was requested!!

You were in the middle of highlighting your history notes when Sara dropped into the seat across from you, that familiar mischievous glint in her eyes. Before you could even ask what she wanted, Jace appeared beside her, wearing an equally suspicious grin.

"No," you said immediately, returning to your notes. "Whatever it is, no."

"You haven't even heard what we're going to say," Jace protested, pulling out a chair and settling in. The library was quiet around you, afternoon sunlight streaming through the tall windows.

"I don't need to hear it. That look on both your faces means trouble," you said, capping your highlighter. "Last time you had that look, we ended up getting kicked out of that coffee shop on Fifth."

"That was one time," Sara waved her hand dismissively. "And the barista was totally overreacting. How were we supposed to know the chairs weren't meant to be stacked?"

"They were clearly not meant to be stacked, Sara."

"Ancient history," Jace cut in, leaning forward. "This is actually about your academic future. We're putting together a study group for Martinez's class."

You paused, eyeing them both suspiciously. "Political Science?"

"The very same," Sara nodded, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. "The one you were ranting about last week at dinner. What was it you said? Something about how the theories were, and I quote, 'slowly sucking your soul out through your eyeballs'?"

"I was being dramatic," you muttered, though you couldn't quite meet her eyes. The truth was, you'd been struggling more than you wanted to admit.

"Were you though?" Jace reached over and picked up your textbook, flipping through the rainbow of highlighted pages. "Because this looks like a cry for help. What does pink even mean?"

You snatched the book back. "Pink is for... important things."

"Everything is highlighted pink!"

"Everything is important!"

Sara tried to suppress her laugh but failed. "This is exactly why you need our study group. We've got a solid plan – twice a week, two hours max. We can share notes, discuss the readings..."

"Who else is in it?" you asked, trying to sound casual even as suspicion crept in. They were being far too enthusiastic about this.

The look Sara and Jace exchanged was quick, but you caught it. Years of friendship had taught you to recognize their silent conversations.

Sara said carefully, suddenly very interested in straightening her sleeve. "Me, Jace... and my brother."

Your stomach did an odd little flip. Cregan. Of course it would be Cregan. Sara's half-brother, Jace's best friend, and quite possibly the most intimidating person you'd ever met – not because he was mean or hostile, but because he seemed to exist in a completely different orbit than yours despite sharing the same friend group. You'd seen him plenty of times over the past year, usually deep in animated conversation with Jace or quietly sitting while the rest of you chatted. He'd never been anything but polite, but there was always this careful distance, as if he was deliberately keeping you at arm's length.

"Your brother," you repeated slowly. "The one who never speaks to me?"

"He speaks to you!" Sara protested.

"'Excuse me' and ‘can i borrow a pen’ don't count as speaking to me, Sara."

"He's just... quiet," Jace jumped in. "You know how he is. But he's got the highest grade in the class. Like, by a lot. And he actually takes good notes, unlike some people." He pointedly looked at his own notebook, which appeared to be covered in what might have been either class notes or an elaborate doodle of a dragon. It was hard to tell.

You bit your lip, considering. The idea of spending extended time with someone who seemed to find you completely uninteresting wasn't exactly appealing, but you really did need help with the course. And maybe, you thought, it wouldn't be so bad with Sara and Jace there as buffers.

"Fine," you sighed, already wondering if you'd regret this. "But if it gets weird–"

"It won't!" Sara bounced up from her chair, beaming. "First session's tomorrow at four. We'll be in study room C. It's going to be great!"

"Super great!" Jace agreed, gathering his things. "Life-changing, even. You'll thank us later."

As they walked away, you couldn't shake the feeling that they looked far too pleased with themselves.

The next afternoon, you arrived at study room C a few minutes early, half-expecting Jace and Sara to already be there, goofing off or laying out some kind of elaborate prank. But when you pushed the door open, the only person inside was Cregan.  

He looked up from his notebook, brows lifting slightly in surprise before settling back into his usual neutral expression. He was seated at the far end of the table, his laptop open, a few books stacked neatly beside him. Unlike Jace’s chaotic scrawl or Sara’s color-coded monstrosity of a planner, his notes were meticulously organized – paragraphs written in a clean, even script, highlighted sparingly.  

You hesitated in the doorway. “Am I early?”  

Cregan shook his head. “They’re late.”  

That sounded about right. You stepped inside, setting your bag down as you tried to ignore the awkward weight of silence stretching between you. Cregan didn’t offer any small talk, just went back to his notes, flipping a page with practiced ease.  

You exhaled slowly, pulling out your own notebook and flipping it open. A moment passed. Then another. The silence became unbearable.  

“So,” you said, glancing at him. “You actually volunteered for this?”  

Cregan���s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile there and gone before you could fully register it. “Not exactly.”  

You huffed a quiet laugh. “Let me guess. Sara roped you into it?”  

“She has a way of convincing people.”  

“That’s one way to put it,” you muttered, twirling your pen between your fingers. “She didn’t tell me you were basically carrying the class, though.”  

“I wouldn’t say that.”  

“She would. And Jace. Apparently, your notes are legendary.”  

He glanced at you then, a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes. “I just write things down.”  

“Unlike Jace.”  

That actually earned you a short laugh – low and warm, a sound you weren’t sure you’d ever heard from him before. Something in your chest tightened at it.  

The door banged open before you could process that feeling, and Sara and Jace tumbled in, both out of breath.  

“Sorry, sorry,” Sara panted, dropping into a chair. “There was a situation.”  

“Jace knocked over a whole display in the library cafe,” she continued as Jace groaned, dropping his head onto the table. “It was tragic.”  

“I maintain it was too close to the counter,” he mumbled into the wood.  

You caught Cregan watching his sister and best friend with what looked like fond exasperation, and for a moment, you envied how easy they all were with each other. How naturally they fit together. You'd known Jace since freshman year, and through him, Sara, but Cregan had always felt like someone just out of reach – present but never quite part of your circle.

"Right," Sara said, finally catching her breath. "Where were we? Political theory? The reading responses due next week?"

"The Weber analysis," Cregan supplied quietly, and you noticed how his voice changed when he spoke to them – looser, more familiar. It shouldn't have bothered you, but something about it sat heavy in your stomach.

"Oh right, Weber," Jace lifted his head from the table, suddenly animated. "The guy with all the bureaucracy stuff."

"That's... one way to put it," Cregan said, and you could hear the hint of amusement in his voice. He turned to a specific page in his notebook, and you watched as he easily fell into conversation with Jace about the reading, their words flowing back and forth with the ease of years of friendship.

You tried to focus on your own notes, but your attention kept drifting to the way Cregan's entire demeanor had shifted. Gone was the careful restraint from earlier – now his hands moved as he spoke, emphasizing points about social stratification and authority structures. His voice carried more inflection, and occasionally he'd even smile at Jace's terrible political theory puns.

"Hey," Sara's voice was soft beside you, making you jump slightly. You hadn't even noticed her move closer. "You okay? You're kind of staring at your blank page pretty intensely."

"What? Oh, yeah," you quickly scribbled down the date, just to look busy. "Just trying to keep up."

Sara hummed thoughtfully, her eyes darting between you and her brother. "You know," she said, keeping her voice low, "he's not actually as intimidating as he seems."

"I don't find him intimidating," you protested, perhaps a bit too quickly.

"Right," she drawled, clearly unconvinced. "That's why you've barely said two words to him in the past year."

"That's not true," you started, but she cut you off with a knowing look.

"It's okay. He's not great at... people. Well, new people," she amended, glancing at her brother who was now rolling his eyes at something Jace had said. "Just give it time."

Before you could respond, Cregan's voice cut through your whispered conversation: "If we're actually going to study, we should probably start with the main concepts."

You looked up to find him watching you and Sara, his expression unreadable once again. The warmth from his conversation with Jace had vanished, replaced by that familiar distance that made you feel like you were somehow intruding, even though you'd been invited to be there.

"Right," you said, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "The main concepts. Of course."

As he began outlining Weber's theory of social action, you couldn't help but wonder if Sara was right about giving it time. Because right now, it felt like no amount of time would bridge whatever carefully maintained distance Cregan seemed determined to keep between you.

About halfway through the session, Jace let out a dramatic sigh, slumping back in his chair. "I can't focus. The lights in here are way too bright."

Sara snorted. "The lights are fine, you big baby."

"No, they're definitely giving me a headache," Jace insisted, throwing an arm over his eyes. "We should do this somewhere else next time. Like, I don't know..." He paused for effect. "My place?"

You raised an eyebrow. "You mean the apartment that looked like a tornado hit it last time I was there?"

"It's not that bad!"

"Jace, there was a pizza box being used as a mousepad."

A low chuckle came from across the table, and you looked over to find Cregan trying to hide his amusement behind his hand. The sound made your stomach do that weird flip again.

"See?" Jace gestured wildly. "Even Cregan agrees we should move locations. It's his apartment too, and he's much neater than me."

"That's not exactly difficult," Cregan murmured, earning another laugh from you.

"Fine, gang up on me," Jace pouted. "But seriously, these lights are killing me."

Sara rolled her eyes. "Maybe if you actually looked at your notes instead of your phone..."

As they bickered, Cregan turned his attention back to the material at hand. "So, Weber's concept of social action..." He glanced at your notes and paused, taking in the rainbow explosion of highlights and the scattered notes in the margins.

Heat crept up your neck. "I know it's a mess," you said quickly. "I just... highlight things that seem important."

"Everything seems important?" There was no judgment in his voice, just that slight hint of amusement you were starting to recognize.

"Better safe than sorry?" you offered weakly.

He nodded thoughtfully, then slid his notebook slightly closer to you. "Here," he said quietly. "This might help structure it better." His neat handwriting laid out the concepts in clear, logical progression, with key points underlined rather than highlighted.

You leaned in slightly to read, suddenly very aware of how close you were to him. His handwriting was even nicer up close, you noticed, and he'd drawn small diagrams in the margins to illustrate some of the more complex ideas.

"So the rationalization of social action," he began explaining, his voice taking on that teaching tone that made him sound impossibly smart, "can be broken down into these four types..."

You tried to focus on what he was saying, you really did. But there was something about the way he spoke, confident and clear, occasionally gesturing to emphasize a point, that made it hard to concentrate. A strand of dark hair fell across his forehead as he leaned forward to point something out, and you found yourself fighting the urge to brush it back.

"Does that make sense?" he asked, looking up at you suddenly.

"Oh! Um, yes," you stammered, hoping your face wasn't as red as it felt. "The, uh, the four types of social action. Traditional, affective, value-rational, and..." you trailed off, momentarily distracted by how his eyes seemed to catch the light.

"Instrumental-rational," he finished, his lips quirking slightly. Was he amused by your confusion? "We can go over it again if you need."

"No, no, I got it," you said quickly, even as Jace muttered something about the lights still being too bright. "Just... processing."

Cregan nodded, but you could have sworn there was something softer in his expression now, something less distant than before. But before you could be sure, he was already turning the page, moving on to the next concept, and you were left wondering if you'd imagined it.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught Sara and Jace exchanging one of their looks – the kind that made you feel like you were missing something obvious. Sara's lips were curved in a knowing smile, while Jace waggled his eyebrows in what he probably thought was a subtle manner.

You furrowed your brows at them, a silent question, but they just smiled back innocently. Too innocently. Sara even had the audacity to wink at you before pretending to be extremely interested in her phone.

"So these social institutions," Cregan continued, completely oblivious to the silent conversation happening across the table, "they form the foundation of Weber's bureaucratic theory." His finger traced under a perfectly written line of text, and you couldn't help but notice how even his bullet points were symmetrical. Who even wrote bullet points that neatly?

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying not to feel intimidated by how effortlessly he explained complex theories that had taken you hours to barely grasp. He didn't even need to refer to the textbook – everything just seemed to flow from his mind to his lips with perfect clarity. It was almost unfair, really, how someone could be so... academically put together.

"The key thing to remember," he was saying, tapping his pen against a small diagram he'd drawn, "is how these systems of authority interconnect." His voice had that quiet confidence that came from truly understanding something, not just memorizing it.

You nodded, trying to focus on the actual words and not on how his hand moved across the page, or how he'd occasionally glance up to make sure you were following along. The worst part was that he probably thought you were struggling with the material – which you were, but not entirely for the reasons he might assume.

"Makes perfect sense," you heard yourself say, even though your mind had wandered to wondering if he color-coded his closet as meticulously as he organized his notes.

Sara cleared her throat loudly, making you jump slightly. When you looked up, she and Jace were wearing matching grins that made you want to throw your highlighter at them. Whatever they were thinking, whatever they thought they were seeing, you didn't want to hear it.

Cregan glanced between the three of you, a slight crease appearing between his brows. For a moment, you thought he might ask what was going on, but he just turned back to his notes, that familiar distance settling over him again like a shield.

You bit the inside of your cheek harder, telling yourself it didn't matter. You were here to study, not to analyze why your friends were acting weird, or why Cregan's handwriting was unreasonably perfect, or why you suddenly cared so much about either of those things.

***

The next day found you sitting on Jace and Cregan's surprisingly clean couch (at least this part of the apartment), waiting for Sara and Jace who were now twenty minutes late. You'd texted them both twice, receiving only a vague "on our way!" from Sara and a string of random emojis from Jace that made absolutely no sense.

Cregan sat in the armchair across from you, repeatedly adjusting the stack of books on the coffee table between you. First, he aligned them perfectly with the table's edge. Then he shifted them slightly to the left. Then back to center. You watched as he cleared his throat for what must have been the fifth time in as many minutes.

When you glanced up at him, he offered a quick, almost shy smile before looking away again. It was strange seeing him in his own space – he seemed both more relaxed and somehow more nervous, his usual composed demeanor slightly cracked.

The silence stretched on, not exactly uncomfortable but definitely not comfortable enough to ignore. You watched as he picked up his notebook, then put it down, then picked it up again.

"So," you finally said, desperate to break the quiet, "this is definitely cleaner than I expected."

His lips twitched. "I may have... tidied up a bit."

"A bit?"

"Jace's room is still a disaster," he admitted, and this time his smile stayed longer. "I drew the line at going in there. For my own safety."

You laughed, remembering the pizza-box mousepad. "Probably wise. I'm pretty sure I saw something move under his laundry pile last time."

"That was last week's sandwich," he said with such perfect deadpan delivery that it took you a moment to realize he was joking. When you did, you couldn't help but laugh again, and something in his posture seemed to relax slightly.

"Please tell me you're joking," you said, though you weren't entirely sure you wanted to know.

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"You know what? No. No, I don't." You shook your head, still smiling. "How do you live with him? I mean, you're so..." you gestured vaguely at his perfectly organized notes.

"Neurotic?" he supplied, but there was amusement in his voice.

"I was going to say organized, but..." you teased, surprised by how easy it suddenly felt to talk to him.

He ran a hand through his hair, messing it up slightly in a way that was unfairly endearing. "It works, somehow. He's..." Cregan paused, considering his words. "He balances things out. Keeps me from getting too..."

"Neurotic?" you offered, throwing his word back at him.

That earned you another one of those rare laughs, the kind that seemed to surprise even him. "Exactly."

Your phone buzzed then, another text from Sara: Sorry!! Got held up at the library. Start without us? 

You looked up to find Cregan checking his own phone, his expression shifting into something you couldn't quite read. "Let me guess," you said. "They're 'on their way'?"

"Apparently there's a 'situation' at the library," he replied, making air quotes with his fingers.

"Of course there is." You slumped back against the couch. "They're not coming, are they?"

"Probably not," he admitted, and was it your imagination, or did he look almost... pleased about that?

"Wait," you said, frowning at your textbook, where the words had started to blur together after an hour of reading. "What's this part about instrumental rationality? I keep getting it mixed up with the other types." You chewed on your pencil, a nervous habit you'd never managed to break.

Cregan shifted closer on the couch – you'd both migrated there to share the coffee table space – and leaned in to look at where you were pointing. Your knees brushed, and neither of you moved away. The warmth of the contact made it harder to focus on the words in front of you.

"That's the one about achieving specific goals," he explained, his voice softer now that he was closer. "It's about choosing the most efficient means to an end. Like..." He paused, thinking. "Like when someone chooses their actions based purely on what will get them the best outcome."

You nodded, still worrying the pencil between your teeth. "So if I'm studying just to get a good grade rather than because I want to learn..."

"Exactly," he said, and you noticed his eyes flick down to your mouth before quickly returning to the textbook. "Or choosing a major based on job prospects rather than personal interest."

"God, you're really smart," you blurted out before you could stop yourself, immediately feeling heat rush to your face. "Like, really, really smart. How do you just... know all this stuff? It's like you don't even need to study, it's all just there in your head."

A flush crept up his neck, and he ducked his head slightly, messing with the corner of his notebook. "I just... read a lot," he said, running a hand through his hair in what you were starting to recognize as a nervous gesture. "You're probably smarter than me."

You let out a surprised laugh. "That's literally the biggest lie you've ever told, and we both know it." You gestured at your highlight-covered notes, which looked like a rainbow had exploded across them. "I'm pretty sure my brain looks like this on the inside. Just... chaos and color-coding."

"That's not–" he started, then seemed to catch himself. His expression grew serious. "Different people learn differently. It doesn't make you any less intelligent. Besides," his lips quirked up slightly, "your way seems more interesting than mine."

"Oh yeah?" you challenged, trying to ignore how his knee was still pressed against yours. "What's so interesting about my highlight explosion method?"

He actually smiled then, reaching over to tap one of your particularly colorful pages. "Well, for one thing, I'm genuinely curious about your highlighting system. Pink for important things, you said?"

"Don't make fun of my system," you groaned, but you were smiling too.

"I'm not," he insisted, and his voice had that warm undertone that you'd only heard him use with Jace and Sara before. "I'm serious. At least your notes have personality. Mine are just..."

"Perfect?" you supplied.

He huffed a laugh. "Boring."

"Are you kidding? Your notes are like... they're like art. Look at these diagrams!" You pointed to one of his careful illustrations. "Meanwhile, my attempts at drawing charts look like they were done by a drunk toddler."

"I like your charts," he said quietly, and something in his tone made you look up at him. He was closer than you'd realized, still leaning in to look at your notes. "They're... creative."

You were suddenly very aware of how little space there was between you, how his shoulder was almost brushing yours, how his knee was still pressed against yours. "Creative is a nice way of saying messy," you managed to say.

"No, I mean it. Look–" He started to say something else, but the sound of keys jingling at the door cut him off.

There was a scraping sound, followed by a quiet curse from what sounded like Jace, then more jingling. The key seemed to miss the lock at least three times before the door finally swung open.

"–telling you, they're probably just–" Sara's whispered voice drifted in, cutting off abruptly as she and Jace entered the apartment. They both stood in the doorway, staring at you and Cregan on the couch with your books spread out between you.

Sara's expression shifted from anticipation to something like disappointment, while Jace's eyebrows shot up comically high. "Have you two actually been studying this whole time?" Jace asked, sounding almost accusatory.

You and Cregan exchanged a confused look. "Why wouldn't we be?" you both asked simultaneously, then glanced at each other in surprise.

"No reason!" Sara said quickly, too quickly. "We just thought... I mean, we were gone so long, and you were alone, and..."

"That we'd what?" you prompted, narrowing your eyes at them. "Start a paper airplane competition with our notes?"

"Nothing!" Sara jumped in. "Nothing at all. Just... surprised by all the... studying."

"I mean, that paper plane competition would have been more interesting than Weber," Jace muttered, earning an elbow in the ribs from Sara.

You noticed Cregan shifting slightly beside you, putting a bit more space between your knees, and immediately missed the warmth. "We're in a study group," he said flatly, but there was a tension in his voice that hadn't been there before. "What else would we be doing?"

Sara and Jace exchanged another one of their looks – the kind that made you want to throw your thoroughly chewed pencil at them. "Right," Sara said, dragging out the word. "The study group. Anyway! What did we miss?"

"Weber's theory of rationalization," you said, trying to ignore the knowing smirks they were both wearing. "Which you'd know if you'd actually been at the library like you said."

"We were!" Jace protested, but his guilty expression said otherwise. "There was a whole... thing. With books. And... shelves. Very serious library emergency."

"Very convincing," Cregan muttered, just loud enough for you to hear. You bit back a smile, catching his eye for a moment before quickly looking away.

"Well," Sara declared, dropping into an armchair with far too much enthusiasm, "we're here now. So, instrumental rationality? Anyone? Bueller?"

You groaned, slumping back against the couch. "We literally just went over that."

"Perfect timing then," Jace grinned, sprawling across the other chair. "You can explain it to us. Since you two have been studying so diligently and all."

"Unlike some people," Cregan added dryly, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at Jace's offended expression.

"I've been studying!" Jace protested. "Just... you know, in my own way."

"Is that what you call sleeping with your textbook under your pillow?" Cregan asked, and this time you couldn't hold back your laugh.

As you launched into an explanation of Weber's theories, stumbling only slightly over the terms, you couldn't help but notice how Cregan had angled himself slightly toward you, his shoulder just barely brushing yours as he added clarifying points to your explanation. And if Sara and Jace kept exchanging those irritating knowing looks, well, you decided to ignore them.

Even if you had a sneaking suspicion they might be right about... whatever it was they thought they were seeing.

The study session had stretched into hours, and despite the caffeine you'd consumed, your brain had begun to feel like mush. The terms Sara was repeating, again and again, had started to blur together, an endless loop of rationality and theory that felt more like noise than knowledge. You let your eyes drift shut for a moment, only to open them again when Jace shifted beside you, his legs still sprawled lazily across your lap.

He was mindlessly tracing patterns on the edge of his notebook, his gaze elsewhere, his usual energy faded into something more comfortable. His quiet presence was oddly soothing, though you weren’t sure if it was the weight of his legs or the fact that everything about him seemed to take on a hazy calm in this late hour. You rubbed your temples, trying to clear the fog.

Cregan, who had been quietly following the discussion, had noticed the slight slump of your shoulders, the way your attention drifted. He shifted in his seat across from you, catching your tired gaze.

“How about we take a break?” he suggested, his voice steady but with a hint of warmth you didn’t expect. “Maybe... get some food? Clear our heads a bit?”

Sara perked up at the mention of food, but Jace, still lounging with his legs across your lap, groaned dramatically. “Food sounds like a good idea,” he agreed, though the way he shifted only slightly suggested he wasn’t keen on moving.

“You’re so lazy,” Sara teased him, but it was clear she was ready to indulge.

Cregan shot you an amused look as he leaned forward, hands on his knees. “I’ll order, if you guys want.”

Your stomach had been protesting the lack of proper meals for hours, the idea of food suddenly making your body feel much more alive. "Honestly, I’m starving," you admitted, leaning back into the couch and letting Jace’s legs settle heavier over yours, the comfortable weight of them anchoring you.

Cregan had already moved toward the phone, his tall form cutting through the space between the couch and the table with purposeful strides. 

He’d barely looked at the screen when he muttered about getting “a little bit of everything”, a casual declaration that spoke volumes about his no-nonsense approach to food. You couldn’t help but appreciate the simplicity of it all; he’d just order it all. No one would be left hungry.

You had almost forgotten about Jace, whose legs were still comfortably sprawled across your lap. But now, as he shifted and poked at your side, you found his eyes focused on you, bright with mischief.

“Hey,” he said, the playful note in his voice unmistakable. “Can you come with me to get a glass of water?”

You blinked at him, incredulous. “The kitchen’s, like, five feet away,” you replied, gesturing toward the open space across the room. "You're a big boy. You can go on your own."

“I could really use your help."

You groaned, the weariness in your bones making it hard to argue. “You’re impossible,” you muttered under your breath, but already, you were pushing yourself off the couch, your hand lightly brushing against his legs as you stood. Jace’s grin widened as you walked toward the kitchen, clearly pleased with himself for getting you to move.

Behind you, Sara was still mumbling terms under her breath, her brother’s voice fading into the background as he handled the phone call. The steady murmur of the conversation didn’t even register in your mind; your focus was solely on Jace, who was trailing behind you with a slow, exaggerated shuffle.

As you entered the kitchen, you turned to face him, expecting him to move toward the cabinet or the tap for a glass. But instead, he simply stood there, looking around aimlessly, as if the very task of getting water had suddenly become an unsolvable puzzle.

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Well? What’s the holdup?”

He glanced back at you, his expression one of mock innocence.

"So..." Jace dragged out the word, leaning against the counter with exaggerated casualness. "You and Cregan..."

"Were studying," you finished flatly, already knowing where this was going. "Like we're supposed to be doing."

"Right, right. Just studying." He wiggled his eyebrows. "For two whole hours. Alone. And you didn't think about doing... anything else?"

Heat crept up your neck. "Jace!"

"What?" He held up his hands defensively, but his grin remained firmly in place. "I'm just saying, two people, empty apartment, plenty of time..."

"To study Weber's theories of social organization," you cut in, though you could feel your face burning. "Which is exactly what we did."

"Boring," he sang under his breath, then dodged the dish towel you threw at him. "Come on, you can't tell me you weren't even a little tempted to, I don't know, actually talk to him? About something other than dead sociologists?"

You busied yourself getting a glass from the cabinet, even though Jace still hadn't asked for water. "Why would I? He barely tolerates me as it is."

"What?" Jace's playful demeanor shifted into genuine confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on," you sighed, setting the glass down maybe a bit too forcefully. "This is literally the most he's ever spoken to me, and it's only because Sara forced him into this study group thing. He probably thinks I'm an idiot with my rainbow notes and constant questions."

Jace stared at you for a long moment, then burst out laughing. "Oh my god, you're actually serious."

"Keep your voice down!" you hissed, glancing toward the living room where you could still hear Cregan on the phone with the takeout place.

"Sorry, sorry," Jace wheezed, not looking sorry at all. "It's just... you think he finds you uninteresting? You?"

"Have you not noticed how he barely speaks to me? How he's always perfectly polite but never actually..." you waved your hands vaguely, "engages? Meanwhile, he talks to you and Sara like it's the easiest thing in the world."

"Because we've known him forever," Jace said, like it was obvious. "Trust me, he was way worse with us at first. It took me months to get more than three words out of him when we first met."

"That's different," you insisted, though something uncertain flickered in your chest. "You're his best friend, and Sara's his sister."

"And you're..." Jace trailed off, that irritating knowing look back on his face.

"His unwilling study partner," you finished. "Who he's stuck with because you and Sara keep abandoning us."

"Speaking of which," he grinned, "notice how he hasn't complained about that? Not even once?"

You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it again. Come to think of it, Cregan hadn't seemed particularly bothered by Sara and Jace's constant absences. If anything, he'd been... well, you weren't sure what he'd been, but 'annoyed' definitely wasn't it.

"That doesn't mean anything," you said finally, but your voice lacked conviction.

"Sure it doesn't." Jace pushed off from the counter, that insufferable grin still in place. "Just like it doesn't mean anything that he keeps looking over here right now, probably wondering what we're talking about."

"He is not–" you started to say, but when you glanced toward the living room, you caught Cregan quickly looking away, his phone call apparently finished. Something fluttered in your stomach.

"Told you," Jace sang quietly. Then his voice dropped lower, more serious. "Look, I know Cregan. He's... he's testing the waters. Always has been, with you."

You frowned, fidgeting with the empty glass. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what's funny?" Jace leaned in conspiratorially, a small smile playing at his lips. "The first time you came over to hang out with me and Sara, like what, two years go? He came home, saw you sitting on the couch, and later told Sara you were really pretty." He paused, watching your reaction. "Never mentioned it again, of course. Classic Cregan. But I bet he still thinks so."

Your face felt like it was on fire. "You're making that up."

"Am I?" Jace raised an eyebrow. "Sara was so excited about it, she called me immediately. But then he just... clammed up. Wouldn't talk about you at all. Which, by the way, is exactly what he does when he's trying really hard not to show interest in something."

"That's..." you struggled to find words, your mind stuck on the idea that Cregan had ever thought about you that way. "That was years ago. He's barely spoken to me since then."

"Yeah, because he's an idiot who overthinks everything," Jace rolled his eyes. "Trust me, if he actually found you uninteresting, he definitely wouldn't have cleaned the entire apartment just because you were coming over to study."

You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it again as you remembered how suspiciously tidy the living room had been. "He said he just tidied up a bit."

"A bit?" Jace snorted. "He stress-cleaned for like two hours this morning. I found him organizing the spice rack alphabetically. We don't even cook!"

From the living room, you heard Cregan's voice: "Food's on the way. Everything okay in there?"

"Fine!" you called back, your voice higher than usual. "Just... getting Jace his water."

"Right," Jace muttered, smirking. "Just... think about it, okay? And maybe cut him some slack."

You grabbed the glass you'd taken out, filled it quickly, trying to process everything Jace had just told you. When you handed it to him back in the living room, he just smirked and set it aside without taking a single sip.

As you settled back onto the couch, you couldn't help but glance at Cregan. He was looking down at his phone, but there was a slight flush to his cheeks that hadn't been there before. You wondered if he'd heard any of your conversation, if he had any idea that Jace had just upended everything you thought you knew about how he saw you.

When he looked up and caught your eye, offering that small, almost shy smile, you felt your heart skip. Maybe Jace was right. Maybe you'd been reading this all wrong.

Halfway through your dinner, the room had settled into a comfortable sprawl. Shoes had been kicked off long ago, the air warm with the scent of food and the quiet hum of the television as Jace scrolled through endless movie options. Sara was curled up on the oversized bean bag Jace had dragged out from his (not so dirty) room, cross-legged and picking at her food between halfhearted comments about his choices. 

You had swapped your stiff button-up for one of Jace’s shirts, soft and worn, draping over your frame as you lounged against the armrest of the couch, knees pulled up. Jace sat on the floor beside you, absentmindedly leaning into the space near your legs as he continued his aimless search.

"How about The Matrix?" Jace called out from his spot on the floor, scrolling endlessly through Netflix as he had been for the past ten minutes.

"No," Cregan replied without looking up from his food.

"Lord of the Rings?"

"We're not starting a three-hour movie at this time of night."

"Fine. Ocean's Eleven?"

"No."

You pushed your noodles around with your chopsticks, barely registering their back-and-forth. Your mind was stuck in a loop, replaying your conversation with Jace in the kitchen. The food in your stomach felt heavy, but you weren't sure if it was from eating too quickly or from the weight of this new information that you had no idea what to do with.

He'd found you pretty. Two years ago, maybe, but still. Cregan Stark, who always seemed so perfectly put together, so distant, had actually noticed you before you'd even properly met. And what were you supposed to do with that knowledge? It's not like you could just bring it up casually over takeout. 'Hey, heard you thought I was pretty ages ago, still think so?'

You snuck a glance at him from the corner of your eye. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his takeout container balanced carefully on his knee as he systematically shot down every one of Jace's movie suggestions. The sleeves of his sweater were pushed up to his elbows, and you noticed how his forearms tensed slightly every time he reached for his drink. It really didn't help that he was unfairly attractive, all quiet intensity and careful movements.

"Indiana Jones?" Jace's voice cut through your thoughts.

"No."

"You're impossible," Jace groaned.

Sara caught your eye from across the room and smiled knowingly, making you wonder just how obvious your staring had been. What were they playing at, really? 

You'd lost count of how many times you'd asked Sara if her brother actually liked you – as a person, as a friend, as anything. "Of course he likes you!" she'd always insist. "He's just quiet at first!" But you'd never quite believed her, not when he seemed so much more animated with everyone else.

But now... now Jace had thrown everything into question. If what he said was true, if Cregan really had been interested enough to comment on you that first time... The thought made your stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with the food.

"Inception?" Jace tried again.

"Jace."

"What? It's perfect! It's about complex theories and stuff. Very educational."

You caught yourself smiling at their bickering, only to look up and find Cregan watching you with that same unreadable expression. He quickly looked back to his food. 

You felt heat creeping up your neck. What did they expect you to do? Make the first move? You barely knew him, really knew him, beyond his perfect notes and quiet presence. 

"Fast and Furious?" Jace's voice broke through your thoughts again.

"I'm going to throw something at you," Cregan warned, but there was no real heat in his voice.

You bit back a smile, trying to focus on your food instead of the way Cregan's shoulder brushed against your leg when he reached for the soy sauce. Friends, you told yourself firmly. If anything was going to change, it would have to start there. But as you watched him hide another smile behind his hand at Jace's increasingly ridiculous movie suggestions, you couldn't help but wonder if that would be enough.

What had Jace expected you to do with that information? He found you pretty. The words echoed in your mind, each repetition adding weight. What were you supposed to do with that? Did Jace and Sara want you to do something with it? Ask Cregan out? Were they trying to set you up? Or was the plan simply to get you to talk to him more, be friends, maybe?

It made sense, right? Friends first. You weren’t exactly convinced when Sara told you time and again that Cregan was just quiet at first. But now, after talking to Jace, the whole thing felt confusing. Were you reading into things? Maybe it was easier to believe Cregan just didn’t like you at all during these past two years, rather than accept that he hadn’t been comfortable enough to show it.

He was so attractive. Very attractive. There was no denying it. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck as you watched him out of the corner of your eye. His quiet confidence, the way he carried himself… It made your stomach flutter in a way you couldn't quite explain.

You saw him shift on the couch, making himself more comfortable. He set down his now-empty takeout container and leaned back, looking like he had no interest in eating anymore. 

Still, he kept rejecting every single one of Jace’s movie suggestions, each one more absurd than the last. Sara, sensing the impasse, jumped in with her usual exasperated tone, urging them to just pick something already.

You caught Cregan’s profile as he reclined, one hand casually brushing his hair back, and the heat to your face increased. Your knees were drawn up to your chest, hoping they’d hide the way your cheeks had flushed. Your gaze flickered between the two of them, trying not to be too obvious as you studied him. 

He didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he didn’t acknowledge it.

***

The next few days passed in a blur of highlighted notes and carefully maintained distance. Where there had been moments of warmth during that first evening in Cregan's apartment, now there was only polite efficiency. He'd explain concepts clearly when asked, his voice steady and professional, but gone were the small smiles, the quiet jokes, the moments where he seemed to let his guard down.

You tried to match his businesslike approach, taking careful notes and keeping your questions relevant and concise. But the silence between explanations felt heavy, loaded with things unsaid. You couldn't help but wonder if you'd imagined the connection from before, if Jace had been wrong about everything.

"So," Sara announced one afternoon, dropping into her usual seat at the library with suspicious enthusiasm. "I've been thinking."

"Dangerous," you muttered, not looking up from your notes.

"About our study strategy," she continued, ignoring your comment. "I think we should try something new."

That made you look up. Cregan, who had been quietly reviewing his own notes across the table, paused too, his pen hovering over the page.

"What kind of something?" you asked warily.

"Well," Sara drew out the word, exchanging a quick glance with Jace. "I was thinking we might be more effective if we split into pairs. You know, for more focused discussion."

You felt your stomach drop. "Pairs?"

"Mmhmm," she nodded, trying and failing to look casual. "Like, maybe Jace and I could work on the historical context stuff, and you two could focus on the theoretical frameworks?"

"That... doesn't make any sense," you said slowly. "You're better at theory than Jace is."

"Hey!" Jace protested, then paused. "No, wait, that's fair."

"It's not about who's better at what," Sara insisted. "It's about... different learning styles. Fresh perspectives. Right, Cregan?"

Cregan looked up from his notes, his expression carefully neutral. "If you think it would help," he said evenly, and something in your chest tightened at his apparent indifference.

"Great!" Sara beamed, already gathering her things. "Then it's settled. Jace and I will go to the coffee shop downstairs, and you two can stay here."

"Wait, now?" you asked, but they were already standing.

"No time like the present!" Jace grinned, shouldering his bag. "Have fun with..." he gestured vaguely at the textbooks, "all that."

They were gone before you could protest further, leaving you alone with Cregan and the uncomfortable silence that seemed to follow you lately. You stared at your notes, the highlighted words blurring together as you tried to think of something to say.

"We don't have to do this," Cregan said quietly, making you look up. "If you'd rather study alone–"

"No!" you said quickly, then winced at how eager it sounded. "I mean, no, it's fine. Unless you'd rather..."

"It's fine," he echoed, but you couldn't read his expression.

The silence stretched between you, broken only by the soft sound of pages turning and pens scratching against paper. You tried to focus on your reading, but your mind kept drifting to that evening in his apartment, to Jace's words in the kitchen. Had you really misread everything so badly?

"That diagram," Cregan's voice startled you out of your thoughts. "It's wrong."

You looked down at the messy chart you'd been attempting to draw. "Oh. Right. Sorry, I'm a bit..." you trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.

He hesitated, then shifted his chair closer, not quite touching but near enough that you could smell his cologne. "Here," he said softly, reaching for your pen. "May I?"

You nodded, trying to ignore how your heart sped up as his fingers brushed yours when he took the pen. He began redrawing the diagram, his lines neat and precise where yours had been chaotic.

"The relationship between these concepts," he explained, his voice low and close to your ear, "it's more circular than linear. See?"

You nodded again, though you were having trouble focusing on the diagram when he was this close, when you could see the way his eyelashes cast shadows on his cheeks as he looked down at the page.

"Does that make sense?" he asked, glancing at you, and for a moment, you caught something in his expression – uncertainty, maybe, or something else you couldn't quite name.

"Yeah," you managed, even as your mind raced with questions that had nothing to do with social theory. "Thanks."

He nodded, starting to pull back, but then he paused. "I'm not..." he began, then stopped, frowning slightly. "I'm not very good at this."

"The diagram looks pretty good to me," you said, trying for lightness.

"Not that," he said quietly, still frowning at the page. "This. Studying with... people."

"Oh." You weren't sure what to say to that. "You seem pretty good at it to me. Very... efficient."

He made a sound that might have been a laugh, but it held no humor. "Efficient," he repeated, like the word tasted bitter. "Right."

Before you could ask what he meant by that, he was already pulling away, the careful distance settling back into place like a wall between you. You watched as he returned to his own notes, his posture rigid, and wondered if you'd ever figure out how to bridge that gap.

Or if he even wanted you to try.

The afternoon light shifted through the library windows, casting long shadows across your textbooks. You'd been staring at the same paragraph for what felt like hours, the words swimming before your eyes. Cregan hadn't spoken since his attempt at fixing your diagram, and the silence was starting to feel suffocating.

"Maybe we should take a break," you suggested finally, your voice sounding too loud in the quiet space.

Cregan looked up, seeming almost startled, as if he'd forgotten you were there. "Oh. Yes, if you want."

You stretched, trying to work out the stiffness in your shoulders. "I think my brain is officially full. If I try to memorize one more theory, it might actually explode."

Something flickered across his face – amusement, maybe? – before it disappeared behind his usual mask of neutrality.

The next week, you arrived at the library to find a coffee cup waiting at your usual spot. Steam curled from the lid, and when you picked it up, the scent of vanilla and caramel made your stomach flutter.

"Is this…” you started, looking up to find Cregan already seated, seemingly absorbed in his textbook.

"You always order the same thing," he said without looking up, but you caught the slight upturn at the corner of his mouth.

You took a sip – perfect. Just the right amount of sweetness, exactly how you liked it. "You noticed?"

He shrugged, but there was a faint pink tinge to his ears. "It's not complicated."

But it was, wasn't it? It was complicated in all the ways that mattered – in the way he must have arrived early to get it, in the way he'd paid attention to your order all those times at the coffee shop, in the way this small gesture made your heart skip.

It became a routine after that. Every session, a coffee would be waiting, and every time you'd try not to read too much into it. But you couldn't help noticing how he'd glance at you when you took that first sip, as if checking to make sure it was right.

The silences changed too. Where they'd once been heavy with uncertainty, they grew comfortable, like a shared secret. You found yourself testing the waters, making quiet comments just to see if you could coax out one of his rare smiles.

"Weber probably needed a coffee this strong to write all this," you muttered one afternoon, earning a soft huff of amusement from across the table.

"Two sugars might have improved his view on bureaucracy," he replied, so deadpan that it took you a moment to realize he was joking back.

Weeks passed, and you fell into an easy rhythm. You learned to read the subtle shifts in his expression – the slight furrow between his brows when he was deep in thought, the way his eyes would soften when you finally understood a difficult concept.

He started anticipating your questions, sliding his perfectly organized notes toward you before you could even ask. Sometimes his fingers would brush yours in the exchange, and you'd both pretend not to notice the lingering warmth.

"Here," he'd say quietly, already pointing to the relevant section. "This connects to what you were asking about earlier."

You found yourself watching him between assignments, studying the way he'd absently run a hand through his hair when concentrating, how he'd tap his pen against his notebook in a specific rhythm when working through a complex idea. The way his shoulders would relax, just slightly, when you settled into your seat beside him.

One afternoon, you caught him watching you back. He didn't look away immediately like he used to, instead holding your gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Something warm unfurled in your chest at the sight.

"What?" you asked softly, not wanting to break whatever spell had fallen over the moment.

"Nothing," he said, but his voice had that gentle quality it got sometimes, the one that made you want to lean in closer. "Just... thinking."

"About Weber?" you teased, trying to ignore how your pulse quickened when his lips curved into a small smile.

"Not exactly."

He didn't elaborate, turning back to his notes, but something had shifted. The space between you felt charged, like the air before a storm. You found yourself hyperaware of every movement – the way his arm would brush yours when he reached for his coffee, how his knee would sometimes rest against yours under the table.

You started bringing him coffee too, placing it beside his notebook without comment. The first time you did, he stared at it for a long moment before looking up at you with an expression that made your breath catch.

"Black, two sugars," you said, echoing his words from weeks ago. "You always order the same thing."

His smile then was different – softer, more open than you'd ever seen. "Thank you," he said quietly, and you knew he meant for more than just the coffee.

The routine of studying together became something you looked forward to, not just for the help with coursework but for these small moments of connection. The way he'd lean in close to explain a concept, his voice low and just for you. How he'd sometimes forget himself and laugh at your terrible jokes, the sound warming you from the inside out.

And if you spent more time watching the way his hands moved across the page than actually reading, well... that was just part of the learning process, right?

The evening air had turned cool by the time you both packed up your things. The library had emptied out, leaving just the quiet murmur of the city outside to fill the space. You rubbed your eyes, stifling a yawn as you pushed your textbooks into your bag. The long study session had worn you out more than you'd expected, but you'd also made real progress. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so focused.

Cregan had gathered his things too, and for a moment, he just stood there, looking at you with that quiet intensity you had grown used to over the past weeks. Without a word, he slid his jacket from the back of his chair and held it out toward you.

"You look cold," he muttered, his voice low and a little rough, like he wasn't used to saying things like that. "Just for a bit. You can give it back tomorrow."

You glanced up at him, momentarily taken aback by the offer. But the warmth of the jacket, its familiar scent of pine and something crisp, was inviting. You hadn't realized how much the chill had crept into the air until now.

"Thanks," you said quietly, slipping your arms into the sleeves. The soft fabric immediately enveloped you, and you couldn’t help but notice how it smelled like him – comforting and calming, but also... a little more than that. 

The walk back to your place was peaceful. The streets were mostly empty, the glow from the streetlights casting long shadows on the pavement. The night felt still, like the world had paused just for you two.

"How are you feeling about everything?" Cregan asked, his voice breaking the silence as you walked side by side. There was no urgency in his tone, just a quiet curiosity, like he genuinely wanted to know.

You considered the question for a moment, taking in the city around you. It wasn’t just the study sessions that had shifted over the past few weeks, it was the way things felt between you both. The casual touches. The quiet moments. The way he noticed things about you before you even said anything.

"It's... been good," you said finally, your voice softer than usual. "Better than I expected."

He nodded, his eyes on the ground ahead. "I’m glad."

For a while, there was only the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet night. You tried not to focus too much on the fact that his jacket felt like a shield around you, or how it made your chest feel fuller with every step.

Then, almost as if he couldn’t stop himself, Cregan glanced at you again. His gaze lingered just a moment too long, before he quickly looked away, but not before you saw the faint flush creeping up his neck.

"You're not–" he started, then trailed off, shaking his head slightly like he'd lost the thread of his thought.

"Not what?" you prompted, a playful edge to your voice, hoping to keep things light.

He hesitated again, but then spoke, his voice quieter now. "Not… sick of me yet?"

You stopped in your tracks for a moment, staring up at him. But before you could respond, he let out a soft chuckle, clearly trying to brush it off. "Never mind. That sounded dumb."

"No," you said quickly, stepping a little closer to him. "No, it didn’t."

He stopped walking too, his eyes catching yours. There was a moment, just a fleeting second, where you both stood there, in the middle of the empty street, feeling the weight of something unspoken between you.

"I don't think I could get sick of you," you added softly, your words surprising both of you.

He gave you a small, surprised smile, his lips barely curling upward, but there was warmth in his expression, something that had been absent the first time you'd met him. "Good to know.”

"What do you mean by that?" you asked, tugging his jacket closer around you. The night air had grown cooler, but that wasn't the only reason you felt a slight shiver run through you.

Cregan ran a hand through his hair, a gesture you'd come to recognize as a sign of nervousness. "It's just... you're different with them. With Jace and Sara." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "More yourself, I guess. More... open."

"Oh." You let out a soft laugh, though it came out a bit shakier than intended. "That's because they're easy to talk to. You're..." You trailed off, suddenly very aware of how close you were standing.

"I'm what?" His voice was quiet, curious.

You took a deep breath, watching your shoes scuff against the pavement. "Intimidating," you admitted finally. "You're so... I mean, you understand everything instantly in class, and your notes are always perfect, and sometimes I feel like I'm just..." You gestured vaguely with one hand. "Fumbling around in the dark while you've got it all figured out."

He was quiet for so long that you had to look up at him. When you did, you found him staring at you with an expression you couldn't quite read – something between surprise and... was that amusement?

"You think I'm intimidating?" He let out a low laugh, the sound warming the cool night air. "That's... that's actually kind of funny."

"Why is that funny?"

"Because I've spent the last few weeks trying to figure out how to talk to you without sounding like an idiot." He shook his head, a self-deprecating smile playing at his lips. "You're always so quick with words, always know exactly what to say to make everyone laugh. And I'm..."

"Brilliant?" you offered, then immediately felt your cheeks warm.

His eyes snapped to yours, that hint of pink returning to his ears. "I'm really not," he said softly. "I just... study a lot. It's easier than..." He gestured between you two. "This."

"This?"

"Talking. Being... normal." He let out a breath that might have been another laugh. "Ask Jace, I'm terrible at it. Why do you think he does most of the talking when we're together?"

You couldn't help but smile at that. "I always thought you just preferred talking to him."

"I prefer..." he started, then stopped himself, looking away. "It's not that. I just... don't always know what to say. Especially around..." His voice got quieter. "Around you."

The admission hung in the air between you, making your heart beat a little faster. You were suddenly very aware of how alone you were on the street, how the streetlights cast soft shadows across his face, how his jacket still wrapped around you felt like a embrace.

"Well," you said, trying to keep your voice light despite the flutter in your stomach, "you seem to be doing okay right now."

He looked back at you, and this time his smile was different – slower, warmer. "Yeah," he said softly. "I guess I am."

You walked in comfortable silence for a few more steps before you couldn't help adding, "Though I still think you're brilliant. Even if you try to deny it."

He ducked his head, but not before you caught his smile widening. "And I still think you're easier to talk to than you realize."

"I don't know about that," you said, laughing softly. "The other day I tried to tell my neighbor her new haircut looked nice and somehow ended up in a twenty-minute conversation about her cat's dietary restrictions."

Cregan's quiet laugh made your chest feel warm. "How does that even happen?"

"I wish I knew. One minute I was complimenting her bangs, the next I knew everything about Mr. Whiskers' gluten sensitivity." You shook your head, remembering the increasingly awkward interaction. "I still can't look her in the eye."

His shoulder brushed against yours as he walked, and you realized you'd gradually drifted closer together. The street was wide enough for several people to walk side by side, yet here you were, barely inches apart. You thought about moving over, giving him more space, but then his pinky finger grazed your hand, and the thought evaporated.

"At least you talk to your neighbors," he said, his voice softer now. "I've lived in my apartment for eight months, and I still don't know their names. The lady next door just calls me 'dear' and leaves cookies at my doorstep sometimes."

"Free cookies sound nice," you said, very aware of how his hand kept brushing against yours with each step.

"They are. Though I'm slightly worried she thinks I'm not eating enough. The notes she leaves keep getting more concerned." His lips twitched. "Last week she wrote 'growing boys need their strength' on the container. I'm twenty-two."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet street. "That's adorable. She's adopted you."

"Yeah, well..." He ran his free hand through his hair, but you caught his smile. "Sara says I give off 'needs to be taken care of' energy."

"Do you?" The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you felt your cheeks warm.

He glanced at you then, and something in his expression made your breath catch. "I don't know. Do I?"

Your fingers brushed again, and this time, neither of you pulled away immediately. The contact was feather-light, barely there, but it sent tingles up your arm. You were about to respond when you realized you'd reached your building.

"This is me," you said reluctantly, stopping at the bottom of the steps. The porch light cast a warm glow around you both, and you couldn't help but notice how it caught in his eyes, making them look softer than usual.

"Right," he said, but didn't move away. His pinky was still barely touching yours, and you wondered if he could feel how your pulse had picked up. "I should..."

"Yeah," you agreed, though neither of you moved.

The night felt suspended around you, like time had slowed down just for this moment. A car passed in the distance, its headlights briefly illuminating his face, and you caught something in his expression that made your heart skip – a warmth, a hesitation, maybe even a hint of regret that the walk was over.

***

Days melted into weeks, and slowly, piece by piece, you began collecting little truths about Cregan Stark.

You learned that he always showed up exactly seven minutes early to everything – not five, not ten, but seven. When you teased him about it, he'd muttered something about traffic patterns and optimal timing that made you hide your smile behind your coffee cup.

You discovered that when he was deep in thought, he'd tap his fingers against the table in a specific rhythm – index, middle, ring, pause, repeat. Sometimes you'd catch yourself counting the beats, wondering what was running through his mind.

The way his jaw would clench slightly when he was stressed but trying not to show it. How he'd roll his shoulders back when he was tired, a gesture so subtle you wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't spent so many hours sitting beside him. The soft exhale he'd make when he finally solved a problem that had been bothering him.

There were other things too – things that made your heart do odd little flips in your chest. Like how he'd lean in close when explaining something, his voice dropping to almost a whisper even though you were the only ones there. His fingers would brush against yours as he pointed something out, lingering just a moment too long to be accidental. In those moments, time seemed to slow down, and you'd find yourself holding your breath, wondering if he could feel the electricity crackling between you.

You learned that he had a dry sense of humor that came out in unexpected moments. That he could deliver the most ridiculous puns with a completely straight face, only the slight crinkle around his eyes giving him away. That he'd fight a smile when you caught on, but his eyes would dance with amusement.

Some days, you'd catch him watching you when he thought you weren't looking. His gaze would be soft, contemplative, making your skin tingle with awareness. But every time you'd look up, he'd quickly turn away, that familiar pink tinge creeping up his ears.

You noticed how his whole demeanor would shift when you walked in, subtle but unmistakable – his shoulders would relax, his expression would soften, and sometimes, if you were lucky, you'd catch the ghost of a smile playing at his lips before he could hide it.

There were moments when he'd get so caught up in explaining something he was passionate about, his usual reserve would fall away completely. His hands would move animatedly, his eyes would light up, and you'd find yourself more fascinated by his enthusiasm than whatever he was actually talking about.

And sometimes, in quiet moments when the library was nearly empty and the evening light was turning golden, he'd look at you in a way that made your breath catch. Like you were a puzzle he was trying to solve, or maybe something he wanted to memorize. In those moments, the thought would creep in, unbidden but persistent – maybe, just maybe, he felt this too. This growing warmth, this magnetic pull, this feeling that had been building between you like a slow-burning flame.

But then he'd look away, or someone would walk by, or reality would intrude in some other way, and you'd tell yourself you were reading too much into things. That you were seeing what you wanted to see in those lingering touches and soft glances.

Still, you couldn't help but notice how he'd position himself slightly closer to you each day, how his hand would find excuses to brush against yours, how his voice would take on that gentle quality that seemed reserved just for you. And in those moments, hope would flutter in your chest, persistent and warm, refusing to be ignored.

You gathered these observations like precious stones, collecting them carefully, turning them over in your mind when you were alone. Each one was a piece of him, freely given but carefully treasured. And if sometimes you caught yourself daydreaming about what it might mean – well, that was just another secret to keep, tucked away with all the others.

"Wait, wait–" you said through barely contained laughter, "you actually convinced Jace that pigeons were government spies?"

Cregan's eyes crinkled at the corners as he tried to maintain his serious expression. "He spent three weeks avoiding eye contact with every pigeon he saw. Sara finally had to tell him the truth because he kept diving into bushes whenever they flew overhead."

You buried your face in your hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. The library's quiet atmosphere was long forgotten, your books pushed aside in favor of sharing stories. "That's terrible. You're terrible."

"He deserved it," Cregan said, but his voice was warm with affection. "He'd just spent a month convincing me that my phone was automatically translating everything into English and I was actually speaking fluent Portuguese without realizing it."

"How did he even–"

"Don't ask. It involved a very elaborate setup with his cousin who actually speaks Portuguese." He shook his head, but his smile was fond. "Jace can be... creative when he commits to something."

You propped your chin on your hand, studying him. These moments had become more frequent lately – times when his guard would drop completely, and you'd get to see the playful side of him that most people missed. "You three must have had an interesting childhood."

"Interesting is one word for it." His expression softened with nostalgia. "Sara used to organize these elaborate treasure hunts around the house. She'd spend hours making these ridiculous clues, and then get mad when Jace and I solved them too quickly." He paused, then added quietly, "It helped, you know. When I first moved in with Dad and Sara's mom. Made it feel less..."

"Overwhelming?" you offered gently when he trailed off.

He nodded, absently fiddling with his pen. "Yeah. They just... included me. No questions asked. Even when I was this awkward kid who barely talked and spent most of his time reading in corners."

"Some things never change," you teased, nudging his foot under the table.

His answering smile was warm enough to make your heart skip. "I talk more now."

"True. Now you use whole sentences instead of just grunting."

"I never grunted," he protested, but his eyes were dancing with amusement.

"Oh really? What about that first week when I asked to borrow your notes? Pretty sure all I got was 'hmph' and a nod."

He had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "That wasn't... I was just..."

"Just what?"

"Nervous," he admitted quietly, meeting your eyes. "You make me nervous sometimes."

The confession hung in the air between you, making your pulse quicken. Before you could respond, a notification chimed on your phone – Sara asking if you wanted to grab dinner later.

"Oh," you said, glancing at the time. "We've been here for four hours."

"Really?" Cregan looked genuinely surprised, like he hadn't noticed the time slipping away. "It doesn't feel that long."

"Time flies when you're sharing embarrassing stories about Jace," you said lightly, trying to ease back from the moment of vulnerability.

He laughed softly, but his eyes stayed on you, warm and intent. "Yeah," he agreed. "Must be that."

As you both started gathering your things, you couldn't help but marvel at how different these sessions felt now. The awkward silences had been replaced by comfortable conversation, shy glances had given way to shared jokes and easy laughter. Somehow, without you really noticing, Cregan Stark had become more than just your study partner or Sara's quiet brother.

He'd become your friend.

And if sometimes, in moments like earlier when he'd admitted to being nervous around you, you felt something flutter in your chest that felt bigger than friendship – well, that was probably just your imagination.

Probably.

***

When you arrived at Cregan's apartment that afternoon, your bag heavy with books, you found him already standing in the doorway with an oddly hopeful expression.

"Before you take those out," he said, nodding at your bag, "I was thinking..." He paused, running a hand through his hair in that way that always meant he was nervous about something. "Maybe we could watch a film instead? Just... take a break?"

The suggestion surprised you – Cregan suggesting something other than studying was rare enough to make you wonder if you'd heard him correctly. But there was something almost vulnerable in the way he was looking at you, like he half-expected you to say no.

"Yeah," you said, trying not to sound too eager. "Yeah, that sounds nice."

The relief that crossed his face made your heart flutter. His apartment was exactly what you'd expected – minimalist but comfortable, with books arranged neatly on shelves and a few framed photographs on the walls. The familiar scent of pine and something crisp – the same scent from his jacket that night – filled the space.

"Make yourself comfortable," he said, gesturing to the couch while he moved to the kitchen. "Do you want anything to drink?"

You settled onto the couch, tucking your legs under you. "Whatever you're having is fine."

He returned with two mugs of tea, setting them carefully on the coffee table. When he sat down beside you, he was close enough that your knees almost touched. The couch wasn't small – there was plenty of room for him to sit further away – but he didn't, and neither of you mentioned it.

"So," you said, wrapping your hands around the warm mug, "what are we watching?"

He reached for the remote, and you noticed how his other hand rested on the couch between you, his pinky just barely touching your knee. "I thought maybe..." He scrolled through options on the screen, but you caught how his eyes kept darting to you, gauging your reaction. "There's this old film I think you'd like."

You turned to face him, your shoulder pressing against the back of the couch. "Cregan Stark, are you about to make me watch an art house film?"

His lips twitched. "Maybe." Then, more quietly, "Is that okay?"

"Depends. Are you going to explain all the metaphors to me?" You were teasing, but your breath caught when he leaned in slightly, his eyes meeting yours.

"Only if you want me to," he murmured, reaching for the remote. His arm brushed against yours as he settled back, and you noticed he didn't move it away.

The film started playing, but you found yourself more aware of how close he was sitting, how your shoulders pressed together, how his fingers occasionally brushed against your knee when he gestured while explaining something about the cinematography.

Halfway through, you shifted position, and somehow ended up with your head resting against his shoulder. You felt him tense for a moment, then slowly relax, his cheek coming to rest against your hair.

"This okay?" you whispered, not wanting to break the moment.

His response was to tentatively wrap his arm around your shoulders, pulling you slightly closer. He grunted softly, a noncommittal sound that made you smile against his shoulder.

"Oh, are we back to the grunt-only communication?" you teased quietly, feeling his chest shake with silent laughter. "And here I thought we'd made such progress."

He made another grunt, this one clearly exaggerated, and you could hear the smile in it. Your own lips curved upward – you'd learned to read his different sounds over the past weeks, could tell the difference between his annoyed grunts and his amused ones. This one was definitely amused, with maybe a touch of nervousness underneath.

"Very articulate," you whispered, shifting slightly to get more comfortable against him. "Truly, your way with words continues to astound me."

His fingers twitched against your shoulder, and when he spoke, his voice was low and a bit rough. "Didn't want to say the wrong thing."

Something warm bloomed in your chest at his admission. "Since when do you say the wrong thing?"

He was quiet for a moment, his thumb absently tracing circles on your shoulder. "Around you? More often than you'd think."

You wanted to look up at him then, but you were afraid moving might break whatever spell had fallen over you both. Instead, you stayed where you were, feeling his heartbeat against your cheek, steady but just a little faster than normal.

On screen, the film continued playing, but neither of you seemed to be paying much attention anymore.

"I find that hard to believe," you murmured, finally gathering the courage to tilt your head up to look at him. "You always seem to know exactly what to say."

When your eyes met his, your breath caught in your throat. He was already looking down at you, his expression soft and open in a way you'd never seen before. The blue light from the TV played across his features, making his eyes look darker than usual.

"That's because," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, "I spend about ten minutes planning every sentence before I say it to you."

You couldn't help but laugh softly at that. "Ten whole minutes? No wonder you're so quiet."

"Wouldn't want to mess it up." His eyes flickered down to your lips for just a moment before meeting your gaze again. The arm around your shoulders tightened slightly, drawing you impossibly closer.

"And what about now?" you asked, your heart thundering in your chest. "How long did you spend planning that one?"

He swallowed hard, and you watched the movement of his throat. "I didn't," he admitted. 

You shifted slightly, turning more fully towards him. His other hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. The touch sent shivers down your spine.

"Cregan," you breathed, not even sure what you were going to say next.

He leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away. But you didn't want to pull away – you found yourself moving closer, your eyes starting to flutter closed, his breath mixing with yours.

The space between you and Cregan grew smaller. His fingers, warm and steady, traced the curve of your cheek, while his other hand settled at the small of your back, holding you in place as if afraid you might slip away.

Your own hand had found its way to his thigh, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of his sweatpants. You could feel the tension in him – the way his muscles tensed under your touch, the way his breath hitched ever so slightly when your fingertips pressed just a little firmer.

His nose brushed yours, the barest whisper of contact, and your lips parted on instinct, a quiet, breathless anticipation settling between you.

You could feel his hesitation, the last remnants of restraint flickering in his gaze. One more inch and–

The front door swung open with a loud thud.

You flinched, and Cregan jerked back as if burned, his grip on your waist loosening. The spell shattered in an instant.

From the hallway, Jace’s voice rang out, casual and utterly oblivious to the moment he had just ruined.

"Honey, I'm home!” he sang, “You would not believe the day I've had – oh.”

Jace stood in the doorway, keys dangling from his hand, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Well, well, well," he drawled, looking between you two with obvious delight. "What do we have here?"

"We're watching a film," Cregan said quickly, his voice slightly hoarse. You noticed his ears had turned that telltale pink again.

"Uh-huh," Jace nodded, not even trying to hide his smirk. "And how's the film?"

You realized with a start that neither of you had any idea what was happening on screen. You'd completely lost track of the plot about the same time Cregan's arm had wrapped around you.

"It's..." you started.

"Very artistic," Cregan finished lamely.

Jace's grin widened. "I'm sure it is." He kicked off his shoes and headed toward the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, "Don't let me interrupt your... artistic appreciation."

You caught Cregan's eye and had to bite your lip to keep from laughing at his mortified expression. The moment from before was broken, but something else had taken its place – a warm, giddy feeling that made it hard to stop smiling.

"So," you whispered, once Jace was safely in the kitchen. "Ten minutes to plan your next sentence?"

Cregan groaned quietly, letting his head fall back against the couch, but you could see him fighting a smile. "Might need twenty for this one."

Jace's not-so-subtle shuffling in the kitchen made the moment feel both ridiculous and charged. Cregan's arm was still draped around you, though now it felt more awkward than intimate.

"So," you said softly, trying to break the tension, "want to pretend we were actually watching the movie?"

He let out a quiet laugh. "I don't even know what we were watching."

You glanced at the screen. Some black and white scene was playing, characters moving in what seemed like slow motion. "Art house film," you whispered dramatically. "Very deep. Very meaningful."

"Very confusing," Cregan added, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

***

The café was bustling with the usual weekend crowd when you arrived, slightly out of breath from rushing. You spotted your friends immediately – Sara's laugh carrying over the general chatter, Jace gesturing animatedly about something. But as you approached, you noticed there were only four chairs at their small table, and they'd already claimed two of them.

The remaining two seats were snug together on the opposite side, and your stomach did a little flip when you saw Cregan already there, looking up at you with that quiet intensity you'd grown familiar with.

"You made it!" Sara beamed, but there was something suspiciously innocent about her expression. "We saved you a spot."

You hesitated for just a moment before sliding into the chair next to Cregan. The table was small enough that your elbows brushed as you settled in, and you caught a hint of that now-familiar pine scent. Without looking at you, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of your chair. The gesture was casual, almost absent-minded, but it made your pulse quicken.

"I already ordered your usual," he said quietly, just for you to hear.

"Thanks," you managed, trying to ignore how Sara and Jace exchanged knowing looks across the table.

Jace was mid-rant about Luke's latest culinary disaster. "I'm telling you, there are jars of fermenting liquid everywhere. Mom thinks he's going through some kind of wellness phase, but I'm pretty sure he's just trying to turn the kitchen into a science experiment."

Sara snorted into her latte. "Isn't that how all of Luke's phases start? Remember when he decided he was going to learn woodworking?"

"Three broken chairs and one very questionable coffee table later," Jace laughed.

You felt Cregan shift beside you, and his knee pressed a little more firmly against yours. You weren't sure if it was intentional or not, but you didn't move away. Instead, you found yourself leaning slightly into him, your shoulder just barely touching his.

"What about you?" Sara turned to you. "Any wild family stories?"

Before you could answer, Cregan's hand brushed against yours under the table. A light touch, almost accidental, but definitely deliberate. You saw the corner of his mouth twitch – he was listening, waiting for your response, but that small gesture said something else entirely.

"Nothing quite as exciting as kombucha brewing," you managed, hyper-aware of how close he was sitting. "Though my aunt did go through a phase of making her own cheese. Let's just say it didn't end well."

Jace burst out laughing. "Homemade cheese? That's a new one."

"Trust me," you said, "some experiments are best left to professionals."

Cregan's hand was still close to yours. His pinky finger had somehow found its way to rest against the side of your hand, a point of contact that seemed to send electricity through your entire body. You wondered if the others could see how close you were sitting, how every movement seemed charged with something unspoken.

"More coffee?" he murmured, so quietly that only you could hear.

You turned to look at him, catching his eye. There was something in his gaze – a warmth, a softness that made your breath catch. "Please," you whispered back.

Sara was still talking, Jace still gesturing, but in that moment, the rest of the café seemed to fade away. Just you, Cregan, and that small space between your hands that felt like it was holding entire universes.

His fingers brushed yours again. This time, you were certain it was definitely not an accident.

"Remember that time Professor Martinez spent fifteen minutes talking about his cat?" Jace was saying, but you were distracted by the way Cregan's fingers drummed a quiet pattern on the table, just inches from your hand.

"Mm-hmm," you responded, though you weren't entirely sure what you were agreeing to.

You reached for your coffee at the same time Cregan moved to adjust his sleeve, and your fingers collided. The touch was brief, but it sent a jolt through you that had nothing to do with caffeine. When you glanced up at him, his ears had that telltale pink tinge, but he didn't move away.

The café had grown cooler as the evening approached – someone must have opened a window – and you found yourself unconsciously leaning into the warmth of his presence beside you. His jacket still hung behind you, and occasionally you'd catch its scent, mixing with the coffee aroma in a way that made you feel slightly dizzy.

"Cold?" he asked softly, noticing your slight shiver.

Before you could respond, he was already reaching back, adjusting his jacket so it covered your shoulders better. His fingers brushed against your back for just a moment, and you had to remind yourself to breathe normally.

"Thanks," you whispered, and he nodded, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary.

Across the table, Sara was telling a story about her dance partner's disastrous attempt at a lift, but you were lost in the way the evening light from the window played across Cregan's profile, how his lips curved slightly when something amused him, the comfortable weight of his jacket around your shoulders.

You told yourself it was nothing. That the way your heart raced when his hand accidentally brushed yours again was just caffeine, that the warmth in your chest when he leaned closer to murmur a quiet comment about Jace's dramatic retelling of events was just the coffee. That the way he seemed to angle his body toward yours, creating a bubble that felt separate from the bustling café around you, was just coincidence.

It had to be nothing.

But then why did it feel like everything?

As the afternoon wore on, the café slowly emptied, the hum of conversation fading into the clatter of dishes and the quiet shuffle of the barista wiping down the counter. The golden light of the setting sun streamed through the large windows, painting long shadows across the worn wooden tables. Jace was the first to leave, pushing back his chair with a knowing smirk that made you want to kick him under the table. His gaze flickered between you and Cregan, his amusement clear as he slung his jacket over one shoulder. 

"Have fun," he said lightly, though his tone held an edge of teasing that made your face warm. 

Sara followed shortly after, grabbing her bag in a rush. She leaned in for a quick hug, her lips brushing your ear as she whispered, "Text me later," in a way that sounded suspiciously like a warning. Then, with a grin thrown over her shoulder, she was gone, the bells above the door jingling in her wake. 

And then there were two.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The café felt quieter, more intimate now, the air thick with something unspoken. Cregan's fingers tapped idly against the edge of his coffee cup, his sharp eyes fixed on you in that way that made your breath hitch. You could feel the weight of the moment settling between you, the tension coiling tight like a bowstring.

You cleared your throat, forcing a casual tone. "About your jacket," you started, knowing full well you were playing a game. "I think I accidentally kept it from the other night. It's still at my apartment."

Cregan raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical, and you knew he wasn’t buying your innocent act. The truth was, you had definitely not forgotten his jacket. You had draped it around your shoulders before leaving, only to end up deciding not to bring it. 

"Did you?" he asked, his voice low, amused. 

You nodded, far too innocently. "Mhmm. Want to come get it?"

The corner of his mouth twitched, his lips tilting in the faintest ghost of a smile. "Might as well."

The walk back to your apartment felt shorter than it should have, the minutes slipping away as your steps fell into an easy rhythm. That now-familiar tension hung between you, humming beneath the surface, stretching with every unspoken thought. Your hands brushed – once, then again. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes not. The street lights flickered overhead, casting a warm glow onto the pavement, and in the quiet, you could feel his gaze on you, steady and unreadable. Watching. Waiting.

Anticipating.

"Sorry about the elevator," you said, pressing the stairwell door open. "It's been broken for weeks. Management promises they're fixing it, but..." You gestured uselessly.

Cregan just nodded, following you into the stairwell. The space was narrow, forcing you to climb single file at first, but he quickly moved to walk beside you, his shoulder occasionally brushing yours on the tight turns.

The first flight of stairs passed in comfortable silence. By the second floor, you were both slightly out of breath.

"Remind me why we're taking the stairs?" he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Character building," you quipped, stealing a glance at him. "Also, excellent cardiovascular exercise."

His laugh was soft, barely more than a breath. "Is that what this is?"

You were acutely aware of how close he was. On the narrow staircase, your arms kept brushing, his hand sometimes grazing the small of your back as you navigated the turns. The proximity felt charged, electric.

"Almost there," you said, trying to sound casual. Your heart was racing, and you weren't sure if it was from the stairs or from him.

The third-floor landing approached, and you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. Something hung in the air between you – anticipation, possibility, a breath held just a moment too long.

You unlocked the door and stepped inside, holding it open for him. He hesitated for the briefest moment, then followed, his footsteps slow, measured. The door clicked shut behind him, muffling the distant sounds of the street outside.

Inside, the space felt smaller somehow, the air charged with something electric. The scent of vanilla and old books filled the room, mingling with the lingering traces of his cologne still clinging to the jacket draped over the back of your couch. A single lamp cast a golden glow across the walls, softening the edges of the moment, but not the weight of it.

You turned, glancing up at him. “Make yourself at home,” you said, your voice steady, though your pulse wasn’t.

Cregan’s gaze flickered over the room before settling on you. 

You reached into your closet and pulled out the perfectly folded jacket, holding it out to him with what you hoped was an innocent expression. "Here you go."

Cregan took it, something flickering in his eyes – a mix of surprise and... was that disappointment? He glanced toward the door, clearly preparing to leave, and you could almost see the moment he was about to say goodbye.

"Actually," you said quickly, "my TV's been acting up. Would you mind taking a look?"

He raised an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading across his face. It was the kind of smile that made your breath catch – part amusement, part something warmer. "Really?"

"Totally broken," you insisted, trying to look serious. "Completely non-functional."

"Completely?" Now he was definitely laughing, soft and low. "And here I thought we came up here just for the jacket."

You shrugged, feeling a blush creep up your neck. "Multi-purpose trip."

He followed you to the living room, still wearing that knowing smile. The TV sat quietly in the corner, looking suspiciously functional. But Cregan didn't call you out. Instead, he set the jacket down and moved toward the electronics, his fingers already reaching for the remote.

"Let me take a look," he said, his voice rich with barely contained amusement.

You bit back a smile. Busted – but not really.

Cregan crouched down in front of the TV, running his fingers along the back panel as he checked the cables. He moved with easy confidence, his broad shoulders flexing slightly under his shirt as he pulled one of the wires free. 

“One of these might’ve come loose,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. 

Before you could respond, he jerked his hand back slightly. A thin, red line beaded along his fingertip, stark against his skin. He barely reacted, just exhaling through his nose as he brought his hand up and – without hesitation – dragged his tongue over the small cut, as if it were nothing more than a papercut. 

You, however, were already pushing off of the couch. “Oh my god, Cregan–” 

He glanced up at you, brow raised. “It’s fine,” he said simply, his voice steady, like he hadn’t just sliced himself open on a rogue wire. “It’ll heal.” 

“It’s bleeding.” 

“Barely.” 

“That’s not the point,” you huffed, already moving toward the kitchen. “Stay there, I have bandages.” 

Cregan let out a quiet chuckle as you rummaged through a drawer, muttering something about stubborn men and their refusal to take basic medical care seriously. By the time you returned with a bandaid, he was still kneeling by the TV, watching you with open amusement. 

“Hold out your hand,” you demanded. 

“Is this really necessary?” 

“Do not test me right now, Stark.” 

His smirk deepened, but he obeyed, extending his hand toward you. His palm was warm, his fingers rough from years of use – evidence of someone who worked with his hands, who fought, who lived. You swallowed, focusing on carefully peeling the bandaid open before smoothing it over the cut. 

“There,” you said, pressing down gently. “Now you won’t die of infection.” 

Cregan flexed his fingers experimentally, shaking his head. “Didn’t realize a tiny scratch was life-threatening.” 

You shot him a look. “Mock me all you want, but you’ll thank me when your finger doesn’t fall off.” 

He laughed, low and easy, but his eyes lingered on you for a beat too long. And suddenly, the bandaid didn’t feel like the most important thing anymore.

From the bathroom, Cregan heard you call out, your voice taking on that slightly high-pitched tone he'd come to recognize as your embarrassed voice.

"Uh... so. The remote doesn't work because the battery is dead," you announced, sounding like you were hoping the floor might swallow you whole.

He emerged, drying his hands, to find you sitting on the couch looking like you'd been caught in an elaborate lie. Which, technically, you had been. The remote dangled from your hand, and you were avoiding direct eye contact.

"Shocking," he said drily, that hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. "Who could have seen that coming?"

"Shut up," you mumbled, but there was no real heat in it.

He stepped closer, taking the remote from your hand. "Batteries?" 

You pointed to a drawer, still not looking directly at him. "Top one."

His laugh was soft, barely more than a breath. Cregan pulled open the drawer, retrieving a pair of fresh batteries with an ease that made you suspect he was enjoying this a little too much. He popped the old ones out and slid the new ones in, his movements unhurried, deliberate. When he handed the remote back to you, his fingers brushed against yours – just for a second, just long enough to send a flicker of warmth up your arm.

“Moment of truth,” he murmured, stepping back with an amused tilt of his head.

You aimed the remote at the TV, pressing the power button. The screen blinked to life instantly, the room filling with the soft glow of the home screen. You let out a quiet sigh, shoulders dropping in defeat.

Cregan crossed his arms, leaning against the back of the couch. “So, to recap: you invited me up here for a jacket you had no intention of giving back, faked a TV malfunction, and then made me bleed – all in the span of fifteen minutes.”

You huffed, tossing the remote onto the cushion beside you. “You make it sound so calculated.”

He smirked. “Wasn’t it?”

You opened your mouth, ready to deny it, but the look on his face – the teasing glint in his eyes, the slight lift of his brow – made it clear he wasn’t buying whatever excuse you were about to throw at him.

Instead, you crossed your arms and leaned back. “Fine. Maybe I just wanted you to stay a little longer.”

The smirk faded, just slightly. His gaze flickered over your face, his amusement softening into something quieter, something warmer.

“You could’ve just asked,” he said.

Your breath caught.

Then, as if sensing the weight of his own words, he straightened, rolling his shoulders like he could shake it off. 

You tried to ignore the sudden heat that rose in your cheeks, still pretending that the whole situation – your really embarrassing scheme to get him to stay – was perfectly normal.  

You shook your head, pushed the thoughts aside as you rose from the couch and walked toward him. His gaze followed you, amusement danced in his eyes as you stopped in front of him. Without thinking, your eyes flickered to his finger – still wrapped in the bright pink Hello Kitty bandaid you slapped on him earlier. The absurdity of it all hit you again, and for a moment, you felt the urge to cover your face.  

But Cregan didn't let it slide. "You know," he drawled, holding up his hand, the bandaid on full display, "I felt the care and attention here, but–” He lifted an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitched, “Hello Kitty?"  

You rolled your eyes but approached him anyway. You focused on his finger, ignored the growing warmth that spread through you as you reached out, your fingers brushed his skin as you took his hand in yours. “They were the only ones at the store,” you muttered, glancing at him briefly, expecting him to laugh it off.  

He just stared at you, his eyes narrowed slightly. “Mm-hmm. I was sure they were,” he said, his voice smooth but edged with skepticism. “Couldn’t find any grown-up band-aids, huh?”  

You snorted and held his finger a little more gently, glanced up at him now, met his gaze with a faint, nervous smile. “They were cute. I thought you might like them.”  

He tilted his head, studied you with an intensity that made it hard to keep your thoughts from scattering. “You didn’t think I’d notice?” His voice was lower now, almost a whisper, and the playful teasing was gone, replaced with something... different.  

You felt his hip brush against yours, a subtle, accidental touch that sent a spark of awareness through you. The proximity was sudden, sharp. You leaned back against the counter, the cool surface grounded you as your pulse began to race in a way you couldn’t quite control. Your focus remained on his finger, but his proximity – the weight of his gaze on you – felt heavier than anything you’d ever known.  

His eyes flickered down to your mouth, just for a split second, before returning to your eyes, and it felt like the world narrowed to just the two of you. Your hand, still holding his, trembled slightly. You tried to tell yourself it was just the oddness of the moment, the intimacy of the small gesture, but deep down you knew there was more to it than that. His fingers, warm and strong, rested in your hand, his thumb brushed over your knuckles in that unconscious way he did, and it took everything in you not to close the space between you.  

The silence stretched between you, charged with everything unsaid. His fingers were still tangled with yours, warm and steady despite the slight tremor you felt in your own hand. When you finally looked up, the intensity in his eyes made your breath catch.

"I should probably go," he whispered, but he didn't move away. If anything, he seemed to lean closer, his free hand coming to rest on the counter beside you.

"Probably," you agreed, but your other hand had somehow found its way to his chest, fingers curling slightly into the fabric of his shirt.

Time seemed to slow down. You could feel his heartbeat under your palm, fast and strong. His eyes dropped to your lips again, lingering this time.

"Tell me to go," he murmured, so close now that you could feel his breath against your skin.

Instead, you lifted your chin slightly, closing the last bit of distance between you. His lips met yours softly at first, hesitant, questioning. Then your hand slid up to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his hair, and something in him seemed to break.

He pressed closer, deepening the kiss as his hand moved from the counter to your waist, pulling you against him. Your back hit the counter, but you barely noticed, too caught up in the feeling of him – the way he tasted like coffee and something sweeter, how his thumb traced circles on your hip, how he kissed you like he'd been thinking about it for weeks.

When you finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, he rested his forehead against yours. His eyes were dark, intense, filled with something that made your heart race even faster.

"I've wanted to do that," he said roughly, "for forever."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, your fingers still playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Is that why you were so quiet?"

He smiled against your lips. "Partly." Then he was kissing you again, slower this time, like he had all the time in the world to learn the taste of you.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, unable to stop smiling. "You know Sara and Jace are going to be insufferable about this."

"Mmm," Cregan hummed against your lips. "They'll never let us hear the end of it." His fingers traced along your jaw, gentle and exploratory. "Sara's been dropping hints for weeks."

"Weeks?" You raised an eyebrow. "Try months."

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest where it pressed against yours. He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest where it pressed against yours. Then his mouth found yours again, and this time the kiss was different – long, slow, and dizzyingly passionate. His fingers tangled in your hair, tilting your head just so, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was anything this man wasn't exceptionally good at.

When you pulled back, you toyed with the few hair strands that had fallen onto his face. He still hadn’t stepped back, still held you like he wasn’t quite ready for the night to end. And maybe you weren’t either.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The weight of it settled between you, the knowledge that this – whatever this was – had changed something, shifted it into something new, something neither of you could brush aside with an easy joke.

Cregan’s fingers brushed up your arm, slow and deliberate, his gaze flickering over your face like he was debating something.

Then, quieter this time, more serious: “Should I stay?”

Your breath hitched. It wasn’t just about tonight. You could hear it in the way he asked, in the way his fingers curled slightly at your waist.

You swallowed, your voice softer now. “Would you, if I asked?”

His grip tightened, just slightly, just enough to make your pulse stutter. “Yeah,” he admitted, “I would.”

You exhaled, your fingers tracing absentmindedly along his collarbone. He was close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the warmth there, the hesitation.

Then you smiled, small and knowing. “Good.”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. But he still stayed.

taglist: @smurfelle @elliaze @sillylittlepenguin181818 @lustrz-anna @lovelyteenagebeard @misshale21 @cecestea @n4tsha @inspirationquxxn @rin588 @anoravx @bbubbllejisoo @vividxpages @bucksplum @earth4angels @mattnott @princess-of-the-fandoms @shabnam2005 @nsr-15 @reeseelise @teasweeter @ginarely-blog @bpcr3yes @creganstarkk @st6rmbrn @marg141205 @shesneverreallythere @mother-homunculus @ohhdearmargot

[iiheartarc]

MY TAKE ON THE CAITVI DISCOURSE

total wordcount: 1591

I will say that I've briefly commented on their dynamic in the past, but it was worded really badly so I feel like I need to defend my writing skills a little bit as well with this, but that's just a sidenote. 💀

I think what a lot of people are missing when people do criticise CaitVi is that they aren't necessarily hating on the ship, it's what writing choices have done to it.

I'm not even going to even say I'm a CaitVi hater, I'm not (S1 CaitVi my beloved, you deserved better), but I do think the choices that writers made this season heavily effected how audiences portrayed the ship, even including myself.

Idk I hope this insight might give some people more perspective on why CaitVi became so hated in this season, people rlly need to start looking at both sides and not taking criticism as a personal attack. It really could've been avoided too if the writers had added more time or extended the series onto a third season, but that's another issue on its own.

1. Caitlyn hits Vi

I really don't get why people are so quick to defend Caitlyn on this one, especially considering the amount of hate Vi got when she hit Powder. Are both inexcusable? Yes. But I do think that the situation is a little different when it's a fifteen year old child who had just witnessed the death of her entire family and a twenty something year old woman who took out her anger and grief on the woman she loved because she blocked her shot.

I do think that people also do ignore the immense amount of trauma that Caitlyn suffered at the hand of Jinx, but unlike when Vi 'abandoned' Powder, (again, that's a whole other conversation, we know she was not abandoned), Vi was not that direct source of anguish to Caitlyn the way Powder was to Vi. (Pls lmk if you want me to expand further on this)

Again, not excusing Vi hitting Powder, I'm pointing out the differences.

It's then also incredibly tone deaf when Caitlyn hits her on two more occasions with the same gun, the third time being played off as a joke. It really doesn't come off well, especially when Vi had been a victim of police-brutality even before the abuse she faced at the hands of the enforcers in Stillwater.

And then, even after all this, it's never addressed. It's brushed over, like Vi's entire trauma in the show, the most we get is Caitlyn brushing her hand over Vi's abdomen in the cell scene. Again, can be taken as an apology, but I think that for some very specific things (like hitting your romantic partner), verbal apologies do need to be made in order to communicate healthily and somewhat build a healthier relationship.

I don't really want to talk about the abusive implications of this, because I don't think I'm someone who can talk about it with a full understanding because that's something I've fortunately never been through, but the blatant disregard and shunning of abuse survivors when they pull up the red flags raised because of this is disgusting. In real life, or if it had even been someone else in the show, if the ship had been a heterosexual relationship, people would call Caitlyn an abuser and would be outraged that Vi had been paired with her in the end. But I digress.

1. The cell sex scene

Initially I hadn't been too bothered about this when I had first watched the episode, but when you really think about it, it shouldn't have happened. Hell, they could've had sex in Caitlyn's office and half of the criticism wouldn't have happened, the ship wouldn't be so hated and the fandom wouldn't be half as divided as it is now (from what I've seen).

First and foremost, the cell.

All I can say is wtf. It was such a poor choice it's actually unfathomable to me now. I don't know why the writers thought that it'd be a good idea for Caitlyn and Vi to have their first time in a jail cell, not only the one Jinx had been locked in, but the one Vi had herself been locked in for what we can assume to be hours. The place of her abuse should not be somewhere where the writers could possibly think would be a suitable for a victim to have such an intimate moment with her partner.

Then there's the fact that Vi had looked to have had some sort of breakdown, we see she's sh and there are literal crates in the wall from where she punched it as well as her knuckles bleeding. As soon as she sees Caitlyn, there's a parallel to when they first met, to when Vi is quite literally caged. She's clearly not in the right state of mind, and so when the scene eventually happens it inevitably comes off as wrong because Vi is incredibly emotionally vulnerable in that moment.

"But Vi initiated it!" That still doesn't make it okay. I do think that this also came with an issue of timing, but then again, as I mentioned earlier, it literally could've been in the office as they argued and it would've been recieved so much better then the cell scene was. Vi wasn't breaking down, she wasn't locked in a reminder of the abuse she faced and her sister hadn't just ran off to do goodness knows what (in Vi's POV, us as the audience know exactly what she's about to do). They could've even have it fade to black and cut to the next scene tangled in bed doing whatever they would've been doing in the cell, Vi would assumably have had time to calm down, would be having sex in a warm and safe environment, and guess what? The audience would've been even happier.

Sure there would've been criticism, but Vi could literally save a thousand babies and adopt them all and still face hate, because a lot of the hate is being directed to Vi too because of the situation with Jinx. That, again, is a whole other situation.

3. "Dirt Under Your Nails"

Again, for the love of god, there can be so many takeaways from this sentence but do not be surprised that people didn't like it. I didn't, it made me cringe horribly.

And before people throw 'media literacy is dead', this whole post (practically essay), is analysing a piece of media that I love. To be literate, you can draw different interpretations and conclusions and that's exactly what I'm doing. It's like saying literacy is dead if two people were to disagree on what the meaning of Macbeth's quote 'I am in blood' meant.

I digress.

I think the main issue here is the class difference between Vi and Cait. Caitlyn is from the aristocracy, a direct heir to a position of power in Piltover, while Vi is lower class, effected indefinitely by growing up in poverty. Even though she grew up as Vander's kid, they were still 'scraping for scraps'. The wealth margin between the two is almost immeasurable, and with the difference in money comes a difference in experiences, as we - the audiences - know.

It especially comes off wrong considering the class tensions and political themes heavily focussed on within the first season. The conflict between Piltover and Zaun, the abuse of power and exploitation of Zaunites by both topside and the chembarons, the prevalence of police brutality on the streets of the Undercity. Again, Vi is someone who is directly effected by this, while Caitlyn came into this blissfully naïve. She did learn yes, and in s1 she was so determined to help, but when then this progress reverts into her calling zaunites 'animals' and using the grey as a weapon, it again makes Vi's words feel uncomfortable.

Again, I think this was a massive timing issue, I would've love to see Caitlyn succumb fully to a villain arc. It would've been so interesting to delve into.

I think Vi has always had the image of herself that she'll always be viewed as less by Piltover, that she herself views herself as less. She says it herself to Vander in s1 ep2 while they're on the bridge, "I grew up knowing I'm less than them." So when she then says as her final words in the show, "I'm the dirt under your nails" obviously, that's going to come across as tacky.

People are free to think of romantic connotations for this, I won't stop you, but when you think about how the show was so focussed on class tensions, police brutality, oppression and exploitation, it doesn't come off right. Idk, that's what got me so interested with the show in the first place, the way these themes were explored so deeply but subtly in a way that didn't feel forced, so Vi's words really rubbed me the wrong way.

Conclusion

So I hope everyone that read somewhat gets where I'm coming from, this was my attempt to try and explain what I think needed to be, badly. Again, you can like the ship, I'm not saying I don't, but it also needs to be acknowledged that there is so many things that could've been worked on properly, done properly or addressed properly, and ignoring criticism won't help these issues to be fixed in the future.

Feel free to ask any questions and thanks for reading this long ass rant :)

[dramaticallytotal]

The Rise of Team E-Scope Headcanons: Part Eight

Idea Post Part One Last Part

I am skipping the aftermath episodes, but I might do them as a bonus after I finish the finale headcanons.

Slap Slap Revolution:

• Since Team Chris won the last challenge, they are not there in economy class to hear DJ lament about his animal curse, but Team Amazon is. This is where Eva gets worried for DJ and his mental health because the poor boy is distraught. Leshawna did nothing but tell him it was in his head, and it had Eva scowling. She believed it, too, but being friends with Noah, someone whose anxiety could get really bad, she knew it wasn't really helpful to point out the thoughts or beliefs were in their head.

Then she rolled her eyes when he tried to tell her it's wasn't that easy. It had Eva grinding her teeth. It was so disrespectful! Noah's sister, Nadia, was pretty superstitious, but no one in the family made fun of her for it and tried to respect her needs. Eva learned not to be so blunt with her thoughts because of Nadia, and she honestly really loved the woman and her kids.

• Apparently, Bridgette didn't appreciate Leshawna's response either as the girl huffed. "It's not that easy, Leshawna." Now, Eva wasn't very fond of Bridgette, but she appreciated the girl speaking up.

That got Leshawna even more annoyed, and it ended with Bridgette offering to give DJ a tarot reading to maybe help ease his mind, which he appreciated.

• Lindsay would have said something, but her, Katie, and Sadie were making the economy class people some smoothies. Katie even mentioned she would add some protein for Eva.

So it fell to Eva to be on Cody duty, not that she minded. So she had Cody sitting with her and listened to him ramble about some game he and Noah were obsessed with.

Thankfully, Sierra was distracted by Heather, but Eva still had a bad feeling about all that.

• Sierra was still talking about how she became president of her 15th Toal Drama fan club. She also still showed her statistics, which is something she's actually really good at. But instead of the statistics of Team Chris, she pulled out statistics for every team.

• Cody was just happy because Sierra couldn't get close to him, and Team Chris shared the insane amount of candy they got from the last challenge.

• Trent and Justin were the ones who were relaxing on the seat and having some bon bons. Justin didn't indulge in sweets much because of his strict diet, but first class had sugar-free ones and took advantage of the opportunity. Plus, Trent and Owen kept telling him his model diet wasn't the best for him, and technically, he wasn't under contract at the moment so he could indulge here and there.

Noah may not like the guy, but he some of his sisters and cousins had some problems with food for a while, so he knew how hard it could be to allow yourself the simple pleasure of something you crave.

So he made Justin a meal schedule to help him out with it. He would have cheat days or days where he tried something equally healthy but not on his meal plan his agent had him on so he could have some variety.

He got an almost kiss on his cheeks for his efforts, and Justin got a book to his stomach for his.

• Izzy was taking a nap, which was rare, which was why Owen was at the bar having a charcuterie board to himself. He made Noah a plate and pointedly looked at his little buddy until he started picking at it.

• Noah and Alejandro were on a couch sharing the mini charcuterie board Owen made for Noah as they discussed books they both have read and enjoyed. This is all part of Alejandro's plans to get closer to Noah and be his friend. To sus out Team E-Scope, of course! No other reason! He definitely didn't find Noah's company fun and comforting at all!

• Then being dropped from the plane was a stunt but also real as they were actually dropped a short distance into the snow. They were supposed to have their jackets on before they were dropped, but the interns forgot, and Chris is pissed about it. Apparently, it wasn't as accidental or forgetful as they claimed as Chef found out from one of the interns who had been close with Noah that the producers contacted an inside source and had them "forget" the jackets as people liked seeing people in distress.

• Alejandro still caught Leshawna.

• Noah would like to nominate Lindsay for an award with her acting because holy shit! "You must have me confused with someone else. The only guy I was ever into on this show was Tyler. And he's never coming back!"

• Also, he would like to simply cease to exist! Falling into the snow that deep was so awful. Snow got under his shirts and in his pants, thankfully not too far into his shoes, but it was still unpleasant. He was already shivering by the time Eva pulled him out and squished him between Izzy, Owen, and herself.

• But Izzy is an agent of chaos, and after cuddling a little tossed Noah to Alejandro, who was more than happy to help out his very cold friend! His very cold friend who had to stop squirming so he can help him warm up!

• Everyone hated the whisper singing.

• The reason why Lindsay finally "remembered" Tyler is because Chris told her she could before they resumed filming for the song. Yeah, he cut the cameras again so the cast could put on their coats and pulled her aside to say she could remember Tyler again, but to make it seem genuine yet funny. She delivered.

• Chris did this in revenge to the producers and made sure no interns were present when he told her. He was prepared to take out one of the producers' favorite bits. He still fully intended to pay Lindsay the agreed upon money and some bonus for her performance.

• The avalanche was another stunt/real. They were swept away by a snow wave, but it was planned. Noah still did not appreciate it, but it's okay because Alejandro held onto him the entire time, so there was no need to dig him out of the snow.

• While up the mountain, though, Noah broke off to go talk with Izzy, who was coincidentally walking by Leshawna and DJ. They made it look like they were whispering, but of course, Izzy didn't have an inside voice (sarcasm), and she loudly laughed.

"Oh definitely NoNo! It's so obvious! Maybe that's why Heather has been so rude to everyone. She's jealous!"

"Keep it down, Iz! But yeah, that's what I was thinking. Her crush on Alejandro is so obvious they could see it on the Nasa satellites."

"You're soooooo right. I feel bad for Leshawna now."

"Why's that nutso?"

"Well, Alejandro has been paying a lot of attention to her, and Heather likes him, and she's a little cray cray about things she wants. I mean, she has no problem manipulating people like the whole Trent thing, which made Leshawna talk everyone into voting him off. She also has no problem playing tricks and cheating, which we've seen before."

"Thaaaat...is a very well thought out and put point. Well, now I'm a little worried." Noah mumbled before Owen yelled something about food, and suddenly Izzy picked Noah up and carried him up the mountain, knowing fully well they just played Leshawna.

• It's not that they dislike Leshawna. They totally respect her, but at the same time, they need to keep low and go with the flow, and the flow was going against her. They knew that, what with Alejandro always flirting with her and inflating her ego a bit. They feel bad, but this is another elimination that doesn't seem like they had a hand in it at all, and they don't confess to it. Kind of like Harold's.

• When they reached the top and Noah saw the raw meat, he immediately yelled, "Code O!" Which had Eva and Izzy snapping into motion. Everyone was confused until they saw the two full-on tackle Owen to stop him from reaching the piles of raw meat.

This went on Alejandro's, Noah Isn't What He Seems List and his Team E-Scope Is Very Capable List.

• When Chris mentioned the meat grinder, Trent triumphantly held it up as Noah asked him to carry it to the cargo hold as the smaller boy had a feeling they were being called for a challenge. Trent was happy he listened to him.

• Alejandro had Justin on Owen duty to make sure the big guy did not eat their building material. He had Tyler on Izzy duty to make sure she didn't try to jump in the big grinder while Noah, Alejandro, and Trent worked with the electric grinder.

• Eva manned the grinding wheel while Heather was made to fill the grinder from the top, and Courtney tossed her the meat. Eva tossed Cody on top to help Heather because she did not trust Sierra. Gwen and Katie were stuffing the sausage casing while Sierra was building a disturbingly life-size Cody statue out of some of their meat.

• Leshawna took charge as she tended to do and ordered DJ to shovel the meat up, which he was fine doing. Sadie tried to tell Leshawna that she would stuff the casing as she had experience doing that since her uncle is a butcher and she used to be fascinated with his work and he taught her some of it until she lost interest when she was older. But the two still have a tradition of making sausages together for any family events. But Leshawna didn't listen and made Sadie get up on the platform to help shove the meat in the grinder. Bridgette got annoyed that Leshawna wouldn't listen, but they didn't have much time and Lindsay and Bridgette had to do the casing.

• No DJ accidentally throwing a bird into the grinder. DJ got too scared to touch the meat with the bird on top. Leshawna just kept yelling at him to hurry up, but Bridgette snapped back at Leshawna. Sadie had enough and jumped off the platform, and Lindsay snapped, too. Lindsay took charge instead and yelled out her orders but not in an angry way, just an authoritative one. She made DJ man the wheel, Sadie stuff, Leshawna shovel, and Bridgette to make sure the bird got away and not hurt.

• Chris did bring in those deadly goats. The man loves his dangerous animals.

• Team Chris was going down the mountain before everyone because of the electric grinder, so they missed the goat. Team Victory was second, and DJ did still hurt the goat. Team Amazon was last still because of Sierra and meat Cody.

• Eva was pissed and ready to throw Sierra off the mountain, but when Heather told them to jump, she realized what she was doing and said, "Do it." When Cody and Katie looked at her for guidance.

• Alejandro made Owen sit at the front of the sausage to weigh the front down more so they moved faster, and he had Noah sit in front of him. He doesn't know why, but in his head, he justified it with telling himself it was to keep Noah warm and ready for the next challenge. Owen fell off the sausage but held on to the front, which dragged Team Chris faster.

• They, of course, passed first with Alejandro only managing to hit Owen on a ledge once as he wanted to make it seem completely like an accident. When Trent started calling out directions because he thought Alejandro couldn't see where he was steering them, Alejandro had to pretend that to be true and listened to Trent.

• No dumb hat rewards because they honestly made no sense to me. The reward instead was extra training time to learn the Schuhplattler ( known as the slap dance, Schuh means shoe and plattler means slap!). The penalty was still the lederhosen for one person to wear and uncomfortable, not broken in, leather shoes for the rest of the team to wear. Team Victory just had to wear traditional dance shoes. Team Chris got the traditional Tyrolean hats that resembled Cody's penalty outfit.

• Cody was always going to wear the penalty outfit, so no having to try and get Sierra to wear it.

• Eva and Gwen sat out along with Tyler and Noah. Eva was glad Noah sat out because the guy is actually good at dancing and won against Eva and Izzy every time. They are trying to lay low, so it was a good move. Sadie was made to sit out.

• Sierra did sing her song, which disturbed not just Cody but everyone, and Trent did his best to shield the boy as they danced against each other.

• When Heather laughed at Leshawna's dancing and Alejandro started talking to her, Bridgette yelled out for Leshawna to focus. Leshawna ignored her, and Bridgette was so frustrated. That's when Heather noticed her frustration and mocked her for being jealous and started going in on Bridgette being jealous despite having a boyfriend and how it was the end of "stupid Gidgette!"

• Meanwhile, Alejandro continued on his manipulation with Leshawna. To which Justin was the one to point out the pep talk comment. He also threw in how Noah would not appreciate it given, "How smart and capable my little songbird is~."

To which Alejandro fake smiled and explained he was playing an angle but also, "He's not your anything!"

• While Bridgette stewed in her anger, Heather did try to warn Leshawna before the dance challenge started.

It was Leshawna against Owen.

Heather against Trent.

Izzy against Courtney

Bridgette against Justin

Sierra against DJ

Lindsay against Katie

Cody against Alejandro

• Heather, Leshawna, Izzy, Bridgette, Sierra, and Alejandro won the first round. Lindsay and Katie hit each other off the platform at the same time, so neither won. Then, the teams became:

Heather v Leshawna

Izzy v Bridgette

Sierra v Alejandro

• Again, Heather and Leshawna came to a tie, and the trash talking had been building the entire time. Bridgette won against Izzy, well more like Izzy got bored and pretended to fail, but only Eva and Noah saw that. Plus, Izzy didn't want to come across as too capable or like she was serious, so she pretended the light shock got to her, and she slipped off the edge. She had actually calculated when Chris would send the small shocks and made sure she was close to the edge when he next did it, which resulted in her fall. With Izzy falling and Justin's comment about Noah getting to him, Alejandro was doing his best to win but got distracted by hearing Noah's voice.

• Noah was throwing snow at Justin because the model was flirting with him again, and Noah was getting irritated. This situation distracted Alejandro enough for Sierra to knock him off. But to his team, it looked like Sierra got him out because her super strength kicked in when she saw Cody trying to help out Noah. That was a factor, but Alejandro could have dodged if he hadn't been distracted.

• Now is was:

Leshawna v Heather round 3

And

Sierra v Bridgette

• Alejandro still cheered for Leshawna once round 3 began. Which made Bridgette now suspicious because she had been noticing a lot lately and how he no longer complimented her and everything. Not that she wanted him to, but it was weird how he just shut off their communication the way he did.

• So when Heather shouted about Leshawna not being on Alejandro's team and slapped Leshawna. Bridgette yelled her agreement which made Heather mock her for being jealous.

Leshawna hit Heather off, and Bridgette jumped off the platform at the same time as Leshawna because Heather had finally pissed her to the point of snapping. Leshawna did slap Heather, but it wasn't over and over. She did it once and once was enough to snap her out of it because, man, this wasn't her. Bridgette slapped Heather once and yelled at her over all the comments about her and Geoff. She basically went off on how Heather was a sad, lonely, desperate person.

• Sierra won by default.

• No missing tooth, Heather, but she did get slapped on the same side of her face, so it was really red and going to bruise. Plus, she bit the inside of her cheek, so it was going to swell and be swollen for a short time. The bite wasn't super bad, more a nip, but she did still bleed.

• Chris then announced it was a double elimination for Team Victory. It wasn't that hard a decision for them given the growing tension between Leshawna and Bridgette. Plus, the team had gotten tired of Leshawna taking the role of leader and not listening to any of their ideas, suggestions, or input. Lindsay knew how that was, which was why she was confused about why Leshawna acted that way. You would think the girl would remember what happened to Lindsay season two, given the whole cast had a rewatch party a little while after the finale.

• Eliminated: Leshawna and Bridgette.

I think when we get closer to the merge, I won't reveal who gets eliminated as I might want to save that for the actual fic. But if you guys are okay with knowing, I don't mind sharing at all! I just thought maybe you wouldn't want me to spoil that.

Next

[angelsdean]

hot take maybe but actually i do expect my mom to comfort me and make me an ice cream sundae when i’m sad even when i get to 40 and she’s 70. my grandma does that for her still. it’s not. limiting her. it’s not saying she only has to be my mommy. i have taken care of her too. it’s saying we love each other and want to take care of each other. mary struggling to be able to interact with grown up sam and dean was very very valid and understandable and i love her for it. she also could’ve maybe tried a little more anyway. they could’ve lent on each other. idk.

Yea i've said before that I think it's a bit outrageous the way people seem to think someone stops being a parent once their child reaches adulthood. Maybe it's a cultural thing, I don't know, but the whole idea of "once your kid turns 18 they're out the door and not your problem anymore" is so deeply flawed IMO. But yea I focus more on "debunking" the claim that Dean expects some sort of motherly coddling / babying from Mary because that seems to be the deancrit take I see the most with regards to this arc / the "i'm not just a mom" scene.

But for sure many people seem to have some weird ideas IMO about what it means to be a parent. Like I think you can feel for Mary and understand that parents can and are more than just parents, but also understand that they will never stop BEING a parent either. Their kids will always be their kids. It's why people always say being a parent is a full time job, not something to go into lightly, that you should be sure you actually want kids and understand that having them is a lifelong commitment etc etc. And having kids makes them become your priority, even when you want to be selfish you always have to try to put them first. Obviously that lessens as they grow up but like, if your adult child were injured or had some kind of health issue / challenges as a parent it's still your job to be there for them, to support them, to care for them. That doesn't just end at 18. It's why *I* know that even though I like the idea of kids I probably never will have any because it's so much responsibility and because those kids are always always going to come first, forever! That's kind of part of the parental "contract" IMO. And even when they're adults, a parent should still be the one person in the world your kid can turn to, rely on, seek comfort in.

And I understand these expectations are complicated in this particular narrative by the fact that Mary died young and is not equipped to be a mother to adults. I think that's such a delicious component that I wish they leaned into more. She is grieving her babies. She is allowed to feel those feelings and feel confused and unsure and struggle with accepting this new dynamic with her children. But a big part of Mary's arc in s12, which culminates in 12x22 with "I need you to see me" is that she is the one stuck in the past, needing to accept her reality and "SEE" her children for who they are now. That's what the arc is moving towards, that acceptance. And after s12 we see her and Dean have a better relationship. We see her still getting to be Mary the person AND Mary the "mom." She hunts, she comes and goes, but she's someone Dean can talk to, share a meal with, spend time together. It's what he always wanted most. He tells her in 14x11 that "just knowing you're around, that you're alive has meant everything to me."

Anyways, I won't ramble about all that again because I've made a bunch of posts about it already. But yes, I think it's normal for Dean (and Sam) to want Mary to comfort them, do nice things for them, the way any parent or really a family member in general might do. They are not asking for kisses on their boo-boos and getting tucked into bed with a bedtime story, which is how a lot of deancrit posts read. What they want is some sort of familial reciprocal care. Like the way Dean spends quality time with those he loves. The way he baked a cake for Jack. Cooks for his family. The way he gives people gifts. The way he fixes Cas's truck. The way he calls to check in on people. He doesn't do these things out of some obligation or playing some "role", he does them because he cares. Because he loves his family, and that's just what family does for each other.

Someone in my tags last night said it very well that what Dean really wanted was just, another family member, to spend time with, to share their joys and burdens with. Someone like Bobby, that he could turn to if he needed. Bobby was a parent figure but he wasn't "parenting" them, y'know? He was someone Dean could lean on, but he didn't expect Bobby to shoulder all his burdens. And I think that's what Dean wants most. Just someone he can lean on and rely on, since he's been having to be the strong one for everyone his whole life.

[blueishspace]

Hero, Villain God 59

(Prev) (Next) (First)

*Scar's pov*

You never really liked hospitals, they are empty and dull and white and you go there only when something bad happens... Never a pleasant experience, you of all people have bad memories of them...

This time It's really silent too, the association pulled all the steps to keep Grian far from other patients, maybe to prevent his identity being discovered by someone wandering around.

Cub stops you in front of the door right before you can enter.

"Before we go in, Altostratus and Ocean Queen don't know Cuteguy's identity"

You forgot about that, you didn't even consider it... you feel awful, you got distracted and- not the time, you'll feel bad later, you can just ask Grian what he wants to do...yeah.

Altostratus crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. "And?"

You are the one to speak up this time around. "A-and the choice to reveal his identity is still his" Your words get caught up on eachother a bit but they must understand what you are trying to say.

"So, I'm going with Cub to ask him if he wants to do it." That should be ok right?

Altostratus goes to say something but is shushed by his wife (You are still shocked about that and no, you will not let this go, how did no one notice??). She nods in his place and hits him the head slightly when he tries to protest...

You open the door and step in, there is a corridor in front of you and at the end of it is Grian's room, as you do you hear Ocean Queen call Altostratus a "Nincompoop" from behind the door...you have no idea what that means and at this point you don't think you even want to ask.

Grian is waiting for you, you don't really question how he knew you were coming, as far as you know he just has been waiting like that for hours... You hope he hasn't done that. Maybe he just heard you! That makes more sense! You didn't really care about the noise you made so he must have noticed when you and Cub came in.

"Scar! Cub! Finally!"

He's excited? You of course It's good that he's doing good of, that's the most important thing, butbyou didn't expect this from someone who just woke up from almost dying. You just don't know how to feel, you expected him to be angry or sad or something, more then that it feels like you don't deserve to see him so happy since he got hurt because of you being careless.

"You can't believe how bored I was! Here all alone ... waiting!"

He was...bored? The room is mostly empty except for some medical machine stuff, that does seem like it would be pretty boring. You are wondering if your thought about him waiting for you the whole time might actually be what happened- Wait, you need to say something, you are usually a lot better at talking over thinking.

"Well, eh...no time to be bored with me here. And I brought friends!"

Cub nods and adds "They are heroes...but still, seeing them would have you reveal their identity to them, Scar insisted we ask you first. I agree with him."

...

Grian looks thoughtful, this is probably a really big choice for him so you understand he might need some time to make the choice-

"Sounds good to me!"

Nevermind! That was a bit fast though, you hope he doesn't feel like he has too.

"Are you sure Grian? You can say no, no one is-"

"Nah! I'm sure, bring them in! I wanted to meet the others for a while now anyway."

Oh. Oh? Oh! Well, that's good news then Cub nods again and leaves to get the others... Hopefully they'll get along well.

...

Well this is weird, Altostratus and Grian are just staring at eachother. Like they know eachother already??? I mean, Altostratus is a top hero so it makes sense for Grian to know OF him but this feels different, like they met face to face.

But you would know if something like that happened right? Grian would have definitely told you. Cub beats you to it though, you aren't surprised he noticed it too, he's very smart about these things.

"Do you two know eachother already?"

The two answer at the same time, Grian with a no and Altostratus with a yes....Ok so, something strange is definitely going on here, you akwardly look between the two. For a second Grian looks actually angry???? Frustrated at least. You don't think you ever seen him make an expression like that, it disappears immediately but you can swear it was there.

. . . Huh

*End of Chapter 11*

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 76

It's him! It's our boy!

Here's some ideas I got based on the title image:

The Lugantes appear to be dwarfs. They have a connection to the gold peelers. Maybe they hire people to assist with mining operations.

One of the gold peelers is dead. He kind of looks like the corpse retriever from chapter 31 who cast that illusion on Kabru's party but I'm probably not right.

The half-foot next to the Shadow Lord looks like the one from the bar in chapter 9. If he is, then that bar was likely owned by the Shadow Lord. I wonder if the people the orcs killed were ever resurrected.

The Shadow Lord appears to have some connection to the corpse retrievers Kabru killed. If true, then the Shadow Lord may have been helping them track adventurers and cover up their actions for a cut of the profits. Maybe he even sent his own men to kill adventurers and sent the corpse retrievers to "discover" the bodies.

That informant isn't an elf, but they're wearing the same cloak the Canaries wear. The informant has a connection to Fionil so I double-checked her appearance and she's also wearing the same cloak the Canaries wear. Fionil and the informant might be working for the Canaries, but the informant might also be acting as a double agent by giving information to the Lugantes as well.

Had to review the last few chapters cause I wasn't sure why Lycion was okay and just chilling with Laios's party.

He wasn't able to help the other canaries last chapter cause he was busy restraining Izutsumi.

Enough time passed since the end of chapter 74 that Izutsumi was able to get dressed. I don't know if I'd rather take the reasonable assumption that Kabru convinced Lycion and Izutsumi to stop fighting and she got dressed after, or if I'd rather take the silly approach and say the two of them just decided to stop fighting on their own and were just sitting around eating the leftover bavarois until Kabru showed up.

Izutsumi's scarf is tied in a bow and I refuse to believe she would have done that, and I am therefore going to headcanon that Lycion tied her scarf into a bow.

Fleki isn't dead so the lion obeyed the letter of Marcille's command to not kill anyone but not the spirit.

Mithrun survived by teleporting into a giant spider. The thing that hit the wall last chapter was the spider's guts.

That's...really gross.

And the teddy bear spider had teeth.

Mithrun can't teleport when making a lot of contact? So this means a grappler opponent is a hard counter if they can manage to grab and pin him before Mithrun teleports them.

Did Kabru choke Mithrun out? And was Mithrun the one who made the cuffs?

The giant spiders having non-spider heads really does just make them creepier. Especially when their bodies get crushed. Spiders have a decentralized nervous system, so limbs can react independently even after the brain is destroyed. And the rabbit-head spider's ears can still move despite being dead.

Is there a name for the way Laios is carrying Cithis? The best comparison I found was the piggyback carry where the rider is supposed to wrap their arms around the carrier. But since she's unconscious, Laios is holding her arms criss-cross to secure her.

Don't ever think Laios is stupid. He had enough intuition to figure out what happened after Cithis hypnotized him.

I don't know why, but I feel like Lycion would get along great with Laios's party. If they didn't have opposing goals, he and Fleki would probably be best buds with the gang.

I keep forgetting that Lycion is a beastman. I jokingly said he was the Canary's Senshi (because of fanservice), but he's actually more like a reverse Izutsumi.

On that train of thought, I'm going to assign Mithrun as the anti-Senshi (Doesn't care about his health or well-being at all), Fleki as the anti-Chilchuck (She seems like a snarker who complains about everything), Pattadol as the anti-Marcille (both are really high-strung and by-the-books), and Cithis as the anti-Laios (She's just evil). I don't know where to fit Otta in this so I'm just going to call her the anti-Namari cause why not?

On a completely pointless note, we can say that Cithis and Pattadol are heavier than Otta because Izutsumi could carry Otta but Laios and Senshi had to carry Cithis and Pattadol.

This image is really disorienting.

The dungeon doesn't adhere to Euclidean space but this just lays bare how nonsense the layout was. In particular, we can see the entrance to the fourth level on the left center of the image. You have to exit out of the bottom of a tower with no other discernible entry points.

The secret town on the sixth floor is in the background and we can see the top layer of the dwarf city ruins under it.

Falin's body has been moved.

Several early chapters in the series brought up the ecologic balance of the dungeon. In particular, I remember Senshi explaining that the golems on the third floor serve as a deterrent to keep the stronger monsters from moving to higher levels.

With all the levels now on the same plane, we're seeing something like that scenario play out. The natural bottlenecks the old dungeon structure had are broken and flying monsters have immediately attempted to expand their territories.

Some monsters can't survive in the upper levels because the mana concentration is too thin. If monsters are managing to move across different environments, that could mean that the amount of mana in the air is increasing as well.

I can't tell if the reason Laios is worried is because Marcille's actions will get people killed or because she's doing a bad job building the dungeon.

Fleki got brain damage when her familiar was killed, but Marcille wasn't affected by her familiars' deaths. It's probably because Marcille's familiars were constructs while Fleki's aren't.

Marcille's familiars were more like drones she was piloting remotely. When the first two were killed by the hippogriff, she had a stressed look to her eyes so the sudden disconnection might be mentally taxing, but it doesn't actually affect her.

Fleki's familiars are conjured by her. She has at least two familiars: the raven familiar she uses in battle and white dove familiars she uses for scouting. I want to guess that the white doves are more similar to Marcille's familiars; they're drones that let Fleki scout in wide areas and likely won't harm her if they get attacked.

Her raven familiar is definitely an extension of her. I mentioned in chapter 74 that she has a tattoo of some sort on her chest. That might be what lets her summon her raven. And she's able to control how much her soul exists in the raven. In chapter 73, she was unconscious until the raven flew back into her. But in chapter 74, she was just remote piloting it.

I realized while talking about Fleki that she wears a hawker's glove.

And again, the Canaries refuse to actually work with non-elves. It might be beneficial to work with Laios, but Lycion told him to not get involved. And as soon as Laios said no, Lycion immediately escalated to violence. Laios doesn't even know why the situation is worse than it seems.

Initially, Laios was in shock when Lycion showed off his power but then he was enthralled.

Kabru does not have a weapon. And I'd say he hasn't had a weapon since returning to the surface. He probably thought he wouldn't need one since he was just going to try negotiating with the Shadow Lord. And then everything happened.

Kensuke was all confuzzled and curious because someone else was holding it.

It's probably a mix of urgency and only recently meeting Kabru, but Laios got over Kabru lying to him really quickly. It's probably happened plenty of times where he met someone, thought they hit it off and quickly learned that wasn't the case. Shuro hurt far more because they'd been together for years. Laios had only known Kabru for about a month, so he could just brush it off as another failed interaction.

Kabru is a manipulator, and Laios is the one person he's never been able to successfully manipulate. He took an interest in Laios because Laios's party had been the most successful at navigating the dungeon, and Kabru wanted to know what might happen if he were to conquer the dungeon.

But at some point, that interest turned into an obsession, especially since he could never ensnare Laios with any of his usual methods. Kabru's conspiracy board shows how all the other figures, adventurers, and organizations tie together; but the Touden siblings sit in the middle of that board because Kabru can't figure out how they connect to anything.

His only avenue to getting close to Laios was by eating monsters, which he hated and it drove him so crazy that Kabru started picturing Laios as a deranged madman who is a threat to mankind.

And with the charade revealed, Laios is figuratively and literally slipping out of Kabru's grip.

Apologizing for his deception gave Kabru one chance to plead with Laios, but he had no idea what to say because none of his manipulations and honeyed words will work. He tried to explain the situation but he knows deep down that Laios doesn't care about the world or the greater good. Nothing Kabru says about the situation will convince Laios to leave a friend behind.

So Kabru decided to be genuine.

Laios's obliviousness to how others feel about him works in two ways. Not only was he clueless to Shuro not wanting to be Laios's friend, he was clueless to Kabru wanting to be his friend. Shuro dealt with a lot of grief because Laios thought they were friends the whole time. And Kabru suffered a lot in his efforts to become Laios's friends.

And they both did the same thing when they reached their tipping point.

And then he airs out all his grievances about Laios's obliviousness.

CANNONBALL BREAKER!!!

It's been a serious chapter and the tension got broken up by Kui reminding us that Izutsumi and Lycion were fighting each other right off-screen during this entire heart-to-heart.

Kabru didn't manage to stop Laios, but he managed to get his point across. While Laios is determined to save Marcille, he will not side with the lion. And when this is over, he and Kabru will sit down and get to know each other.

They all forgot that Thistle's house was converted into a floating island.

back

[baphometsss]

AND ANOTHER THING oml I'll shut up in a minute I swear

Solas's view of the modern people of Thedas obviously influenced the way he saw his relationships with them. How could he connect with people so disconnected from the Fade when he himself was borne from its magic? There's no bridge for them to meet on because he himself severed it, unlike the ancient elvhen or spirit friends he made before. The mental circles this man was running in I stg... It would've only heightened his sense that the Veil needed to come down urgently, so he could bring his 'true' or 'real' friends back.

Yet he does end up forging bonds with the inner circle because ironically it's only through that process of being disconnected from his past (and by extension, his relationships, which up until this point have all been with spirits or manifested spirits) that he's able to be more authentically himself than ever before. There's no pretence of Fen'harel. At what point does he stop seeing his friends in the Inquisition and his love for the Inquisitor as inferior to the bonds he forged with the ancient elves and spirits? When does he start seeing them as 'real', and that Felassan was right? You can very easily say that his friendships with the Inquisition were strong enough to be at least equal to them, that without a war or a rebellion to spearhead, his true nature could shine through more clearly than it had in aeons. I would even go as far as saying that it reminded him of his friendship with Mythal, the version of her he treasured most--her spirit form, which she did not value as much as he did, because it was where they were at their simplest and most peaceful. While distracted from the weight of duty and responsibility, he found that place once again--only this time, from within a physical body, possibly for the first time ever.

However, I do truly believe what Trick was saying when they said that in order to fully appreciate the emotional depth of Solas you have to romance him. Falling in love with the Inquisitor adds a layer of depth to his character that can't be found with friendship. Like I said, the friendship is obviously important enough, but for this man, who has canonically never known romantic love, he finds himself understanding it on a level he could never have anticipated.

Pardon me while I get a bit philosophical here, but I think true love (platonic or romantic) is how we touch infinity. You go beyond yourself in love; your ego transcends and you live in total alignment not just with your own being but the being of another. Experiencing that romantically after only ever witnessing it from the outside is one thing; to be made a part of that kind of love in such an all-consuming way (which is in itself a spiritual experience) is another thing entirely.

Now imagine being an immortal manifested spirit of Wisdom who thinks he's seen it all, enough to be cocksure that a romance won't disrupt your plans or make you consider abandoning your duty, and then... boom. You fall in love with a mortal, and it totally consumes you and makes you consider the true breadth of your own existence and meaning in the world the way only romantic love does, and now you think you've actually changed so dramatically that uhh... yeah. Those plans might not be the best idea after all. Maybe this love is greater than duty, maybe it's greater than the sunk cost fallacy and the mental circles you've been running around in for thousands of years. Maybe this is worth saving more than the Empire of Elvhenan.

That's, I think, the moment he realises that he was wrong about his relationships in the past being more important, and when he realises that the love he shares with these mortals is equally, or even more, important than those bonds from the past. Because these people don't make him pine for spirithood like he did with Mythal and Felassan. And if this is the case, what does he lose, on balance, with all he has gained? The ancient elves have been gone a long time already by this point, and as Cole points out--they're not gone so long as you remember them. In fact, Solas wants to give up his goals, he wants to give up his dream of seeing Elvhenan restored and Mythal avenged. He says so himself and very nearly follows through.

The problem is that he can't. He can't give up now. It's already in motion. It's too late. All his understanding and revelations have to fall by the wayside so he can see it all through. His own heart has to die so he can bring back what he thought he wanted most before. The guilt alone would be enough to destroy him, so giving it up would never have worked anyway. The catch-22 is the tragedy, and how he becomes more corrupted--because now he has to go against his own wisdom and heart.

[sufferu]

If BTZ started in Arc 1 instead of Arc 3 maybe the cast could make Subaru realize that transing her gender was the answer all along.

That’s already part of regular BTZ lol. …Well — kinda, cause I have two major caveats here.

1) I don’t personally interpret Subaru as a trans woman so much as some form of non-binary, with him needing to learn to find a balance between his masculine and feminine halves in order to come to terms with his most authentic self. This is typically how I write him, even if I do tend to see him as landing more on the feminine side of things.

And beyond that: I don’t see Lugunica as a place that would actually Understand terms like transgender or nonbinary. That doesn’t mean that the realities of the human experience don’t exist there — they definitely do — but I don’t think they’d use the same language that we would here on Earth. Example: aside from Subaru, I tend to also interpret CRUSCH as on the transmasculine end of things, just without using the same language that we would for a similar situation.

(The one exception to this might be Anastasia, who I can totally see having decided that she was a maiden no matter what anyone else wanted her to be and built herself a life of maidenhood from the ground up in every sense of the word. But I still don’t think she’d have a Word for it like we would: she’d more see herself as a “self-made woman.”) (Heh.)

2) At its core, I see transitioning as something that the actual person has to choose for themselves. The idea of “transing” or “being transed by” someone else — I do actually understand the appeal of that trope, lol, but it clashes with my own personal experiences a little too much for me to really Do anything with it. As far as I’m concerned, that’s something that someone has to decide to do for their on sake, and not something that other people can decide on their behalf.

Because this is my perspective, it’s going to bleed into how I write this subplot. And as a result, the main takeaway is that nobody can MAKE Subaru accept that he enjoys being more feminine: all they can really do is provide a space in which it is safe for him to explore himself a little more. Whether this be making more feminine clothing readily available, giving him explicit permission to express himself however he likes, or Wilhelm resolving to hang over Natsumi Schwartz’s shoulder like a specter of death as a warning to anyone who so much as LOOKS at her funny — that’s really all they can (all they should) be doing here.

(There are probably going to be scenes where someone DOES try to force him into a dress, lmao, but it’s not the type of thing that would end well at all…)

[rajakaen]

Let me introduce my notRook Veilguard OC Verinius Sabelis Phalban. He goes by many names and is a byproduct of @jukkaricity's recent dive into Thedas and can usually be found alongside her also notRook OC Alectris Mercar. Jukkari gave him a voice, the game gave us the looks while I gave him his personality and so V has ended up as a full-fledged character over time. A & V are Blorbos by Proxy ❤️

TLDR Intro Version

Verinius is a brilliant, socially inept mage who exists in his own world of books, Minrathous fantasies and blood magic experiments. He has the talent of a prodigy and the social instincts of a brick, managing to alienate everyone around him except his cat, Andoralis, whom he insists is the only living creature worthy of his full attention.

He is utterly convinced that Minrathous represents the pinnacle of civilization, despite barely engaging with its people beyond what is strictly necessary. His mind moves too fast for most and when people fail to keep up, he either ignores them entirely or offends them without meaning to.

He has no regard for the legal or ethical concerns of magic, specializing in blood magic (purely for research, of course, tho his own blood is another matter entirely) and storm magic (which builds up when left unused for too long, resulting in frizzed hair and sparks discharging at inconvenient moments).

Alectris is the only person who comes close to truly understanding him, though her return to his life comes with a sharp reminder: she is not going to let him get away with talking to his cat more than actual people.

Background & Introduction (before the Veilguard)

To an unknowing observer, Verinius might appear to be the most Tevinter mage among Tevinter mages—at least slightly snobbish, accustomed to comfort and absolutely in love with Minrathous, or rather, the idea of the city he has cultivated in his imagination for years. The truth, however, is quite different. He comes from a small village near Marothius, deep within the Hundred Pillars, far from the empire’s beating heart. His family has owned an apple orchard for generations and while his magical talent may have elevated their status to Laetans, little has changed for them since he left for the Circle. Not that they mind—his parents and siblings take great pride in their work and are content with their peaceful life.

Veryl’s magic surfaced early—wild, untamed and far beyond what his family could hope to manage. With no other mages among them and little understanding of such power, they had few options when the inevitable summons arrived. A Tevinter child, especially one crackling with barely contained lightning, was never going to stay in a remote village. The decision was out of his parents' hands and by the time he was five, Verinius had already been sent to the Circle at Carastes. There, he trained for several years before being transferred to Minrathous at twelve, where his potential was deemed better suited to the capital. The move, however, came at a cost—Minrathous was far from home and distance meant that visits became rare, his connection to his family reduced to letters and memories.

And so Veryl spent most of his early life within the Circles, his world shaped not just by their walls but by what it meant to be a mage in Tevinter. Yet the structured pace of learning tested his patience; too slow, too rigid, never deep enough and constantly disrupted by the distractions of his peers. Carastes was more than happy to send him to Minrathous, where both his potential and his troublesome nature would become someone else’s concern. Lacking natural social graces, his background was working against him. While others fit in with ease, he often felt like he was speaking a language no one else understood—quite literally, in some cases, as his tendency to over-explain resulted in more than one awkward silence. It never stopped him from trying, much to everyone's dismay.

During his years in the Circles, few things had ever gotten under his skin, but meeting Alectris in his late teens proved to be an exception. Unfazed by his unpolished personality, she quickly became a constant thorn in his side—one he was surprised to find himself growing fond of. Eventually, a Magister recognized Verinius’ potential and claimed him as an apprentice. Verixsus brought him to his estate, pulling him into a far larger world. The rigid life of the Circle gave way to a more demanding, fluid apprenticeship, but with it came a privilege: four visits home each year instead of one. And no matter how much Minrathous holds his heart, it never truly dulled the pull of home—not that he ever spoke of it much.

Like him, Alectris left the Circle, though she chose the army instead. Over the years, their friendship became quieter; distance and duty dulling what had once been constant. He never quite stopped missing her, but life in Minrathous had a way of swallowing time and before he knew it, years had slipped away. He got along well with his master, but a mentor was no substitute for a best friend—Alec had been the only one who could truly keep up with him and he missed her. The void she left was filled by a stray cat he found on his master’s estate. Or rather, the cat found him and decided she would adopt him. From that day on, Andoralis became his ever-present shadow, named after the day she entered his life.

Eight years passed before Alectris finally left the army and returned from her deployment in Seheron. She could hardly believe what she saw. Verinius had grown utterly fixated on his cat, perhaps too much for her liking—holding entire conversations with Andoralis as if expecting her to reply and acting as if her approval was of the utmost importance. Alectris had always known he was eccentric, but this was a new level of absurd. Worse, he had begun experimenting with volatile magic and had become adept at blood magic, making no effort to hide it. His methods, however, are unusual. While others wield blood without hesitation, he could never quite bear the sight of his own. If asked, he’d simply say fresh blood gives him headaches. Instead, he collects samples with eerie calm, studying ways to preserve their potency—never considering how unnerving this might be. To him, spilt blood holds no more weight than splattered ink.

Still, his time with Magister Verixsus had done him some good—his temper had evened out, he no longer openly insulted people for their lack of magical understanding as often and he carried himself with the easy confidence of someone who had long since stopped caring whether or not people found him strange. But beneath the polish, Alectris could still see flashes of her old friend—the insufferable know-it-all, the stubborn streak a mile wide, the way he lit up when talking about something that truly fascinated him. And despite years of silence, their friendship fell back into place with ease. As if no time had passed, Alectris slipped into her old role as a constant bother and Veryl, to her great satisfaction, responded exactly as he always had—overly dramatic, easily excitable and entirely unable to get rid of her.

Veryl can most often be found surrounded by books and vials, either studying magic (the less commonly available, the better—legality is not a concern) or completing his daily tasks as a scribe and Magister’s apprentice. He has an unfortunate talent for saying precisely the wrong thing at the worst possible moment, whether through tactlessness, sheer obliviousness or a total lack of concern for social norms. His magical expertise is undeniable, specializing in practical and constructive applications of blood magic, as well as a highly destructive form of storm magic for those rare moments when force becomes necessary. He can go from zero to vaporization in less than 0.3 seconds. He's eccentric and peculiar in both his interests and his mannerisms, somehow managing to offend whoever he speaks with or embarrass himself—often at the same time. The fact that his main conversation partner is Andoralis certainly does not help his predicament.

Verinius should, by all rights, be quietly buried in books somewhere, bothering no one but his cat. Instead, thanks to Alectris and a dragon with extreme renovation ideas for Minrathous, he’s now neck-deep in the Veilguard’s chaos. Meanwhile, our poor Rook (a dwarven Warden) is left juggling world-ending threats, blighted nightmares and—because the universe clearly hates him—two more walking disasters. At this rate, Wolfram Thorne will have to save Thedas by next Tuesday or risk losing the last shreds of his sanity.

For those interested in the BG, it's a paraphrase of the codex entry art on 'Dock Town Intel: The Place Itself'. It was solely created for practice and to give V and his cat a thematically fitting bg to stand on.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

yeah the idea that Every Blind Person Ever is hidden from the eye feels... unlikely lol. like, for one thing, why would georgie and melanie not just blind all their followers by default if it was that effective a form of protection. i feel like in melanie's case it must be something more along the lines of, the eye anchors itself to its servants via the eyes, and in blinding herself she severed that connection. so someone who didn't have a connection to start with wouldn't get anything special out of it. (which implies, interestingly, that taking a servant/avatar might actually be an allowance of weakness for the fears? since if it never attached itself to her in the first place, melanie wouldn't be able to shut out the eye like that. hm.)

...that said, re: georgie being fearless, and melanie being cut off, it's also been explicitly stated that arthur is, in his own multiverse, a literal blind spot. kayne can't get a lock on him. now we still don't have any real idea why he's like that, but i feel like if we're doing translations, it wouldn't be too surprising if that transferred to be some form of protection from the eye as well. hidden from the eye not bc of the blindness in itself, but bc of whatever-it-is that lets him continue to surprise a nearly omnipotent being.

anyway re: avatars, yeah, it definitely feels weird if jon can like, somehow game the system and kill anyone he wants but he has to turn them into an active player first. that feels strange. it's possible smiting works on everyone, but, i'm also wondering if the neater way to square this is maybe that there's some kind of distinction between "subject," as defined by the eye as the counterposition to the object, and "avatar," as in the agents of the fears that existed even pre-apocalypse.

bc martin isn't fully an avatar, right? but he still has a domain. and like, uh, the admiral was also a subject, kind of, right. the admiral is definitely not an avatar the admiral is a cat. and on the flipside, daisy ended up being an avatar but didn't have a specific domain, right? so maybe "subject" is a definition based purely on whether the eye is looking at you or your victims, whereas "avatar" is a separate concept defined by your, like, proximity to one of the fears.

it would make sense in that case that avatars are subjects by default, since they are, by nature, things that inflict fear. by the same token, maybe getting smote is not a question of being undone by fear so much as it is like, a conflict or loophole in the logic of the system. you can't be both an avatar and an object. it demands complete separation from your patron, which, for an avatar, means death. a non-avatar normal person, subject or object, can't be destroyed in the same way because they're not that close to the fears to start with.

...does that make any sense? am i making sense here? i can't tell.

anyway to uh, circle back to the whole Point of this discussion lol, then yeah, it would all come down to whether john and arthur are considered avatars in this new system. or, that is, after resolving the question of 1) whether arthur is a blind spot and 2) whether that blind spot has enough range to cover the other guy in his head. assuming he's not and/or it doesn't, then... i don't think john would be an avatar? not by default, at least. bc i don't know which one he would be an avatar Of. i guess it depends on what the mechanics of their arrival in the world are, but i feel like becoming an avatar of anything would have to be an active choice. it's also possible that john is a blind spot/immune for reasons totally unrelated to arthur's, possibly having something to do with him existing in that weird man/monster quantum state. idk!

weird question, but if Jonathan Sims tried to smite Arthur Lester "ceaseless watcher turn your gaze" style, would Arthur being blind make him immune to it, and if so, would that mean John Doe would not be immune to it, being the one who can see? Could the Archivist kill John?

And even more importantly, if Jon did kill John, would Arthur immediately rage kill him right back? .......or would they become besties

because like. Last time someone killed Arthur's best friend he did proceed over the course of barely four months to reach unhinged levels of devoted codependent love that have never been seen before or since with the guy. so like

[quaddmgd]

[thormanick]

All the Kavetham/Haikaveh ideas I don't have capacity to currently write, a very detailed list:

(Which I am humbly placing here before you. Be warned: this post is an incredibly long one!)

1. Fatui!Kaveh AU, where the night before the meeting happens between Kaveh and Alhaitham at the tavern, Kaveh gets a deal from Fatui representatives to work on a huge project in Snezhnaya. Kaveh is sceptical about it, but decides to accept the offer during the dialogue with Alhaitham (seeing himself as a burden, Kaveh decides that he will cause more trouble to Alhaitham than the Fatui, thus he decides to accept their offer even if it seems too good to be true). He tells Alhaitham about his decision to leave for Snezhnaya, and so the two relatively amicably/peacefully part their ways (not without Alhaitham testing Kaveh's reasoning a bit, but Kaveh's resolve remains strong).

And so, Kaveh leaves for Snezhnaya, where he gets to work on several huge projects for the next several years under Sandrone. Most of them are related to construction, engineering and reverse-engineering of Khaenri'ahn and Khaenri'ah-inspired technology, and he gets barely any time to work on his personal projects (he's overworked and exhausted and doesn't get much time and opportunity to be creative; however, the payments are good and he's on his way to getting out of debt, which is practically the sole reason driving him forward. The projects get progressively more complicated and, in a way, unhinged - engineering military equipment is alright, but working with the remains of Khaenri'ahn technology, dead gods and such proves to be... mentally taxing. Everything happens very gradually though, so Kaveh does not immediately notice the true scale of where the Fatui are ready to go to achieve certain goals). Kaveh doesn't really like the work environment of the Fatui, but he does his best (the Harbingers creep him out whenever he gets to see them on a rare official occasion (he might specifically dislike Pantalone because the Harbinger keeps picking at him for his debt, given a chance), but Sandrone's a decent boss who is somewhat encouraging and invested in his work and personal projects. She might be especially interested in Mehrak's existence and operation). Overall, everything goes quite smoothly for Kaveh, even if he doesn't feel quite at home in Snezhnaya and is aware of how dangerous the Fatui can be. He does not consider himself to be paranoid, but the other shoe has to drop at some point - and that happens when the new Acting Grand Sage of Sumeru gets to visit Snezhnaya on a diplomatic mission (aka: Kaveh reconnects with Alhaitham & Co for the first time in what feels like forever). The situation gets complicated when Kaveh realizes that Sandrone encourages the reestablishment of his connection with Alhaitham specifically - and she never encourages an action if she doesn't directly contribute from it.

Feelings, emotions and shenanigans ensue.

TLDR: Kaveh's doing his best despite being restricted in his ways of work, prevented from realizing most of his creative projects and slowly but surely building emotional walls around himself because Fatui and Snezhnaya; Sandrone being a kind of decent boss with sorta good work ethic but horrendous morals who is not exactly a good influence on Kaveh's idealistic tendencies and guilt complex; Fatui being contextually horrifying but kinda normal coworkers if you don't look at them too close; Alhaitham trying his best as a political figure (Nahida help him) while also trying to get Kaveh to return home with him (because he misses him); the main conflict revolving around Kaveh and his life choices with Sandrone and Alhaitham being kind of foils to each other (with Sandrone gradually destroying Kaveh's idealistic morals and playing on his guilt to get the most out of his potential as an innovator, and with Alhaitham actively trying to resolve Kaveh's guilt and show him that, despite their arguments, Kaveh's idealism still has place in the world and can co-exist with other philosophies). There might or might not be some macguffin-esque Deshret relic that both Akademia and Fatui hunt for that eventually brings the whole crew back to Sumeru. Kaveh might or might not get a chance to meet a fragment of Deshret's spirit within the mentioned relic. But there definitely will be a happy end for everyone here (Deshret will make sure of it).

2. Calamity!AU. The new Cataclysm comes, enveloping all Seven Nations, and so Sumeru does its best to survive. The cities are ruined, and the people gather together in random places to survive. Alhaitham gets to live within one of the settlements, established by the Akademiya. While trying to survive the first wave of the new Calamity, he is also looking for Kaveh; after an argument between the two the architect left for an expedition to the Desert, right before the new Calamity began. Unfortunately, the news comes that his group should have been around Tunigi Hollow - one of the spots in Sumeru where the first wave of the new Calamity hit the hardest. There is no concrete information on whether Kaveh's group survived or not. Alhaitham, not loosing hope, does his best to find any information on Kaveh's whereabouts, but due to Sumeru becoming extremely dangerous to traverse and disjointed as a result of the new Calamity, the search stretches out for almost a decade.

One day Alhaitham helps a caravan, traversing the forests to get to one of the settlements, to fight off the monsters. Unexpectedly, Kaveh turns out to be one of the members of the caravan. Their reunion is almost cut short by the caravan's need to keep going, but Alhaitham convinces Kaveh to join him instead. The two return to the new Sumeru city settlement, where Alhaitham lives and works under the watch of Akademiya and Lord Kusanali. It appears that during his years of travels around the destroyed Sumeru Kaveh learned new ways of architectural construction that would be more efficient against the monsters, born by the Calamity. He also seems to behave quite differently, hardened by the experiences of the past years. Alhaitham proposes for Kaveh to stay with him in the city, and Kaveh accepts. The feelings, new routines, dealings with the changed versions of each other and attempts to find new pace of life in the new world ensue.

TLDR: The world might be ending and impossible to live in, but even so each new day is brighter when the person one loves is by their side.

3. Another Cataclysm!AU, where Kaveh and Alhaitham get assigned separate missions in the grander scheme of things created to prevent the coming of a new Calamity. The plan succeeds and the world remains safe, but not without heavy losses: amongst many others, Kaveh does not survive while carrying out his mission.

Decades pass as Alhaitham goes through his grieving process. Eventually, one evening on the anniversary of the Calamity's prevention, Alhaitham wanders to a place he and Kaveh used to visit together. A Ley Line disruption occurs, and he gets to see a glimpse of Kaveh through it. They have a conversation; the Ley Line apparition (a memory of Kaveh) is convinced that Alhaitham is from the future, and so they talk a lot about the Calamity, whether it was prevented, and about each other's futures. Alhaitham can't bring himself to tell Kaveh that he does not survive the Calamity, but he does tell Kaveh that his architectural legacy lives on. Kaveh commends Alhaitham on his achievements (though not an acting grand sage for a very long time, Alhaitham kept playing an important role throughout Sumeru's history, helping to keep it safe).

Eventually, their time runs out. Ley Line disorder starts gradually disappearing. Alhaitham urges Kaveh to be careful and stay safe, knowing that the Calamity (on Kaveh's side) is yet to come. Kaveh laughs and tells him that on his side, Alhaitham just told him the same words after they finished the debriefing session, related to the Calamity. He says that he was feeling very nervous, but that seeing future-Alhaitham made him convinced that they are on the right path.

And so, the Ley Line disorder disappears. Alhaitham spends some more time at the spot before returning home. Despite painful memories having been brought up, his heart feels a bit lighter.

TLDR: closure comes unexpectedly, takes many forms and does not erase the pain in an instant, but, nevertheless, it heals.

4. AU! where Kaveh and Alhaitham are both magical birds that can transform into humans (and half-humans).

They live together in the depths of Sumeru forest - a domain of a long lost God of Wisdom. Kaveh's feathers are rumoured to bring blessings, while Alhaitham's feathers, on the contrary, are said to bring bad luck or even curses. Humans, living at the edge of magical forest, kinda worship them, but also prefer not to interact with them, primarily because Alhaitham is not happy when others trespass on his lands, and because searching for Kaveh is extremely hard (he's often off working on his projects deep within the forest), and the magical forest is very dangerous on its own. So, the humans build their cities outside of the Sumeru forest, and Alhaitham and Kaveh peacefully live together in the depths of it.

Despite Kaveh and Alhaitham living together for a long time, their opinions on humanity are diametrically opposed: Alhaitham barely tolerates humans, finding them to be reckless, meddling, cowardly and deceitful; Kaveh, on the contrary, finds humans to be creative, inspiring, free and beautiful in their own way. Throughout the years, Kaveh manages to build somewhat of an amicable relationship with the humans, living at the edge of the forest: he learns more about their traditions and arts, while the humans receive his guidance and blessings in various matters of living, craftsmanship and arts. Eventually, Kaveh's knowledge and magical powers catch the eye of Lord Sangemah Bay, who resides in and governs one of the bigger settlements at the forest's border. She makes a deal with Kaveh that, despite providing him with valuable (in his eyes) experience of working with humans on some of his grandest architectural projects, costs him a lot - meaning he has to give away lots of his blessed feathers, which makes his remaining magic much weaker (and generally undermines his health for a bit). Alhaitham is not a huge fan of such approach (in his eyes, Kaveh is wasting his powers and time for nothing, endangering himself), and so a conflict between him and Kaveh breaks. As a result, Kaveh flees their home, secluding himself while he's focusing on other projects he finds curious. Kaveh keeps working with humans, and though Alhaitham certainly keeps an eye on Kaveh's wellbeing, he does not make it easy for humans to reach him. So what if there are new random magical seals, obstacles, almost-traps and riddles appearing here and there when people try to get to Kaveh? It's a magical forest, things happen! (Kaveh knows that Alhaitham does this on purpose, and Alhaitham knows that Kaveh knows, and it leads to them indirectly, and then directly bickering and arguing. The magical forest quite possibly grows very tired of them. Their friends Tighnari and Cyno certainly do, but alas.)

The new equilibrium, found by Alhaitham and Kaveh, is challenged once more when Kaveh leaves to the Lord Sangemah Bay's city to direct yet another one of his grand projects. They do not see each other for a long while. Despite all the challenges, Kaveh's relationship with Dori gradually grows stronger - the two value their partnership - and Kaveh ends up making friends amongst humans. However, not everyone is happy about Lord Sangema Bay's growing friendship with the "deity of blessings" personified. As some people come to despise her for her wealth, influence and ever growing power, so do they come to despise the bird of paradise.

When the project is complete, the time for celebration comes. Kaveh gets to attend a feast by Dori's side as a guest of honour, and is invited to stay the night in her palace before returning to the forest. Kaveh agrees: he's been spending all his days and nights at the building site, and resting a night before returning home would be nice. As the night goes on, however, Kaveh begins to feel weary and unwell - the new type of wine he was served did him no good. He excuses himself early for the night and, as soon as he gets to his bed, he's out cold.

After an undetermined amount of time (in what appears to be the middle of the night), Kaveh wakes up because of immense pain in his back.

As he gradually comes to his senses, he has a horrible realization: one of his wings was cut off when he was asleep. Alerting the guards and Dori yields no results: the intruder escaped, presumably with Kaveh's wing, and there are no traces of them left. While Kaveh gets immediately attended to, he goes in shock and, eventually, loses consciousness.

When the messengers form the city arrive to the forest, Alhaitham receives them reluctantly at first, but as soon as he hears of what happened, he rushes to the city. He ends up taking Kaveh back to the forest, hoping that its healing magic will help restore his wing. However, nothing seems to work: neither spells, nor the powers of nature, not even Tighnari's medicine. Though the wound is slowly healing, Kaveh remains unconscious for days. To get more information on what happened, Alhaitham returns to the city to question Dori together with Cyno (who's also to continue the investigation within the city once Alhaitham returns home), while Tighnari stays with Kaveh.

Though the questioning concludes that Dori knows nothing and is willing to assist in the search of the perpetrator, Cyno concludes that she was not thorough enough in ensuring Kaveh's safety and overall security of the celebration in general, revealing that Dori recklessly cut corners here and there. Furious, Alhaitham leaves Dori his cursed feather, giving her an ultimatum: she has to find the perpetrator and give them to Alhaitham to deal the final punishment. Until then, her city is doomed to slowly crumble into decay and oblivion. Dori accepts the deal.

Alhaitham returns to the forest to look after Kaveh, while Cyno remains in the city to continue the search. When Alhaitham comes back, Kaveh is finally awake. However, he remains extremely closed-off, practically a shadow of himself. The recovery process is slow and challenging, but Alhaitham does his best to support Kaveh in all ways that matter. Kaveh struggles with healing: the loss of a wing affected not only his body, but also his mental state and magic. He cannot transform, he can barely use any of his magical skills, and he cannot fly anymore, which hurts him most of all. It takes a while for Kaveh to get on his feet (quite literally), even longer to finally leave his room. He also feels guilty for being in Alhaitham's care, because he remembers all of the Alhaitham warnings about the humans he didn't listen to, and so lots of internal conflict ensues.

Meanwhile Alhaitham does all he can to try and navigate the situation. He looks after Kaveh's healing process; brings back his blueprints and equipment from Kaveh's place so that he has enough to work with if he wishes; he also (to the best of his ability) remodels their home to make it more accessible to Kaveh. Given that their natural method of moving around their house was flying (whether in form of birds of half-humans), Alhaitham now implements more adjustments for walking or climbing. (When Kaveh feels good enough to leave his room, he's amazed by what Alhaitham managed to achieve. He also helps fix some of the constructions, given he's the one with the experience in architecture.) Alhaitham and Kaveh grow closer, slowly unpacking and mending their relationship, turning it into something new and beautiful.

At the same time, Alhaitham continues to watch the forest borders - to make sure that no intruders interrupt Kaveh's recovery and their peaceful life together. One day he notices an interesting sight: a small, but beautiful shrine appeared right by the forest. He decides to investigate; upon approaching the shrine, he meets Nilou (whom he saw in the palace when he visited Dori). She explains to him that, after he and Kaveh left the city, a group of people decided to organize a shrine, dedicated to Kaveh, to pray for his recovery. Nilou explains that in their eyes it's the least they can offer for all the help that their city received in the past and as amends for the pain they have caused. Alhaitham warns her not to get any closer to the forest, but the action of people leaves a lasting impression on him.

Meanwhile, Cyno's investigation progresses. Cyno writes to Alhaitham that together with Dori they managed to find and capture the perpetrator. Questioning reveals no useful information, but Cyno suspects that there might be more to the attack on Kaveh than they anticipated. To uphold his end of the deal Alhaitham goes to the city to deliver the punishment to the attacker and to undo the curse he put on Dori's city. Before he leaves, Kaveh, scared of what might happen to Alhaitham, sews into his cloak a blessed feather for protection (because Alhaitham wouldn't accept it outright). While Alhaitham is away, Kaveh begins working on a new project: a mechanical wing.

When Alhaitham gets to the city, he is led to the cell where the attacker is being held. Cyno and Dori are by his side for the final questioning. The man - a mere mortal (with strange red-ish eyes), one of Dori's citizens - keeps talking in circles, making less and less sense with each new word. Alhaitham lets Cyno and Dori go before rendering the punishment. When the curse (one of Alhaitham's darkest yet) is finally prepared, suddenly, the tables are turned. The perpetrator attacks Alhaitham, but his movements seem unnatural, almost like those of a puppet. Alhaitham realizes, that the man is being controlled by someone with prowess for strong, incredibly dark magic that seems similar to that of the Desert. The strange puppet manages to overpower Alhaitham in a fight, but cannot harm him (due to the protection from Kaveh's feather). The perpetrator manages to escape, taking with him Alhaitham's cursed feather (they seemed to be pleased to receive it. Alhaitham fears to think what they will use it for).

Dori and Cyno pick up the investigation, with Cyno going straight to the Desert. Dori begins reinforcing the city (her people discover that Alhaithams curse (now lifted) awakened Miasma deep under the ground. The Miasma begins to slowly spread, seemingly in the direction of the Sumeru Forest). Cyno sends back a message, confirming that strong and dark magic seems to be gathering within the Desert, possibly for the purpose of destroying the magical forest.

Alhaitham manages to get back to Kaveh and tell him of what happened in the city. In order to be able to protect the forest together with Alhaitham, Kaveh doubles down on his efforts to create a mechanical working wing. Everything works, besides the golden feathers - they need to be blessed in order to allow the mechanism to work as intended, but Kaveh does not have enough power for it. Alhaitham takes a risk and brings the feathers to the shrine, created by Nilou and other humans, so that they could bless them for Kaveh. (They are short of one feather eventually, and Alhaitham gives Kaveh one of his own, his first blessed feather, to complete the wing.)

TLDR: Kaveh works on restoring his wing and faith in himself and humanity; Alhaitham learns that humanity is not always evil. Dori and Cyno discover that the escaped perpetrator (caugh controlled by Dottore caugh) used Kaveh to get to Alhaitham to gain his cursed feather for completing some sort of ancient ritual to unseal the forbidden knowledge magic deep within the Desert in roder to unleash it on the magical forest, slumbering God of Wisdom and human cities. Kaveh learns to curse his feathers (while opposing Dottore in a final fight), and Alhaitham learns to bless his. Humans and Sumeru Forest continue to coexist peacefully. Alhaitham and Kaveh live together happily ever after.

5. Pacific Rim!AU, where Kaveh and Alhaitham used to be pilots of a Jaeger, but during one of their battles they suffered too much damage. In order to save Alhaitham and what remains of their Jaeger, Kaveh takes most of the damage by severing already unstable connection between Alhaitham and Jaeger's system. Both barely survive the encounter, but meanwhile Alhaitham manages to recover fast, the damage Kaveh has taken leaves him in a critical condition, eventually resulting in him being unable to ever pilot a Jaeger ever again (and putting many new restraints on his usual daily life).

As soon as Kaveh comes to his senses, the two have a huge fight about Kaveh's rash decision, and eventually break off their friendship. They don't see each other for a long, long time.

As the time goes on, Kaveh learns how to live with the changes that his body sustained with the help of his service dog Mehrak. Eventually he takes on a job at one of the Jaeger construction facilities (together with his friend Tighnari), studying Kaiju and creating new Jaeger modifications - though no Kaiju has been seen in the past several years, the world is still afraid of their return.

When the suspicion of the new Kaiju appearance arises, new pilot recruits and ex-pilots are summoned to the facility. There, Kaveh meets Alhaitham for the first time in years. After their fallout, Alahitham resigned from piloting Jaegers, yet now he had no choice but to return to train new recruits (and possibly resume his role of a Jaeger pilot). Now once again the two have to work together as a part of a team in face of approaching danger, trying to resolve their past conflicts and overcome their fears and insecurities along the way (when deep down they simply want to keep each other safe).

TLDR: Kaveh & service animal Mehrak is a neat concept I'd love to see more of, just as a concept in general. I think this one could be an interesting story idea centered mostly around Kaveh's day to day life. Additionally, Alhaitham who used to be only drift compatible with Kaveh but now suddenly discovers he's drift compatible with Cyno. I need more Cyno & Alhaitham camaraderie I think it would do them lots of good (at least in this specific AU setting lol).

6. Oxenfree!AU where Kaveh and Alhaitham are two ex-best friends turned reluctant coworkers (photo-journalist and journalist respectively) working on writing a piece about the disappearances of a group of teenagers that happened at the Edwards Island several years prior (timeline somewhere between the first and the second games). The radio shenanigans ensue, making the two face their past, possible futures and, most importantly, their present. (In Oxenfree tuning into certain radio sequences can temporarily mess up time-space shenanigans, just fyi).

TLDR: I just think that this setting could facilitate some character exploration that would be very fun.

7. Modern MermanKaveh!AU, post-fallout, where it's a little bit more about haunting Alhaitham (and the narrative), than being a merman. Due to an unfortunate set of circumstances, Kaveh drowns one day, trying to save someone from the water. Due to an unfortunate set of circumstances, he doesn't really die, being stuck in between (existence and death, normal life and the necessity to live in water). Kaveh manages, for quite a while even!

But of course Alhaitham has to come back and turn his world upside down once again.

TLDR: can you tell Alhaitham's quote about drowning stuck with me huh (and I made it literal lol). On a serious note... Idk, vibes??? I want to see the "stuck in the middle" Kaveh, whatever that entails. Some existential explorations. And the development of his relationship with Alhaitham, of course. // Kaveh is a merman unable to fully live the life he used to have, and Alhaitham doesn't know that he survived (for a while), alternatively "let me help to save you from metaphorical and literal drowning" Alhaitham and "I learned to live like this, this is what my norm now looks like" Kaveh.

8. Another Modern MermanKaveh!AU/DrownedGhostKaveh!AU, because I apparently have no self-control (I feel like I should also clarify that whenever I mention a mermaid, I think of them more as of ghosts of drowned people and less as mermaids-mermaids, the half-human half-marine creature ones). This idea was initially prepared for chili/zhongchi but it's been sooooooooooooooooooo long and I still haven't done anything substantial for it so I'm borrowing it from myself for myself and tweaking it for kavetham because I figured it could fit them. So here it goes,

Alhaitham is a scientist/marine biologist that moves from the city to a much smaller port town, getting himself a place in a local partially repurposed lighthouse. Kaveh is a merman, who has been dead for a long while and who's been living within local waters ever since he drowned. Alhaitham leads a very isolated life, going through a rather rough patch emotionally (maybe a badly ended past relationship and relocation from an established group of friends to a remote place brought up past negative emotions related to loss that were bottled up for a while. who knows, not me). Anyways, Alhaitham's not doing too well, but seaside walks help him unwind, even if for a short periods of time. During one of such walks, he finds an old pendant washed ashore. He picks up his find, hoping to do some research on it outside of his work time (because research is his fun-time).

He expects this to be a brief excursion into local history. He does not expect to become haunted by the ghost of a man to whom this pendant belonged to way back when.

Kaveh, in turn, is extremely excited to finally, finally be able to get out of the sea to the surface. He intends to stay ashore as long as possible and, well, if he just so gets to amuse himself by haunting a grumpy marine biologist that refuses to believe in merpeople, ghosts of drowned and other supernatural occurences - who's he to say no?

TLDR: this AU can go two ways (in my eyes): the happy ending way and probably more gothic-horror-story-esque ending. So, Alahitham is cursed to be haunted by Kaveh: for a while he's the only one who can see him, with Kaveh being something akin to a ghost. However, the longer Kaveh haunts Alhaitham, the more human he becomes (others can see him, he cannot phase through walls anymore, etc.). The curse in itself goes something like this: the cursed thing, after being picked up/taken in, cannot be thrown away and will always come back. The ghost, tied to the haunted thing, shall haunt whoever picks the cursed thing (the thing should be tied to the ghost, but may not necessarily belong to them) and drain their life energy. The ghost can become free and human again if the haunting goes long enough and they kill the human who picked the cursed object in the end during a very specific time that doesn't occur too often (proverbial blue moon, idk). If they don't kill the human and decide to let them go, then the ghost will seize to exist and the human will regain their strength. (An alternative option to the ghost dying for a less angsty au: the ghost voluntarily takes back the cursed object and returns to the place where they died, but then they will never be able to haunt anyone ever again. The effect of the curse on the haunted remain, but much weaker).

In this case, let's say Kaveh and Alhaitham stay by each other's side from half a year to a year, idk. They grow closer, eventually becoming friends and maybe more (the usual kavetham shenanigans Kaveh falls first but Alhaitham falls harder). Alhaitham's mental state gradually improves, yet overall he becomes weaker because of the curse (to the point that it becomes a serious concern), which Kaveh blames himself for. The appointed time approaches (both Kaveh and Alhaitham are in on the details of the curse), and Kaveh, seeing it as an opportunity to set Alhaitham free, manages to separate himself from Alhaitham. Kaveh is ready to return to the sea/merge with it (ah yes the classic Little Mermaid influence does anybody feel it lol). However, Alhaitham sees through his plan and arrives just in time to stop him. They have a confrontation. Eventually, they manage to lift the curse (as you can see I have not figured out exactly how this can happen but! it definitely can!) with Kaveh becoming human again and Alhaitham regaining his health. The two continue to live together happily ever after.

The other scenario is practically the same, but it's more ghothic? and abstract (and probably more suitable for the og pairing it was made for, but i'll throw it in anyways). I have not engaged with gothic literature much and thus don't have much experience in how it works/how to write it, but the idea is that Kaveh is more of a projection of Alhaitham's grief than a ghost fo a drowned person (in other words, he's definitely a ghost, but his presence is also much more symbolical). The story follows quite similar beats, except the setting of the curse is a bit different: it's more of a "kill first or be killed" thingy with a deadline. Kaveh earnestly tries to drown Alhaitham at first through various means, but the more time they spend together, the more Kaveh sees of Alhaitham's life and pain and feels sympathetic for him. Despite the curse, Kaveh tires to help Alhaitham in various ways; and it works! Alhaitham gradually begins to feel better; the two grow closer to each other (more in a platonic way).

So now the precedent is that though Alhaitham's overall doing better, the curse still preys on him, hindering his life in various ways that become more and more serious/dangerous (the curse's deadline approaches, and it tries to survive the best way it can through Kaveh's influence on Alhaitham). Eventually, Kaveh lets Alhaitham go, merging with the sea (once again, yes, it was partially inspired by the Little Mermaid). Alhaitham realizes what happened and tries to look for Kaveh, but it is in vain.

Eventually, life goes on.

Bonus Elden Ring AU (because guess who suddenly went on a lore video watching spree): Kaveh is a craftsman and one of the inhabitants of Castle Morne who managed to escape before it was overrun by Misbegotten. He's a follower of St. Trina and Miquella (he doesn't follow Miquella at first, but slowly he comes to suspect that the two are one and the same). After escaping from Castle Morne, he finds his way to Jarburg, where he is welcomed to stay and be the new Potentate.

Alhaitham is from a distant branch of Carian royal family and a scholar at the Academy of Raya Lucaria. Quite possibly explored an area of studies similar to Sellen's. Eventually he separates himself from both Academy and his family, becoming a wandering scholar.

The two meet somewhere nearby Jarburg when Kaveh gets ambushed by the same people who were trying to get to Alhaitham. The two fight them off. Kaveh, trying to help injured Alhaitham, leads him to Jarburg. The two continue living together there ever since (not without hiccups, but they're doing their best).

TLDR: this one is short and very simple because I just started diving into the Elden Ring's lore, but I just. Really wanted to make some AU for them. I also desperately wanted it to be peaceful and happy one despite it being a seeming impossibility for anything dark souls/elden ring related, but one can dream. If I were to make this one darker I'd probably expand on the duality of their two characters here, and how Alhaitham probably used to conjure spells on humans (with gaining knowledge being his sole life purpose for a long time) and has challenges with comprehending the world outside of a framework of pure logic, and how Kaveh gets an increasing tendency of escaping to the dream world/wherever Miquella is in order to alleviate his mental turmoil (maybe he witnessed too much during his escape from the Castle), and how the two have opposing perspectives on the idea of worshipping gods, and- like, there's a lot that can be done. But I also just really really really want them to simply be happy together in a jar village, leading a peaceful life.

That's it for now! Thank you for reading all of this, I can't commend your patience enough if you got to the end of this list!!!✨🎉✨

Maybe in the future I will unpack some of these aus. who knows.

[agirlinthegalaxy]

It's been rolling around in my brain the last few days for some reason, but I still hate the family backstory reveals for Sophie and Eliot. I've seen some of the meta for it, but quite frankly, it still makes no sense. If it had been something actually thought of and intentional in the original, I think it could have been so fascinating. I mean, Sophie's willing abandonment of Astrid to contrast with Nate's loss of Sam or Eliot's adoption in contrast with Hardison's and Parker's? Could have been excellent! But they came out of nowhere in Redemption and don't work with these characters.

Sophie was still actively using the fucking alias that she met Astrid under! She met with someone from her past on the show! Like. Quite frankly, that one is unequivocally bullshit that they made up and threw in and pretended could fit with the established canon. (And I'm sorry, but the idea of Sophie abandoning Astrid and never telling Nate about her just... So much of Nate's trauma was rooted in the loss of Sam, and I think that introducing this element after he's gone and unable to respond to it taints Sophie and Nate's relationship in a way bc I'm not exactly sure how Nate would've responded to learning about this but I think that it's something he'd have needed to know. I don't know how to fully express my thoughts on that but yeah.)

As for Eliot, I don't like the adoption aspect literally at all. The way that he would interact with his family and the memory of his family would be different, and I think that it's flat out ridiculous to think that he'd have never mentioned it to the team in the original show, especially when dealing with the kid cases. (I also dislike the biracial adoption as its own element because if Eliot was actually raised by Black parents in the... idk what 80s/90s? That just. doesn't feel congruent with how they write Eliot interacting with PoC, not necessarily in a bad way, but babe, he's written like a white southern man raised in a specific kind of culture that does not jell with that. It also makes Eliot look... really bad that he was apparently raised with the knowledge of how fucked up the military was and his parents' history and made the choices that he did.) Like the show may not have explicitly stated it but the implication of that relationship was vastly fucking different throughout the original show.

Just. These were not backstories that were congruent with their depiction and characters in the original show, and they're also just moves that I don't particularly like or find interesting directions for those characters. There's also something to be said about how it was apparently unacceptable for a woman to not have kids or someone not reconciling with their biological family when that was something that the original show handled a lot better. Out of all the directions to take Sophie and Eliot's stories, that's just not really one that I think was a good idea.

[sylustra]

Sylus saying "...don't run" to MC when they're finally being openly honest about their desire for one another and their trust and shared spaces.