#character of all time forever and ever and ever and

[cressidagrey]

delulu girl autumn

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Felicity Leong-Piastri (Original Character)

Summary: Caitlin Pritchard thought she actually stood a chance with Oscar Piastri at Haileybury in 2018. Reader, she did not. 

Notes: Big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble 😂

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

Caitlin had only been at Haileybury for a day when she saw him.

Tall-ish. Sharp jaw. Easy smile. Accent unmistakably Australian, like hers. But smoother somehow, more Melbourne than Gold Coast. And he was laughing at something—shoulders relaxed, eyes crinkling, head tilted toward the girl walking beside him.

Caitlin had stopped in her tracks.

Finally, she thought. Someone normal. Someone who didn’t speak in clipped boarding school vowels and ask what her father did before they asked her name.

She leaned over to the girl next to her in form. Mia, or Leah or maybe Thea? “Who’s that?”

The girl followed her gaze and blinked. “Oscar Piastri. He’s nice. Smart. Does motorsport. Always winning stuff.”

Caitlin hummed. “And the girl he’s with?”

“Felicity Leong. Genius. Bit intense. She’s been here forever. Lives in the attic room, actually. Kind of…weird, but she’s nice. Don’t cross her in a debate.”

Caitlin squinted.

Oscar had just nudged Felicity’s arm. She rolled her eyes and said something that made him grin, like she always knew how to make him grin. But she didn’t touch him. No hand-holding. No kiss on the cheek. Just two people walking side by side like they knew all the same secrets.

Huh, Caitlin thought. Maybe she’s just one of those super smart best friend types.

Maybe Caitlin had a chance.

By the second week of term, Caitlin had “accidentally” started showing up near the physics lab at the exact time Oscar had free period. She’d dropped a pen in the courtyard and watched—heart fluttering—when he was the one to pick it up.

“Thanks,” she’d said, flashing a smile.

“No worries,” he’d replied with a nod. Polite. Casual. Australian.

Home.

That’s all she needed. One moment. One shared flag. Surely, once they actually talked…

But every time she tried, Felicity was there.

Gorgeous, quiet, smart. The kind of girl who made the headmistress beam at assemblies and never got her phone confiscated. She always had her hair in a braid, and she somehow looked effortlessly expensive, even in a regulation uniform and the ugliest brown shoes Caitlin had ever seen.

Oscar walked her to class. Sat next to her in the common room. Gave her the last cookie at dinner.

But, Caitlin reasoned, that was probably just a long-time-friend thing. Or maybe she was the mom-friend and Oscar just liked the way she shared her highlighters.

Felicity didn’t act like a girlfriend.

She didn’t sit on his lap or link arms with him. She didn’t get jealous when Caitlin joined them for group study one night and asked Oscar (with perhaps a little too much lip gloss) if he wanted to split a Red Bull.

Felicity had just smiled politely and gone back to solving some ungodly advanced physics problem like Caitlin wasn’t even speaking.

Oscar, for his part, had blinked and said, “Nah, I’m good—but thanks.”

Not interested, maybe. But also not unavailable.

Caitlin just need to separate him from the satellite girl who always orbited his shoulder.

Caitlin had a chance. 

***

Caitlin wasn’t obsessed, okay?

She was just… observant.

Which was perfectly normal when someone as cute and talented and Australian as Oscar Piastri walked the same halls you did and occasionally smiled at you with that very symmetrical face.

So what if he was always with that girl—Felicity Leong?

That didn’t mean anything. Boys and girls could be close. Felicity was probably just his study partner. Maybe a cousin. Or a very intense academic rival he was contractually obligated to have polite conversations with. Sure, she always looked like she knew every thought in his head before he said it, and sure, he never looked at anyone else the way he looked at her—but that could just be stress.

Or sleep deprivation. 

Or mutual trauma bonding over too many A-levels.

Besides, Caitlin had time. She was charming. Australian. Had a solid hair routine. And if she played her cards right, Oscar might notice that she wasn’t just some new transfer who tripped over her own backpack in front of the science block last week.

She just had to be patient.

That Thursday afternoon, she was sitting outside the canteen with a few girls from her form when one of them mentioned something in passing that made her freeze mid-sip of orange squash.

“Can you believe Oscar and Felicity are graduating next year?”

Caitlin blinked. “Wait, what?”

“Oh yeah,” the girl said, balancing a yogurt pot on her knee. “They’re in Upper Sixth now. Well, technically. They skipped a year. Did, like, an insane amount of independent studying. Finished early. It was a whole thing last term.”

Caitlin frowned. “But they’re seventeen.”

“Yeah, and smarter than the rest of us combined. Oscar does racing on the weekends. He was gone last weekend for a competition, and I heard he won.”

Won. That word stuck.

Caitlin nodded slowly, storing it away. Racing. Trophy. Real-world stakes.

Interesting.

Later that day, she was cutting through the front quad when she ran into Oscar. Literally. Walked right into his shoulder as he came through the gate, duffel bag slung over one arm and a giant freaking trophy in the other.

“Oh my God—sorry!” she squeaked, stepping back.

Oscar caught her elbow lightly to steady her. “It’s okay. You alright?”

Caitlin blinked up at him, struck by how tired he looked—jet-lagged, probably—but still managing to smile like it was instinct. His curls were a bit flatter than usual, but he was holding a trophy like it weighed nothing.

It was golden. Shiny. Definitely taller than her forearm.

“I—yeah! You won?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from squeaking again.

Oscar laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. Hockenheim. Long weekend.”

Hockenheim.

Oh. He was worldly.

“That’s amazing,” Caitlin said, widening her eyes slightly. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I’m just glad to be back. Haven’t seen Fliss since Thursday, so—” He trailed off, smiling again, something soft flickering in his eyes.

But Caitlin cut in quickly. “Well, maybe I’ll see you around? If you’re not too busy being famous or graduating early or…” She laughed.

Oscar nodded, polite and vaguely distracted. “Yeah, maybe. I should—uh, I promised Fliss I’d meet her before dinner.”

Of course he did.

Caitlin watched him walk off with that massive trophy and the easy kind of stride that said he belonged somewhere. He didn’t look back.

But still.

He hadn’t said no.

Caitlin smiled to herself.

Still a chance, then.

***

Felicity Leong.

Gorgeous, effortlessly intimidating, lived in that weird attic room nobody else wanted, wore her uniform like it was tailored by Prada, and had this way of looking at you like she already knew what you were going to say—and how wrong it was.

People whispered about her. How she was on first-name terms with half the faculty. How she submitted essays a full week before the deadline. How she once corrected a physics teacher mid-lecture and was right.

But Caitlin didn’t get the big deal.

She’d seen her around with Oscar, obviously. Always hovering nearby. Always tucked under his arm at lunch or passing him a pencil looking like they were one collective brain. But Caitlin had told herself that was just proximity. Comfort. Maybe they were from the same side of Australia. Maybe it was platonic.

Besides, Felicity couldn’t be that smart.

People exaggerated. Nerds got hyped up all the time, especially when they were hot.

Then came double history.

Caitlin hadn’t even realized Felicity was in the class until Caitlin slipped into the seat next to hers—late, looking vaguely annoyed. Felicity meanwhile had a black coffee in one hand and three uncapped highlighters in the other.

Caitlin blinked.

“Oh,” she said, “Hi.”

Felicity didn’t look up from her notes. “Hi.”

Caitlin offered a smile. “I’m Caitlin. I just transferred—”

“I know. Caitlin Pritchard.” Felicity said, finally glancing over. “You’re in Samir’s economic class. You were late twice last week.”

Caitlin opened her mouth. Closed it.

“Well. Yeah. I had trouble finding the classroom”

Felicity hummed, scribbled something in the margin of her paper, and then underlined it twice.

Caitlin stared.

She wanted to say something else. Something casual. Charming. Something that might explain why Oscar seemed to orbit this girl like she was a fixed point in the universe.

So when the teacher walked in and launched straight into a discussion on colonial resistance movements, Caitlin pounced.

“Sorry,” she said, cutting across the room. “Can we go back? Didn’t the Sepoy Rebellion happen because of, like… pork grease? On bullets or something?”

A few people laughed. The teacher smiled thinly. “Yes, Caitlin, that was one of the catalysts. Though, of course, the issue was more complicated—”

“It was never really about the grease,” Felicity said suddenly, without looking up. “That was just the final insult. The British had already eroded Indian sovereignty through unfair taxation, disrespect of local customs, and widespread economic disenfranchisement. The cartridge issue was symbolic—it touched religion, identity, and trust. Which, when combined with long-standing resentment, triggered the uprising.”

Caitlin blinked.

Felicity continued annotating her page like she hadn’t just delivered a university-level mini-lecture.

The teacher looked delighted. “Exactly, Miss Leong.”

And that was the first time Caitlin realized two very important things:

Felicity Leong was terrifyingly smart.

She had grossly underestimated the girl Oscar Piastri smiled at like she was his whole damn world. 

Still.

Caitlin glanced sideways at her.

She could recover.

Probably.

Maybe.

***

Caitlin was still replaying the moment in her head when she flopped into a beanbag in the common room an hour later.

“‘It was never really about the grease,’” she muttered under her breath, mimicking Felicity’s deadpan tone. “Like, okay, Google Scholar, relax.”

Across from her, Aarya Kumar— vice captain of the debating society, and possibly the only person more feared in a podium setting than Felicity herself—arched an eyebrow.

“Oh no,” she said mildly. “Did you challenge Felicity?”

“I asked a question,” Caitlin said defensively. “I wasn’t trying to start a revolution.”

Aarya snorted. “With Felicity, it’s the same thing.”

Caitlin grabbed a nearby cushion and hugged it to her chest. “She’s just—she’s kind of cold, isn’t she?”

Aarya looked up from her laptop with the slow blink of someone deciding whether or not to waste time correcting an idiot.

“Cold?” she repeated.

“Yeah. I don’t know. Like, she’s obviously really smart and everything, but she’s a bit… sharp. She didn’t even smile when I introduced myself. She just recited my attendance record.”

Aarya leaned back in her chair, looking extremely entertained.

“Caitlin,” she said, “Felicity Leong is not cold. She’s clinical. There’s a difference.”

“Oh, sorry, clinical. That’s so much more warm and inviting.”

Aarya smiled like a shark. “She just doesn’t waste energy on things she finds boring.”

“And I’m boring?”

“No,” Aarya said, sipping her tea. “You’re just not particularly relevant.”

Caitlin stared. “Wow.”

“Don’t take it personally. She’s like that with everyone who isn’t on her shortlist of priorities.”

Caitlin frowned. “And who’s on the list, then?”

Aarya tilted her head, like the answer was obvious. “Well, there’s Oscar. And—actually, I guess it’s mostly just Oscar.”

Caitlin sat up straighter, hopeful. “So… they’re, like… best friends?”

Aarya raised an eyebrow. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

Caitlin clung to the ambiguity like a life raft. “Right. Because he is super friendly with everyone.”

Aarya didn’t say anything. Just went back to typing.

Caitlin leaned back, trying to ignore the way her stomach twisted.

Because technically, no one had said they were together.

No kissing. No hand-holding in public. No PDA.

It was probably one of those ultra-close platonic friendships. The kind that seemed romantic but wasn’t. Maybe they’d grown up like siblings. Maybe Felicity was just a little possessive. Maybe Oscar just hadn’t met the right girl yet.

Maybe—maybe—Caitlin could still be the exception.

It wasn’t like they were dating.

Right?

***

It started in the library.

Caitlin was flipping through flashcards, half-studying, half-scanning for Oscar (which was a completely innocent form of multitasking), when she caught the sound of his voice coming from two rows behind her.

“Fliss.”

The tone was casual. Familiar. The syllable dropped like second nature.

Caitlin frowned.

Fliss?

She peered around the bookcase just enough to glimpse him—Oscar, leaning on the edge of the table where Felicity sat, surrounded by a ridiculous number of open books and a mug that probably held black coffee and ambition.

Felicity didn’t look up. “What?”

“You forgot your physics notes in the study room.”

He held out a folder. Her hand came up automatically to take it.

“Oh. Thanks, Oz.”

Caitlin blinked again.

Oz?

Fliss and Oz?

Since WHEN were they nickname people?

She hadn’t even known he went by Oz. Nobody else called him that. Everyone else just said Oscar. Osc rarely, from some guys on the cricket team. 

Caitlin tilted her head. Okay, maybe it was a smart-people thing. Maybe if she ever helped him with physics, he’d let her call him that too.

And then Felicity, still scribbling, added absently:

“You’re not getting another cookie for this, by the way.”

Oscar laughed. “Didn’t ask for one, love.”

Caitlin’s brain stuttered.

Love?!

He said it so casually. Like it wasn’t a thing. Like it was something he’d said a hundred times before and would say again in the hallway or in front of God and Aarya and everyone.

Felicity didn’t even react.

She just circled something in her notes, then muttered, “You’re lucky I still have any goodwill left after The Great Béchamel Disaster.”

“You said you forgave me,” Oscar said, nudging her elbow.

“I lied,” she replied, but she was smiling.

A real smile. Small. Private. Quiet and warm in the way a person only smiles when they’re with someone who knows all their weird habits and loves them anyway.

Caitlin sat there in stunned silence, still holding her flashcard on Newton’s Third Law, like gravity had just personally attacked her.

Oscar Piastri had a nickname. And a backup nickname. And Felicity had one too. Multiple, probably. He probably called her things like “hey you” and “genius” and “mine.” Caitlin was spiraling. She hadn’t even gotten a solid hi this week.

She told herself not to read into it. Some people just had nicknames. That didn’t mean anything.

Did it?

…Did it??

She turned back to her flashcards with renewed determination.

She still had time.

Still had a chance.

Probably.

(Maybe.)

***

It was just after prep when Caitlin wandered into the shared sixth form kitchen in search of a snack and maybe a slightly flirty conversation with Oscar Piastri.

What she found instead was chaos.

The counter was covered in flour. Someone’s blazer was draped over a chair. The oven light was on, the whole place smelled like vanilla and sugar, and at the center of it all—like it was completely normal—stood Oscar and Felicity Leong, side by side at the counter, making cookies.

Oscar had chocolate smeared on his cheek.

Felicity was wearing a hoodie that she was drowning in, from the Richmond Tigers. 

Caitlin blinked.

“Um. Hi?”

Oscar looked up, grinning immediately. “Hey, Caitlin. Want one? They’re a bit misshapen, but Fliss says that’s ‘charm.’”

Felicity, still focused on placing the next tray in the oven, didn’t glance up. “Because it is.”

Two other students—Aarya and a boy named Samir—were sitting nearby eating cookies like this was a regularly scheduled Wednesday night tradition.

Caitlin stepped cautiously inside. “You guys… bake together?”

Felicity closed the oven and finally turned around, brushing flour off her sleeves. “Only when we both have a free evening and Oscar’s not flying from Spain or Monaco or whatever.”

“She says that like I don’t make time,” Oscar said, nudging her with his shoulder.

Caitlin watched as Felicity gave him a look. Not annoyed. Not even teasing.

It was warm. Familiar. Like this was their thing.

Oscar smirked. “Anyway,” he said, holding out a cookie, “these have caramel bits. Still hot.”

Caitlin accepted it, trying not to overanalyze the way Felicity casually stole a cooling rack from behind him and bumped her hip into his like it was second nature.

“Oh my God,” Aarya muttered to Samir behind them. “Is she still trying?”

“She must be,” Samir whispered back, mouth full. “This is brutal.”

Caitlin turned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Aarya said quickly, looking at the ceiling. “Just… nothing.”

Caitlin took a bite of the cookie. It was genuinely good. “I didn’t realize you were, like… domestic,” she said to Oscar, with what she hoped was a charming little laugh.

Felicity looked unimpressed.

“I make a mean pasta bake too,” Oscar said easily. “But Fliss doesn’t let me cook anything unsupervised since The Great Béchamel Disaster.”

Felicity nodded solemnly. “He thought you could substitute almond milk for béchamel.”

“It was a theory.”

“You nearly set the microwave on fire.”

Oscar pointed at her. “You said you forgave me.”

“I did,” she said sweetly. “After you bought me new pyjamas.”

Caitlin laughed awkwardly. “Wow. You two really know each other.”

“Since we were 14,” Oscar said. “It’s kind of hard not to.”

Caitlin wanted to ask more, but Aarya was now fake-coughing aggressively into her biscuit, and Samir looked like he was trying not to choke from suppressed laughter.

“Anyway,” Oscar added, smiling at Felicity again, “you wanna do the next batch or switch?”

“I’ll mix,” she said, already reaching for the bowl. “You always under-fold.”

Oscar rolled his eyes but obeyed. “Yes, Fliss.”

Caitlin watched them—Felicity focused, Oscar content just to orbit around her—and something unspoken flickered in her chest.

But then Oscar caught her eye again. Friendly. Easy.

He was still nice to her.

Still smiling.

And so Caitlin told herself—again—that if it was something romantic, someone would’ve said so. Or at least made it clear. They weren’t kissing. They weren’t holding hands. Maybe this was just… how they were. How they’d always been.

She still had a chance.

Caitlin took another bite of her cookie.

It burned her tongue.

***

Caitlin wasn’t technically stalking Oscar.

She just… happened to sign up for gym block at the same time as him. And then happened to show up early. And then happened to secure a treadmill with a very good view of the weights section.

That wasn’t a crime.

And honestly, she was doing it for herself. Self-improvement. Endorphins. Definitely not to stare at the way Oscar Piastri filled out a nike shirt...

He wasn’t even doing anything fancy. Just basic reps. But his arms? Defined. Shoulders? Unfair. And the fact that he wasn’t even out of breath while talking to someone? Offensive.

Also—he was lifting more than Samir. Samir was on the rugby team.

Caitlin glanced around like someone should be noticing this.

But no one cared. Because of course they didn’t. They’d all seen it before.

And then in came her.

Felicity Leong.

Hair braided. No makeup. Oversized red shirt. ARDEN written over her chest. Black leggings. Looked like she could do calculus while sprinting.

Caitlin tried not to stare.

But then she saw Oscar’s face light up when Felicity walked in and any hope she had left melted like protein powder in lukewarm almond milk.

They greeted each other with the kind of ease that made Caitlin want to scream into a dumbbell rack.

Then they trained together.

Felicity wasn’t flashy. She was fast. Precise. Focused. Caitlin watched her fly through circuits like her body was a machine and she’d never once felt fatigue. Meanwhile, Oscar was at her side, timing her sprints, correcting her posture, offering her his towel like it was nothing.

“Water?” he asked during their rest.

Felicity reached for the bottle, took one sip, and muttered, “You’re still folding your lunges.”

Oscar grinned. “Still bossy.”

“Still inefficient.”

Caitlin was starting to believe in soulmates and consider drowning herself in the gym water cooler at the same time.

And then it happened.

Felicity slipped mid-rep. Nothing dramatic—just a wrong angle coming down from a box jump—but the sound her ankle made was sharp, sickening, real.

She hissed through her teeth and staggered.

Oscar was at her side in less than two seconds.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Don’t move. Is it bad?”

“Twisted,” Felicity gritted out. “Might be sprained.”

He crouched beside her, eyes scanning her ankle, hands gentle as he tested the pressure. And then—before Caitlin could even process what was happening—

He scooped her up.

Like she weighed nothing. Like it was automatic. Like he’d done it before.

Arms under her knees and back, no strain, no hesitation. Felicity didn’t even protest. Just looped one arm around his neck like this was a routine Tuesday.

“C’mon,” he said softly. “Let’s get you iced.”

Caitlin gaped.

And no one else reacted.

Not Samir. Not the girl by the rowing machines. Not the PT. They barely looked up.

As if this happened all the time.

As if Felicity regularly got princess-carried out of the gym by her brilliant F1-adjacent boyfriend like it was part of the warm-down routine.

Caitlin blinked.

Her heart hurt.

Oscar was strong. Like—really strong. Quietly strong. The kind that didn’t flex, just lifted people like they were paper.

And Felicity?

Felicity was tiny. Not weak. Not fragile. Just built like the universe decided someone should be genetically optimized to be carried by Oscar Piastri.

As they disappeared into the hallway, Felicity mumbled something.

Oscar laughed and said, “It’s not my fault your centre of gravity is adorable.”

Caitlin still had a chance. 

Probably. 

***

Caitlin had known Oscar Piastri was cute.

Obviously.

That had been Day One material: waves, dimples, polite voice, Australian accent. It was instant. It was unavoidable. It was textbook crush.

What she hadn’t expected was the slow realization that Oscar Piastri was hot. Like… unfairly hot. Like betray-your-bestie-and-your-God hot.

It didn’t hit her all at once.

It was gradual.

It was the library, when he’d leaned over Felicity’s desk to hand her a flash drive and his shirt had shifted, and suddenly his forearms were right there, and Caitlin had nearly highlighted the entire Treaty of Versailles out of order.

It was the way he always ran one hand through his hair when he was concentrating—pushing it back, curls falling forward again five seconds later, like he was in a shampoo commercial directed by the gods.

It was the back muscles, which she first clocked during PE when he’d taken off his jumper and casually did push-ups like they didn’t reveal everything.

And then there was the shoulder stretch incident.

One Friday morning in study hall, he’d lifted both arms behind his head to stretch—and his shirt had ridden up just enough to show a sliver of toned lower back and hip. Caitlin had dropped her pen, her dignity, and a solid 80% of her vocabulary in the same moment.

Every time he laughed, it was a problem. Deep, full-body, throw-his-head-back laughter that made people turn and smile reflexively. Except Caitlin didn’t just smile. She short-circuited.

And God help her when he swore.

Oscar didn’t swear much—but when he did, it was low and Australian and effortless and usually muttered under his breath in the most devastatingly hot tone imaginable. Once it had been “bloody hell, Fliss”, and Caitlin had ascended into another dimension.

Even his hands were unfair. Long fingers. Casually spinning a pen. Good at everything. 

One time he’d run laps for warm-up and pulled his shirt off over his head as he walked off the field, sweat glistening, curls sticking, and Caitlin had genuinely seen a bird fly into a tree because the universe was clearly overwhelmed.

But the worst part—the absolute worst—was how unaware he was of it.

Oscar Piastri had the audacity to be hot and nice. The kind of boy who helped carry books and always shared his last cookie with Felicity without even blinking.

It was a public safety hazard.

***

It was a rainy Thursday afternoon, and most of Sixth Form had retreated to the study hall. The floor-to-ceiling windows rattled with wind, someone had put on a low jazz playlist, and everyone had resigned themselves to pretending they were productive.

Caitlin was “working” on a history essay (read: rewriting the intro for the fourth time), when Oscar dropped into the seat beside Felicity at the windowsill bench. She barely looked up from her notes, just shifted sideways to make room for him in the way of people who didn’t ask—they just expected each other to be there.

He leaned over her shoulder, reading something upside down.

"You need a break," he said softly.

"I need a functioning global economy," she replied, underlining a sentence in red.

Oscar snorted. “Come on. Fifteen-minute truce. Stretch. Look at a cloud. Touch grass.”

Felicity didn’t move. But she looked at him. And then, in the most deadpan voice imaginable, she muttered:

"Alright, Tin Man. Let’s walk."

Caitlin blinked from her corner of the room.

Tin Man?

Tin. Man.

Was that… a dig?

A pet name?

An insult wrapped in affection?

She stared after them as they walked out, Oscar brushing his hand lightly against Felicity’s as they passed through the door. He was grinning. She wasn’t—but there was a crinkle in her eyes that looked suspiciously like she was trying not to smile.

“What,” Caitlin said aloud, turning to Thea across the table, “was that? She just called him Tin Man.”

Thea didn’t even glance up from her colour-coded notes. “Yeah. That’s her thing.”

“Her thing?”

“She calls him that when he gets too sentimental.”

Caitlin blinked. “Wait, what?”

Thea sighed like she was explaining physics to a moth.

“When Oscar first came to Haileybury, some of the guys used to tease him for being a bit—cold. Like, he was brilliant at everything but didn’t show much emotion. You know, kept to himself. Never really… reacted.”

Caitlin’s mouth opened. “So they called him—?”

“Robot Boy,” Thea finished. “No emotions. You get it.”

“That’s—awful,” Caitlin said.

“Yeah. But then Felicity came along, and he started reacting.” Thea finally looked up, eyes sharp with amusement. “First time he ever raised his voice in public was when someone made a comment about her. You should’ve seen it. He went full protective rage blackout.”

Caitlin blinked, stunned.

“Anyway,” Thea continued, “he started thawing. Laughing more. Getting teased for having feelings, instead of not having any. So now when he gets too soft with her—like, says something sweet or looks at her like she put the stars in the sky—she calls him Tin Man.”

Caitlin sat in silence.

Outside, through the rain-streaked glass, she could just barely make out Oscar and Felicity under the trees. He was walking so close beside her their arms brushed with every step. Felicity said something, and he threw his head back laughing.

And then she bumped him—gently, with her shoulder.

He bumped back.

They kept walking.

They weren’t holding hands. 

So Caitlin still had a chance. Right?

***

Caitlin joined the dance club because she needed something.

Something that wasn’t academic. Something that wasn’t tied to being “the new girl.” And, ideally, something that would make her look effortlessly hot in a leotard.

She had a background in jazz, had done a few summer workshops in Sydney, and figured it’d be a good place to make some friends. Plus, Oscar might notice—if she mentioned casually that she danced.

So when she walked into the studio for her first Thursday meeting, wearing her black tank and brand new split-sole ballet shoes, she felt good. Confident. A little nervous, but in a cute way.

And then she saw her.

Felicity Leong.

Hair in a flawless bun. Dressed in a leotard and a worn black wrap top that looked somehow elegant. Not flashy. Not even trying. But immediately magnetic.

Caitlin blinked. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Is she part of this club?” she whispered to the girl next to her.

The girl gave her a look. “She’s the senior lead.”

“Oh,” Caitlin said weakly. “Cool.”

Cool.

Felicity didn’t look like she was about to ruin lives. She was sitting against the mirror, stretching calmly, headphones in. Calm. Focused. Untouchable.

Then the teacher clapped. “Alright, let’s warm up. Miss Leong—lead us in pliés?”

Felicity nodded once, stood, and—

Transformed.

It was like watching a poem in motion.

No overthinking. No hesitation. Just muscle memory and precision. Her arms curved perfectly. Her turnout was textbook. Her every movement landed in that devastating sweet spot between softness and control. And her face didn’t change once—like grace wasn’t a performance for her, just a setting she never turned off.

She wasn’t just good.

She was ballet.

Caitlin barely remembered the warm-up. Her legs did something, sure, but her brain was short-circuiting.

Felicity flowed through port de bras like she’d been born with music in her veins. Executed a développé with the kind of restraint that said she could go higher, but didn’t need to prove it.

By the time they got to center work, Caitlin was pretty sure she’d stopped blinking.

“Felicity, would you mind demonstrating the adagio solo from last year?” the teacher asked.

Felicity gave a soft, almost reluctant nod. “Sure.”

And then she danced.

No music. No fanfare. Just her body moving like it had already heard the score.

Every extension was art. Every balance was deliberate. Every turn was smooth enough to make the world spin slower. When she reached the final pose—arms lifted, chin angled upward like she was made of light—nobody clapped.

Because everyone was stunned.

Even Caitlin.

She barely breathed until the teacher finally said, “Thank you. That was… as always, exquisite.”

Felicity just shrugged like it meant nothing and walked back to her spot like she hadn’t just outdanced God.

Caitlin sat down slowly.

Silently.

And had a minor identity crisis.

Because not only was Felicity Leong intimidatingly smart, casually attached at the soul to Oscar Piastri - she could also do ballet like she was on loan from the Paris Opera.

Caitlin didn’t know whether she wanted to cry, scream, or change schools.

So she settled on tying her shoes tighter and pretending it didn’t bother her.

Even though it absolutely did.

***

It was a rainy Tuesday evening, the kind that turned the Haileybury dorms into a sanctuary of hot chocolate, fleece blankets, and half-finished homework sprawled across common room tables.

Caitlin was curled on the edge of a beanbag, pretending to annotate her literature essay while sneakily watching Oscar argue with Samir about some Grand Prix controversy. It was one of those low-effort nights—everyone a little too tired to be productive, a little too comfortable to care.

And then Felicity walked in.

Hair down.

Caitlin almost dropped her pen.

Because up until that moment, she hadn’t even realized Felicity Leong had hair.

That’s how tightly she always wore it. Braids, buns, perfect French twists that looked regulation-ready even on Sundays. But now—

Now it was loose.

A dark, glossy sheet that spilled over her shoulders and down her back like a black silk curtain, nearly to her waist. Smooth, thick, flawless. It looked less like hair and more like something airbrushed onto a Vogue cover.

Caitlin blinked. Was she allowed to just—walk around like that?

Felicity padded over to where Oscar sat cross-legged on the floor, tugged a cushion closer, and dropped herself unceremoniously between his knees like it was a routine chore.

“Hands?” she asked, already gathering her hair over one shoulder.

Oscar grinned. “Clean. Promise.”

And with that, he gently took the mass of hair in his hands and began to braid.

Just like that.

Like it was something they’d done a hundred times. Like this was normal.

Caitlin watched, frozen, as he sectioned it expertly—two smooth parts, fingers moving with unconscious ease. He wasn’t even looking, just chatting with Samir about tyre compounds while looping her hair over and under like he knew it better than she did.

Felicity leaned forward a little to help him get the tension right.

She didn’t flinch. Didn’t supervise. Just… trusted him.

Caitlin wasn’t sure what was more shocking—the fact that Oscar Piastri could braid at all, or the fact that Felicity Leong, terrifying genius and dance prodigy, had somehow allowed a boy to touch her hair.

And not just touch it, but casually French braid it in front of other people like it wasn’t the most intimate thing Caitlin had ever seen in her life.

Oscar tied the end with a small black elastic from his wrist, then tugged the braid gently to make it fuller.

“There,” he said. “Symmetry achieved.”

“Better than last time,” Felicity said, glancing over her shoulder.

He tapped her temple with his knuckle. “I get better under pressure.”

Someone across the room muttered, “You two are so weirdly domestic, it’s terrifying.”

Neither of them looked offended.

Oscar just smiled. Felicity leaned back slightly against his knee. And they went right back to talking about whether or not the new history teacher was secretly unqualified.

Caitlin sat there, quietly imploding.

Because never, not once, had she seen Oscar that comfortable with anyone. Not in the flirtatious way she’d been fantasizing about—but in the quiet, unconscious belonging kind of way. Like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

But Caitilin still had a chance…right?

***

It started with a phone ringing.

Not a notification. Not the subtle ping of someone’s locked screen lighting up. This was a proper ringtone—some soft, instrumental chime that sounded like it belonged to a very calm person who did yoga and paid their taxes early.

Caitlin glanced up from her seat in the common room just in time to see Felicity Leong pull her phone out of her cardigan pocket.

“Sorry,” Felicity murmured, already stepping toward the hallway.

Oscar was sitting on the couch, legs stretched out, textbook balanced across his knees. He didn’t even look up.

Caitlin narrowed her eyes.

“Wait, where’s your phone?” she asked, leaning toward him a bit. “I thought I heard your ringtone earlier?”

Oscar didn’t glance up. “Dead. Forgot to charge it.”

“Classic,” Samir muttered without looking up from his laptop.

But Caitlin was still watching Felicity, who had now stepped just out of sight—though her voice still carried through the open doorway. Calm. Familiar. Just slightly exasperated.

“Hi Nicole. No, he’s alive,” Felicity said lightly. “Phone’s dead again. I’ll tell him to call you.”

A pause.

Then, quieter: “No, Oscar’s fine. Tired. He’s had a headache all day, that’s why he didn’t call. Yeah. I’ll remind him to check in tomorrow.”

Then Felicity laughed softly, eyes fond. “Yes. He misses you too. I’ll make sure he actually eats something green tonight.”

She listened for another beat, nodding, then added, “Love you too.”

Then she hung up and tossed the phone back onto the sofa.

Oscar caught it with one hand without even looking. “She say hi?”

“She said to tell you to eat a vegetable.”

“She’s so mean to me,” he said dramatically, eyes closed.

“She birthed you,” Felicity replied, deadpan. “She’s earned it.”

And Caitlin suddenly wasn’t paying attention to her annotated Hamlet anymore.

“Wait,” she said slowly. “Was that… your mum?”

Oscar glanced up like it was no big deal. “Yeah.”

“She called Felicity?”

Oscar blinked, confused. “Yeah?”

“Instead of, like, you?”

He shrugged. “She knows I never answer. Felicity always does.”

That… was apparently that.

Nobody else reacted.

Not Aarya, not Samir, not the Year 13 boy flipping through a copy of The Economist like his soul depended on it. They just kept working or scrolling or sipping lukewarm tea, as if it wasn’t insane that a boy’s mum had defaulted to calling a teenage girl for updates on her son.

“Your Mom just calls Felicity?” Caitlin repeated.

“Has since Year 10,” Samir said without looking up. “Honestly, Felicity usually knows where Oscar is before Oscar knows where Oscar is.”

Oscar shrugged. “It’s a system. If I miss three texts, she goes to Fliss.”

“I think Nicole called her during exams once because she couldn’t figure out Oscar’s calendar,” Aarya added. “Felicity had it memorized.”

Caitlin blinked. “But… that’s like… really personal, right?”

“Not really,” Oscar said mildly. “Just easier. Fliss keeps my schedule on her laptop.”

“She’s basically his external hard drive,” Samir muttered.

“His mum calls her,” Caitlin said again, dazed.

And yet… still.

Still.

She told herself maybe it was just one of those weird family dynamics. Maybe Felicity had just gotten swept up in the Piastris’ orbit because she was organized. Maybe Nicole liked her because she was polite and good at reminding Oscar to take his iron supplements or whatever.

Caitlin clung to denial with the strength of a thousand delusions.

Because maybe Felicity was just close with the family.

Maybe she was like… the childhood friend who became an honorary sibling.

It didn’t have to mean anything.

She definitely still had a chance.

Didn’t she?

***

The Winter Formal was two weeks away, and Caitlin was ready.

This was her moment. Her chance.

She’d been at Haileybury long enough to know that Winter Formal wasn’t just some dance—it was a statement. A social chessboard. The perfect opportunity to be seen, to be asked, to be unforgettable.

And Caitlin was not going to let it pass her by.

She’d already ordered a dress from Australia—a sleek, midnight blue satin thing with a thigh slit and delicate straps that made her feel expensive just looking at it. Her mum had mailed it express with handwritten instructions about which earrings not to pair it with. S She’d even practiced walking in heels on the quad during lunch.

All of this, of course, was part of Operation: Oscar Will Finally See Me As A Woman™.

So when the girls’ dorm corridor started buzzing with excitement and dress talk, Caitlin took her usual spot near the common room couch, flipping through lipstick swatches on her phone and casually steering the conversation.

“I feel like everyone’s going for red or black,” she said, examining a cherry gloss. “I want something classic, but… memorable, you know?”

Thea, who was painting her nails, nodded. “Honestly, I just hope someone asks me. Last year was so dry.”

“I heard Samir’s organizing a group to go together,” someone else said. “Just friends, but, like, cute coordinated outfits?”

“Ugh, that’s sweet,” Caitlin said, smiling. “I mean, obviously, if someone asked me, I’d say yes. But if not, I’ll just look stunning on my own.”

The group hummed in agreement.

Then the door opened, and of course, in walked Felicity Leong—casual, composed, hair in a clip, hoodie two sizes too big.

No Richmond Tigers this time. but once again something emblazoned with HP Tuners on it. Caitlin seriously wondered where she kept finding them. 

She looked like she was just passing through, but Thea called out, “Fliss! Are you going to the Winter Formal?”

Felicity paused. “Yeah, probably.”

Caitlin glanced over, trying to sound breezy. “Do you have a dress yet?”

Felicity shrugged like the entire concept of formalwear bored her. “I’ve got a few. I’ll pick one.”

“You mean, like… from your closet?” Caitlin asked, lips parting in disbelief. “You’re not getting one new?”

Felicity blinked. “I already own dresses. I don’t need another.”

Caitlin opened her mouth. Closed it. “Right. Sure.”

“So who are you going with?” Thea asked teasingly. 

Felicity just smiled faintly. “Don’t worry about it.”

Caitlin’s heart kicked. Her mind raced.

That could mean anything. It could be a friend. A joke. A bluff. There had been no announcement. And Oscar—Oscar still hadn’t said anything about going. She’d know if it were him.

Probably.

Hopefully.

Definitely.

…Right?

Felicity turned to go, already halfway down the corridor, when she called back casually:

“Don’t stress too much about the dress. The dancing is the best part.”

And just like that, she disappeared.

Caitlin sat very still for a moment.

Her lip gloss suddenly felt… desperate.

But no matter.

Felicity Leong could wear a paper bag to Winter Formal and still pull off mysterious. Caitlin, however, was going to show up looking like a star.

She still had time.

She still had a chance.

***

Winter Formal at Haileybury was everything Caitlin had dreamed it would be.

The great hall was transformed—strings of fairy lights hung from the beams, candles floated on tables like something out of a movie, and the DJ actually understood how to mix orchestral pieces with chart hits. Students filed in dressed to the nines, heels clicking on polished floors, laughter echoing across the velvet-draped room.

Caitlin felt stunning.

Her navy satin gown fit like a dream. Her curls were glossy, makeup dewy, everything rehearsed and poised. When she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror-lined hallway, she thought: This is it. This is my main character moment.

Oscar hadn’t arrived yet.

She was mid-conversation with Thea and half-scanning the crowd when the noise in the room dipped. Not stopped. Not hushed. Just… shifted.

She followed the direction of a few stares—and there they were.

Oscar and Felicity.

And Caitlin forgot how to breathe.

Felicity was in a deep forest green dress—floor-length, off the shoulder, with a subtle silk sheen that looked so expensive it had to be designer. Her hair was down for once, falling to her waist pin straight and thick. Her makeup was minimal, but somehow she still looked like she stepped out of a fashion editorial.

Oscar was in a classic black suit. Crisp white shirt. And he was smiling at her—her, meaning Felicity—like she was the only person who existed.

The room wasn’t silent, but it didn’t matter.

It bent around them anyway.

Caitlin stared. There’s no way they’re just friends.

But nobody said anything. There was no announcement. No hand-holding. So it was still ambiguous, right?

She had hope.

Until the dancing started.

The DJ called for a traditional waltz—something Haileybury insisted on every year for the old-money aesthetic—and most students awkwardly shuffled into pairs, giggling through their two-left-feet attempts.

And then—

Oscar and Felicity stepped onto the floor.

And they danced.

Not fumbled.

Not swayed.

They danced.

He led effortlessly, one hand pressed against her back like he was born to guide her. She followed with impossible grace, her green skirt swirling just above her ankles. They moved in tight, perfect circles, their footwork synchronized, their expressions focused and just barely smiling, like the moment was just for them.

And then—because of course—

He picked her up.

Clean, elegant lift. Like she weighed nothing. Like he’d done it a hundred times before. Her feet left the ground, and she laughed—actually laughed, head thrown back—and when he set her down again, she didn’t even wobble.

The room applauded.

Caitlin clapped too, mostly because she forgot how not to.

Thea leaned over. “Okay, they’re disgustingly perfect.”

Caitlin forced a laugh. “Yeah, I guess they… practiced?”

Samir, somewhere nearby, snorted. “They’ve been practicing since Year 9, mate.”

Caitlin blinked. “What?”

But Samir had already turned away.

Since Year 9?

That had to mean something else. Dance class. PE. Maybe Oscar’s mum had hired them a coach. It didn’t confirm anything.

Even when the slow songs began, and Oscar pulled Felicity close—one hand at her waist, the other brushing the back of her neck, foreheads nearly touching—Caitlin still thought:

Maybe he’s just that affectionate with close friends.

Even as he whispered something that made Felicity laugh and tuck her head into his shoulder.

Even as they moved in a slow, gentle rhythm that looked less like dancing and more like existing in sync.

Caitlin took a sip of her sparkling juice.

She still had a chance.

...Right?

***

The Winter Formal afterparty wasn’t technically sanctioned, but Haileybury looked the other way as long as nobody died, broke curfew, or set off the fire alarm like last year.

So a group of Upper Sixth students had ended up back in one of the common rooms, still in formalwear but now barefoot, jackets discarded, and half-asleep on beanbags and mismatched sofas. The music was low. The fairy lights from the dance still blinked lazily around the windows. Someone passed around leftover sweets from the dessert bar.

Caitlin was feeling… hopeful.

Oscar was lounging two cushions away, his jacket tossed over a chair, his tie hanging loose around his neck. Felicity sat cross-legged on the floor in front of him, sipping from a paper cup. 

Then someone suggested Truth or Dare.

It started off tame.

“Truth: who did you originally want to go to formal with?” “Dare: text your sibling ‘you up?’” “Truth: have you ever cheated on an exam?”

The group laughed, groaned, teased.

Caitlin felt herself relaxing. It was fun. Casual. Normal.

Then Aarya, ever the chaos agent, turned toward Oscar with a shark-like grin.

“Oscar,” she said sweetly. “Truth or dare?”

Oscar didn’t blink. “Dare.”

Aarya’s eyes lit up. “Kiss your girlfriend like you actually mean it.”

The room stilled.

Caitlin choked on her drink.

Felicity blinked slowly, then looked up at Oscar with one eyebrow raised.

He laughed softly. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” Aarya said, sipping her juice. “Here we are.”

Oscar leaned forward.

Caitlin’s heart started pounding.

And then—without fanfare, without hesitation—he tipped Felicity’s chin up with one hand and kissed her.

Not a peck. Not polite. Not friend-coded.

It was full-on, no questions asked, get-a-room kissing.

He kissed her like it was muscle memory. Like he’d done it a thousand times. Like he had no idea anyone else was in the room.

Felicity kissed him back with the same energy—slow and familiar and undeniably his.

When they finally pulled apart, Felicity just tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and stole a sip from Oscar’s drink like nothing had happened.

Oscar smirked and leaned back like he was settling into home.

The room erupted.

Whistling. Groaning. “You are horrible,” someone muttered.

Aarya grinned with no mercy in Caitlin’s direction.

“Oh my God,” Caitlin said faintly. “Wait, are you—?”

Felicity looked at her. “Together? Yeah. Since we were fifteen.”

Caitlin stared.

Aarya, feigning deep shock, added, “You didn’t know?”

The silence after that wasn’t cruel—but it was loud.

Caitlin tried to find her voice. “I just thought—no one ever said—”

Oscar blinked, genuinely confused. “I thought it was obvious?”

And somehow, that was the worst part.

Because to everyone else, it was.

The braids. The cookies. The phone call from Nicole. The dancing. The goddamn waltz lift. All of it had been real.

Caitlin had never stood a chance.

And now she knew it.

Fully. Completely.

Unmistakably.

***

@/caitlinfromoz: ✨okay so now that oscar piastri and felicity leong are publicly Official™ and married… a thread about how teenage me was DELUSIONAL and thought i had a chance ✨ (yes. i was that girl. i’ve grown.)

@/caitlinfromoz:  i transferred to haileybury in 2018. i was 17. oscar was cute. australian. quiet. smart. devastatingly nice to literally everyone. INCLUDING ME. obviously, i decided we were endgame.

@/caitlinfromoz: There was just one obstacle. Her name was Felicity Leong.

@/caitlinfromoz:  Gorgeous. Terrifying. Looked like she ate straight A’s for breakfast and ballet-danced in her sleep. Hair always in a perfect bun. Vibes of a girl who could ruin your life with a well-written paragraph.

@/caitlinfromoz: I tried to talk to her once in history class and said the Sepoy Rebellion was about pork grease. She proceeded to verbally destroy me and rewrite my understanding of British colonialism in one breath.

I still think about it at night.

@/caitlinfromoz:  nobody told me they were together because apparently “it was obvious” spoiler: IT WAS NOT OBVIOUS TO ME. 

@/caitlinfromoz:   I never saw them kiss. She didn’t sit on his lap. I spent three months thinking I had a chance. 

Reader, I did not have a chance.

@/caitlinfromoz: Things I ignored in pursuit of this delusion:

@/caitlinfromoz:  He was the only person that called her Fliss. (Side note: He also called her Love.) She was the only person that called him Oz. Or Tin Man. 

@/caitlinfromoz: His mother called her when he didn’t answer answer his phone. And that was generally accepted as normal. Nobody blinked. i thought she was just close with his family. 💀

@/caitlinfromoz: They made cookies together like an old married couple. They were the best cookies I have ever eaten. (He’s also not allowed in the kitchen without supervision. Something about The Great Béchamel Disaster?)

@/caitlinfromoz:  there was this one time i saw him french braid her entire waist-length hair in the common room while talking about tyre compounds. and i was like “they’re probably just childhood friends :)” girl.

@/caitlinfromoz:  also felicity could do actual ballet. like real swan lake coreography. i joined dance club to be graceful. she FLOATS. i left dance club two meetings later.

@/caitlinfromoz: but the REAL nail in the coffin was winter formal. i thought “this is it. this is where he sees me in a dress and FALLS.”

@/caitlinfromoz: and then oscar & felicity arrived like they’d just stepped out of a slow-burn fanfic and casually performed a literal waltz. with lifts.

@/caitlinfromoz: like, lifted her.

in time with the music.

in front of witnesses.

and i still thought “huh… maybe they’re just really good friends??”

teenage me was determined to die on that hill. and oh god, die i did 🥲

@/caitlinfromoz: Cut to post-formal hangout, someone suggests Truth or Dare. Aarya (bless her ruthless soul) dares Oscar to “kiss your girlfriend like you mean it.”

@/caitlinfromoz: He proceeded to snog Felicity like we weren’t all sitting 5 feet away in formalwear with Red Vines and sparkling juice. When they broke apart, she casually took a sip from his drink.

@/caitlinfromoz:  I had an out-of-body experience.

 turned to the group like: “Wait… they’re DATING??”

Felicity, sipping her juice: “Since we were 15.”

Everyone else: 👀

Oscar: “I thought it was obvious?”

@/caitlinfromoz: Reader, it was. I was just dense.

@/caitlinfromoz: turns out they’d been dating for over 2 years. everyone knew. except me. i think i stared at the wall for ten full minutes.

@/caitlinfromoz: to be clear: they weren’t hiding. everyone else knew. they just… were. no theatrics. no announcement. just two teenagers sharing tea, physics notes, and apparently a long-term romantic commitment 😃👍

@/caitlinfromoz: anyway. it’s years later. they’re still disgustingly in love. her hair’s still perfect. he’s still absurdly nice. and i’m now emotionally stable enough to laugh at my teen self.

@/caitlinfromoz: teenage me had confidence, delusion, and absolutely no awareness.

i salute her.

but she was so, so dumb.

RIP to her.

@/caitlinfromoz: thank you for attending my TED Talk on delulu girl autumn 2018 💀💀💀

***

@/nicolepiastri: This was a hilarious read. Thank you for the reminder that Oscar once thought almond milk could substitute béchamel. And yes, I called Felicity when Osc wouldn’t answer. I still do. Caitlin, sweetheart, I’m so sorry. You never had a chance. Loved the thread though 💕

➡️@/caitlinfromoz:  WHY IS OSCAR’S MUM HERE i was a CHILD i didn’t know i was just trying to thrive in maths and a floor-length gown

➡️@/NicolePiastri: You were lovely, but Fliss had already reorganized his entire life by the time you arrived. Including his sock drawer. And his heart.

@/f1roseshard:  SHE SAID "YOU NEVER HAD A CHANCE" I’M SCREAMING

@/chaosinthepits:  nicole piastri coming in like a mother with the final shovel of dirt for the grave 😭😭

@/oscarlovrs: someone frame this whole interaction and hang it in the haileybury hallway i’m serious

@/piastribetterhalf: @/NicolePiastri when did you start calling Felicity instead of Oscar?

➡️@/NicolePiastri:  When he forgot to tell me he’d landed and Felicity texted “Don’t worry, I fed him.”

@/caitlinfromoz: @/nicolepiastri ma’am with all due respect i would’ve loved a warning like maybe a little sign. a polite letter. a fortune cookie.

➡️@/nicolepiastri:  Replying to: @caitlinfromoz I thought the braid should’ve been a giveaway, darling x

@chaoticconstructors: “i thought the braid should’ve been a giveaway” IS THE GREATEST CLOSING LINE I’VE EVER READ

@/piastrisbuns:  what was felicity like irl?? did she ever TALK to people??

➡️@/caitlinfromoz: she talked. just… efficiently. like her words had a budget. she once ended a debate in 3 sentences and someone cried. i respect her. i feared her. i may still fear her.

@/chaosinthepits truth or dare. full snog. in front of everyone. my GOD. did you die. did you ascend.

➡️@/caitlinfromoz:  i think i dissociated tbh. someone passed me a cookie. i bit it and stared into space like i’d just seen a horse speak fluent italian.

@/oscarlovrs: be honest… was it at least a good kiss??

➡️@/caitlinfromoz:  listen. i’m woman enough to admit… it was an excellent kiss. cinema-worthy. soft hand placement. forehead bump. mutual giggling after. 

@/aussieoscarfans:  so you’re telling me his mum had her on speed dial he braided her hair slow danced with her picked her up IN FRONT OF THE SCHOOL and u still thought u had a chance?

➡️@/caitlinfromoz:  yes but in my defense: ✨delusion is a powerful drug✨ (i was 17. my brain wasn’t fully online.)

@/softpitwall:  Be honest. Did you ever consider throwing yourself down the stairs at school just to get Oscar to carry you?

➡️@/caitlinfromoz: no but I did once fake confusion near the physics lab hoping he’d walk me to class felicity appeared out of NOWHERE i swear she just sensed it 😭

@/formula1girlie: THE WAY I GASPED AT “he picked her up” 😭😭 you were fighting for your life against a woman who literally waltzed

➡️@/caitlinfromoz: i was fighting for my life against someone who could quote voltaire and do fouettés there was no battle. i was collateral damage

@/teamsoftlaunch: i’m obsessed with the idea that everyone else knew. like no one even thought to say “hey they’re dating btw”? lmao

➡️@/caitlinfromoz: i think Aarya tried once and then gave up. she probably put money on how long it would take me to catch on

@/piastrilicious: can you PLEASE drop a photo of what you wore to winter formal?? we need to see how hard you tried

➡️@/caitlinfromoz: i will NOT be bullied into posting that navy satin thigh-slit disaster okay fine here it is but please understand i believed it was my villain origin story

<attached image: Caitlin in full formal glam, looking gorgeous and heartbreakingly confident> caption: “she really thought she was gonna change the plot 💔”

@/flissleongstand: this thread is my roman empire. i think about felicity leong just shrugging and saying “yeah, since we were fifteen” DAILY

➡️@/caitlinfromoz: she said it so calmly. meanwhile my entire worldview collapsed in 0.2 seconds

@/oscpiastriluvr81:  GIRL YOU THOUGHT YOU HAD A CHANCE AGAINST THE GIRL HE FRENCH BRAIDED WHILE TALKING ABOUT TYRE COMPOUNDS??? 💀💀💀

➡️@/caitlinfromoz:  i didn’t think i had a chance. i built an entire ROMANTIC NARRATIVE. i was the main character in my head. he was the love interest. she was… a subplot. i was wrong.

@/oscarstanpage: soooo who dared him to kiss her 👀

➡️@/caitlinfromoz:  Aarya. if you’re out there: i forgive you. you were right. i needed the reality check.

@/piastricorners:  you had a crush on oscar when he was braiding hair and baking cookies?? be honest. you liked the domestic vibes didn’t you

➡️ @caitlinfromoz listen. there’s nothing more dangerous than a teenage girl witnessing an emotionally intelligent boy sift flour

@/thepiastrileongfiles: are you ok now

➡️ @/caitlinfromoz: i’m healed. i have a job, a dog, and the emotional distance to find teenage me absolutely hilarious. but i am blocking anyone who makes an edit about that truth or dare kiss with “ceilings” by lizzy mcalpine.

@/oscarp_brasil:  sooo how hot was the kiss. scale of 1 to my soul left my body

➡️@/caitlinfromoz: like if a jane austen novel and a wattpad fic had a baby. there was hand cradling, forehead touch after, she drank from his cup like nothing happened. i was spiritually vaporized.

@/mclarendownbad: @/OscarPiastri bestie ur fans need u to confirm the french braid thing

➡️ @/OscarPiastri I can do a Dutch braid, too. And a crown braid.

[heartyluv]

Note: I already yapped my head off —here— but I will never stop saying it because it means so much to me…thank you so much my luvlys for over 1K followers. This fic literally became something of its own—the characters, the information, the story. Like I want to know more myself LOLLL!!!

Creds to @/strangergraphics-archive for the dividers! + The images below do not belong to me!

Warning: Caleb is eating that 🐱

Word count: 4.5K (bigger than i thought -that’s what she said-)

Summary: Avoiding him wasn’t bound to last forever.

TattooArtist!Caleb/Reader

You sighed after you put the car in park, looking over at your best friend. Currently, Bea was grumbling to herself as she rummaged through her purse to find her phone before she heads into work. You smiled as she kept tucking her deep blue hair behind her ear each time it fell into her face, opting to hold it back for her with your palm gently pressed against the rebel strands.

She looked at you with a quick smile of gratitude, flashing her smiley piercing before returning to her bag that was too big to be hauling around on a regular basis. It was her favorite thing in the world, though, so she’d never get rid of it.

You and Bea have been attached at the hip since you were in third grade. As time went on, even if you two knew one another like the back of your hand, you were polar opposites. Where you were a clean slate, simple, and reserved, Bea was decorated in stunning tattoos, flashy bangles, bracelets and jewelry, and the most outgoing individual you’ve ever experienced. And you absolutely loved her for it.

“I might’ve left it in your fucking room,” she groaned loudly in annoyance. Bea had spent the night in your apartment for the last few days and it was for no reason in particular. She liked coming over, you loved her company, so she stayed. You’re someone who works from home—thankfully—so you’re with each other all day until she has to go to work. Since she’s been with you, you didn’t mind driving her there and picking her up after for dinner. Especially on days like today where you were off.

Bea is one of the best tattoo artists in the world—sure it may be biased, but you didn’t care. Though, it was a fact that she’s one of the best in the state. She even has a plaque at her place to prove it and you have the photos when she and other artists were rewarded for it. Her range and ability to bring her art to life on a human being has always fascinated you.

The parlor she works in is one that has been a monument in the tattoo community for three decades now, owned by an uncle and his nephew. You’ve been in there a few times—a lot of them for reasons you keep tucked away.

“I can go get it and bring it back, if you want,” you offered. She frowned, but she was nothing but appreciative as she leaned over the center console to hug you.

“You’d literally be my hero.”

“When am I not?” you chuckle. “You’ll still be available for my appointment, right?”

“Of course, duh!” she exclaimed. “No one gets to see those beautiful nips but me and maybe your future baby. And whatever guy is lucky enough one day.” She waggles her eyebrows and shimmies her shoulders.

You shake your head, ushering her out the car so she isn’t late. Once she’s inside, your mind immediately drifts to the fact that Bea is supposed to be doing something for you. Something that she convinced you would boost your sexiness and confidence, even if no one but you would see them.

Nipple piercings.

You never would’ve thought you’d even consider doing something like that since the mere thought of a needle getting near you makes you nervous—let alone near your nipples. But you wanted something new. You wanted change. You wanted to have something about you that made you feel good.

Traffic was insane to and back, making you a whopping seven extra minutes late.

Thankfully, you got ahold of Bea’s phone quicker than you expected, finding it right under the pillow she slept on last night. She was in a little bit of a hurry this morning, so you’re not surprised that she forgot it as she focused all her attention on getting it together.

Once you gathered your things, you made your way inside Luvly Inkz. Immediately, you’re greeted by Sleep Token playing on the speakers and the subtle buzz of tattoo guns at work. With a quick once over, you don’t see Bea, but you’re nothing short of relieved when you don’t see him.

“Hey, there’s our girl!” shouts Uncle Wiz. The dark skinned older man grins at you from where he sits as he works on a client. Everyone calls him Uncle when they meet him because that’s always the type of relationship you get with the kind hearted gentleman who is completely decked out in ink. He’s like a magician with the way he executes his work, so being called Wiz isn’t too far fetched.

“Hey, Wiz. Hey, everybody,” you announce and they all offer a quick warm welcoming. “I know it’s been a while. You can thank Bea for my presence today. She in the back? I got her phone.”

“Nah,” Wiz focuses back on the lady listening to music through her earbuds as he fills in the large outline on her side. “Her and her dude got into again. He hasn’t even clocked in yet—had her sitting there losing her cool over the work phone. Told her to go take a breather.”

The need to go and find your best friend is strong, especially knowing that she’s out there with no phone or way for you to reach her efficiently. But you know her better than anyone to understand that she could handle herself, she didn’t like being crowded, and that the best thing right now was to let her do as Wiz said, and breathe.

Bea and her boyfriend Marquis work together at Luvly Inkz, which one could argue has its pros and cons. When they’re good, they’re like a power couple—an unstoppable force. But when it gets like this? When they fight and argue about something that ranges from completely stupid to detrimental enough to break up over, they’re like ticking time bombs that have a higher probability of detonating if they stay close.

But Uncle Wiz would never fire them because their bickering and disputes never stopped them from doing what they needed to do. Work was always done on time, correctly, and clients always walked out happy. It was a level of professionalism he knew he could trust them with, even with their personal problems.

But it wasn’t working out for you right now because you were supposed to be laying on Bea’s table, ready to get your nipples stabbed.

“Were you scheduled with her? I might be able to get it done for you really fast, depending on what it is.”

“It was a…piercing,” you say simply. Uncle Wiz nods.

“She finally broke you, huh?” he chuckled before looking around the room. “All of our girls are busy right now, but we’ve got Caleb here. He actually came in, despite me telling him to take off for his birthday. He got in not too long ago, and if you’re comfortable with him doing it, he won’t mind. Just tell him what it is since he’s qualified to do them all.”

Your whole body freezes.

Caleb.

The same Caleb who took your virginity and made you know what it was like to be desperate for dick for the first and only time in your life.

The same Caleb who you have regretted sleeping with ever since you learned he…gets around.

The same Caleb who admittedly never did anything wrong, but you were embarrassed and ashamed for succumbing to him so easily when you were certain—without viable proof—that the way he got you was by utilizing a technique he’s likely used too many times to count.

Bea was the one who—accidentally—told you after she wondered where you and him disappeared off to during the night of the party she threw for Marquis’ birthday at a luxury house she rented for the event.

You and Caleb were pretty cool before you had sex, having actually been acquaintances for a good few years. There wasn’t much you knew about him, other than that his talent rivaled Bea, he was annoyingly attractive, and had the body of a fucking god. You met him almost six years ago when she started working at Luvly Inkz and just clicked instantly about a lot of things.

So when he and you sat on the balcony that night just talking about everything and nothing like you knew each other so well, it was so hard for the crush you had formed over time to remain at bay. You never thought the attraction was mutual, but then, when he ended up kissing you? When he asked you if you’d let him fuck you? You knew you should’ve told him no, but the way he pressed his hardness into you and called you pretty—you were a goner.

He made—what you thought at the time—sweet love to you as his hips rocked back and forth slowly to let you adjust. You touch yourself at night when you think about the way he rolled the condom onto his heavy cock, when he filled you up like he was made to complete you.

After it all and you fixed yourself to face everyone again, you couldn’t stop smiling. But unintentionally, the words Bea spoke when she found you alone in the kitchen is what caused the rift.

“Dude, where were you and Caleb? Please don’t tell me you fucked him!” she joked with a nudge. “Seriously he’s like a walking attraction or something. Never heard the words “thank you for last night” so many times by so many different women in my life, ugh!”

You’ve been distant ever since. Every phone call and text was ignored and you stopped coming into the parlor entirely. You beat yourself up a lot about that.

How could you not have known better?

He literally carried a condom on him and the way he worked your body was not a man who kept to himself.

Bea felt awful because both of you are her friends and she hated that you felt the way you did after you admitted your truth, but she respected it.

You told her how you thought it was a special thing, that you and him were going to become more. Maybe you would’ve, but you’d never know now.

It wasn’t that you judged Caleb. Him having a past doesn’t dictate him, but the way he is wasn’t something he grew out of. You slept with that version. Before you had that information, you felt like what you shared with him was something special, but you concluded that it was just another day for him. To think you would be the one to become some life altering catalyst was foolish—so it was safer to rid him of your system entirely. It hurt and it stung as your brain worked to convince yourself that he just wanted to get his dick wet and you were easy enough to do it for him.

Being here today only happened because like Uncle Wiz was saying and based on what Bea had told you, he wasn’t supposed to be working because he originally took off for his birthday.

As you prepare to shake off and decline Wiz’s request, Caleb walks into the wide open space. In that moment, every single emotion, thought, and feeling you worked hard to suppress after all these months came rushing back like a hurricane fueled flood.

“We were just talking about you,” Wiz said as he told Caleb to come closer. You refused to look at him. But you could feel his eyes burning into you the closer he got.

Then when his cinnamon apple like scent flooded your nostrils, you tried to hold your breath like you were a vampire trying not to pounce on a human being whose blood smelled equivalent to ambrosia.

“She’s looking to get a piercing done, but Bea was supposed to do it and…well, you saw the tail-end of her and Marquis’ argument. If she’s cool with you doing it, you mind?”

“I don’t mind at—”

“I can come back another time,” you interrupt, keeping your focus on Wiz.

Caleb chuckles at your dismissive tone. But he’s not letting you get away again so easily. “If you don’t want your piercing done, fine. But I’m sure you at least want to know about Bea?” You turn your head slightly, but still not giving him your eyes.

“Marquis called me, but I don’t think you or them want the entire parlor in their business.”

Caleb and Marquis are similar to you and Bea in terms of friendship—really close and tight knit. They’ve been friends since high school and found their way through the tattoo world together.

You can see in the corner of his eye how he tilts his head in the direction he came. “Cmon, I’ll tell you what he told me so you don’t worry.”

Every part of you wants to leave and not be in any secluded area with this man, but you are concerned about Bea. You don’t want to cause a scene of trying to get out of this by curtly denying him and making Uncle Wiz wonder what your deal is.

Honestly, you didn’t know if anybody else knew what happened between you and Caleb. You know you never said anything, Bea never said anything, and you’re sure Caleb didn’t. 

And you would like to keep that under wraps forever, if you could. So you just nod, still looking at everything but Caleb until he begins to walk. As you follow him, you can’t help but begin to admire his strong tattooed arms in his sleeveless black shirt and the black jeans that hug his waist so well.

His boots thud against the floor on your journey down the vintage-esque hallway with several photos and copious amounts of unique artwork.

Once Caleb approaches the second to last door at the end, he steps aside to let you enter. You’re greeted by a slightly messy room with pencils and markers, rough drafts of pieces pinned across the walls, as well as a table with a light and equipment that seems like it was just in use.

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologizes as he shuts the door and flips the light switch to illuminate everything. “Was working on a project for a client—”

“Is Bea okay?” You stare at the floor as if your sneaker clad feet would be the one to answer your question.

“She’s fine. Marquis told me he was able to find her at some park they usually go to. He said they were talking everything out and that they’d be here before either of their first appointments.” It goes silent. “He said Bea appreciates you getting her phone and that she’ll make it up to you about these piercings you were getting.”

“Okay,” you huff. “Thank you.”

You get ready to walk out the door he stands besides, but he grabs your arm gently.

“Don’t…go.” He scoffs out a laugh. “I mean, fuck, can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“That’s bullshit. We fucked, or have you seem to forgotten that like you have my existence, apparently?” He gets closer to you, but you move back. “And when I tried to reach out, you ignored me, Bea wouldn’t tell me shit, and then I haven’t seen your face in months.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” you say sharply.

“Okay, but I do. You don’t get to make a decision about us without giving me a say so.”

For the first time in months, you put your eyes directly on his. And fuck…is he ethereal.

“Us?” you repeat in disbelief. “There is no us. There was never an us. We were barely considered friends!”

“There she is,” he grins like his plan that you didn’t even know he had, worked perfectly. “Now that you gave me your eyes, you gonna tell me why you ghosted me after the night we had, or am I supposed to try and figure it out through your scowls?”

“Caleb, get out the way.”

“Make me get out of the way,” he dares. “I let up on you before out of respect and I don’t care how you viewed the dynamic between us—I don’t like how you apparently chose to end it after what we did. Did I fuck up? Was I too rough?”

“Why does it fucking matter? We’re not a thing! We don’t owe each other anything!”

“So there was a problem,” he concludes.

The only way you’re getting out of this room is if you tell him something. Unfortunately, your brain decides to tell him the truth instead of sticking with the lie that you curated on the tip of your tongue.

“We were never close enough for what we did to be more than what it was. I simply removed myself so that you could get back to being the way that you are.”

Immediately he’s insulted, shaking his head like he has to jumble your words up again to make sure he understood you. “The fuck do you mean the way that I am? How exactly am I?”

“It seems like everyone but you knows,” you mumble.

He wipes his hand down his face in frustration. “Could you cut the riddle bullshit and just say it?”

“No.” Your determination is admirable, but he sees through your facade. He sees the way your nipples strain against your ribbed tank top, the way you can’t stop staring at the tattoos along his fingers, the piercing in his brow, or the one on his tongue when he licks his lips out of habit.

“I have to get it out of you, then?”

“You’re not doing anything but moving so that I can leave.”

“You wanna bet?”

Caleb couldn’t understand why you going cold bothered him so much. You’re not the first girl to be one and done with him, but you’re the first where he felt—no, knew—that there was something specific that made you pull away from him. He wanted to let it go, to let it be, but he also promised himself that if he ever saw you again, he’d get his answer one way or another.

You watch with wary eyes as his hand goes to the lock behind him, clicking it into place to keep you stuck in here with him.

“If you tell me no—if you tell me that you’re serious and that you want me to back off, I’ll never bother you again. But if you don’t utter that word before I get my hands on you, since I couldn’t get you to tell me what your problem is…I’ll have to make you.”

The thought of Caleb never talking to you again sends a wave of sadness through you. You know you should be protesting, but in truth…you don’t want to. Much to his liking, you don’t answer.

“Figured,” he says confidently.

Your body feels like it’s made of jello with the way you wobble where you stand.

“No bra and Bea being the one to do it for you…” he shifts the conversation, smiling widely as it settles in. “You were piercing your nipples, baby?”

“That’s none of your business.” Your face immediately grows hot.

“My tongue is about to be in your pussy in the next few seconds, so yeah. It is my business.”

Your eyebrows furrow, but there’s no time to be confused because he takes two grand steps your way, lifting you just enough to sit you down on the padded piercing table.

He doesn’t bother teasing or playing with you anymore, sucking on your nipples through your shirt when your tits are in his face. Your back arches into his hot mouth instinctively, your pussy throbbing in your jeans because of the metal ball in his mouth that swipes against your sensitive peaks each time he alternates between which one he thinks needs some more love.

“I’ll pierce them for you when I’m done. I know them better than Bea, don’t I?” he chuckles when your objection shifts into a moan that you have to suppress with your hand to your mouth.

“Tell me why,” he mumbles into your tits, gently biting on them when you pull his hair a little too hard from the intensity.

“I’m scared I’ll be wrong,” you shockingly admit through unshed tears when he starts to kiss up your neck, feeling the chill of his month being away from where you need them to return.

That thought crossed your mind a lot. That you shot yourself in the foot over something underlying that you weren’t ready to admit.

Caleb may sleep around, but what if he really did want you in ways you didn’t know?

What if you would’ve just went and fucking asked him instead of assuming?

But the fear of it being the opposite, experiencing that realization and embarrassment, trumped any other potential belief.

“Let me take that fear away, then.”

You remain focused on the way he brings your hips to the edge of the table, undoing your jeans as he kisses your lips. Your hands frantically grasp at his hair that he’s cut a little shorter, but it’s a difference you like. Skillfully, he holds the kiss as he guides you to lift your hips to get your pants down your legs without needing to say a word.

“Tell me yes,” he pecks your lips several times, a string of saliva constantly forming from how wet the exchange is. “Like the first time. The way you begged me. Let me hear you again, pretty. You don’t understand how much I’ve missed it.”

There’s so many emotions and questions coursing through you as you nod quickly, your eyes prickling with tears. You pull at the hair on the nape of his neck, your fingertips finding their way to the simple quote down the side of it. It’s like you’re trying to trace him to commit him to memory in case this really is something you’ll never have again.

“Please…Please taste me, Caleb..”

“You’re so good, baby,” he breathes, falling to his knees so that he can worship you better than he did when he slid inside your pussy. Immediately, he covers your mound with his mouth. You can’t sit up like this anymore when he starts to suck your clit, your body giving out on you as you slowly fall back and onto the cool leather.

The metal in his mouth teases your sensitive nub while his tongue writes his name into your flesh. Each stroke of the thick muscle between your sensitive lips is enough to finally pull the tears from your ducts to cascade down your temples.

He pulls back, gathering his spit to drench your cunt in it before delving back into you like a second wasted will make you realize that this isn’t where you want to be.

“I fucking missed you,” he declares, licking long stripes up and down your pretty pussy. “I haven’t touched anyone since you let me have you. I couldn’t get you off my mind.”

You choke on your cries, a foreign warmth completing you at the sincerity of his words.

He indulges in you like a man starved of what is rightfully his and all you can do is become a mess under his spell. The wet sounds of your juices as his tongue opens you up like a wallflower, drives you to be incapable of holding on any longer.

“I’m gonna come…” Your hold in his dark strands grow tighter.

“I know...You’re so sensitive, just like I remember. Like I always dream about.”

The confidence in his response, like the one time with your body was all it took for him to know it so well, makes you bite your lip hard as your body jerks when you orgasm makes you feel what it’s like to be torn between two realms.

His nose moves back and forth in your warmth, your walls clenching around his tongue while he continues to spread your slick everywhere he can.

You can’t control your moans, your legs raising to give him room at the same time your tits rise and fall in an effort to ground yourself.

Caleb quickly separates from you, standing up to climb over your body, attacking your lips so that he can swallow your cries. Your taste on his tongue makes you whine into the kiss the more he licks into your mouth. He rests his forehead against yours, his breath fanning against your face.

“I thought I was just another notch on your belt,” you finally voice the truth to him. “I thought you used me, and I was too scared to find out if it was true.”

“Oh, baby…” he breathed in defeat as if your words have crushed his heart. “You thought you were a fling?”

“How could I not? You have…a history, Caleb.”

“That’s fair—if we were strangers.”

“We might as well have been.” Your breath finally settles. “I didn’t exactly know how you moved until after, when Bea told me. We don’t know each other as much as you seem to think we do.”

“You seem to not know me, but pretty girl,” he kisses your neck. “I know you.”

“I feel like that needs some explaining.”

“It does,” he smiles. “Let me take you home after I get off. I’ll tell you everything you don’t know. That can be your other birthday gift to me.”

You ruminate on his proposition before you agree, but every single nerve in your body—aside from having the orgasm—is raised.

What does he know? What has he been hiding?

But it’s no point in pondering on something you have zero clue about. Like he said—tonight, you’ll learn.

True to his word, after Caleb cleans you up, he sanitizes your nipples, prepares his station like its second nature, and pierces them for you. He guided you through every breath and praised you for each successful puncture. He even admired them with you as he stood in front of a mirror with you in front of him so that you could admire yourself.

You didn’t know if it was Caleb, the piercings, or both, but you could feel and understand that confidence Bea spoke of.

“I can’t wait until they heal,” he kisses down your neck, pressing his bare chest to your back. He never brought up the fact that he didn’t come, so you assumed the reason the poor man behind you got so heated that he had to take his shirt off, is because he needs to come.

But you’re not going to say anything either. Since he apparently has something’s he’s kept secret, maybe he needs this little punishment.

But you can’t deny that the view of the few tattoos on his body doesn’t make you want to put his cock in your mouth.

“What will you do once they are?”

“You’ll see. Just don’t disappear on me again, yeah? It’s good to check in with your piercer. Have to make sure everything is healing nicely.” He grips your waist, making you suppress a smile.

When you’re finished, Caleb gives you a large spare shirt of his since your tank top is still wet from where he sucked on your nipples.

At the same time that you leave the room with him right on your tail, Bea and Marquis walk in. Thankfully, they look way happier than whatever was being said about them earlier. But, Bea’s eyes look at you, then Caleb, the shirt you wear, and the slight flush on his cheeks.

That’s all she needs to know that you two have a whole bunch of hours of crucial information to exchange ahead of you, but when you tell her where you’ll be tonight, she’s going to wish she was a fly on the wall.

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this, like it honestly felt like I was writing a chapter for a novel in a weird way. I can only hope you luvlys actually enjoyed this as it’s more of a full fledged out story than it is straight up sex going on and it wasn’t even really any of that in this. I’m sorry if that’s what you were looking for, by my masterlist is full of it, so I’m sure you’ll be fine LOLLL.

Tags 🏷️: @innergardentoadpony @teacupwaifu @mcdepressed290 @calebapplepie @xcelfer @honeymoonfleur @obeythebutler @ajyoursgirl @notsurewhattocallthisblog8888 @honeycrispangels @dummiebunny @sucre-princesse @brailsthesmolgurl @klossnite @grlyeetswrld @beesin03 @dramaticalsachan @moonchildjae00 @asiatic-apple @callads7 @caien @stargirlygirl @multisstuff @littledarlingsthings @purpleamethyst25 @lazygelpen @floatinginaer @meadowinthesky @floatinginaer @grackerzzz @nod4mnm3rcyy @loveinorion @ur-l0cal-crypt1d @inutrasha94 @cowaungabungabby @gravity-pilot @nyanahogini @rosiesluv @goochfiddler99 @torturedbabyapple @kiyadeleine

[brights-place]

⋮ ⌗ ┆ 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬‼ ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🌹🐇་༘࿐

Happily Ever After — MASTERLIST

A/N: FIRST PART OF THE

Summary: Once upon a High School, in a land beyond imagination, comes the tale of Ever After High. A High School for the next generation of fairytales. Where spellbinding students are destined (or not) to follow in the footsteps of their fairytale parents.

Yet the most important part of it all is who they seem to fall for in their fairytale, so what happens when the twisted wonderland boys fall for the fairytale characters who they want to spend forever after with?

So what are the relationships like?

゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆🐇𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐱 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐜! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫⟡ ݁₊ .

It was a perfectly prim afternoon in Heartslabyul the type that made the roses seem redder, the tea more fragrant, and the wind whisper sweet reminders of etiquette. Of course, nothing short of perfection would be acceptable in a place run by Riddle Rosehearts.

And somehow, [Name] fit in seamlessly.

Despite her Wonderlandian roots, she didn't come across as chaotic. On the contrary Name] was punctual, polite, and composed, if a little anxious at times. She never forgot her gloves, always bowed at the right angle, and even managed to sip her tea without clinking the cup. Riddle admired that. No cherished it.

She was the embodiment of the ideal guest and yet, he had fallen for her not because of her perfection, but because of the rare moments when her ears twitched in panic or when she giggled softly at one of Trey's jokes, thinking no one heard because while she upheld structure like him, her world still shimmered with a sense of wonder he had nearly forgotten.

Their relationship wasn't obvious to everyone Riddle didn't like public displays of affection, and [Name] was too modest to flaunt anything but when they walked together through the rose garden, her small gloved hand tucked into his, their silence spoke volumes with one another words not needed to be exchanged as much.

"You're early," Riddle said as [Name] approached the garden table set for their tea appointment. He sounded formal, as usual but the faint upward tilt at the corner of his lips gave him away "Of course I am," [Name] smiled, clutching her pocket watch as if to prove it. "I'm always on time." she giggled softly "Daughter of the white rabbit" she uttered gloved hand reaching out to the seat.

"You're early," he emphasized again, pulling out her chair for her as she blinked and titled her head towards him  "That's not against the rules... is it?"Riddle paused  "No. But it's... unexpected." [Name] chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I just wanted to see you a little sooner."

That made his face flush a light red that matched the painted roses beside them. Trey had outdone himself again strawberry tarts, spiced biscuits, and honeyed tea Riddle poured the tea with his usual precision, but his eyes flicked up to her, lingering. "You're fidgeting," he noted, ever the observer as he watched his partner. "Just a little nervous," she admitted, fingers twitching near her napkin. "You always look so... composed. It makes me want to try even harder."

"[Name]," Riddle said, softer than usual, "you don't have to try to impress me." She blinked "I don't?" "No." His expression softened into something rare unmasked vulnerability. "You already do." the soft music playing in the background made her let out a relaxing sigh.

Their relationship was a balance of control and care. Riddle, despite his strictness, found himself loosening around her. He let her drag him to music club rehearsals or help her with event planning even if it meant being surrounded by chaos and glitter. In return, [Name] gave him moments of quiet stability, someone who didn't demand he break the rules, but gently reminded him he could bend without breaking.

He didn't need to punish her for eating sweets before dinner or walking on the wrong path in the rose maze. And she didn't need to hide her trembling hands or pretend she wasn't overwhelmed by too much noise or when she had to cover her ears.

As tea faded into twilight, [Name] leaned against his shoulder. Riddle stiffened at first physical affection still flustered him but then exhaled, letting himself rest his cheek against her soft white hair. The ticking of her pocket watch hummed gently beneath the sounds of birds and the rustling of rose bushes.

"...You're always in such a rush," Riddle murmured, "yet you always make time for me." "Because no matter how fast I move, you're where I want to be," she replied. He didn't say anything for a moment, only reached up and threaded his gloved fingers with hers. In a world built on rules and rigidity, [Name] was his gentle exception. The one soul who reminded him that being on time was good but being present with someone you love?

That was perfect

Headcannons

- Riddle is strict, punctual, and deeply committed to rules and order. He speaks precisely and doesn't like surprises (unless he planned them himself).

- [Name] is whimsical, scattered, and often flits from task to task with her thoughts three steps ahead of her feet. She has a habit of being late, getting distracted, and tapping her foot or fiddling with things constantly. - Where Riddle sees time as something to be managed precisely, [Name] views it as suggestive. Her sense of urgency is… fluid at best.

- Riddle once described her as “a walking violation of three rules per minute,” but he said it with a fond sigh.

- [Name] shows up unannounced at Heartslabyul mid-curfew, skirt rustling, breathless, and late for everything. Riddle scolds her but somehow never actually punishes her Ace has thrown a fit about it and nearly got collard by it

- During unbirthday tea parties, she can’t sit still and often bumps into table settings or adds extra sugar cubes to the tea. Riddle clenches his teeth and resets the arrangement but lets it go when he sees her smile.

- [Name] acts on instinct and emotion. Riddle acts on logic and rules. She rushes into situations without thinking; he plans everything five steps ahead.

- But she teaches him that letting go can be freeing, and he helps her understand that some structure is actually comforting.

- Tea Time Routines: At first, [Name] hated the strict rituals of Heartslabyul’s tea parties, but she slowly adds her own flair quirky teacups, pastel pastries, and enchanted tea that changes color. Riddle resists... but ultimately joins her in crafting their own shared traditions.

- Book Swaps: Riddle gives her heavy books on etiquette and magical law. She tries her best to read them (even if she doodles in the margins). [Name] gives him fantasy stories and dreamy poetry. He claims it’s nonsense but always reads every word.

- Late Night Talks: Riddle often sits alone by the rose bushes, thoughts heavy with guilt from his mother’s expectations. [Name] finds him there and listens quietly. She doesn’t try to fix him just stays close, and tells him softly, “You don’t have to be perfect to be worthy of love.”

- Affection & Touch: Riddle is reserved, especially in public. [Name] is naturally affectionate looping her arms around him, kissing his cheek impulsively, or nudging his hand during conversations. At first, he stiffens then gradually leans into her touch, even initiating it.

- Nicknames: [Name] has no filter she calls him “Redberry,” “Rosebud,” “My little tyrant,” or “Clockheart.” In return (after much internal debate), Riddle starts calling her “Darling Nuisance,” “Time Turner,” or simply “[Name]” in a tone so soft it turns heads. - Cater has infact started at you gripped onto your shoulders and begged you to tell Riddle to finally call him Cay-Cay

- Riddle learns to bend He starts asking himself, “Why is this a rule?” He learns to distinguish between discipline and control and to act out of care, not fear.

- [Name] learns to pause She becomes more intentional, not just reactive. She tries to keep a calendar (even if it’s glittery and color-coded incorrectly), and she listens more carefully to structure without losing her spark.

- They meet in the middle like a red rose tangled with ivy. Messy. Beautiful. Unexpected. And deeply rooted in mutual respect and affection.

- [Name] becomes Riddle’s peace in the storm. Riddle becomes her anchor in the chaos. They learn not just to love despite their differences.

[lazysoulwriter]

thoroughfare - pedro pascal. ── .✦

requested! thank you. content: slow-burn turned soft love, Pedro x singer!reader who plays Joel’s love interest, emotional performance, deep admiration, mutual devotion, reader writes Thoroughfare for the show, Pedro being wrecked in the wings, soft kisses, stunned silence, heart-eyes forever

---

You hadn’t planned to fall in love on a post-apocalyptic set.

But Joel Miller looked at you like he had already lost you once before, and Pedro Pascal looked at you like you were the most unexpected thing to ever happen to him.

And after months of night shoots, coffee-fueled table reads, and aching silences that bled off-screen… it happened. Slowly, then all at once.

So when the showrunners asked if you’d be willing to write an original song for your character—something that reflected her complicated love for Joel, something to play over that final scene—you knew exactly what it had to be.

Thoroughfare.

The studio smelled like warm cables and something nostalgic. Pedro stood in the corner, arms crossed, cap low over his eyes.

He wasn't supposed to come to the final recording.

You didn’t ask him to.

He just said, “I wanna hear the first take live. Not from an edit bay.” And then he showed up. Quiet. Still. Watching.

You sat behind the mic. Eyes closed. Headphones on.

And you sang.

“And I will never see the Oklahoma sky without thinking of the night you made me cry…”

Your voice cracked once—just once. When you hit “You’ll never be my husband, we’ll never raise a kid”, the engineer looked up, startled. Not from a mistake, but from how real it sounded.

Pedro didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

He watched like you were holding his entire heart in your hands.

Because you were.

After, you stepped out of the booth, voice hoarse, hands shaking from the weight of the song.

Pedro looked wrecked.

Like he’d been punched in the chest and thanked you for it.

“That…” he started, then stopped. Laughed under his breath. “You just… wrote that?”

You nodded.

He shook his head slowly, walking toward you like something magnetic pulled him in.

“It’s about Joel,” you whispered, half-defensive.

“I know,” he said. “But it sounded like you were singing it to me.”

Your breath caught. “Maybe I was.”

He cupped your face so gently, you nearly cried again.

“Don’t ever do that to me again without warning,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I love you too much for that kind of ambush.”

You smiled against his lips. “You can hear it as many times as you want.”

And he would. In interviews. On vinyl. In quiet moments at home when you thought he was asleep.

Pedro would press play. Close his eyes. And hear the song his girl wrote for the man he played. For the love they found somewhere between fiction and fate.

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @joelmillerpascal @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure@barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512 @alltounwell @libbyaller @beaagiannelli @broad-shouldrs @oceanmcu @kysosa @melloispunk @jollycupcakeblizzard @angvlicsoulll @needz1nk @daddypascal17 @agustdpeach @mrsbilicablog @k4t13ispunk @hotdadlvr95 @lnnysnts @pedropascalfan221 @queenofklonnie22 @christinamadsen @ilovecheriies @stvr-bloom

[izels-writing]

j. potter — how forever feels! [6/7]

Pairing: james potter x hopeless romantic!fem! reader

Summary: the stars have aligned and you and james' futures have intertwined.

Warnings: fake dating!!, ANGST, james and peter argue, james’ pov for certain scenes, lowk ooc peter now that i think abt it, REDEMPTION ARC FOR A CERTAIN CHARACTER, i’m just now realizing how american my dialogue is WHOOPS, let me know if i miss any warnings!!

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE - PART FOUR — PART FIVE — PART SIX

a/n; can we talk abt the real love story that is peter and b/f/n 🥹 ALSO this is the second to last part 😈

Taglist: @hisparentsgallerryy @ilovejamespottersomuch @eli-com @froggiedragon @butterflygxril @d1lf-loverrr @lupinsweater @maraudersgirlie @lovelyygirl8 @hellokitty-girl666 @ttheosloverr @whyucloudingmymind @kissmxcheek

let me know if u want to be added!!

you ate another spoonful of ice cream, wiping your eyes as you read your romance book. it was sweet and heart wrenching at the same time. your head only turned away from your book as b/f/n entered the room happily. but at the sight of you, she frowned in concern.

"you haven't moved since i left?" she asked softly, walking over to sit at the foot of your bed across from you.

"i did!" you insisted, holding the ice cream up.

it had been two weeks since you'd 'broken' up with james. at which when you came back crying, you explained the entire situation to b/f/n. she had understood ultimately and hadn't told anyone. even peter, who she'd recently starting seeing.

"to get ice cream," she replied pointedly. she pulled your book from your hand, throwing it onto her own bed. "you're torturing yourself, y/n!"

you shook your head. "whatever, how was your date?" you asked curiously, smiling assuringly.

b/f/n smiled. "it was...amazing. everything i'd ever dreamed of," she whispered, lying back in the bed—with the biggest smile you'd ever seen on her.

"we went star gazing, had some snacks," she smiled, shaking her head. "he's so funny, y/n, like unbelievably funny,"

you laughed and nodded. "yeah, peter definitely has jokes,"

she rolled her body, propping her head up to look at you. "he said james' been in a funk since...you know," she commented casually, fidgeting with your duvet.

"he'll get over it," you replied, taking another spoonful of ice cream into your mouth. "lily will go out with him soon enough," you avoided b/f/n's expectant gaze.

she sighed. "sweetie, you know i love you more than words can describe and i hate james for what he did to you,"

you looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. "but...?"

"but, i really do think you need to talk to him. get some closure, for both of you. this isn't doing you any good. you—the most driven person i know—doesn't get up unless you run out of ice cream and he hasn't pranked anyone in weeks—pranks, y/n!" she insisted.

you shook your head. you wanted nothing more than to talk to james. but you were also self-aware. the second he apologized to you and gave you that soft, loving look—you'd fall for it again. at the end of the day, he loved lily. and you, as much as you didn't say it, wanted someone who would only love you. that's what was in all the romance books...right?

"i can't, b/f/n, i just can't okay?" you muttered, shaking your head. "can we just drop it?" 

b/f/n sighed and sat up. "fine, wanna have a spa night?" she looked at you up and down. "cause you need it,"

you furrowed your brows. "that was hurtful,"

b/f/n raised her brows. "it is, but it's also the truth,"

you sighed. "yeah, yeah..."

——

james lied back on the couch in the common room, staring at the ceiling as he tossed the snitch up and caught it. over and over. he hadn't done his homework and truthfully, he didn't want to do his homework.

he wanted to talk to you.

lily walked over, a small smile on her face. she sat on the coffee table in front of him and tilted her head. "you alright?" she asked.

james, at her presence, suddenly smile and nodded. "yeah, i'm alright. where are you coming from?" he asked.

"double herbology, which is a pain," she sighed. "what're you doing here all by yourself?"

he shrugged. "just thinking,"

lily chuckled. "sounds inquisitive...so, listen..." she cleared her throat, suddenly looking rather serious.

james turned to her, giving her his full attention. he had liked lily for ages, he knew that. he felt something for her, he knew that too. the time they'd been spending together was fun. but it felt different than before. when his crush had been at its height.

"do you want to go to hogsmeade...with me? this saturday?" she asked shyly, offering a kind smile.

james smiled kindly. "yeah, of course, lily—i'd love to," he answered automatically, even though, no he really didn't feel like it.

"great! it's a date," she smiled softly. "i'll see you saturday then,"

but suddenly, she looked up and her face went solemn—almost guilty looking. james furrowed his brows and sat up, following her gaze. his face dropped as he saw what she had seen.

there you were—walking past them, tears in your eyes. james felt an indescribable pain in his chest at the sight, he wanted to follow you and talk to you. but his legs would not move, his mouth would not speak, and his chest just hurt. when he turned around to face lily, she had stood up and walked off and looked just as conflicted herself.

james lied back on the couch and frowned, feeling absolutely awful.

——

"are you alright?" b/f/n asked, watching as you moved your dinner around on your plate.

you hadn't been hungry, and the first time you actually step foot outside of your dorm to eat dinner with everyone else, you had overheard lily asking james on a date.

talk about luck, right?

"lily asked james on a date," you muttered. b/f/n sighed and placed a comforting hand on yours.

"i'm sorry, y/n," she mumbled.

you shrugged. "it's fine, am i hurt? yes, but it's the first step to getting over it. i'll be okay,"

b/f/n was not as easily convinced, but she dropped it and you both sat there in silence. a howl of laughter caught both of your attention, coming from sirius.

that was certainly one thing you missed about being with james, not just james himself, but the boys you had begun to call friends too. you knew you shouldn't have gotten close, knowing it was all temporary, but how could you not? they were the best lot you had ever been around.

"you can sit with peter, you know," you told her reassuringly, smiling softly at b/f/n. "i'm not going to wither away from eating dinner alone,"

"no, no," b/f/n chuckled. "pete and i talked about it. lunch is our time, every other time, i'm spending it with you the same way he spends it with james—i'm not very fond of him anyway,"

you knew that was certainly a lie. b/f/n had grown close to james, like the others, since her breakup with benjamin. especially whenever the three of you hung out after b/f/n had wallowed for days. james and b/f/n had developed their own dynamic and you knew she considered him a friend.

"i know you guys are friends, you don't have to stop on my account," you assured, smiling softly at her.

b/f/n met your eyes and smiled warmly. "you were my friend first, and you are the best person i've ever met, I wouldn't trade that for anybody—not even james or pete," she told you seriously.

"that's weirdly intimate," you chuckled. emotional connections were not your strongest forte, even though you desperately wanted them to be. "i love you too," you assured.

b/f/n smiled at you brightly.

——

when saturday rolled around, james fretted over every last detail. should he try to comb his hair back? no, you liked his hair messy. but lily was not you. should he buy flowers? live flowers died much to quickly in your care and made you sad. but lily was not you. should he wear something casual? you liked his more casual looks, often complimenting him constantly. but lily was not you. but most of all, you liked james exactly as he was. would lily?

james consulted with marlene, who knew lily best. she had advised him of things that, for lack of a better word, were uncomfortable to james. she liked specific flowers, casual but nice attire, gentleman attributes, someone who could stimulate her intellectually, someone who didn't smell too overpowering. james didn't want to disappoint lily. but he also had no idea how to please her.

james shook his head, palming his face. "i can't go, can't do this..." he huffed.

"then don't," peter replied shortly. sirius smacked his chest and remus gave peter a disapproving look.

"mate, you've dream of this day since you met lily, it'll be fine!" sirius assured. was he used to not having you around? no, he missed you dearly. but he had to be supportive of james—his brother.

"james, she likes you, it'll go fine," remus assured. he too missed you, but james was his best friend. he couldn't not support him.

now, peter was the only one not hiding his true feelings. but he had that tendency. he was honest, brutally honest and always said how he felt. which was surprising, given he practically worshipped his friends. but he wouldn't shy away when it came to stuff like this. b/f/n had told him all about how you were doing, and while he'd never share it with any of them, he wouldn't blindly support james either. b/f/n had had that influence.

"wormy?" james asked hopefully.

peter looked at him. "i don't think you should go," he replied curtly. sirius and remus turned to him in surprise.

"what? why?" james asked.

peter shook his head. "would you listen if i even told you? sirius and remus are right, you like lily. a lot." he replied.

"but...?" james pressed.

peter took a deep breath. "honestly, i think you like y/n more. no, sorry, i think you love her. lily is an infatuation; someone you were obsessed with because you couldn't have her. y/n, you actually spent time with and got to know her. she laughed at your jokes, even though they were stupid and not funny. if anything, maybe i'm hoping you love her, because if you used her as an ego-boost, i would be disappointed—"

"i would never do that to her!" james replied angrily. peter's words had clearly struck a nerve. "i...i would never,"

"then why are you up lily's arse?!" peter exclaimed back. "you had a perfectly good girl in front of you and you chose the girl who didn't give you the time of day until this year!"

sirius and remus looked at each other in shock. peter hardly fought with any of them, let alone said the things he was saying now. he was easy going and agreed with stuff more often than not. to see him stand up to james? it was groundbreaking.

"you don't know what you're talking about!" james exclaimed back. "she broke up with me, remember?!"

peter chuckled humorlessly. "really? is that what you want to go with? james, the second lily started coming up to you for help, you were lost. lily is great, but y/n? she was great for you." he said, poking james' chest.

peter shook his head. "it's terrible to me that you can't see that."

before james could say anything else, peter left. he slammed the door behind him and went merlin-knows-where. sirius and remus looked at james, who looked rather upset.

"i have to meet lily soon, i'll see you both later," james muttered, avoiding their gaze. james didn't need to look at them to know they agreed with peter.

and james left.

as soon as he met with lily, james' spirits had lifted slightly. he smiled at her and talked adamantly with her, ensuring in saying all the right things marlene had advised him about it. but it felt...strange. wrong.

they walked to the carriages together, side by side, but james couldn't help the feeling of wanting distance between them. before, he would've jumped at the chance of them being this close. but ever since you, he didn't want to be that close with anyone else.

but that had to be after affects of a breakup, right?

"and i was telling my cousin about how childish pranks are—" lily began, speaking of some incident with her cousin that james had only been half-listening to.

"you think pranks are childish?" james interjected.

"uh..yeah, i do," lily admitted. "which is why i was glad you had stopped doing them,"

"but they're fun. obviously not the ones that hurt people, but harmless pranks are fun," james insisted, a small smile on his face. "like, this one time the lads and i turned marlene's hair pink and she went around the whole day with pink hair,"

lily chuckled. "i remember...i dunno, i just think it's obnoxious," she shrugged. "but agree to disagree right?"

james nodded, though he didn't quite agree with that either. you laughed at all his pranks, even the immature ones. obviously not at the ones he used to do, when he was a bully, but the new ones? the immature and childish ones that were harmless? you laughed and even helped him with some of them.

lily quickly launched into her story about her cousin again, not noticing james' slightest shift in mood. how could she have?

she didn't seem to know him at all.

——

you and b/f/n giggled to yourselves as you picked up a greeting card with some corny line printed on it. she had dragged you to hogsmeade and while you were not in the mood, you figured it would be a better way to spend the day than holed up in your room. you only hoped james and lily wouldn't bump into you.

peter had joined you guys too and it gave you a strange sense of deja vu. except, this time, the roles were reversed.

"b/f/n? do you want this?" peter asked, holding up a small vase that held quills. it was beautiful decorated and really seemed like something b/f/n would own. she had picked it up earlier but decided she didn't have  enough money for it.

"oh, yeah i did, but i don't have enough," she chuckled, crouching down to put the greeting card back.

you and peter looked at each other and you nodded, smiling softly at him. he smiled back and went over to the cashier counter, buying it while she was distracted.

b/f/n stood up again, turning to you and then to look at peter but found he was gone. quickly, you dragged her off to some corner of the store and distracted her, when you bumped into someone on accident.

you turned to apologize, but your soft smile quickly fell. b/f/n's face quickly dropped.

"oh, hey guys," benjamin replied nervously. "how are you guys?"

"let's just go," you told b/f/n, noticing her angry look.

"no, listen, wait! i want to apologize!" benjamin insisted. but he certainly didn't try to touch you after last time.

you rolled your eyes and b/f/n scoffed, but he sighed. "what i did was fucked up, okay? i should've never put either of you through that. especially you, b/f/n, i'm sorry i was a terrible boyfriend and an even worse friend..." he said sincerely.

you kept your stony face, but b/f/n sighed and nodded. "okay, apology accepted..." she replied kindly. "i know now that we didn't belong together and peter is the best boyfriend and being mad at you? it just seems pointless, now y/n? she has every right to be mad at you,"

you noticed his sincere nature and his pleading eyes. you groaned. "fine, i also accept your apology. i guess at the end of the day, you were right, james was making googly eyes at lily..." you shrugged.

benjamin let out a sigh of relief. "oh thank god, thank you...i miss you two and i know this doesn't mean we'll be friends again, but i'm really hoping we will eventually," he replied hopefully.

you chuckled and b/f/n smiled softly. "we'll certainly think about it. . .bye," you replied with a small laugh before dragging her away and out of the store where peter was waiting.

"everything alright? i heard you guys talking in there, sort of," peter smiled. b/f/n grinned at him and kissed his cheek.

"everything's perfect," she smiled.

but your eyes had drifted and noticed lily and james enter the three broomsticks. james had kept the door open for her and as she walked in, his eyes met yours. he looked...upset when he saw you. you quickly turned away.

"can we do? i'm a little cold," you mumbled, despite the early march air.

b/f/n and peter looked confused but nodded anyway and continued to lead the way, oblivious to your mood. you followed behind them, wondering what james' sad look was about. he got what he wanted, didn't he?

——

any hope that james had of enjoying this date was gone. he wasn't enjoying it much to begin with, but seeing you was the icing on the cake. he missed you. missed your regular dates and your conversations. with lily it wasn't the same and the more time he spent with her, the more he came to the realization that should've smacked him in the face a long time ago.

he liked lily, sure. but as a friend.

she was easy to talk to and funny, but she was only good as a friend. they weren't compatible. and his idea of being with her was just that, an idea that should've never come to life to begin with.

lily did not understand his love for quidditch. she thought the sport was rather violent. she did not enjoy transfiguration like he did. she did not see the joy in blowing off steam. she was straight to the point and always working. she didn't understand james' weird quirks, like hating the color green but loving the color of the lawn at home. she didn't understand him.

moreover, she did not laugh the way you did. she did not smile with the same happiness you did. she did not believe in the same notions you did. she did not enjoy the corny jokes he made. she did not roll her eyes but laugh at his flirty jokes either. she was nothing like you. you were funny and lovely and all the good things in the dictionary—you were warm and soft and somehow closed off and tough at the same time.

james didn't understand you the way he should, but he certainly wanted to spend the rest of his life trying to.

"james? are you alright?" lily asked, interrupting his thoughts.

james lifted his gaze from his butterbeer, where the foam had oddly started to resemble your face. maybe he was going crazy.

"i made a mistake," he blurted. lily furrowed her brows in confusion.

"i think you're wicked, lily, i really do," james replied kindly. "but i think the more we grew up, the more i've started to see you as a friend..."

lily smiled softly and nodded. "yeah...i sort of started to see that today," she replied kindly. "and i do like you, james. it took me a long time to see it, but i can tell you're in love with y/n,"

"really?" james asked.

"definitely," lily chuckled. "i think that's why i felt so guilty asking you on a date but i just couldn't let the chance pass by, i needed to know for sure...i suppose,"

james smiled sadly. "i'm really sorry, lily, i didn't mean to lead you on like this,"

lily chuckled. "don't worry about it, james—i'll bounce back, i'm lily evans," she joked. but it was more than a joke. it was a reassurance that james didn't have to feel bad.

"i really hope we can still be friends," james added.

lily nodded. "absolutely, i'd like that."

——

a few hours later, james had returned to his dorm and the three of them waited for peter to make his way back. mostly to apologize, he had had a point but the rest of them had dismissed it like they usually did. not to mention, james needed advice from peter—now more than ever. 

peter entered the dorm, shrugging his coat off and stopping in his tracks at the sight of his three friends staring at him. especially james, who had been angry at him earlier, who was now looking at him apologetically. 

"was i gone for that long?" peter asked, a teasing tone in his voice despite him still being upset with james. 

james stood up. "wormy, i'm so sorry i didn't listen. i was just obsessed with this version of lily in my head, i was so stupid. you were right and now i've lost y/n! i just didn't know when i started this that i'd fall in love with her!' james blurted. 

the other three boys exchanged looks. james hadn't said much since his return, just that his date with lily had been lousy. this bit of information had been a surprise to them all. 

"started what, prongs?" sirius asked sternly, crossing his arms. all three of them focused their eyes on james expectantly. 

james sighed and covered his face. "you'll laugh at me," james said, though muffled. 

"not anymore than we already have," remus retorted, shrugging as james glared at him. 

"okay, y/n had these letters mailed on accident to each boy she has ever loved. when i got mine, she kissed me but only to distract benjamin who had also gotten a letter. at the time, b/f/n and benjamin were still dating. i was still trying to get lily to like me. so, y/n and i devised a...plan where we'd pretend to date to get benjamin off her back and get lily jealous so she'd like me! but then during winter break, things got serious!" james blurted, taking a deep breath after his rambled on explanation. "you three cannot tell anyone! y/n would hate me even more than she already does!" 

all three boys were at a loss for words, blinking at james as he awaited their responses. peter, however, looked the least shocked. though b/f/n hadn't explicitly said it, she implied something of this sort when they were talking about y/n and james.

"oh, wow, you're dumber than i thought," sirius laughed. "you seriously thought this would work without any consequences?"

james furrowed his brows. "but it did..."

"no, it didn't, you twat! you're in love with her!' remus exclaimed. "and now you have to find a way to win her back!"

"it's no use, lads," james said, shaking his head as he threw himself on remus' bed. "she doesn't want me back," 

peter finally spoke up. "yes, she does," 

james looked at him hopefully. "really? did she say that? what specifically did she say?" he asked pleadingly. 

peter weighed his thoughts for a moment. "okay, not in so many words, but she misses you, prongs. i think if you truly apologize and make it up to her, she'll forgive you..." 

james grinned. "so you're saying if i come up with a plan, she'll take me back? wormy, you're a genius!" james sat up and kisses peter's forehead, despite the smaller boys protest. then, just as quickly, he left the dorm. 

peter sighed. "i meant he needs to talk to her..."

remus shook his head. "he has the comprehension skills of a goat..."

[evilbihan]

Bi-Han's fate - Pt.1

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of canon-typical gore and violence, mentions of depression and s*icidal thoughts.

Disclaimer: I decided to write this after hearing MK1 has officially come to an end because I believe Bi-Han and his brothers deserved a better ending than what we've seen in the story mode. This is just me sharing my thoughts on how the story should have ended. It's purely written for entertainment purposes. I don't plan to upload it to ao3 as I don't have an ao3 account, but if someone wants to share it there, they have my permission and encouragement. All I ask is that you credit me. If anyone in this fandom is still alive, feel free to leave feedback. Also this shouldn't even need to be said, but don't reblog this with weird ship tags. The pairings that are canon in MK1 will be canon in this fic too (Bi-Han x Sektor, Kuai Liang x Harumi etc.)

Summary: Despite his best attempts to cure Bi-Han of the dark magic corrupting his soul, Liu Kang finds himself at a loss of what to do when he discovers that the former grandmaster has lost all his will to live and won't accept the help offered to him. By reuniting him with his brothers, Liu Kang hopes to save Bi-Han's life, but when haunting secrets surface, not even the fire god can forsee what happens next...

He doesn't remember dying, not in the way one would expect with a death that came to him so violently.

His final moments are a blur, too fleeting for him to be able to pinpoint the exact moment it happened. One second he can feel his heart hammering against his ribcage and – for the very first time in his life, fear – and the next that heartbeat is gone, silenced forever. Though hours pass before that happens. Reality becomes distorted. His head spins, ears ringing from the sound of his own screams echoing off the stone walls, his stomach lurches, sickened by the stench of his own blood, sweat and bile leaking out of his body, dripping and staining the wooden contraption he is strapped to. With gruesome precision, lines are etched into his skin. Needles drilling into flesh, piercing it, tearing it open. Agony. A pain so excruciating that no amount of screaming can bring relief. He drifts in and out of consciousness. Through some stages of it he's more awake than through others. The torture seems never-ending, the pain relentless, unlike anything he's ever felt before. The droning of the drills turns into laughter, mocking him with painfully familiar voices.

He remembers seeing his brothers in a memory of earlier days.

Books stack up in front of him, their pages yellowed with age. Father wants them transcribed before dinnertime. He hasn't even made it through half of them yet. His fingers hurt from holding the quill. Each character has to be perfect. Not a line too shaky, not a stain on the page. He knows what awaits him if he doesn't finish the work in time. His brows knit together as he tries to focus, but the noise outside keeps distracting him. Laughter. Humming, drilling, laughter. Lifting his head, he glances out the window and catches a glimpse of Kuai Liang and Tomáš in the yard, chasing each other in a game of tag.

They look happy without him.

The memory doesn't fade, it is torn from him as more skin gives way beneath the drills. Bi-Han tastes blood. Feels the urge to vomit as something tears at his insides. He looks down at what used to be his chest, now a repulsive mass of dead, discolored flesh and bright, oozing green. Disease. His once dark blue Lin Kuei uniform is no more. Bloodied strips of fabric dangle from his body, some of the cloth sewn into his skin and flesh. When the torment ends and they finally release him, they bring him new clothes and he wears them obediently. His fists clench in silent rage at the memory.

When he doesn't think of what happened, he dreams of it.

With every fiber of his being, Bi-Han resents Liu Kang for sparing him. For robbing him of his vengeance. But most of all, for letting him live.

There is mercy and solace in death.

He grants that mercy to his enemies, a quick, dignified end, without humiliation or suffering.

Liu Kang has no such thing in mind for him.

Bi-Han stares at the plate on his bedside table, a meal long gone cold. He hasn't touched it yet and doesn't plan to do so. In his current state he does not need to eat. Liu Kang urges him to do so regardless, claiming that his stomach needs to get used to food again for when the dark magic currently coursing through his veins is permanently removed from his body.

He doesn't care.

He is no longer Sub-Zero. No longer the proud grandmaster of his own clan. Not feared, respected or admired. Sektor leads the Lin Kuei now. Perhaps it's for the better. After all, he had failed to lead his clan into the glorious future he had promised them. He is nothing now, a husk of his former self, stripped of all his glory. Whenever Liu Kang or any of his worthless lackeys come to check on him, examining his scars, applying ointment to them, he sees pity in their eyes. Each time, he wants to rip their spines out for it.

His body had become a coffin, trapping him alive. He won't regret what he is about to do.

Carefully, Bi-Han retrieves the ornate dagger from underneath his pillow. He had accquired it this morning when he met another one of Liu Kang's "projects". A demon from the Netherrealm. She had introduced herself to him as Sareena, sister of Ashrah and a former assassin for Quan Chi. Initially, Bi-Han had held little interest in speaking to her. He despised all Netherrealmers, demons and wraiths and other beings, anything that crawled its way up from these pits to cause suffering and discord among mortals. However, he came to recognize that Sareena is... different. There is something oddly human about her and the way she shows interest in even the most mundane things around her, eager to learn more about the mortal world, not in pursuit of absolution like her sister, but rather to find her own way in the world she was introduced to. It is easy for him to engage in conversation with her. She asks him many questions and he answers them with a patience he usually doesn't possess. It is only because she has something he wants. To his disgruntlement, Liu Kang seems to trust her enough to let her keep weapons on her. She carries a pair of sickles and a much more concealed dagger on her belt. That one, he figures, she will hardly notice missing. By the end of their conversation, he holds the dagger in his hand. At least, he can still take some pride in the fact that even in his current weakened state, Liu Kang fears him enough to not allow him to carry weapons himself. He doesn't want to consider the other option, that Liu Kang is concerned he would use them against himself.

Bi-Han had never been the kind of person to sit idle. It makes his captivity unbearable. He hates the treatment. Not because it's agonizing, he had endured far worse than that. He hates how humiliating it is when he gets sick, over and over and Liu Kang patiently wipes the sweat from his forehead, whispering reassuring words to him. He hates it when the fire god helps him rinse his mouth with water after he's done vomiting, holding the cup for him and lifting it to his lips because his shaking hands are too weak to allow him to do it himself.

He would rather endure the Netherrealm's torment than continue this useless existence.

A strand of hair falls over his eyes and he blows it out of his face angrily.

His hair had grown back. Not quite to the length it used to have before his demise, but long enough to allow him to tie it back again. However, some strands are still too short to fit into the bun and he hates to feel them brush against his face. The earlier stages had been even more vexing. He couldn't stand how short his hair had been back then. He must have looked ridiculous.

His skin is the color of ash now. His appearance far more human and yet not human enough. His teeth are no longer black with rot and his eyes had lost their eerie white glow. Even he had to admit that Liu Kang's work at restoring him was remarkable. Were it not for the scars across his body and the undead color of his skin, one would not know what he had gone through. The green was still there, the color darker and dull, but still visible enough to sicken him. Bi-Han still can't bear it to see his own reflection. He is broken now, like an old toy covered in ugly patches and stitch lines because its owner refused to part with it.

When he points the blade at his own heart, he finally feels like he is in control again. He feels powerful again. His fate is back in his own hands, where it always should have been. The choice is his now. Not Liu Kang's. Not anyone else's. Only his alone. And it was a choice already made two years ago, the very moment Liu Kang had cured his mind of Havik's influence.

Despite his determination, he's not entirely sure that this is going to work. After all, he is not completely cured yet. Maybe it would be wiser to wait longer, but he doesn't want to wait anymore.

Bi-Han is not a sentimental man.

He has no intention to say his goodbyes to anyone.

Still, a small part of him misses his brothers. He thinks back to the summers of their youth, thunder roaring outside as the three of them hugged each other tightly, huddling together for warmth and safetly like a litter of newborn cats. He had never been afraid of the thunderstorms himself, but he had been happy to provide comfort for his brothers. His mind wanders back to a sparring session against an older Lin Kuei warrior, Bi-Han expertly weaving through the attacks, dodging and side-stepping punches and kicks while his brothers watched from the sidelines, eager to learn from him. Although the other warrior had been taller than him, Bi-Han had ended up throwing him over his shoulder and off the mat with ease. When he had stepped back, his face red and chest heaving, he had noticed his brothers cheering loudly, waving their arms and shouting his name. As he had approached them, Tomáš had grinned widely. "I want to be as strong as you one day, brother."

Bi-Han had merely scoffed in response. "You would not be able to handle the harshness of our training."

He had watched Smoke's face fall, but had not bothered apologizing for his words. He hadn't said them out of cruelty or to discourage his youngest brother. Back then, Tomáš had simply seemed like he was not cut out to be a Lin Kuei warrior with his spindly arms that wouldn't grow an ounce of muscle no matter how much food he scarfed down at dinner. It had taken him far longer to accquire the physique Kuai Liang and him possessed. But ultimately, he had caught up with them, his skills now matching theirs and perhaps, to some point, even exceeding them. Tomáš had truly become the warrior he had always wanted to be. Bi-Han knows it means nothing now, but he is proud of his brother. He wishes he could have told him that.

He knows he had been wrong to understimate Tomáš back then.

He had been wrong about many things.

His Lin Kuei training had taught him not to fear death. Still, it requires all his willpower to follow through with what he has planned. There is still a part of him, shockingly human, that doesn't want to perish. Is it not within the very instinct of every living thing to preserve itself? Even the most primitive beings desire to live. Today, he finds out he is no different. He looks back on all his failures, the bridges he had burned, the sacrifices he had made in vain... All to achieve nothing. The Lin Kuei were not stronger for it. Would Sektor be able to free them and lead them to greatness? Bi-Han wants to believe so. He knows Sektor is strong, a more than capable leader, ressourceful and brilliant. If anyone can do it, it's her.

The tip of the blade cuts into his skin, but draws no blood, only oily black liquid.

He despises what he is now. A creature of nightmares that shouldn't exist. The reminder of what he has turned into encourages him to push the blade in deeper. His mind barely registers the pain. The dagger slides effortlessly through muscle and flesh. Black blood streams down his hands. He doesn't want to waste his final moments thinking of the people who betrayed him and yet their images come alive in his mind.

Regret, buried so deep within him, it is easy for him to fool himself into believing he feels none at all.

The edges of his vision darken. His hands slip off the dagger's hilt.

If there is an afterlife, perhaps he will see his mother again...

The corners of his mouth lift into a smile as he finally embraces the coldness of death.

-

He hears the snap of a bone and a scream that follows.

"Hold him down!", someone commands.

The words make him panic. Suddenly, he is tied to the wheel again, hostile faces grinning down at him, mocking his suffering. He struggles with all the strength he has. His elbow connects with something soft and he hears a pained gasp. However, the tight grip on his shoulders doesn't loosen. He tries to kick his feet. Another sharp hiss of pain. His right leg is free now. He tries to throw himself against the hands pinning him down. Desperate. Furious.

"Bi-Han! Stop!" A voice, sharp and familiar, cuts through all the noise around him.

His eyes fly open wide and stare right into Liu Kang's concerned face.

Surrounding him are healers, some of them holding injured limbs. It takes him a moment to understand he is the one who injured them. He tries to sit up, but the attempt is cut short by a stabbing pain piercing his chest, paralyzing him. A growl, low and threatening, escapes his throat. It is coming back to him now. What he did... What he had failed to do...

He is still alive. Still imprisoned in this rotten body. In this temple.

"Are you aware of what you have done? You undid months of progress in your recovery."

He wants to laugh. Does Liu Kang still expect him to care? He has no one and nothing to return to. He's powerless now, declawed like a cat and turned into a pet for the fire god. A lap dog, as Shao had worded it. Liu Kang doesn't sound angry as he scolds him. Instead, there is an undertone of sadness in his voice, a hint of disappointment maybe. It only enrages Bi-Han more.

"You said that you would cure me", he snaps.

"It takes time, Bi-Han", Liu Kang responds calmly. With a nod, he dismisses the healers and takes a seat at his bedside. Only now, Bi-Han notices the bandages wrapping around his chest. Liu Kang follows his gaze and sighs.

"You were fortunate to have missed your heart by a few inches. Otherwise, not even my powers could have brought you back." The fire god pauses and meets his eyes. „Is that what you wanted?"

Bi-Han scowls. "I have lost my cryomancy and my shadow magic."

"Your cryomancy can be brought back. As for your shadow magic, it was corrupting you. It had to be removed."

He narrows his eyes at Liu Kang. "It made me deadlier. Is that why you removed it? Because you feared it?"

"Because it was destroying your soul, Bi-Han", Liu Kang explains patiently. He sounds like a father talking to his stubborn son now, stern, yet forgiving. It makes Bi-Han livid.

Silence follows. Bi-Han gazes out the window to avoid Liu Kang's eyes. He watches petals fall and trees sway gently in the breeze. He loathes this place almost as much as he misses the Arktican cold.

"Do you know why I stopped working with Shang Tsung?", Bi-Han asks. "I have seen the flesh pits. The twisted experiments these sorcerers conduct there. I knew I wanted no part of it."

Liu Kang nods understandingly. "You don't need to tell me that. I am aware that there is still good inside you."

"You misunderstand me." Bi-Han turns to face the fire god, glaring at him as though his hatred alone could pierce Liu Kang's heart. "This place reminds me of them. You and Shang Tsung have much more in common than you think. Keeping captives to experiment on. Mutilating others to fit your own design. So many similarities..."

Satisfied, he watches Liu Kang's perplexed expression.

"If you want to anger me, Bi-Han, save your energy. It won't work. You ran out of weapons, so you try to use your vile tongue against me. I advice you to get some rest instead." Liu Kang's voice sounds colder now, despite his attempts to seem calm and collected.

Bi-Han knows he found a weakness.

"I know why you're doing this", he continues. "You expect me to fall to my knees in gratitude and become your servant once again."

"I expect no such thing from you, Bi-Han. After you're cured and as long as you don't threaten the peace in this timeline again, you are free to go wherever you please."

"How generous of you", Bi-Han spits.

What is he supposed to go back to? The clan led by another that no longer needs him? His brothers who had turned their backs on him?

Liu Kang slowly stands up. "How soon you leave this place, is up to you, not me, Bi-Han. With your actions today, you have only prolonged the time you have to spend here."

"Why are you doing this?", Bi-Han growls. He doesn't understand why Liu Kang is so desperate to save him, to keep him alive at all costs. As some sort of punishment? Because he still believes he can force the Lin Kuei to surrender?

"Because Earthrealm still needs you", the fire god responds as if he had been reading his thoughts.

Bi-Han raises an eyebrow. "What for? I no longer have my cryomancy."

Liu Kang shakes his head as if to dismiss his argument. "Earthrealm needs your courage. You already saved this timeline once. Whether you like it or not, you already are one of its champions."

"I don't want to be Earthrealms champion."

"And I didn't want to be a god", Liu Kang admits with a small, almost sad smile. "We don't choose our fate, Bi-Han. Even the most powerful beings cannot do that. Resist your fate and suffer or accept it and prosper. I can't make the choice for you." He takes a few steps towards the door as if to leave, then stops and turns around again. "What you did today has proven that you are still unstable. I allowed you to roam the temple grounds and speak to others because I believed it would lift your spirits. I didn't want you to feel like a prisoner. Despite of what you may think, you are not being held captive here. And yet, you have abused my hospitality by looking for ways to cause further harm. Therefore, I have no other choice but to confine you to your quarters until you see reason. I am very sorry about that."

Bi-Han sits up straight, not caring if he's going to tear open his stitches.

"Confine me?", he hisses. "Why not just kill me? If I get my cryomancy back, I will use it to tear out your heart."

Liu Kang looks entirely unimpressed. "Your threats don't scare me. I won't kill you. Empress Mileena and I have already decided on a better punishment for you. You will live and spend the rest of your life making ammends for the damage you've done to this timeline by aiding in its defense."

"And if I refuse?"

"I hope for your sake that it won't come to that."

With that, Liu Kang turns around and leaves him to the deafening silence of his room.

-

"I don't know what to do anymore, Geras." With a long, heavy sigh, Liu Kang sits down at the desk in his study, its surface cluttered with tomes and scrolls. For months, he had studied them, trying to find out as much as possible about the magic corrupting Bi-Han and how it could be removed, yet he still doesn't know all the answers. Healing the former cryomancer is a long and complex process, one that requiers patience and trust from both sides. Bi-Han had run out of that within the first month of being out of the magical coma Liu Kang had placed him in for his own safety. Transferring him here, where he had more company and people he could speak to other than him had given him hope that Bi-Han would recover faster, that he would recognize his good intentions. However, it seems like Bi-Han still considers him the enemy.

"Tell me what I should do to save him. Feed him against his will? Put him in chains, so he can no longer resist the treatment? He would only hate me more for that."

"I cannot tell you what you should do, Lord Liu Kang", Geras responds calmly. "But it appears to me he does not want your help."

"If I give up on him now, I will never earn his trust." Liu Kang doesn't think he will ever be able to earn it, but he doesn't say so out loud.

"May I offer my advice?"

"Please do, Geras."

„You have asked me to look into Bi-Han's past because you believed it would help you better understand his motivations. I have made some discoveries that I cannot yet share with you. However, I am convinced that reuniting him with his brothers is the best course of action right now. They are vital to his recovery. To ensure the peace in this timeline, his brothers must learn the truth.“

Liu Kang knows that Geras has a point. However, he's also aware of Scorpion's temper and the grudge he holds against his older brother. The last thing he wants is a reunion that will end in bloodshed. Not to mention, he doubts that Kuai Liang will be willing to help him heal Bi-Han.

Regardless, Liu Kang nods. He has no other choice but to do what Geras suggested. If it's the only way to save Bi-Han, it's well worth the risk.

"I understand what I must do next."

-

Tomáš used to wake up to a cup of tea by his bedside every morning. He doesn't know where it comes from, only that it's been like that for as long as he can remember. Whoever puts it there wakes up early, earlier than him even, and they somehow make it in and out of his room without disturbing his sleep. By the time he's awake, the tea is sitting there on his nightstand, still warm but no longer steaming, just the right temperature to drink, even on the rare days when he allows himself to sleep in, almost as if whoever leaves it there knows exactly when he's going to wake up.

Every morning, he finishes the cup before going downstairs to join his brothers for breakfast.

"Good morning, Bi-Han. Good morning, Kuai Liang."

He only ever gets one response. Bi-Han greets him with the usual scowl. Tomáš doesn't take it personally. His eldest brother rarely smiles. That scowl seems to be a lingering expression on Bi-Han's face. They eat in silence. Not the awkward, uncomfortable kind of silence, but rather the quiet appreciation of each other's company, a meal and drink shared among family, among brothers.

That cup of tea is always there to help him begin his day, always – until it isn't. Tomáš can't help feeling disappointed. Along with everything else familiar to him, that one constant in his life is now gone too. He knows it's ridiculous to be upset over something so small, but for some reason the smallest things are the ones that hurt the most. He misses his old room, he misses the shared meals with his brothers, when Kuai Liang would tell a joke and Bi-Han's face would light up ever so briefly, reminding them that somewhere underneath the cold, stern exterior of the Lin Kuei's grandmaster, their older brother who used to read bedtime stories to them and help them tie the knots on their uniforms, was still alive...

Until he wasn't.

He is almost grateful when a voice interrupts his thoughts.

"I am glad you accepted my invitation, Tomáš." Liu Kang leads him down a quiet hallway, only briefly stopping to turn around and give him a reassuring smile as though the fire god had sensed his uneasiness. It doesn't calm him, but he has no time to dwell on his conflicting emotions as Liu Kang continues on and rounds a corner.

Anxiously, Tomáš follows him. Even at this early hour, the temple is busy. Monks are sweeping the ground, carrying laundry, some gathering outside in the yard for their training, the sound of wooden staffs clashing reduced to only a dull echo within the thick walls of the temple. It smells of spring blossoms and freshly cut grass. Normally, Tomáš finds comfort in the serenity of this place, but not today. Today, he will see Bi-Han again and he is not prepared to face him.

"I appreciate your trust in me, Lord Liu Kang, but I doubt that he wants to speak to me", Tomáš mumbles as they ascend a short staircase.

In all his years with the Lin Kuei, Tomáš cannot recall one occasion where Liu Kang had spoken to him directly. Maybe it was his new position as second in command of the Shirai Ryu that had finally convinced the fire god he was worthy of the same respect that was usually reserved for his brothers. Naturally, Tomáš was surprised when he received an invitation from Liu Kang. Addressed to him personally, not to Kuai Liang or their new clan. The letter didn't mention why he was being summoned, but he had assumed he was needed for a mission.

He shows the letter to Kuai Liang.

"It seems Lord Liu Kang might have an important task for you."

"For me?", Tomáš questions. "Even so, you're my grandmaster. Shouldn't he approach you with it first?"

Kuai Liang shrugs. "Lord Liu Kang must be aware that I'm busy training the new recruits. I can't leave the Shirai Ryu right now. I'm sure that you will do well on your own."

So, Tomáš packs a bag with only the necessities and leaves for the fire temple. It surprises him that Bi-Han was moved here from the Temple of the Elements. Maybe that means his recovery is going well, even though his conversations with Raiden so far have suggested otherwise. Whenever Raiden visits the Shirai Ryu to train with Kuai Liang, Tomáš asks about the progress of Bi-Han's treatment. Raiden knows disappointingly little about it, but from what he can gather, Bi-Han is doing everything in his power to complicate things for Liu Kang. Refusing help. Even going as far as to attack the healers.

Once again, he is pulled from his thoughts by Liu Kang's voice.

"I apologize for being so secretive in my letter. I feared you would not want to come had I mentioned why I need you here."

Tomáš raises his eyebrows. "And why is that exactly? You mentioned earlier that I am to see Bi-Han today."

Liu Kang nods. "Yes, you may indeed see him. I believe that having his family around would aid Bi-Han in his recovery. He seems... unwell lately." A short pause follows in which he seems to try to find the correct words to continue. "A few days ago, he injured himself."

The fire god must notice his worried expression because he quickly raises his hands in a soothing gesture. "He is safe right now. The injury was not life threatening. But I fear that Bi-Han had intended for it to be."

Tomáš doesn't know what to say, but he feels something deep within him ache at the thought. Bi-Han is the strongest and most resilient person he knows. Not just physically, but mentally too. The kind of person nothing can shake. Someone who never even considers giving up, even if all the odds are against him. If anyone out there can defeat even death itself, it's Bi-Han, the man Tomáš used to idolize and look up to almost all his life. He cannot imagine a world in which Bi-Han has given up. He doesn't want to.

"But why me? He hates me", Tomáš says quietly. "Maybe you should have asked Kuai Liang to come instead."

"I'm afraid Kuai Liang lacks the tactfulness needed in this situation", Liu Kang replies. "You seemed like the better choice."

"What about Sektor?"

"She is currently in charge of the Lin Kuei. If she were to leave, someone much worse might try to take control over the clan. We cannot take that risk."

"I see." Tomáš watches Liu Kang stop in front of a simple wooden door and gesturing towards it.

"You can go in whenever you're ready. I will wait for you here."

Tomáš nods, hesistantly lifts his hand and knocks. There is no response. He had expected none.

Slowly, he pushes down the handle and watches the door open.

Bi-Han is laying in bed, with his face turned towards the window. Only the back of his head is facing Tomáš, dark hair pulled up into a familiar low bun. He's dressed in the bright orange robes of the Wu Shi academy, an attire Tomáš would have never expected to see Bi-Han wear, but he figures it's out of necessity rather than choice. Bi-Han's senses have always been sharp. Surely, he must have heard the knocking and the sound of the door opening. Tomáš can tell he just doesn't care to turn around and see who came to visit him. At least, that gives him more time to look around. Not that there's much to see anyway. The room is almost empty, except for the bed and a small table next to it. A sheet had been thrown over what appears to be a mirror in the corner of the room. There are markings on the floor where furniture used to be. Judging by the lack of dust in the empty spots left behind, those furniture pieces must have been removed recently. He assumes it's to ensure Bi-Han won't use any parts of them to hurt himself. His heart becomes heavy at the thought. Despite everything, it saddens him to see his brother like this.

Awkwardly, Tomáš stands in the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"Hello, Bi-Han. How are you feeling?"

It's the best he can come up with, even if he feels stupid for it. He regrets not having spent more time trying to come up with better words to say.

Bi-Han's head whips around so quickly it nearly makes him jump. First, his eyes widen in surprise, then they narrow in suspicion. "You!", he snaps. "You dare show your face here?"

Tomáš sighs. "I didn't come here to argue."

"If Liu Kang sent you, you might as well leave again." Bi-Han's voice is just as cold as he remembers, devoid of any emotion.

Although Tomáš had expected no other reaction, he can't help feeling disappointed that his brother already wants to send him away.

"We haven't seen each other in two years. This is how you greet me?"

"What's the proper way to greet a traitor?"

Tomáš sighs. Since he has no intention to leave yet, he shuts the door behind him and steps closer. There is nowhere to sit for him, unless he wants to sit on the edge of the bed and he's pretty sure Bi-Han will snap his neck if he dares to take a seat next to him.

He is surprised at how human Bi-Han looks now, compared to the last time they had seen each other. He is so nearly back to normal, back to how he used to be before his gruesome death. If one were to ignore the green mess of scars along his body, that is. Regardless, the treatment must be working well. Shouldn't Bi-Han be happy about that?

"You look healthier."

It's true, Tomáš thinks. Bi-Han's cheeks look sunken in and his skin is paler than he remembers it, but he assumes it must be due to the fatigue the treatment causes. He still looks a lot better than the last time Tomáš had seen him.

Bi-Han glowers at him. "Have you come to mock me?"

"What? No... Of course not", Tomáš stammers quickly. "I'm concerned about you. That's all."

"I don't need your concern. I'm fine."

"You seem unwell."

"Come closer then", Bi-Han hisses. "Perhaps a broken nose will prove you wrong."

Tomáš knows Bi-Han well enough to see through the empty threat. His brother had always been more bark than bite. Still, he doesn't want to take his chances, out of regard for Bi-Han's wellbeing, not his own. The last thing he wants is for Bi-Han to injure himself further trying to attack him.

"It's good to see you", Tomáš says sincerely. "I have wanted to speak to you for quite some time."

"Yet you didn't care to come earlier." Is that hurt in Bi-Han's voice?

"I didn't think you'd want to see me."

"You assumed correctly."

"Kuai Liang and I have also been very busy building our new clan", Tomáš says against his better judgement. He feels like it's a mistake to bring that up to Bi-Han. If anything, it will probably anger him more, but he simply doesn't know what else to talk about. "You know how difficult it can be to find new recruits. We had to set up rooms for them as well."

"Have you also dug their graves?"

Tomáš sighs. "Bi-Han, please... It doesn't have to be like that. Our clans don't have to be at war with each other. Is that really what you want? Pointless bloodshed? Where will it end?"

"In your defeat or mine."

Exasperated, Tomáš pinches the bridge of his nose. He's too tired for this. Maybe he shouldn't have mentioned the Shirai Ryu at all. However, he feels like it's on him to keep the conversation going and he doesn't know how to do that when Bi-Han and him have so little in common. While he desperately tries to search his mind for another, better topic, Bi-Han's voice interrupts the silence.

"Why did you come here?"

"Because you're still my brother." Tomáš swallows past the painful lump forming in his throat. "You might have never considered me your brother, but you have always been family to me."

Bi-Han's eyes narrow. "And yet you disobeyed me and betrayed me."

"We didn't betray you. We never intended for any of this to happen", Tomáš argues. "What did you expect us to do when we heard that you let father die? How could you expect us to still trust you? Why, Bi-Han? Why did he have to die?" He hates how his voice cracks towards the end.

"Because he was a weak old fool", Bi-Han seethes. "He was ruining the Lin Kuei."

"If you had waited a few more years, you would have succeeded him naturally. Father didn't have to die. Why did you refuse to save him?"

Bi-Han falls silent. He looks away, out of the window again. Does he feel guilty? Does he regret what happened or does he care so little that Tomáš is merely boring him with his questions?

"Please, answer me." Tomáš doesn't care that he's begging. He wants answers, he wants to be able to understand his brother. "I came here, so we can talk. The least you can do is–"

"I didn't ask you to come here“, Bi-Han cuts him off harshly. „I owe you nothing."

"That is not what I meant!" Tomáš throws his hands up in frustration. "Can't you see that this is why we fell out? You never talked to us! You never told us about your ambitions. If you had spoken to us, perhaps we could have figured out a solution together."

"What difference would it make?"

"All the difference. Please, Bi-Han, I'm just trying to understand." Tomáš knows it's pointless to try and reason with his brother. Even Kuai Liang had never really managed to get through to him. How is he supposed to achieve that now?

"You and Kuai Liang left me", Bi-Han spits out bitterly. "I have nothing more to say to you."

"We never left you. It was you who banished us. We had no choice."

He gets no response. Tomáš lets out a sigh. "What happened to you, Bi-Han? You used to be kind once." Maybe Bi-Han just needs to be reminded of that. That he's capable of kindness. Maybe he just needs to keep talking. "I remember you staying up whenever Kuai Liang or I got sick", he trails off, involuntarely smiling at the memory. "You brought us soup and our favorite snacks, even when father scolded you for stealing from the kitchen. You were so generous and caring. What happened to you?"

Still no reaction. Bi-Han stares out the window. Tomáš doesn't know if he's zoned out or if his brother is ignoring him on purpose. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what he's about to say and the reaction it might trigger.

"Liu Kang told me that you've hurt yourself."

Finally, Bi-Han turns his head to glare at him, his face twisted with barely contained rage. „It is none of your concern.“

"If you want to talk about it, we can–"

"Hold your tongue, Tomáš", Bi-Han growls. "I don't need your pity."

Tomáš shakes his head. They are getting nowhere with this.

Still, he's not willing to give up just yet.

"I know what it feels like to lose everything", he continues in a low voice. "To survive, but wish you hadn't. When my mother and sister died in front of me, I wanted to die with them. I didn't want to be spared. I was alive but I felt like my life had ended. But then I was taken in by father. I met you and Kuai Liang. I was given a family again. A second chance. Second chances matter, Bi-Han. Why are you trying to throw yours away? And why did you have to take mine from me?"

At his final sentence, Bi-Han looks up and for the first time, his eyes aren't cold like frozen ponds. They're no longer full of hatred or disdain. Perhaps he's imagining it, but he belives that Bi-Han looks almost sympathetic for a moment.

"You mentioned you have questions", Bi-Han says quietly after what feels like an eternity to him. So quietly, Tomáš nearly misses the words entirely. "Ask them."

This is progress, Tomáš tells himself. His brother is willing to talk now. Perhaps he is getting through to Bi-Han after all.

Tomáš swallows hard. "Why did you let father die?"

"I already told you. He was weak."

"That's it? You wanted him dead because he was weak to you?" Maybe that really is the sole reason for Bi-Han's actions. Tomáš doesn't know what other response he had hoped for. Something, anything, to at least help him understand why Bi-Han did what he did, so Tomáš can sympathize with him, even if he cannot forgive him for it.

"Because he was destroying the Lin Kuei", Bi-Han snaps. "Do you want to know why your family died?"

"Don't bring them into this."

Bi-Han ignores him. "It was because of father's failures. He made a mistake, sent out a group of inexperienced Lin Kuei novices on a mission they had not been trained for. He told them there were no civilians in that village, only members of a rival clan. They had orders to kill anyone they came across. Anyone who was armed." Bi-Han nods to the karambit at his side. "The intel he got was wrong. He... miscalculated, as he had put it. His miscalculation cost lives. The lives of your mother and sister and many others. It was not his first mistake and not the last one that caused people to die. Eventually, I understood he needed to be replaced."

Tomáš only stares at Bi-Han. He knows he should feel shock, anger, maybe even hatred, but he had buried those emotions a long time ago alongside the ghosts from the past. He knows that Lin Kuei warriors killed his family. Even if it's true and the former grandmaster was at fault for what happened, he hadn't killed his mother and sister intentionally and he had still taken Tomáš in.

"Don't pretend that you did what you did to protect innocent lives. Last time I checked, you were fine with using the soul stealers for your own gain, regardless of the cost."

Bi-Han scoffs. "I wanted to protect the Lin Kuei's reputation. Our legacy. All I ever cared about were the Lin Kuei. You're right, I didn't care about those lives. I didn't care that your family and the people in your pathetic village were slaughtered like wild beasts... They never mattered to me."

He says this with an almost gleefull expression and something inside Tomáš snaps.

He lunges at Bi-Han, but with impossible speed, Bi-Han dodges, grabs hold of him and throws him against the wall. He collides with it painfully, slides down and crumples to the floor. Suddenly, his mother's hunting knife is pointed at him, the cold steel pressing against his throat. He has no idea how Bi-Han had managed to disarm him so quickly.

"You were wrong, Tomáš. You don't know what it's like to lose everything. Allow me to show you." The knife in Bi-Han's grip begins to shake as green veins spread across the surface of the blade. He can almost hear the metal straining under the magic trying to eat its way into the material. Tomáš watches, his eyes wide in horror. The only thing he had left to remind him of his mother... And Bi-Han is about to destroy it.

"Bi-Han! Don't!", He begs. "Stop it!"

To his surprise, the advancing of the green veins pauses indeed, but they don't disappear fully.

Bi-Han watches him with raised eyebrows. "You want me to stop? Then kill me."

Kill him, a voice in the back of his head whispers. Do it.

A change comes over him. He can feel something in his mind shift, a toxic vapor obscuring his thoughts, taking control, so sudden and quick, he doesn't even have a chance to resist. His limbs move on their own as he rushes forward, grasping Bi-Han by the shoulders and slamming him down into the wooden bedside table. Splinters of broken furniture fly past him as the table shatters with the force of the impact. However, he's unable to hold Bi-Han down for long. A kick to his chest sends him flying backwards and knocks the breath out of his lungs. Even in his current state, Bi-Han possesses an incredible amount of strength. Tomáš doesn't want to fight or hurt him, but he finds himself no longer in control of his own body. He lunges at his older brother again, this time managing to wrestle his mother's knife out of his grip. The karambit clatters to the ground and slides across the floor. A punch lands in Bi-Han's gut, but he shows no reaction, no sign of pain. Another punch connects with his jaw. His older brother doesn't fight back. He makes no attempt to dodge or block the hits. Horrified by what is happening, Tomáš watches on, unable to do anything as he lives through one of his worst nightmares. He is attacking one of his brothers. Hurting him. Trying to kill him. In the back of his mind, he can feel the Enenra's influence on him grow stronger. He tries to fight back. He knows he has to resist somehow... He doesn't want to kill Bi-Han.

Suddenly, the door flies open and Liu Kang rushes into the room, followed by Geras who extends his hand, stopping time as Bi-Han is about to throw himself at him, hands shaped into claws like he wants to strangle him.

Tomáš finds himself unable to move either. In his head, the Enenra roars with fury, hating to be restrained. Finally, the fog in his mind clears, retreating for now. Were it not for the time freezing spell, Tomáš is convinced he would have collapsed on the spot.

"What is going on here?" Liu Kang looks at him first, then at Bi-Han.

Horrified, Tomáš notices the blood streaming down Bi-Han's chin. Had he broken his brother's nose? He almost hopes so as he thinks back to how Bi-Han had used his mother's knife to threaten him.

"Geras, let Tomáš go."

Finally, he's released. Tomáš falls down to his hands and knees, coughing as he reaches for the karambit. Across the room, he briefly meets Bi-Han's gaze. Hatred so deep burns within his brother's eyes, it causes Tomáš to shudder and look away first. Bi-Han might have been kind once, but there is no trace of that kindness left in him now. All Tomáš sees is malice and evil.

He stands up on shaky legs, wipes his sweaty palms on the trousers of his uniform and grips the hunting knife tightly as he stumbles away from the frozen image of Bi-Han. He looks down at his blade instead. It doesn't appear damaged as he inspects it. A wave of relief washes over him though it doesn't calm his anger.

"I want to leave", he chokes out.

"Please tell us what happened first." Liu Kang gently guides him out of the room, away from Bi-Han. Tomáš instantly feels better once the door closes behind them, even if only a little bit.

Once he no longer feels like he's suffocating, he tells Liu Kang about his conversation with Bi-Han, how his brother had threatened and provoked him and how the fight ensued... but the part about the Enenra possessing him, he keeps to himself.

"I'm sorry about what happened", Liu Kang says when he is done talking. "It is my fault. I should have known better... You should consider staying for the night to get some rest. Tomorrow morning, if you still wish to leave, I will open a portal to take you back home."

Tomáš hesitates to respond. Everything inside him is screaming at him to leave right now, to put as much distance between Bi-Han and himself as possible. He had been a fool to think he would be able to mend their bond, to guide Bi-Han back onto the path he strayed from, to save him. He is fully convinced now that Bi-Han is every bit the cruel and calculating monster everyone else makes him out to be. Using his family's keepsake against him. How could he?

"I'd rather leave now."

Liu Kang nods, his expression serious. "I understand and I won't stop you. However, if you leave now, I fear Bi-Han will not have much longer to live."

Tomáš feels guilty, but he can't find it in himself to care right now. Not after what happened today. But even then... There's still a part of him that wants his brother to live. He doesn't want to and yet he finds himself asking: "What do you mean?"

"He refuses to eat and he won't take the medicine I give him." Liu Kang exchanges a quick look with Geras before continuing: "I'm afraid his body won't last much longer."

Tomáš doesn't know how to respond to that, how to even feel about that. Bi-Han seems eager to continue down this path. He had chosen it for himself, all of this... No matter how much Tomáš wants to believe that his brother's soul can still be salvaged somehow, he knows better after today.

"I'm sorry, Lord Liu Kang, but you are wasting your efforts on him", Tomáš mumbles. "He is already beyond saving."

Behind him, Geras clears his throat. "If you want to leave immediately, Lord Liu Kang and I won't stand in your way. But since you came here already, allow me to show you something first. It will only take a few minutes."

Tomáš wants to protest, but he has a feeling Geras will insist and he already knows that arguing with the construct would be futile. At least, if he sits through whatever it is that Geras wants to show him, he can leave afterwards. "Alright", he says. "Show me."

-

They lead him to one of the temple's guest rooms and as the sand creates a canvas before him, images start to form in the mist, creating a scene from the past. The vision shows a younger Bi-Han, he is eighteen, nineteen maybe, his face not yet as stern as it is now. Back then, he used to wear his hair half up, the longer strands falling freely over his shoulders. His posture is tense, he seems troubled by something. Across from him stands a familiar figure. Xiaoqing, the Lin Kuei's master of arcane. The very man who had trained him and taught him the magic he wields today.

"This matter I asked you to look into... Do you have answers for me?", Bi-Han inquires, fingers tapping against the biceps of his crossed arms.

"Yes, Young Master, I was able to retrieve this from our archives." Xiaoqing hands Bi-Han a scroll. It looks old and brittle. Tomáš has never seen it before.

Bi-Han's frown deepens as he unrolls the scroll and scans the words written on the paper through narrowed eyes.

"Enenra... What is that? Some kind of... demon?"

"Beings from the Netherrealm.“ Xiaoqing points at something on the scroll. „They're particularly vicious and dangerous."

„What's the connection between them and Tomáš?"

"Enenra have the ability to possess or inhabit a mortal's body. His dreams might be a sign he has been chosen as a vessel“, Xiaoqing explains. „Perhaps it would be wiser to dispose of the threat right now. This is a serious matter. The grandmaster should be informed as well."

Bi-Han glares at him in response. „You will do no such thing. Father is a supersticious man. If he hears about this, Tomáš will be cast out."

"What do you propose instead, Young Master?"

There is a pause. Bi-Han's expression suggests he's weighing their options. „This will stay between us“, he finally decides, the familiar authority in his voice already present back then.

"But the grandmaster–"

"I will be the grandmaster one day", Bi-Han cuts him off sharply. "You would be best adviced to get used to taking your orders from me."

"Of course, Young Master."

"Can anything be done about the nightmares?"

Xiaoqing nods. "I have prepared a potion, like you instructed me to. The taste is subtle. If mixed with tea, it's barely noticable at all." He produces a vial and hands it to Bi-Han who quickly takes it and stores it inside the sleeve of his robe.

"Good. This should help suppress the Enenra's influence and keep his nightmares at bay. For now that's enough, but I expect you to find a permanent solution."

"I will do more research on this", Xiaoqing assures him.

"Do so descretely", Bi-Han responds. "I will not have harm come to either of my brothers, do you understand me?" With an imperious wave of his hand, he dismisses the master of arcane and the scene begins to dissolve into floating grains of sand.

Tomáš is too stunned to speak. His eyes feel wet as he blinks.

To either of my brothers... The words echo in his mind, they repeat, over and over.

Bi-Han had known about it. He had been aware of the Enenra's presence inside him all along. More than that, he had been trying to help him control it. This explains everything. Why his nightmares had returned after leaving the Lin Kuei. Why he had felt so unlike himself lately. Disoriented. Confused. Exhausted. Because he's no longer being given the medicine Bi-Han had the Lin Kuei's mages prepare for him.

You will regret leaving the Lin Kuei.

I advice you to return before it's too late.

All these things Bi-Han had said to him that he had brushed off as threats or attempts to intimidate him into surrendering had been warnings. Bi-Han had been trying to warn him...

Tomáš feels sick to his stomach.

The cup of tea he used to find by his bedside every morning... For the longest time he had assumed it was Kuai Liang who had placed it there for him. Not Bi-Han who barely spoke to him. Not Bi-Han who kept reminding him that his blood is not Lin Kuei.

"I... want to be alone", Tomáš hears himself say.

Liu Kang and Geras leave quietly. Tomáš is grateful for that. He doesn't want to talk to anyone right now. He slumps down on his bed, feeling overwhelmed and empty at the same time. He wants to go home, but he knows what will happen if he leaves. He cannot leave his brother. Not like this. Not after what he just witnessed. No matter how furious he is at Bi-Han, Tomáš doesn't want him to die. Bi-Han had saved and protected him from the darkness within him, in his own way, silently.

This time, Tomáš knows, it's his turn to save Bi-Han.

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

Tag Game: Scenes I will never forget

Rules: Share 5-10 scenes you can't forget. Not your favourites, the ones that got stuck in your brain for any reason.

Tagged by @thisonelikesaliens 😘

I love this prompt, because a lot of tags are about favorites, but there are so many scenes that have more complexity than that, and are harder to classify. Going to stick to QL, since that's what most in my head these days.

1. Until We Meet Again was one of my earliest BLs, and one of the most impactful. From the first episode, I was so struck by how Korn had forced Intouch to watch him die, and how utterly traumatizing that must have been. This is not meant in a victim-blaming way at Korn for his choice, he was in so much pain, but he did do something that hurt the one he loved the most in the most brutal way possible and I needed it to be fully acknowledged. And then, close to the end, we got the moment that both destroyed me, and absolutely needed to happen for the story as a whole to work. Intouch finally had a chance to express his pain and trauma over what Korn did. Fluke's acting here gave me chills, and the catharsis I needed.

Close second is the scene with the fathers of Korn & Intouch tying the red threads, which made me cry so hard I've never been able to watch it again.

2. Manner of Death. This was the first BL I watched that wasn't romance-focused, and I ate it up with a spoon. But it was also quite a powerful and raw story. When the killer is murdering Jane, and you understand all of the despair and confusion and hurt that Jane is experiencing at the hands of someone she utterly loved and trusted, it's both heartbreaking and unforgettable.

Since none of us want to see that in gif form, as solace, have Great shirtless.

3. DNA Says Love You. I will never stop talking about how underappreciated this series is. Because Amber is a very internal character, we learn things about him slowly. But what really sticks out to me is this scene, where is he eating the cake that he used to have with this family as a child. And the memories that come back are just so overwhelming. Le and his mother at this point have no context, just see their guest crying over cake, but are still so sweet and kind despite their bewilderment.

4. Not Me. Needs no explanation. Honestly, I could pick about 10 scenes from this series. I am so beyond excited P'Nuchy is coming back to direct again.

5. Perfect 10 Liners. I know I'm not the only one who connected fiercely with Faifa, and how deft he was at wearing a positive face over his pain. I will never forget his face in this moment, while the rest of his family is happily reconnecting, and completely ignoring him and his obvious feelings, because they only ever care to see the illusion when he is present.

6. He's Coming to Me. Another series that doesn't get talked about nearly enough. The early scene with Med walking through the graveyard, as time passes and people change around him, visiting all the other graves while he is alone, has always stayed with me. It evokes such bittersweet sadness for Med, until it's broken by the first appearance of Thun.

7. Ghost Host Ghost House. What can I say, I like my ghost stories. I could pick multiple options from this show, but in this case, I have to go with the couch scene, because it's one of the best "dear lord give me strength" moments ever from Pluem, while Kawin, of course, knows exactly what he's doing with those short shorts, the little devil. They are telling us so much with zero dialogue.

8. Old Fashion Cupcake. Almost this entire series lives in my head, but the confession is just an incredibly directed and acted scene. Continuous shot, the camera matching the chaotic energy of the actors, following Nozue as he gets increasingly desperate to flee, and Togawa as he gets increasingly desperate to keep Nozue with him, culminating in both one of the best kisses, and one of the most painful moments, as Togawa thinks he's just lost Nozue forever.

9. Secret Crush on You. A lot of credit goes to the translators for this moment, where they did such an incredible job expressing the beauty and respect in Intouch's manner of speech to Daisy, and all that it conveyed. There is so much we miss due to translations, and I will never forgot someone taking the time to make sure we understood the important context between the words, for such an important character and all she represented.

10. Semantic Error. This one also has so many moments I could pick, but this scene, the code switching in their conversation, the kiss, and what it says about the characters, has a permanent rent free spot in my brain.

I also feel like I need to do an honorable mention for Sorn jacking Jun into a koi pond as a series intro, because I don't think I'll be forgetting that anytime soon.

No pressure tags @sunshinechay @infinitelyprecious @le-trash-prince @slayerkitty @poetry-protest-pornography

[crow-caller]

It's so weird (I lack a better word) to have Leftover book projects as a writer. I have a four book series which at this point is nearly a decade old, like 300k of words, which I'll never publish, or return to to rewrite. It won't be read, probably not even by me. But it sure exists, and was so much of my life at the time. I have two other complete, unpublished manuscripts in the same state. They're not good enough to self publish, so they just... exist forever, yknow?

There's some good bits and ideas and sections of writing, some of which I could perhaps reuse one day, but I don't know and couldn't say!

For nostalgia, here's a longass bit of rambling about all my never published books:

First, I... actually, only as I type this, believe some of them may still be uploaded on wattpad or fictionpress. I wouldn't recommend them, I have still affection for what they were to me and what their potential is, but don't bother hunting them down

The Terminal Quartet

Each book was named after a horticultural term, including 'Terminal'. This threw everyone off, but I was taking a horticulture class in high school and was inspired! My memory is vague but I was probably about 15 when I wrote the first book, then about 16, 17, and 19 for the others. I wrote Termi1 at the same time i was writing angel radio, which was traditionally published— there's still a post on THIS tumblr from the time where I lament AR was way more popular on fictionpress despite me liking Terminal more.

Terminal was.... a lot, tone wise, genre wise. It was comedy but with a lot of drama, violence, even gore, and hard themes.

Terminal

A misanthropic worker in Hell decides to quit, stealing a recent human. Mannie was this annoying, weird, character i really cared for, and my first time really thinking about an aroace (and agender) character— a long time before I felt i could ID as anything. The book was a lot of walking and talking and didn't quite have momentum or purpose, as Mannie toured this underground Hell which was oddly not supernatural... despite shape-shifting hellhounds and people with horns.

Eventually it comes out the demons (and angels) are these lab experiments, Hell is a bunker, and everyone's kind of forgotten this do to an EXTREMELY convoluted 19 year time loop that only affected the earth's surface but not hell or the present non-looping earth angels lived in. That time loop was my bane, I still recall the genius moment in art class where I figured it all out... and it never really made sense again. Despite that, symboligically, the weird loop was really important— the series was all about people stuck in cycles of behaviour and the past. The loop was also key to the plot, so I couldn't ever edit it out or change it really.

It turned out Mannie was one of the original people involved in the incident that created the loop. This desperately lonely but in denial immortal, who needs acknowledgement but instead is perpetually a side character to more important people doing important things

“What’s wrong?” “A lot,” I said, and I felt like this was it. This was enough. I could probably live with never speaking again if it meant those would be my last words. Blake was there with me, and in another few seconds, like everything else in my life, that too had passed. In the damp darkness of October, the morning before Halloween, I balled my fists up and shivered in the wind, cold under the light of the new moon, alone in a shifting forest. Thinking of a tampered clock and the boy who hadn’t known. In another few seconds, it was spring, and I was warm, and besides the world, nothing else had changed.

Radicle

Man so many people assumed this was a typo.

Radi was my most read story, eclipsing terminal by a lot. It was stand alone enough to do so. To this day, my mom who read all my stuff, mentions radicle and how she liked it best, including over my actually published and edited stuff.

Radi was about Nichael. All the books were a close 1st person POV, as i looooved writing strong character voices. Nichael was an angel, who witnessed something never specified around the cult leader angel Michael. So began a pretty weird psychosexual ambigipus something, where Nichael is sent to Hell as an ambassador, begins to learn the truth about Michael, and yet keeps returning to him.

Nichael even learns the truth of himself, how a demon he meets is his actual forgotten sister, and he still kills her and dies in Michael's arms... but ensures a peace deal between heaven and hell, so other angels can escape. Radi was fun. I really enjoyed the angelic cult-ure. Michael was the guy the cycles were based around, eternally 19, very mentally ill, my favourite wretched blorbo...

Evergreen

This was a novella, and the final one i wrote. I finished it during my first year in uni.

After heaven and hell have peace, all the angels have moved into hell's city. It followed Michael, and his tumultuous existence as this still worshipped cult leader god.... but now that love is more pity, if not hate, as the angels have seen his hypocrisy and lies. He's having a mental health spiral when someone identical to Nichael shows up, who winds up being this weird amnesiac shapeshifter? It's a very strange story about identity and self, but i really really liked it, and it was pretty fitting for a difficult time in my life.

Umbel

Look I'm rambling approximate summaries, umbel was a lot more going on. It wasn't stand alone and tied things together. Characters returned, events recycled though ever different. The 20 year peace anniversary is a contentious time. A new hellhound is trying to keep the peace and begins to realize everyone important in hell knows him somehow. Mannie is there, barely disguised, and no one recognises them (because I didn't know i was faceblind I just never considered how weird that was).

I’ve always been a lost cause, and I’ve long accepted it to be a fundamental part of my personality. It’s not depressing to me, and never was. I’ve simply always been called one since before my memory began, and it’s become nothing more than a standard fit label to me at this point. Still, I sort of figured that when I got to Hell and away from my family, things would be sort of different. Old traditions wouldn’t be able to follow. And yet- Well, okay, no one had yet to call me a lost cause, but I promise, that day was coming. Because I was really fucking bad at my job.

It had a kinda happy ending after a lot of devastation. That's my favourite kind.

The Ascension

This was a joke originally. I looked at my old Mary Sue esque ocs and storyline, and on a joke with a friend, tried to write a more serious version. Most of the plot just wasn't anything, but there were bits I was really into, and it became the basis of my DND world!

The first image is what Aster looked like in my head as a kid, the second is the protagonist of the Ascension

A girl (very autistic coded, aromantic but not ace— i didn't feel comfortable IDing as anything for a long time, but I had interesting patterns as a youth, huh) embarks on a holy, always-doomed quest to awaken her country's sacred God of the Sea. She has been chosen to succeed, though she doesn't know it yet— chosen long ago to suffer and ascend into godhood herself, to destroy her world and be the next all-god in a cycle of deities and experimentation.

It was a mix of fantasy and unexpected sci-fi, as it came to light the current all-god of the sky was once mortal too, taken by an interdimensional scientist and altered into godhood. This is Aster's inescapable fate.

And the being running this experiment?? Um. Mew from pokemon. The sky god is ho-oh. The other two are groudon and kyogre. Yeah, I said this was based on childhood ocs, remember!

One Dead Girl

This is my most recent project, a high fantasy YA based on some of my dnd stuff. Illuzi was a noble girl with demonic blood, whose mother shaved her horns until hiding it became too risky. Her death was faked and she was abandoned. Years later, the irresponsible, mad bigender prince(ss) she was once in love with recruits her for a mission at the Palace, and she uncovers the truth of her nation's eternal war with demons— it is all a farce, the rulers of both sides in a contract to keep the war going as a tool of control.

The princess manipulates illuzi to kill the king and queen so he can seize power, aiming to inspire the people to revolt in his mad reign— while a betrayed Illuzi leaves to the Hellmouth, hoping for a place she could ever belong

There once was a story I knew very well, about a girl who had everything in the world and just a little bit more. That was the sort of story you relied on when you were not born right. Even if you did not look like the blonde girl on the cover, with her gossamer gowns and long straight hair. When the world was cruel you had to read stories where more than half of it was the part about being saved, where even the villains would exposit on the wonders of your heart, where your heart was any good at all in a world of selfishness and apathy. That was the story, at least, I had relied on. In the story of Princess Illuzi, a lovely girl is turned into a monster because she is too perfect to exist. She is beloved- kind, generous, and beautiful- and for this a fiend seeks out and punishes her. Fiends see the good, pure things in the world and writhe in jealousy. Yet always the fiend is defeated, and the princess is saved, and her kingdom had missed her very, very much. I did not think my home missed me when I’d left. I did not think the garden realized the child who picked her flowers had disappeared, or the non-existent pixies noticed no new houses were being built from sticks and stones. The moths did not realize they were no longer getting bedtime stories, and the stuffed animals did not mourn nights in warm beds. I’d never been missed. Not even Alessandra had missed me. Not in the proper way, the way it is in stories: they kiss and fall in love and get married in the morning and every person in the world is happy for them. I marched, ever slowly, north. To the land where bad stories came from, and to a city that might welcome me at last.

One Dead Girl 2 (Here Comes The Dragon? End The Halycon Days? Title never picked)

This one i wrote only 20k of or so. Illuzi arrives to the Hellmouth. She learns demons are born from the pain and negative feelings of the world, that strong ones are made from consuming the weak, that blood controls blood, that... there's a sentient pool of blood and visera they were all born from known as MOTHER LACRIMAAS

She. To know her as anything else would be ridiculous, I knew who she was and I recognized her in myself, where she had always been- she was, and she was. There in the blood and ooze and the sea of teeth and children, there she was. I was curled over and under and she came to me and I understood why everyone was watching from the shore with such sadness in their gazes, and I understood why I had been made to meet her. I understood. I hated it. O Mother Lacrimaas, hater of us all- I knew her, for she was my blood, and she was everything wrong with me, and she climbed into my skin with a million bloody fingertips and made her home in my hollow little heart.

Also there was a giant bat person from across the world who was maybe going to be a love interest.

I, um, had a really vivid dream about falling in love with an alien bat around this time and woke up like "i need to put this in my book"

The last book, which i had some notes for, was going to be called EATER OF CHAINS or so.

[nitw]

id lve to hear ur deltarune thoughts :3

fuck. ok.um. i'm. gonna try my best to summarize some of my main thoughts and key details because i'm still in "what the fuck just happened" mode

narrative stuff i'm frantically shaking around in my head and screaming and pissing my pants about:

SUSIE! PROVING ONCE AGAIN! THAT SHE IS! THE ANTITHESIS TO THE DOOMED NARRATIVE!!! SUSIE GETS IT! SUSIE WILL GET US THROUGH THIS! FUCK THE PROPHECY LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP PREVAILS FOREVER AND EVER ALWAYS!!!!!!!!!!! SUSIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

tenna's whole ordeal and especially his breakdown at the end telling us SOOOOOOOOO much about kris and their family life. like yeah we. we kinda knew/assumed some of this stuff already but they really spelled it out for us here. "the family's fighting again" what if the whole world exploded riught now

ralsei's mask is finally off GOOD FOR HIM........... and yet this game still insists on keeping secrets from us while dangling them right in front of our faces but i have to respect it

ralsei smiling with susie's blood smeared on his cheek is . an image i'm not going to stop thinking about anytime soon i think

HEY WHAT THE FUCK KRIS?

HEY WHAT THE FUCK CAROL??????????

asgore somehow moving up the ranks as like second or third most mysterious character in just one chapter????? awesome cool great what the hell is your problem

THERE'S A LOT OF SECRET STUFF IN CH3 THAT I REALLY NEED TO REVISIT BECAUSE I WASN'T ABLE TO FIND EVERYTHING but i know EXACTLY what they're cooking and i am. losing it.

dess.......................................

the whole section with kris on their own. god. god.

gerson cameo is the last thing i ever expected but you're telling me he materialized in the dark world only because alvin kept his memory alive and then later susie was able to bring him back through HER new memories of him? AND THE LETTER???? i'm in SHAMBLES

KNIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TITAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

did you know i really like susie

cries about susie

stuff that just made me smile and giggle:

i've taken an ungodly amount of screenshots of just cute little sprite animation EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU TEMMIE

tv world was so good man. stellar music and vibes and minigames and characters and comedy and fourth wall breaks and Everything. every single time tenna said something in a stylized font i lost it

rouxls is the funniest character in the whole game i hope he dies

YURI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

YAOI (IMPLIED) (NICEPANTS PLOT THICKENS) (I GENUINELY DIDN'T EXPECT THIS DEVELOPMENT LMAO)

susie and kris being absolute freaks together..... at the end of the day that's really all that matters. the universe has been healed.

sans undertale cucks my mom AGAIN in the most sans undertale way imaginable 10/10 no notes peak video games

[ludinusdaleth]

A List of C3 Foreshadowing in Critical Role

when c3 was airing, a primary criticism was that its plot points about the gods, vasselheim, a second calamity, and similar ideas seemed to come out of nowhere, but when i watched the past campaigns, i felt i recalled quite a few examples of the opposite. i decided to start this compilation upon my rewatch to help aid the meta and highlight foreshadowing i definitely noticed. a few notes before i start:

-as my intention is to prove these themes were present pre c3, this will include quotes from any canon game pre c3. this means c1, c2, & exu prime; i will also include calamity as it is technically a precursor to what c3 covers and aired before the apogee solstice.

-matt said he did not explicitly consider the emotional toll of the gods' actions during the calamity until c2. so any god-related lore example i pull from c1 was likely not directly intended as a questioning of the entire pantheon's morals. however, as many things that happen in c1 were scrutinized by some fans pre-c3, and are pulled directly into c3 and addressed, i will add them. it is more than likely matt did intend hints to a second calamity, however, as matt has discussed in interviews since c1 that he wanted a big crossover and major final threat.

-i will not be including all crises of faith or character opinions on the gods unless they directly feed into c3's themes, as those are personal to the pcs and dont contribute to the argument except to clarify folk have differing beliefs. i also wont include all foreshadowing ever made because it's not all relevant to my point.

-you dont have to interpret these exactly as i do and you dont have to feel the same way about c3 as i do. this is just a post proving that elements of c3 always existed before when common meta arguments explicitly state otherwise.

-lets just get the big one out of the way, with the raven queen & vax. you can interpret their relationship any way you wish; it is clear that vax holds incredible respect for her by the end and has accepted his duty under her. in a way there is love there, a queen and her knight. i personally do not think their deals are all that unfair. but people have debated their relationship forever, and it is worth noting in campaign 3 episode 121 "a new age begins", that the raven queen outright says she "held [vax] as my own greedily for too long". so lets read them within the context of how the raven queen ultimately views their dynamic. in campaign 1 episode 45, "those who walk away...", after vax makes his deal, his symbol to sarenrae is "very heavily tarnished, and the metal itself seems to have cracked in three places"; the rq had no need to sunder his faith in another prime diety but did so anyway. she always refers to him possesively as hers - for example in in campaign 1, episode 90, "voice of the tempest", she tells vax: "you are still mine", a small comment but it adds to her own thesis. in campaign 1, episode 103, "the fate touched", she says, "perhaps you will keep me company [...] my beautiful thing". she is deeply possessive, in ways that buck the notion of impartial godhood (when folk insisted no god had humanity in old discourse) and it seems far more overreaching than a deal at times. that didnt come out of nowhere.

-in campaign 1, episode 13, "escape from the underdark", kima says that vasselheim locks away forces and forces people to forget them: "The least they could do was to seal both [Orcus] horns across the world from each other and forget that it even existed. Which worked well until recently. [...] If it couldn't be destroyed, at the very least we could convene and decide a safer place to possibly reseal it and forget. There are magical ways of forcing those of us who know how to forget." this is consistent with c3, where vasselheim at the gods behest hides knowledge of predathos/ethedok/vordo for the entire age, bringing in judicators on foreign soil to ensure that knowledge is kept hidden. the fact that kima, headstrong & independent, easily accepts this fact given her upbringing, shows how normalized it is in vasselheims society. and, in both the horn of orcus & predathos's case, it's clear sealing away and forgetting doesnt solve shit.

-vasselheim is presented as highly conservative off the bat. in campaign 1, episode 16, "to vasselheim", they get defensive and haughty at the notion vox machina having arcane magic, and they are not allowed to use it within its walls. while we obviously dont acknowledge tiberius now, when tiberius casts a spell to look gold scaled, yonn admonishes him saying "I would be mindful to not do such things so openly in the future". yonn is outwardly racist to tiberius for being red scaled since yonn is a follower of bahamut, the metallic dragon god: "I'm going to take it you don't see very many dragonborn in these parts?" "No, and frankly you're making me a bit nervous."

-in campaign 1, episode 38, "echoes of the past", gilmore states of vecna: "you have enough individuals that believe you're a god, that willpower is strong enough to keep you enduring."

-in campaign 1 episode 41, allura says, "If Vasselheim still stands, I-- knowing its history, that is one of the most fortified cities, the most fortified city in our civilization. It's endured two great wars, and has been the starting point of each cycle." the fourth age does indeed begin in vasselheim.

-vasselheim refuses to aid tal'dorei or wildemount against the chroma conclave. in campaign 1 episode 43, "return to vasselheim", vord says, among a shitton of other quotes about protecting vasselheim, that "should Vasselheim fall, I dare say all is lost" and that "It is only here that those who are the most devout could truly have the hearts and minds to guide us" while it is fine to want to support your own city, it is noted how angry vord gets when the dwendallian empire will not aid vasselheim and how they need aid from others to defend from the titan. this arrogance that only they should survive and know best leads to them invading marquet in c3.

-also in campaign 1, episode 43, "return to vasselheim", going back to that vord interaction:

vord: "It is only here that those who are the most devout could truly have the hearts and minds to guide us, Bahamut forbid, into a Fourth Age."

keyleth: "So, if this is the Third Age, does that mean the Fourth is upon us?"

vord: "i hope not."

multiple gods in the final arc share a fear of another calamity and outright say so to the bells. more on them later.

-in campaign 1 episode 54, "in the belly of the beast", keyleth says something that perfectly encapsulates what theme cr ends up embodying: "You know, as druids, I was raised to have an interesting perspective on the gods. We are taught that nature is the one true powerful force. I have yet to see a god control the sunrise and the sunset, so therefore it's hard for me to sometimes have the same faith in these gods. Personally, I believe that just because you're immortal doesn't make you infallible. These gods can be great ambassadors of their virtues and what they represent, or they can be horrible disgraces to their domains. And just because some self-proclaimed person or deity decides that they want control? Doesn't mean that they have to have control over me. Now, this does not mean that I do not respect the gods and the power that they wield, but, I mean, for the love of Sarenrae, we have seen Pike do many a powerful thing. So, therefore, I do not respect the gods any more than I respect the living people who are standing beside me at this moment. [...] Maybe this [deal with the Raven Queen] can be a fine partnership. A fine endeavor to do with her, and then once we save the world and we retire and some other young prodigies come forward to save the world again, then we can thank her for her services and move on. I don't think you will always need her. And, keep in mind, the one true thing that gives these gods their power are their worshipers. So I guess I'll let you choose what you want to be." keyleth is proven entirely right here with astounding victory; even her comment about pike is proven entirely right when she can still heal when sarenrae is gone.

-this is a bit of a stretch, and open to interpretation, but in campaign 1 episode 18, "the trial of the take", it is mentioned that "Through the blessing and touch of Melora in this district they are able to treat the land as magically fertile territory to grow." in campaign 1 episode 57 "duskmeadow" this is reinforced with "There's almost like a lush forest that curls around the outside of it that doesn't match the rest of the indigenous trees you've seen in this area of Othanzia", and of the raven queen's domain: "the downside is that the power of these glyphs that prevent undeath also prevent any actual vegetation from existing in this area as well. So all the ground that you've come across: no grass, no natural vegetation. It's just dirt and ash and dust." with the theme in c3 of the gods being a colonizing force, these things show me that the gods will twist natural order - melora is putting non indigenous plants in a new area, and the matron doesnt allow anything to grow when death is a cycle, nothing to even decompose. i may be reaching for sure, but well before c3 i noticed this and it fundamentally bothered me, and ive seen others note it too.

-in campaign 1 episode 57 "duskmeadow", the raven queen says: Without death, life has no meaning. "Finality drives change, innovation, greatness. It is the end that I bring that drives all of your gracious creations of this land to make the world better than we did, than those before me did."

-from campaign 1, episode 103, "the fate touched": "gods, as they currently exist, their worship is what sustains their importance and viability in the various planes."

-in campaign 1, episode 104, "elysium", sarenrae says, "Understand, in order for any of us to directly interfere to seal a god like we did once long ago, we would have to tear down the Divine Gate and that would release an entirely new armageddon upon your world."

-in campaign 1, episode 104, "elysium", sarenrae says of her followers, "we learn from each other."

-in campaign 1, episode 104, "elysium", sarenrae says, "but for everything great that we may have created, you continue to create far better. Our existence brings threat. We've brought two calamities before. We try and avoid a third. Whether we diminish in time or just maintain this balance, it's you, and your children, and your children's children, that hold the keys to the future of your lives, your people, your culture, and us."

-this one is more up to interpretation but i think of it often. in campaign 1 episode 105, elysium, vex sees pelor behind the sun: "you can see the faint features, the soft cheeks, the hairless head, and the bright warm eyes of he who brings the dawn". to me, this felt like a poetic proof that the gods were people behind their divinity.

-pretty much the entire vecna arc reiterates again and again, via the gods themselves at times, that mortals do not inherently need the gods anymore but the gods need them. quoteth ioun, in campaign 1 episode 106, "the endless atheneum": "We, the creators, did breathe the beauty into this world, we planted the seeds that would blossom into this incredible weave of Exandria. However, what is the purpose of the parent but to teach what they can, then set the children free? [...] We now stay to inspire, to guide, to guard the Gate, to keep the hate of ignorance we spawned in our hubris from burning away everything. The rest is up to you. We need you, perhaps, but you do not need us."

-in dalens closet, vax who has spent time in the raven queen's realm says "i am imperfect. as are the gods."

-now we're in campaign 2 territory, and references ive noted start later on. this example could be unrelated, but i note it: in campaign 2, episode 45, "the stowaway", they find a pre calamity mural of the cosmos: "one, there's no Divine Gate shown [...] You get the sense this was designed before the Divine Gate was ever created. Number two, there is an additional shape. Smaller than the rest. A tiny, ruby-like circle that floats in the Astral Sea, that is not tethered to anything, and seems to not really fit within your understanding of the cosmos." predathos, that you?

-in campaign 2, episode 60, "a turtle by any other name", kord says with such anguish, "we've all done terrible things." definitely caught my ear, that he knows wrong was done.

-throughout all the campaigns, characters wonder at breaking cycles. there are literally too many examples of this to count, but id particularly note any conversation where the m9 talk with the bright queen. for this angle, ill cite beau in campaign 2, episode 63, "intervention", explicitly saying "we can help you break the cycle" to leylas, and leylas saying it is impossible, to her eyes, to break. they can all see it even if they cant really see it. it is a function of their universe.

-in campaign 2, episodes 74, "manifold morals" & 76 "refjorged", beau & caleb meet a researcher called demid sunlash who is obsessed with ruidis. "Ruidus itself, some are believed to have been either a pre-creation, back when the elements themselves were consuming all of Exandria, but others believe may have not originally existed, may have been a creation by the Betrayer Gods and was some sort of long-running mysterious plot that was cut short during the end of the Calamity and when they were banished away. That's what I'm certainly curious about." he says there are "too many prying eyes and ears" when beau & caleb ask for information in public.

-in campaign 2, episode 89, "lingering wounds", matt says, "Mind you, based on the scrolls that had to be hustled out of Vasselheim by Obann and members of the Angel of Irons cult, you have information to at least make you think that that information is very, very, very intentionally near impossible to find." to me this is good setup for vasselheim completely concealing the two dead gods, and far more.

-let's talk about jester & artagan, what i think is c2's main thesis that fits into c3. jester's mere belief in artagan causes him to gain more power. i will not be including every single snippet, as this is brought up multiple times, but here are the strongest examples: in campaign 2, episode 94, "with great power..." artagan explicitly says "With each new faith, I could find myself, I could feel myself becoming what you believed." it becomes established more & more through the narrative that jester may be equal to/have more power than artagan; in campaign 2, episode 96, "family shatters", beau wonders this aloud, saying "i think she might be, like, more of a god than this fuckhead is"; in campaign 2, episode 107, "devoutness and dicks", artagan tells jester "whatever strength I've been giving you, it's just been more of a boost"; artagan tells jester "i trust in your power, you've proven it time and time again" in campaign 2, episode 114, "an open window"; in campaign 2 episode 124, "a walk to warmer welcomes", artagan says "you're the magic ones, silly mortals"; and in the finale, artagan outright says, "You don't need me. You never did. [...] You've proven that, how strong you are. I better give you a push here and there, lend you some of my power, but all the rest is you."

-aeor's mere existence is a massive setup to what happens in c3, and i think most of its moral arguments exist in that campaign. but we visit it and note all of it in c2. it is known that "[aeor] had wished to construct weapons or a weapon, that would be capable of perhaps even killing a god. And for a brief moment in time, both Prime and Betrayer turned an eye towards this city and brought it to ruin" (from campaign 2, episode 108, "frigid propositions"). when beau researches in campaign 2 episode 110, "dinner with the devil", she finds records that aeor "was driven by the belief that mortality-- the gift of magic to the mortal was a gift as well as a challenge by the gods to eventually show that the creations can become the creator," and says "that belief varied throughout the populace there, but those in power firmly felt that there was... there was a drive to, whether it be to save Exandria from the destruction of the coming Calamity by eliminating the Pantheon entirely, or for personally selfish reasons. There's no specific record." it's gray territory why aeorians wanted to do this, and if they did all want to, even early on. this is further hinted at in campaign 2, episode 122, "nothing ventured, nothing gained", where the writer of the somnovem journal is "pontificating about their politics, and whether they were indeed a unified people as some archivists suggest". "it suffered tumult within", confirms halas, who studied it, in campaign 2, episode 125, "the neverending day".

-there are soooo many hints to ludinus. in campaign 2 episode 48, "homeward bound", the m9 find that the cerberus assembly is studying dunamancy and how to control it, and a set of notes near the research says "I surmise [the kryn] have been learning to bend and break the threads of destiny for hundreds of years. Be this truth, I cannot imagine the Raven Queen looks down upon them favorably either, though the thought brings a laugh to my lips", which could be ludinus's notes. in campaign 2, episode 84, "titles and tattoos", oremid lets slip that "whatever Ludinus is attempting to ascertain with this beacon, is important". yussa expresses caution about ludinus's intelligence and allura is scared of him a few episodes later in campaign 2, episode 87, "punishment and politics"; in campaign 2 epiaode 109 "frigid propositions" , vess says not to trust ludinus. campaign 2 episode 115, "fetching friends & frosty secrets", dagen disagrees with him being called good people. ludinus nonstop sneers at the kryn's "religious drivel" in campaign 2, episode 88, "unwanted reunions". in the aeor arc the m9 find an aeorian ruin that ludinus & his annex is overseeing excavation of; in campaign 2, episode 119, "malice and mystery below", caduceus is told "what catches you odd and makes you feel the shiver down your spine as you climb through this tree, is the way that it's twisting, the coloration of the leaves and the branches: Very reminiscent of the Savalirwood, specifically the corrupted portions of it"; this connects ludinus to molaesmyr's corruption, he's exploring its cause.

-leylines & planes shifting are mentioned a few times vaguely in the story. i think a good implication of what they will do in c3 is in campaign one, episode 112, "dark dealings", where artagan says about him being trapped in the feywild, "Things rearrange every eon or so, and the ley lines that guide the paths shift, and I haven't been able to get back since." when the m9 finds ryn's notes in campaign 2, episode 129, "between a ball and a hot place", she suggests a lot is happening around that: "The theories on a pattern of change begin to peek through in some of the notes. A slow shift in the structure between the planes, and a possible sudden shift in the cosmic tapestry down the road. And you can see a lot of these notes, there's a combination of worry and excitement gleaned from them. This person is just pontificating about possible cosmic events down the road that could be catastrophic or very exciting and unique, remaking of the cosmos. [...] Possible change that could spell disaster or balance? Who knows? For instance, an example theory of the magnetic poles suddenly flipping earth. [...] I continue to find an aberration in my data pertaining to Exandria. A cyclical, months long, slow surge in low-level magical interference that then recedes just as slowly. Something that tangles my readings and upsets my analysis. It is too faint to identify the arcane nature at source, but I worry if this pertains to the shifting between the veils. Could be something very interesting. Something very frightening. Very wonderful. More tests are required."

-in campaign 2, episode 135, "the genesis ward", caleb finds aeorian papers that describe that "there are some books that detail elements of the study of creation, specifically creation of the Pantheon. Speaking of growing proof, from their perspective, that mortal minds and imagination gave form to the gods, not the other way around. There is elements of research regarding that and debate and papers fighting for both perspectives throughout that one particular book."

-the somnovem are definitely batshit, but they retain some sense of the past; in campaign 2 episode 138, "where there is a will..." they say that mortals face "the trials and toil of running the divine maze, under the alien minds of false gods".

-much like jester, zerxus also does not gain divine power from the pantheon. in calamity episode 1, "excelsior", it is said he "is a wielder of divine magic with no devotion to any deity to speak of. He has mastered the ability to call upon the divine simply as a champion of the people of Avalir."

-in calamity episode 1, "excelsior", purvan says, "She was one of us [mortals]. She does remember from whence she came. It is not their world any longer. Why would she not welcome us behind her?"

-in calamity episode 2, "bitterness and dread", brennan ponders, "if [the gods] have wars, if they squabble and bicker with each other, how inhuman can they be?"

-the hall of oracles in avalir is described in calamity episode 2, "bitterness and dread', as having "a connection to the divine without the use of gods"

-in calamity episode 3, "blood and shadow", loquatius says a theme of c3: "History is not true, all right? History is whatever people decide to put out into the public."

-you may dismiss zerxus as crazy, but in calamity episode 4, "fire and ruin", he hits the nail on the head saying that "[the gods] came and you shaped. you took, and you shaped, and you changed, but you didn't create a thing". and that "you are a child and you are lost. how do you not see that?"

-in calamity episode 4, "fire and ruin", evandrin says "Laerryn's vision was, from whence do the gods come? By what token do they award themselves that title, and what realms beyond could we explore"

-in calamity, we see that vespin chloras is not the wholly evil person we are taught he is throughout cr beforehand. it's a good tally in the idea that history was not taught without bias.

-in calamity episode 4, "fire and ruin", evandrin says, "I do not know whence the gods came from, but I know that you found it in your heart. I promise you, Zerxus, I will find that place. I will find the secret of how these worlds were made, and I will come and find you and bring you home." there is more acknowledgement the gods are alien, and evandrin will find their home.

-in exandria unlimited, episode 1, "the nameless ones", there's a ship called the blightstar with ruidian imagery, which contains the crown that will one day doom opal. i wouldnt say this is narrative foreshadowing entirely the way the others are but it was too important not to share

-throughout exu prime, there is heavy emphasis on the theme of power being just power, for us to decide what we wish to do with it, the theme that ends up entirely defining c3's finale. in exu episode 3, "a glorious return", gilmore says, "Now, the Spider Queen herself is dark, is evil, but the vestige is simply power and it is whatever you make it into. Power simply is." in episode 6, "the gift among the green", thrascuur tells the crown keepers "you have to decide what you will do. What you will become. And the last I will say is this: power is neither good, nor evil. it simply is." in the final exu episode, with a high history check, orym realizes (via dm narration): "It's just power, and even though this vestige was marked by the Spider Queen, it is wielded by a friend, and she can decide what she will make of it."

-in exandria unlimited episode 6, "the gift among the green", thrascuur tells the crown keepers, "The world constantly changes, and that's not the gods. That's the men that walk upon the earth, and you are those people that will change the fate of the world."

-in exandria unlimited episode 6, "the gift among the green", thrascuur tells the crown keepers, of magic: "it is undifferentiated. It is not divine. It is not something wrought by man. It is not nature. It is whatever it needs to be. It is simply power. The decision, the deciding makes it a thing." And they reach down and pick up one of the little oil lamps. "The power of this candle is nothing against the thought that I have to put it out. So what is a thought against something that turns and burns in the world? All of this place, all of Exandria, holds potential, holds energy, grabs it, takes it, makes it and gives it. But it is the decision of you reaching into a place, full and ripe, of you reaching into a place, full and ripe, and deciding to bring something into being. That is the power that some call of the gods, that some called the arcane. It is power and it is beautiful, and for you to know that, to have seen it up close."

[rc-catalog]

It’s that time again—our Creator Of The Month celebration is back, and this month’s spotlight is glowing brighter than ever!

Please join us in welcoming the endlessly talented Lola, @malbontesmrs, to the COTM hall of fame! 💗

From Procreate to her keyboard, Lola is a true architect of imagination—and we’re thrilled to celebrate her work all month long! To help you get to know the magic behind the masterpieces, we’ve put together a short interview where she shares her inspirations, her process, and more! 🌸

💬 1) INTRODUCE YOURSELF! 

Hi, I’m Lola. And to be honest, I’m terribly boring.

💬 2) WHEN AND HOW DID YOU FIRST DISCOVER ROMANCE CLUB! What drew you in, and what made you stay? Were there any particular characters, stories, or moments that left a mark on you?

I discovered RC in April 2021, and played enough that when I re-downloaded the app after deleting it, I still had a profile. I actually more or less forgot about it, HS1 JUST finished fully releasing, and I remember reading up to where Vicky gave Bont the food from the school kitchens at least. I think I may have deleted the app shortly after that because of the CY Alexander scene . It’s also entirely possible that I just got too busy and didn’t put it on my new phone. When I redownloaded it in 2023, it was because an acquaintance suggested it, but even then I barely touched it until HS2 started releasing (though I did love SoS and probably played it like 3-4 times before then). I didn’t remember playing HS1 at all until after I played it again, so when I started HS2, and encountered Malbonte and Lucifer for the first time, all I could think was “omg, how could anyone like these jerks”. …anyway, that’s my husband and my other husband now, so I guess I figured that out. I guess all that is to say Alice’s HS brought me, kept me, and continues to keep me on this app.

💬 3) HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN CREATING? Can be both RC related and in general! What first sparked your passion for it?

I’ve been creating (in general) for a long time. I won’t say how long, but I’m probably older than most of those who know me realize 😂. But for RC, I only started in early 2024. I also only somewhat recently started working with digital painting (late 2023). I’ve been writing since forever, but I only recently started publicly posting my work as well. I’m generally not very social 😅

💬 4) DO YOU REMEMBER YOUR FIRST EVER CREATION? Again, can be RC related or in general! What was it, how did it feel to bring it to life, and looking back now, how do you feel about it?

The first creative thing I did for RC was the first three chapters of my long fic, Lux in Tenebris. I’ll talk about it in question 7 though, because I don’t want to get too repetitive. The first piece of art I posted in the RC fandom was a picture of Bont that I posted from an old account. I loved, and still love that piece. It was the first time I moved out of a more cartoony style, and inspired the HS2 portrait series I ended up doing later. link

💬 5) DO YOU HAVE ANY RITUALS OR HABITS WHEN YOU CREATE? A playlist you always put on, a time of day you prefer, snacks or specific tools/software?

I’m still working on my HS long fics, and I have a playlist I use for those (mostly Rok Nardin songs because they feel very applicable and they’re instrumental, so random words I’m hearing don’t end up in my writing). I write on my iPad with the keyboard attachment because I’m more likely to carry it around than a laptop. I use Word (bleh) because I need it for work anyway, but Word isn’t really friendly for HTML markup and that’s how I write my fics, so I have been considering other options (Rok Nardin Spotify playlist for those who might be curious). I also keep my fics in the cloud so I can access them on my phone in case inspiration hits while I’m at the doctor’s office or something. I save each chapter as an individual file, and for these fics I’ve been posting them as I write them. If I ever do another series like this again though, I may consider a different course of action because it does get a little stressful when writers block hits. My fics are long, and I try to post chapters every week or two, so I’m writing a looooot these days. If I have writer’s block (which has been happening more and more lately), I use different strategies. My bestie isn’t a RC fan, but she’s happy to let me run thoughts by her (which has come to some entertaining results from time to time). Sometimes I’ll just put on that same Rok Nardin playlist I use when writing and go for a walk, because it helps keep me in the mind of it so I can brainstorm. If that doesn’t work… I step away. Close my iPad and don’t even think about it for a bit, or move onto a drawing for a while. For art: No rituals, no things I do every time. I draw when the inspiration hits, and draw until I’m bored of drawing 😂. I have surprisingly very few abandoned WIPs despite this though. I use Procreate, iPad and Apple Pencil. Sometimes I listen to audiobooks while drawing. Sometimes I don’t. Drawing is a very, very casual thing I do. Fun fact: most of my art only uses two brushes and a heck-ton of smudging. Any additional brushes are stamps. I wish I could tell you which brushes they are, but “Brush 4” probably doesn’t help 🤷🏼‍♀️

💬 6) IS THERE A PIECE OF ADVICE YOU WOULD GIVE TO YOUR YOUNGER CREATIVE SELF? Or readers in general?

1000% it’s that practice makes perfect. My art feels like a huge testament to that statement because (I think anyway) you can see the major improvements I’ve made in the last year alone. I have one CG that I like to practice new techniques by redrawing it, and I keep them in a row in my procreate folder so I can see the progression and my own improvement. It helps with motivation, but I find it also helps because I can take things I like from different versions to incorporate them into my style. I picked up a lot of technical skills and techniques by doing that. As for writing, I know it’s the most cliché advice ever, but write for yourself. Write what you want to read; chances are there’s someone else who wants to too. The nice thing about doing that, is that you can do whatever you want. And for both, don’t value your work based on its engagement. That was a tough lesson for me to learn, especially with my art, which hasn’t been getting very much engagement at all these days, and my new fic, which isn’t getting nearly as much in the way of comments as Lux in Tenebris did. What I’ve found though, is that every time I start to get bummed about the lack of engagement on BO&BR, someone pops up out of nowhere to tell me they’ve loved my stories and have been reading them for a while. The point is, just because I’m not seeing engagement, doesn’t mean it’s not there; sometimes people just don’t know what to say, sometimes they’re too shy to say anything, sometimes they mean to say something and it slips their minds. Either way, if you work on something you love, it doesn’t matter what other people think.

💬 7) CHOOSE 3-5 OF YOUR FAVOURITE WORKS AND RAMBLE AWAY! We want all the behind-the-scenes thoughts: What do these pieces mean to you? What inspired them? Were there any struggles you faced while creating them? What emotions or memories are tied to them now?

Lux in Tenebris – Malbonte x MC HS1 (long) fanfiction (Posted on AO3, rated E for occasional smut and canon-typical descriptions of violence / death)

I chose this one first for a reason, because it is by far the most meaningful project I’ve ever done (and to be honest, hopefully the most meaningful I’ll ever do). Lux in Tenebris is my entire 2024; I started it in January, and finished it in December— it’s over 255,000 words (1100 pages). I was (am? but it’s much better managed now) very sick in 2024, and I ended up in the hospital for over a month. Lux was my main project through the year, and it helped me get through the harder times; it is a tangible representation of my struggles that year. I love Lux, and I hope I always will. I know it’s not perfect, there were a lot of chapters I wrote when I was extremely unwell and could definitely use some editing, but I’m not perfect either. It was the first long fic that I ever fully completed, and it was the first project I’ve ever done that I legitimately made for myself and my own enjoyment; other people liking it was a very unexpected, and pleasant, bonus. (Though admittedly, I did at one point think how nice it would be if a non-Malbonte fan read it and became a Malbonte fan 😂. That didn’t happen to my knowledge, but I had a non-HS1 fan read it and enthusiastically love it, so I’m counting that 😄). It also wasn’t the story I planned in the beginning (I completely changed course around chapter 3, then totally committed to that change by chapter 7). I’m happy with the direction it took though. I poured my whole life into that fic, and I’m still working on the sequel. So yeah, it’s pretty important to me. I loved writing it, I love reading it, and I love talking about it. This fic is my baby.

2. The HS2 LI series

Similar to Lux in Tenebris, I worked on these portraits to distract me from being sick, and I wanted to work with a bit more variety of people. HS2 is (probably obviously) my favourite story on the app, and I wanted to honour it somehow, I guess. I actually want to do the series over, because I feel like I’ve learned a lot of new techniques and improved my art since then, but we’ll see. I have to finish the ABH series first. I actually find Dino and Lucifer to be two of the most difficult people I’ve drawn to get “right”, and those two portraits took the longest by quite a bit to do (Luci with his tattoos especially. Tbh, the more I look at it, the more I reeeeeally want to redo War and Astaroth too…) Anyway, yeah, it was a fun project that I did because I love HS2, and it was a lot of fun to work on. Of course with practice, as I’ve improved, I can see a lot more issues with these pictures than I could when I did them, but I’ll always love the project itself because it was a nice distraction from the things going on at the time. Dino / Lucifer / Mimi / Astaroth / War / Hunger / Malbonte

3. Black Obelisks & Blood Roses (Malbonte x MC HS2 fanfiction) – in progress sequel to Lux in Tenebris (Posted on AO3, rated E for occasional smut and canon-typical descriptions of violence / death)

I debated choosing this, but decided I can’t promote Lux without promoting the sequel I’m currently writing, Black Obelisks & Blood Roses. It’s only about 1/3 of the way done, but it’s already over 164,000 words (650 pages). I’m actively updating at least twice a month, but often more than that (and never less). I grieved Lux in Tenebris when it was finished. It literally felt like a piece of me died or something. I had started planning BO&BR very early into writing Lux, so I knew I was going to write a sequel, but I had every intention of taking a month or two between the two. I did not. I started this one earlier than I planned because I was so sad about finishing Lux that I had to. It’s been a lot more of a struggle to write, especially lately. I’ve got a lot going on in my life, and honestly, the subject matter is kind of a bummer sometimes. I’m only JUST coming out of Season 1 now in the fic. BUT, I still love writing it, and going back to my little world with Malbonte and Antigone. I just revealed my first major divergence from canon (and not-so-secret crossover), and I’m simultaneously nervous and excited. I’ve been planning this for months and I’m kind of freaking out that it’s already here. Anyway, my fics take a lot more of my time, so I tend to have a lot more feelings around them. I plot and plan constantly, readjust and rework plans as needed. Even still, I go with the flow while I write, and sometimes things happen that even I didn’t expect but they feel right, so it becomes part of the story. That’s my favourite part to be honest, when I write something and I’m like “damn, that wasn’t supposed to happen yet but it’s SO GOOD here”.

4. Raphael Portrait

I’m two characters (David and 🥰Cassiel🥰) away from finishing the ABH LI portrait series, but Raphael is the latest art piece I’ve completed, and definitely in my top 3 best pieces ever, I think (it could be #1, but I’m biased so clearly my best piece is Malbonte 😂). I’ve started experimenting more with open mouth smiles, which has been fun. I love Raphael’s smile, it’s just… ugh, so cute. I started working on pictures recently where I do the parts I don’t enjoy doing first, so that I don’t just kinda say “eh, it’s done enough”, aaaaand I’m pretty happy with that decision looking at this final piece. I’m really happy with how he turned out (especially his hair, haha and the light fixture in the background 😅). Unfortunately I’ve also been finding him a bit intimidating because I feel like he’s pushed the bar up. I haven’t even started the next portrait in the series (though I probably will the second I put this down because I’m suddenly feeling inspired) (update: I did in fact start it, but I’m still feeling intimidated by Raphael, so it didn’t get done by time of writing 😅).

5. Malbonte Portrait, CG Redraw

Last one! I wasn’t going to add this piece, but I think I’d be remiss if I didn’t because this is my practice CG! I have many, many, versions of this CG in my procreate folder, because I use it to practice, play with brushes, and teach myself new techniques. I keep them in a row at the bottom of my folder so I can see my progress, and refer back to things I like and don’t like about the ones I’ve done. This one is my favourite so far. I love Malbonte, so I’m always happy to complete Malbonte fan art. I think when practicing, especially if you’re going to do the same drawing over and over again like I do, it’s important to draw something that you enjoy doing. This CG is one of my favourites, and it’s a fantastic face-front portrait for practicing faces. I love it.

A huge thank you to everyone who took the time to read Lola's feature and celebrate her incredible work with us! And of course, thank you to all the amazing creators who submitted this month—we’re constantly in awe of your talent and passion.

Here’s to you, Lola—you paint stories we can’t stop reading and write pictures we can’t stop staring at. Congratulations, and thank you for sharing your gift with us! 🩷

[vodika-vibes]

For Pride can we have something involving Sister?

Perfect Love

Summary: You spend a lazy evening with the love of your life.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Sister x F!Reader

Word Count: 1352

Warnings: None

A/N: So I've never written Sister before, so I hope I didn't butcher her too badly. I hope you all like my story! Also, I wasn't sure how to tag this, since I'm not sure if Sister is a legends character or not.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

You never thought that you were the dating type.

Honestly, you just weren’t interested in it. Even when you were younger, the idea of dating strangers make you deeply uncomfortable. So, instead, you focused on building strong friendships.

At the time, you thought that it would be easier to develop romantic feelings towards someone you’re already close with.

It makes sense, right?

Only, the closer you got to your friends, m the more problematic they seemed to you. People who were great friends, but would be terrible romantic partners.

And so, you gave up. You focused on keeping your friends, though you did put some distance between yourself and the ones that are the most problematic, and you focused on your family and on building your career.

And then you met her.

Sister.

Meeting her was an accident. You happened to be in the right place at the right time, and while you’ve never believed in love at first sight, you were definitely attracted at first sight.

You didn’t even know that she was a clone until later. Never mind that she had been surrounded by her brothers, and that she had been wearing clone armor. You just didn’t see them. You didn’t see anything other than her.

You didn’t have the nerve to talk to her that day.

Or the one after.

In fact, every day, for a month, you returned to the market in the hopes that maybe, today would be the day that you worked up the nerve to introduce yourself.

In the end, Sister approached you with a warm smile and an offer to join her, and her brothers, for lunch. Of course, she thought that you had been eyeing one of her brothers, not her, so she got adorably embarrassed when she realized that you were vying for her attention, rather than the attention of her more charming brothers.

You asked her out on a date that same day. Tripping and stumbling over your words, your face burning and your hands fumbling with the sleeves of your shirt, you were sure that Sister was going to say no.

But she said yes.

The rest, as they say, is history. The dates and the late night calls that lasted so long that they became early morning calls, and the sleepovers where you cuddled up next to her and let her vent about the war, they were all just moments in the relationship that led you to the same important realization.

You love her.

Suddenly all of the songs you hear on the radio and all of the poems you read in school started to make sense.

And, at the time, you realized that you couldn’t imagine your life without her in it. So, on your first anniversary, you gifted her a key to your apartment, a pair of pajamas that match your favorite set, and a toothbrush sitting in the cup next to your bathroom sink.

That had been a year ago, and you’re happy to say that your relationship with Sister is stronger than ever.

With the war over, Sister is free to come and go as she likes. She has a good job, working at the senate under Senator Mon Mothma, and she’s home by dinner every night.

Every night is perfect.

You get to hold her hands and kiss her lips, Sister gets to wow you with her cooking prowess, and you get to see her smile at you.

And, little gods above, you never thought that this life was for you, but you’re so happy and so in love that the idea of going back to who you were before you met Sister seems like a death sentence.

You want forever with her.

So there’s a simple ring in your bedside table and you’re slowly working on a plan on how you’re going to ask her to be your wife, and you’ve been polling her brothers to see if they have any ideas, while also swearing them to secrecy.

But that’s an event for later you.

Because right here and right now, you just want to exist in the same place as sister. Because there’s no where else you’d rather be.

And so, you watch Sister from where you're perched on the edge of the bed. You're both dressed in your matching pajamas, and Sister looks absolutely perfect. But that’s not really what you’re paying attention to.

Well, it's not all you're paying attention to. Since you’re kind of pathetic when it comes to Sister and you can’t not notice how perfect she is. But there’s something more important you’re watching.

You're completely entranced at the way her nimble fingers are weaving her curls into braids. Two long braids that start at the top of her head and fall down her back.

You've never had braided hair, not even when you were a little girl. Your mother intentionally kept your hair short so she didn't have to style it outside of brushing it. And so you’re incapable of anything more complicated than a messy tail or knot.

But your hair is long now.

Well. Long ish.

"Hey, sweets?"

Sister pauses and looks at you in the mirror, "Something wrong?" Her dark eyes scanning your face worriedly.

You play with the ends of your hair, wishing, once again, that you had been born with pretty curls like she had been, "When you finish with your hair...will you braid mine?"

Sister looks surprised for a moment, but then a stunning smile crosses her lips. But she doesn’t verbally answer you. Instead, you watch as she speeds through the final part of her braid, and ties the end off, before she grabs a handful of stuff off the counter and hurries to your side.

As if she’s worried that you’ll change your mind.

“I’ve always wanted to play with your hair,” She admits as she sits behind you and positions you so you’re sitting in front of you properly, “But you always seemed content with your knots and your tails, so I didn’t say anything.”

“You could have asked,” You point out, as you look at her over your shoulder.

Sister shoots you a look, and gently turns your head so you’re facing ahead again, “I could have, yes. But I didn’t want you to think that I wanted to change your hair.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that.” You tense slightly when you feel the brush in your hair, and Sister presses a light kiss to your shoulder, to try and get you to relax.

“You’re very sensitive about your hair, my love.” Sister starts to run the brush through your hair, and your surprised when it doesn’t hurt. It always hurt when your mom brushed your hair. “It’s a shame your mother didn’t teach you to love your hair. It’s so pretty.”

“You think so?”

“Mm, it’s so soft, all of the time. It feels like silk.” Sister runs her fingers through your hair, and you shiver as your feel her fingers on the back of your neck, “It still isn’t very long, so a lot of the more intricate styles are still out. But simple braids are doable.”

You feel Sister pause, and then she drops the remote control on your lap, “What’s this?” You ask.

“Can you put on the cooking channel? I want to learn something new to spoil you.”

You laugh softly, but do as she asks, “You spoil me, sweets.”

“You deserve to be spoiled.” She lifts your hair and presses a light kiss to the back of your neck, “I love you.”

A broad smile crosses your face, “I love you too.”

Later that night, you’ll throw all caution to the wind and ask Sister to marry you. And she’ll laugh and grab a nearly identical ring from her side of the bed and say that she’ll say yes if you do.

But that’s later. For now, it’s just you and her, and the old Twi’lek on the holo teaching the both of you how to make a souffle.

And, in your little section of the galaxy, all is well.

@heidnspeak

@justiceandwar98

@etod

@kiss-anon

@lonewolflupe

@silly-starfish

@msmeredithrose

@cdblake1565

@badbatch-bitch

@continous-mistakes

@falconfeather23435

@tiredbi-peach

@kimiheartblade

@clones-cyare

@cc--2224

@mira-loves-star-wars

@trixie2023

@rebell-ious

@padawancat97

@sweater-sloot

@bb8-99

@wax-birds

@adriennelenoir

@omegaprime18

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@dukeoftheblackstar

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@arctech-fox

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@jetiimasterbekah

@six-1mpossiblethings

@clonetrooperjournals

@ct7567329

@thatforlornfeeling

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@adamime

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@well-wa

@dreamie411

[gothicrepetitions]

I'm always saying the born as an adult troupe is really crazy because of how these characters have a adult brain and cognitive processes despite not going through the neurodevelopment essential for every human being and it's fascinating to see this with Jack because so much of his character is about suddenly being introduced to these complex emotions such empathy or guilt and concepts such as good and bad or life and death, without ever having gone through the slow, gradual process of socialisation like every other human, and being overwhelmed and confused (understandable). 'I should feel bad and I say I feel bad but most of the time I don't feel anything' and 'I know I don't feel nothing/maybe I just don't know what nothing feels like' like I said, understandable but at the same time he's constantly being told that there's something called Inherent Goodness that makes you feel all the right things and it will magically make you know what is right or wrong forever. So not only is he dealing with this disconnect that makes him feel like a monster and deviant, but he's also pretty much told outright that Oh you're not Inherently Good and actually struggle with abstract concepts and emotions? Sounds like you need to be shot with a gun. It's just so crazy to witness

[nobodysdaydreams]

I do not know whether any creator of a media I post about or write fanfic for has read any of it.

But I do know this.

If ✨I✨ was a published author, I’d be monitoring AO3 like a HAWK looking for those fics. I’d be on there every day. I’d be using an anon account, obviously, but I’d be there, and as long as there was nothing personally triggering, I’d read every word. I’d tell myself I wouldn’t comment or kudos or anything, but if the fandom got popular enough, I’d probably find a fic that was so good I just have to, you know?

I might even write a fic or two myself just to see what people think. Knowing myself, it would probably be a crack fic to avoid spoilers. Just the most unhinged thing imaginable. Pure chaos all the way through the fic. And then I’d go onto tumblr to look at the fanart of my work, which is something I actually have experienced (thank you guys) and eventually see all those character analysis posts. Might make one myself, the only trouble is if when I’m writing about one of my own characters or themes someone else reblogs it like “op this is obviously not what the author intended. You don’t know anything.” Because of course the only mature and logical response to that is to reblog their reply with a dramatic video of myself being like “Fool, I AM the author!” (You know like a Scooby doo villain taking their mask off). But then I’d be doxxing myself, so instead I just have to live with that knowledge forever.

And all this makes me wonder. Because either A) I, specifically, am a messed up individual and no one would ever do this, B) famous actors and creators just don’t have interest in this and/or they don’t have the time on their hands, or C) there is a real possibility that a creator of a fandom I make content for has taken the time to read my work either as an unhinged post or a fic. I’ll never know, but I’ll always wonder. And that my friends, is the magic of the internet.

[laughter-loving-thalia]

Rayni Aria, the character you could've been. But you aren't. Which makes me your #2 biggest hater.

In some part of the Unlocked novella, someone mentions that probing Rayni's mind could be a waste of time because Gethen has likely placed in her head tons of wrong informations, which means it would take them forever to distinguish the truth from the false... and, I don't know dude, this seems so much fun as a secondary plotline?? Especially since Oralie has shown us in Unlocked that these wrong informations confuse her too, that it's difficult to make order into it. Reading Unlocked I was like "I can't WAIT to see this becoming an issue with Rayni."

'Cause imagine if Rayni was genuinely trying to be cooperative, but Gethen has "brainwashed" her (just like Linh feared happened to Tam), so she ends up leading them right into the jaws of the monster?? What if there is genuinely no known way for Telepaths to distinguish the made-up memories from the actual ones? What if Rayni's backstory is completely distorted by Gethen??

What if it happened to Tam, too? What if Linh was actually right, instead of presenting her as just an "emotional" girl that has lost the plot? Because I think Linh's output should be taken more seriously. If Tam's twin sister, the person that knows him best, is saying "something is wrong with Tam", there must be something wrong with him. Even if Tam says loud and clear there isn't something wrong with him. Kind of defeats the whole point of brainwashing if the brainwashed are self-aware... Ugh. Would've been neat, it's all I can say.

Even neater: you know who could have designed a way to get rid of the brainwashing? Stina (Empath) and Fitz (Telepath), both shamelessly bashed by Rayni for no reason at all and completely unprovocated (I suspect that, in Fitz's case, it's just Shannon taking out her demons on him as she does infamously in Stellarlune).

And what's with the weird cat statue, Shannon??? This frustrates me so much. I was waiting, and waiting for this apparent "set up" to pay off in some way or another. That the cat statue had a tracker in it and the Neverseen use it to find Rayni -and, thus, Solreef- or even for the statue to be related to Rayni's backstory somehow. But no. We don't get either of those?? Then there is this weird line where Rayni kisses her cat statue before saying "I want to meet with Trix" (I am NOT going to open Stellarlune to fetch the exact quote. I'd much rather choke on water). I was expecting some kind of symbolism to go there.

Maybe Trix and Rayni kept in contact thanks to the cat statue, that has a secret compartment that allows to translocate small objects (like letters). But no. Rayni contacts Trix via a random location that has absolutely no significance whatsoever. At that point I was like "well surely Shannon didn't introduce this element and hammer it in our heads over and over again for nothing, right?" but that was overestimating Shannon. She pretty much did.

Another issue I have with her is the importance of her having done nothing wrong, ever. Well if she hasn't done anything wrong (except enforcing literal shackles on Tam and being an accomplice in his kidnapping) then can we even call it a redemption arc? I was on the edge of my seat when Marella pointed it out: "pretty much convenient that you weren't here for the worst of their actions" like YES Marella get her ass! Call her out! Yet it was another fake set up. Rayni did not in fact lie about being innocent... she actually was conveniently the perfectly innocent little prisoner here. Which means the Stellarlune's synopsis ("Sophie has to make difficult decisions. Who to trust. [...]") was a LIE. Lies, lies, all lies! 😔

Don't even get me started on her backstory. My parents -who I never even think about- abandoned me! They are the worst!!You woul've done the same decisions if you were in MY shoes! Boo fucking hoo girl, they got banished and didn't want you to throw your future away to pay for their actions??? I would've accepted this belief had she been, like, six, when it happened. But she was SEVENTEEN??? Girl, get a grip. This isn't near the tragic villain backstory you advertised for yourself, and you don't even seem that affected by it.

I wish someone said "that's it?" 'cause reminder: this girl has joined a terrorist organisation, participated in the kidnapping and enslavement of a literal child and still wears their uniform and logo on top of this because Mommy and Daddy didn't take her on their forest trip! She also thinks it''s "cool" to verbally attack children and say they have a poor understanding of the suffering of others (babe, not tot compare trauma, but Biana and Fitz have suffered more than you have).

I was especially disappointed with her parents being actual nobodies. They have absolutely zero connection to the plot, and no, involving Benham in a cache later on doesn't make up for the fact that I don't know this dude.

You know who could've been her parents? Coach Bora and Rohana. (I'm bored, okay?) With the banishment plot line, it could've been a neat resolution, and Rayni could've learned where her parents are instead of adding yet ANOTHER question to the mountains already piling up.

Maybe it used to be just Wilda (which would've been wild-pun-intended-imagine one Instructor for hundred.s of children) and they joined in after their banishment. Would this add anything to the plot? No, it wouldn't. However it's certainly a neater connect-the-dot than making up two new characters for the sake of another non-foreshadowed one (I won't forgive that Glimmer appears out of thin air in Legacy. At least Trix was foreshadowed).

Also: did anyone actually find the audience reveal satisfying? I literally couldn't care less. I never even wondered whose audience it was... because it's literally a one-off thing. Especially when Rayni says that there were "definitely" still people talking about her parents when Sophie came into the Lost Cities. Would loved to believe you babe, but you have no evidence to back you up, because, truth is, Shannon did not eve plan you. You are unwanted. And I have no trouble seeing why.

Rayni (open discussion post)

as some of you may have heard/seen I am Rayni Aria's biggest goddamn hater

I can't stand her ass

I recently read/listened through Stellarlune for the first time and I hated her the moment I met her. Yes I know the ending of Legacy, I know how it all flows

But I Still can't stand her

Why? Because she is a literal blob of nothingness on the page

Spoilers for Stellarlune

Rayni Aria is a character who was once the Neverseen member Glimmer (dumbass name btw) who, allegedly was involved with none of the Neverseen's major plots so far; The Kidnapping of Sophie and Dex, their torture, jumping Sophie, Keefe, and Silveny in Exile, Mt Everest, the gnomes etc etc etc

Allegedly she's had zero part in any of that because they just stick her in a corner and even when Gisela was overthrown she still didn't do diddly squat, she just read medical books. Sure. Okay

Her life previous to joining terrorists willingly was she was just a normal girl with a normal life until people started to whisper speculations about her parents' relationship not being all of what it says on the tin. Her parents are found guilty of messing with the match system to be together and avoid a Bad Match status and are made an example of by banishment But Rayni isn't banished with them as instead her parents leave her with a note and are never heard from again Rayni drops out of Foxfire and lives in a rented room in Mysterium until Gisela finds her and tell her to quit her unemployment and join her emo band Cool, alright. Mid and extremely questionable loyalties. So you'll just go with whoever reaches out their hand first. Good to know

Beyond her frankly uninteresting backstory Rayni's personality is the exact same cookie cutter cardboard cutout mean girl leave no coughed insults unspoke persona that is so old and over used I think Shannon might've actually managed to resuscitate this dead horse. Rayni whines and bitches about how 'no one will trust her' but does absolutely nothing to win herself any favors. Instead she seems more than chipper to keep digging at her own grave so why dont we just drop this whole pointless scene and let her keep on going at it She's boring. She's bland. She's lame. And don't get me started on the weird cat lamp thing I don't know if Shannon was going for 'oh look she likes cats' or 'boo hoo she's so broken and jaded an this lamp is the one thing that lights up her dark dark soul'.

Rayni is weird, her vibes are just so off and so lack luster. Her depth is so shallow I couldn't even soak up a puddle of it with a napkin.

What's the point of bring in a bad guy now good guy/anti hero if all they do is snark in the corner, pet a cat statue, watch the protagonist do jack diddly squat and be like "oh yeah, you're a leader now" girl what??? That entire scene where Rayni unmasks herself was so boring if I cut out the only other emotion I felt while listening which was annoyance. I listened and live reacted to it on discord with some friends as my witness and what even was that scene? Tam is supposedly the one holding the talking stick in the group I guess just because he and Rayni are just such good buds so obviously he should take point (cause no one thinks he's brainwashed) and the entire time Rayni bicthes and moans about how no one trusts her (girl you're wearing a stinky, smelly, raggedy terrorist hood. You couldn't ask to trade it for a less stinky less terrorist embroidered one?) and while yeah people poke holes at her and take small jabs Rayni really seems gung ho with tossing playground responses with 14-16 year olds at her grown ass age. She's one year younger than Wyile and while young adults in their 19/20s arent mature at all it is CRAZY to me that she bitches about no one trusting her and then turns and calls Fitz Sophie's "telepath back-up" I believe the correct quote is "You're basically Sophie's telepath backup" and this is said to Fitz and that was just the most absurd thing I've ever fucking heard spoken by Gisela's fucking lapdog. Fitz is done so dirty in this book and Rayni basically calls Fitz a "backup" like he's a damn battery or some waterboy Sophie only needs to use like an object. The worst part isn't that its the bad guy's lapdog with questionable loyalties that says this. Its the fact that no one stood up for Fitz. No one said anything. And Sophie fucking laughed. She laughed at that. And Fitz is the only one to blame for their fucked up cognate bond, sure. (Biana, FITZ'S FUCKING SISTER also says and does nothing because Biana is just a little poster Shannon sticks on the wall this whole book)

And not to mention that whole bit with Rayni constantly comparing her and Stina as if they're different faces on the same coin. Like you can't sit there in your terrorist onesie and look someone in the face and be like "Yeah your life is gonna be just like mine. Just you wait. It's coming for you. And then, yeah, you'll be just like me. Huff Huff" and then get mad when she doesn't like you in the slightest. Like yeah, I just love sitting in the same room as someone who tells me my life has a timer on my happy days because we're totes twinsies. Shannon should've let Stina punch Rayni because if this snarky little bug really wanted some damn allies wouldn't she want Stina on her side? You know, the most outspoken nay sayer in all of the Lost Cities? If you're gonna bring up your little Gisela Mini-Me act get good Circus-Circus.

If I wanna like Rayni I need more depth than Miss Hardknock Life over here who gets her kicks out of throwing tantrums when people dont trust her while she wears a terrorist hood and gets her kicks out of replying to every petty response.

If I could, I'd rewrite that whole scene because I genuinely love big groups in books and it would be fun to see a diverse group personality wise instead of the same 'bad bitch' boring outline. I can't believe Rayni's 'tough' personality is a facade because she's not just tough to trust. She's tough to want in any way shape or form She's not Heather Chandler, She's not even Heather Duke, she could never even dream of being Regina Georgie. She's so 2D she flies away with a tiny sigh. The whole book could've honestly been the exact same without Rayni around. Erase her and simply have Trix reach out on his own or something and you still have the Esilyum plot intact. Rayni was just there to make a page count for nothing of any great importance.

That's just what I think of Rayni. She annoys, bores, and pisses me off. She's like the physical embodiment of an Instagram comment section. If yall want, please tell me what you think about her because I genuinely want to know what makes her even the slightest bit interesting to any of you. I like headcanons and I can be convince to take a lot of them. Will my opinion on canon Rayni change? Who knows man

[cosmophalhemr]

I love my mystical tree man...............