#Randolph really doesn’t count

[somnas-writes]

Hc that the Chase family is so hot that the gods have to fuck them

[reuben-7991]

Octavian’s treatment is one of my least favorite things about HoO because it isn’t his character, it’s his lack of one.

We COULD’VE had an excellent character who was a look into what could truly go wrong with blind devotion like Octavian’s, drawing an excellent parallel to Luke’s blind hatred in the original series (Percy even says Octavian reminds him of Luke).

We COULD’VE had a fantastic contrast into a follower’s descent into insanity after making empty promises of power whilst under the influence of a massively elder being, thus leading to said follower’s death.

What makes me especially mad is that Octavian has no backstory. This is a problem with a lot of Roman characters, but Octavian especially. He doesn’t even have a last name. All we know is:

- He’s a legacy of Apollo.

- He used to be sane and probably very charismatic, due to Reyna stating she used to have a crush on him in TTT.

That’s it! One of Rick’s gold stars is that his human characters are just that: human. They have motivations and flaws, deeply personal origins and ideals that affect their actions and their outcomes. None of the villains are just plain villains, evil by birth. They have motives to back up their actions (now weither those motives make sense or not, that’s another story, but they’re still there.) There’s Luke, Medea, Lityerses (who is an entire other can of worms), Circe, Loki, Gunilla, Randolph, hell, even Kronos and Gaea. All of them have reasons for the shitty stuff they did. Octavian is a glaring exception. We know he’s power-hungry, but we don’t know why. We know he’s violent, but we don’t know why. We know he hates the Greeks, but we don’t know why. You may argue ‘oh, he’s a minor character, he doesn’t really get a reasoning’ which is just blatantly untrue on both fronts.

1: Octavian is NOT a minor character in the slightest. He has major roles in the plot throughout the books.

2: Him being a ‘minor’ villain wouldn’t have anything to do with his motivation. Chris from the OG series has stated motivation, and he’s way more minor than Octavian.

Another thing is that Octavian’s insanity is played off almost comically. He’s relatively well put together in SoN, only being super dramatic and reportedly blackmailing Hazel and probably other legionnaires, but by BoO he’s absolutely broken. He’s utterly obsessed with being a hero to the Romans, with being Pontifex Maximus, with killing Gaea and almost proving himself to Apollo (who is utterly disgusted by him), but it’s all either framed as ‘hate this guy more plsplspls’ or brushed away to the side.

I’m torn on his death scene, because it’s a good scene overall but too much of it is humorous in my opinion. Between Will calling Octavian an ‘anemic loser’ (which like. what.) and Leo describing his screams as a little girl’s, it seems almost too light for such a pivotal point in the story. Octavian has truly lost himself to madness, ranting and raving and insisting no, HE has to be the one to kill Gaea, HE has to be a hero.

His death is horrific, yet it’s framed as a silly oopsie.

What the fuck.

Overall, Octavian is a shining example of missed character potential. We could have gotten the Riordan special and made to empathize more with our villain, like what happened with Luke or Randolph from MCGA, but all we get is a crazy blond kid, character so shallow he could count as a tide pool. It infuriates me to no end how in a sea of good, properly motivated antagonists, Octavian is the outlier.

It’s a real shame.

[booksandabeer]

Hey,

I love your blog and I love how much work you put in when someone ask you to recommend fics for them, you’re truly beyond AMAZING! Just getting that out of the way.

And now, can you please tell me your favourite underrated stucky fics. I know this might be too big of an ask because there are SO MANY out there, so just tell me a few if you don’t mind.

Thank you so much ❤️

Hello Stranger!

Thank you for the ask and your very kind words! ❤ It's so nice to hear that people like my rec posts because they really do take a surprisingly large amount of time to put together. Anyway, I'm not complaining & this is a lot of fun for me, so on to the recs!

I struggled a bit with how to define "underrated" and I think everybody has their own ideas of what exactly that means. Also, the Stucky ship has been around for more than a decade (even longer if you count the comics), so creative output and reader interest will fluctuate and ultimately decline over time. A Stucky fic posted after 2019--no matter how insanely good it is--will never do the numbers it would have done in the Golden Age of 2014-2018. So, for the purpose of this list, a fic written in 2016 with 15K hits or less does qualify as underrated, while a fic posted in 2021 with 10-15K would not.

Also, as always, this list is by no means an exhaustive one.

the wrote and the writ by declanlynchsrack | G, 10K

Author's summary: Bucky’s crying before he’s off the boat and he’s the least surprised out of anyone to realize it.

He’s always been a softie, a leaky faucet, and the war hasn’t changed that, so he doesn’t know why the sob that smacks him startles him bad enough that he grips the strap of his bag doubly hard, ready to swing it around like a battering ram, ready to find that cloying, invisible enemy. He’s not being ambushed, on his belly in the muck and camellias, cypress hanging low, moonlight casting an eerie smile upon Lake Como like it’s enjoying the hell out of muffled gunshots and the wet grunt of lifeblood spattering onto the undergrowth.

That’s done. He’s safe.

An AU in which Bucky--minus one arm--comes back from the war and Steve never got to go, and never became Captain America. A scrappy little story that is at once full of emotion and yet completely unsentimental. This story socked me on the jaw, tackled me to the ground, and then sat on me while twisting, twisting, twisting my arm behind my back. It also has one of my favorite descriptions of the SteveBucky dynamic I've ever read: "They’re all roughed up, the two of em, a pair of old marble statues weathered by time and harsh touches, but they know each other’s chinks and foibles and can side-step them with grace while still treating the other about as delicately as they’d handle a sack of potatoes." !!! If you prefer, you can also listen to it here: [Podfic] the wrote and the writ by quietnight

Hollywoodland by romanticalgirl | E, 69K

Author's summary: In 1930s Hollywood, the world is run on the studio system. Stars are told who to date, what to wear, what to say, and how to look pretty doing it. The only way you can really do what you want is if you don't get caught.

Steve's dating Peggy, which works out because she's married to Sam, even though it's not legal. But it's the perfect cover for the fact that Steve's gay. He's managing just fine skirting the system to find companionship, but then he meets James Barnes and life gets a lot more complicated.

If you know anything about me and my love for Golden Age Hollywood, then you won't be surprised that this pushes all of my buttons. This is loosely inspired by the real life relationship of Cary Grant and Randolph Scott (the exact nature of which we will probably never know, but let's just say it was most likely not strictly platonic). Is the world the author created here entirely realistic? No--and it's not intended to be. While it is indeed rooted in many of the horrible realities that queer people and POC have faced in the past (and are still facing today), it's a slightly kinder version of it that allows for a hopeful, if not a strictly happy ending in the traditional sense. A sumptious story with gorgeous art.

make progress together by frankoceansmoonriver | E, 24K

Author's summary: He feels like Steve’s mistress. He feels hollowed out. He feels like a jammed gun still trying to go off. When he’s not with Steve he convinces himself he’s ruining Steve’s life, and though he tries, he’s too selfish to stop. When he’s with Steve, he’d fight God himself to keep it, this tangible perfection that makes him drunk and anchors him in ways he did not know existed.

Or, the one where they both survived the war, Bucky loves Steve now, has loved Steve since he was fifteen, and the year is 1945.

This is a story that I have reread many, many times because it is the perfect wish fulfillment fic for me. It's the slightly unrealistic, or one could also say: optimistic version of what I imagine would have happened had Steve and Bucky both survived the war. That's not to say that this fic doesn't have its very angsty moments, but ultimately, this is a story about love and hope triumphing in the face of adversity, and sometimes you just want to see good things happen to good people. I know some readers may find the formatting and the non-linear structure challenging, but this is a beautiful story and I really urge you all to give it a try!

I'll Light Your Way Home series by BeaArthurPendragon | M-E, 69K, 5 parts

Author's summary: Two lost Vietnam vets find each other in a Hell's Kitchen gay bar one hot September night. This is how they find their way home.

A pattern emerges! Can you tell I'm really into (No Powers) AUs set in the early to mid 20th century? Well, here's another one, but we're actually moving into second half of the century, specifically to 1969, for this one! Bea is quite possibly my favorite Stucky writer and I have recommended her stories many times to anybody who will listen to me. It's debatable whether or not she actually counts as "underrated", I guess, but it is my personal opinion that her fics should have ten times the kudos/comments/hits they do and that she deserves to be up there with the "big names". This story in particular just completely won over my heart with its gorgeous (but not ostentatious) writing, its confident and mature characterizations, and great eye for historical detail. I *cannot* recommend her fics enough. /unabashed fangirl moment over.

The Northern Lights by ThisChairIsMyHomeNow | M, 21K

Author's summary: “I can’t feel my face,” Steve shivers.

“I can’t feel my left arm,” Bucky says, deadpan. Steve barks out a laugh. It’s all white puffs of vapor in the chilly air.

“This the spot?”

“Nah,” Bucky pants, breath ragged from the long ascent up a mountain. “Almost there.”

A post-CW canon-divergent story that the author jokingly describes in their author's note as "gay superhero reluctantly gets therapy in the jungles of Wakanda, then goes on a covert road trip." And yes, maybe I wouldn't put it quite so flippantly myself, but it's not... untrue. And yet there is so much more depth to it. If you like a Bucky who takes back his life, his identity, and his future on his own terms, a Steve who isn't reduced to being his recovery prop but instead gets to shine in all his glorious, intense, stubborn Steve-ness, and a Sam & a Natasha who aren't just window dressing for the SteveandBucky-Show, this is for you! Cap Quartet Road Trip where all four members get their moment to shine--what are you waiting for?

Misplaced Pencils | T, 13K & and our words would take us 'round the world | T, 13K by Somanywords

Author's summary:

Steve and drawing throughout the years. Also Bucky.

&

Bucky is two years old when he learns to talk.

I've spent a good 30 minutes debating with myself which one of these two I should include here, and then I just threw up my hands and said "why not both? Both is good!" So here they are, two beautifully written mid-length full-arc (childhood to sometime past TWS, where they diverge from canon) fics that I love both equally. These are standalone stories and are not set in the same universe, but they do read and feel like companion pieces to each other because both stories are told through the lense of Steve and Bucky's respective artistic sensibilities and how they use their art as a framework to make sense of the world. Misplaced Pencils gives you artist Steve who, from a very young age on, has always tried to understand the world by taking it apart into its visual components & falling back on a fixed set of questions that help him to categorize and compartmentalize the people he encounters and the emotions he feels for them (just like he will later do in other areas of his life). Only that there is of course one person who's always refused to fit neatly into just one of his categories. and our worlds... on the other hand, gives you storyteller Bucky who's constantly talking, singing, writing. Who, in the end, can't help himself but narrate even his own fall and who is later delightfully affronted by his own narrative arc in a "if I had been the one in charge, I would've written it better!" way. Both of these stories are very dear to my heart and they deserve a million more hits.

+ Bonus!

Fics that definitely could/should be on this list but that I've recced before:

You are here by dharmashark

A Hard Rain's a-Gonna Fall by DisraeliGears

Prisoner One by ancientreader

As Time Goes By by Trouble_With_The_Snap

new topography series by brideofquiet

What I'm Looking For series by TessaBennet

Welcome Home, Son series by BeaArthurPendragon

I'm slowly working my way through my rec asks, so please be patient with me! Next up: Road Trip fics!

[denimbex1986]

'...Outstanding British film

Gant: I’ve been chatting to some of these nominated filmmakers, and people reckon Poor Things has the strongest chance of winning. There is some question about how British that film is. In Emma Stone’s pre-filmed acceptance speech at the London Critics’ Film Awards, she seemed to emphasise the film’s Britishness by paying tribute to the British and Irish crew and department heads. That led to a certain amount of eye-rolling from other British filmmakers afterwards. All Of Us Strangers is a fantastic film, an incontestably British film, and I’d love to see it win.

Halligan: All Of Us Strangers might surprise us and win because there’s a sense of shock, disappointment and sadness that Andrew Scott didn’t get a leading actor nomination. That might further motivate people to support it.

Mueller: I feel like Poor Things has the edge in this category, but I would not be surprised to see Saltburn or All Of Us Strangers pull off an upset. The Zone Of Interest is an interesting one, because in every category it’s facing up against some other strong contenders, so I wonder how people will look to recognise that film. Maybe people rally behind it here — and also sound.

Best actress, actor, supporting actress and supporting actor

Gant: For leading actor you’ve got a number of first-time nominees. Cillian Murphy has only been Bafta-­nominated before for rising star, and a TV Bafta. Colman Domingo and Teo Yoo are first-time nominees and surprisingly so is Paul Giamatti — he was not nominated for Sideways.

Mueller: This category smacks me in the face because I still can’t get over Andrew Scott not being here. It’s an awful omission. So I want to put a protest vote in for Scott in this category. Of the actual nominees, I feel like Oppenheimer has a lot of momentum, and Cillian has so many fans, both for the film but also for his whole career including on TV. I also love Paul Giamatti and he really brings The Holdovers together: he’s so fantastically funny and affecting and full of pathos at the same time.

Halligan: I wish Andrew Scott was in, but that’s not to diminish Cillian or Paul who are my two favourites among the nominees.

Tutt: The other missing person from this category for me is Jeffrey Wright from American Fiction. The film was woefully overlooked throughout all these nominations. But I would be amazed if Cillian doesn’t win this.

Tutt: Robert Downey Jr has to be the favourite in supporting actor. Nobody’s taking that off him.

Mueller: For me these are the two categories where at the end of the season, we all say, “Of course, it was always going to be Da’Vine Joy Randolph and Robert Downey Jr. There was never going to be anybody else.”

Gant: These look like two categories where Oscar and Bafta will match up. Da’Vine, if you love The Holdovers, this is where you can rally around the flag. Emily Blunt is apparently considered the strongest competition to Da’Vine among Ampas voters…

Tutt: I think Emily could cause an upset — if there’s an Oppenheimer sweep. I thought she was really good in the role.

Gant: Supporting actor — ...I do think Ryan was gifted the most interesting part in Barbie, his character had this amazing arc. Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach were very generous in what they handed to him. But also Paul Mescal for All Of Us Strangers, I don’t count him out. People upset about Andrew Scott might rally to Paul, and it’s an incredible performance.

Mueller: People might say the person who should be winning for this film was Andrew Scott. Would they want to then single out another performance that isn’t the one that powers this film and makes it so extraordinary?

Original and adapted screenplay

Mueller: In adapted screenplay, I know we’re talking about Oppenheimer having the momentum and possibly doing a big sweep, but I could see Andrew Haigh scoring for All Of Us Strangers. And you can’t rule out Poor Things...'

[apocalypticwafflekitten]

Sweet Heart-to-Heart

Gabriel x Reader

A/N: I’ve been sucked back into this fandom against my will but oh well. This silly goofy man has my heart in a chokehold once again so here’s something entirely self indulgent and unwarranted

Original Imagine/Summary Thingy: You have a heart-to-heart with the Trickster, and in return, he rediscovers a part of himself in you.

Warnings: just one unexpected, non-consensual kiss. Other than that, there’s some angst and talk of the apocalypse. Reader doesn’t know that the Trickster is really Gabriel. This is set during Changing Channels in season five, so yeah!

Word Count: 3k

It had already been a rough day, a rough week honestly, and the last thing you needed was to enter an old paper mill and suddenly find yourself in the middle of some weird medical drama. You were wearing scrubs, the white coat, tennis shoes and all.

Now y’all knew this was the trickster. At least that was the running theory, so you were expecting something weird but this was…not what you were expecting.

And you certainly weren’t expecting some random guy dressed in scrubs to rush toward you with a bright smile, exclaiming “Doctor!” before holding your face in his hands and kissing you smack on the lips.

You were shocked to say the least, frozen in place for a second before regaining your senses. You take the strange nurse’s arm, spinning him to twist his arm behind him, slamming him into the closest wall.

“What the HELL do you think you’re doing?” You demand.

“Doctor! There’s no need to be so violent! It’s me Derek, remember!”

“I don’t know any Derek. Keep your hands off me and your mouth away from me y’hear?”

“But just yesterday, you confessed your love for me!” He insisted, struggling against your hold.

“I haven’t confessed shit and I’ve been here all of two minutes. Now you’ve got ten seconds to get out of my sight before I slap you five ways to Sunday. Got it?”

The strange nurse nodded frantically. The second you let him go he scurried off down the hall, rubbing at his pained wrist.

“We gotta get outta here.” You grumbled, clenching your fists and taking a deep breath.

“No kidding.” Sam agreed.

After a great deal of confusion, countless “seriously”s and Dean damn near fangirling over “Dr. Sexy” the Trickster showed himself, laughing at Dean's frustration.

You didn’t really pay attention to their conversation. You were on the verge of losing it. You almost lost Bobby a few days ago in that damn poker game, you keep hitting dead ends in your research on the apocalypse, and today just…the motel’s water heater was broken so your shower was cold, you had to heckle the police to talk to Mrs. Randolph, and just now that nurse had kissed you out of nowhere. You were frustrated and tired and at the end of your rope.

The Trickster’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts, “And sorry about that nurse Sugar. That wasn’t in the plan. A mishap on set. He’s been let go.”

But the Trickster’s apology had fallen on frustrated ears, and his words had stung, the nonchalance of them striking so deep that something in you snapped.

He was shocked when you slammed his body against the wall. You damn near took the breath from his lungs you were so fast, and your hold on him was stronger than iron. But what got him the most were your eyes.

Y’know, you’d always been kind to him. Sweet even. You warned him of the Winchester’s ambush at the college; you kept Sam from killing him during the whole Mystery Spot debacle. You’d never been rude or short or bitter towards him. And your eyes, they were always full of compassion and warmth and something sweet in them that drew him to you.

But today, today there was no kindness in your eyes; no warmth or compassion. They were hard and cold as ice - brows furrowed until your eyes were shadowed. You grit your teeth, hissing at him with heaving breaths while staring dead into his wide eyes: “Not. Today.”

You blinked, and suddenly you were alone in an empty room. Well, not just any room. An auditorium - center stage, looking out upon rows of empty seats. It was the auditorium from your old high school.

“Alright Trickster, what do you want? I’ve had a long fucking week and I am not in the mood to play games. What’s the catch this time?” You called up to the roof of the auditorium, throwing venom into the air.

You were surprised when the trickster showed himself. No disguises or anything. Just him with his golden hair and whiskey eyes walking onto the stage from the wings.

“No catch. At least not for you. The bros are in the middle of somethin’, but you don’t have to worry about them. They’ll live.”

You gave him a skeptical look, then softened a bit. Your shoulders slouched and you looked away from him, down to the floor of the stage. It even had all the scuff marks and tape remains from years of use.

“Do you like it?” His voice rang from beside you.

“Huh?” You asked, looking up at him and quirking a brow.

“The stage? Do you like it?”

“Oh. Yeah. It’s--how’d you know about it?” You gave him a confused look and he gave you a small smile.

“I saw it in one of your memories. Thought it might help.”

“Oh so you read minds now too huh?”

He didn’t respond to that, but if you weren’t mistaken, there was a little embarrassed twinge of pink on his cheeks.

You let out a heavy sigh and sat on the edge of the stage, your feet dangling and swinging off the edge, “Did you actually bring me here or is it just a recreation?”

“It’s a recreation.” He answered, coming to sit beside you.

“You did a damn good job. You even got the scratch from the Cello Incident of ‘99.”

“The Cello Incident of ‘99? Sounds like a hell of a story.”

“It is.” There's a small waver to your voice as you look down to your hands, fiddling with a hangnail.

It was quiet for a moment and you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the Trickster watching you. He had been looking at the stage around him, wondering which scratch was the infamous one, but his eyes had snapped straight to you when he heard the waver in your voice. It sounded like you were about to cry, and that made some part of him, deep deep down, very pissed. But when he heard a small sniffle and a deep breath, he softened and concern poured through him.

“Are you okay Sugar? I don’t mean to be too nosy, but, just a minute ago, well, I’ve never seen you that angry before and now that you’ve had a moment, you seem…broken, for lack of a better word.”

You huff a laugh, “Yeah, that’s a good word for it. I’ve just…I’ve got a lot of shit going on right now and I-I might—“ you sigh and look out to the empty balcony, trying to regain your composure, “I might have to face a future that absolutely fucking terrifies me.”

“What future is that?” His voice is soft and careful. There’s something brimming under the surface - he swears he can feel it bubbling beneath your skin, but he doesn’t want to push you too hard.

You take another deep breath before looking to him, “One where I lose my brothers.”

He’s quiet for a second, eyes widening before he blinks. “I’ve got no plan on killing them, just so you know. Yeah they’re probably gonna get a little beat up, but they’ll be alright. Nothing will kill them where I’ve put them.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. At least that wasn’t what I was talking about just now.”

“Then what is it?”

You sigh, something you seem to be doing a lot of today, before you begin to explain.

“Listen, angels are real okay? Angels, demons, heaven, hell, it’s all real, and right now, I’m sure you’ve noticed, everything’s going apeshit,” He nodded giving you a concerned look, “Well, that’s because Sam and Dean accidentally set off the apocalypse, and now….God, I don’t even know about now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, there’s these two Archangels, Michael and Lucifer right? The Devil, yeah. So, basically, angels can take humans as vessels - kinda hijack the person's body and use it as their own. In shorthand, it allows them to walk the earth without burning out the eyes of anyone who sees them. And as it turns out, Sam is supposedly this destined vessel for Lucifer, and Dean is the same but for Michael.” The trickster watches you as you speak and something old and long ignored starts to stir in his gut, “And basically, I’m not sure what all happened, but these two angels, they betrayed each other and now they’re gonna fight, taking my brothers as their vessels because for some reason they have to fight each other with vessels and they have to duke it out on earth, and they’re gonna kill each other and it’ll end the world, but the worst part—“

“They’ll kill Sam and Dean in the process.” He finishes for you when you can’t, when there are tears brimming your eyes.

You nod, taking a shuddering breath.

“Y’know, I’ve been traveling with them since I was fourteen. My parents were hunters. They went on jobs with John Winchester all the time so I’ve known the brothers since I was a kid. But there was one job - some vampires - that didn’t work out so well. The nest of vamps they were hunting killed my parents and John just took me in after that. I went to high school with the brothers. Even went to prom with Sam once,” The trickster made a face at that, “I grew up with them from that point on. From motel rooms, to small beginning hunts, all the way to now.” You smiled at the memories despite their bittersweet twinge, and your eyes remained fixed on your hands.

“You’ve been with them a long time. And here I was thinking it was a coincidence you were always around when I ran into the Winchesters.” The Trickster joked, earning a huffed laugh out of you.

“Yeah. And after all this time they’re just as annoying as they’ve always been. They’re just taller and they have deeper voices now. That’s it. Still can’t communicate worth a damn and they shoot before asking any questions.”

“So I’ve noticed. Thanks again for the warning back at the college. And for the Mystery Spot.”

“You don't have to keep thanking me. The huge bag of mini M&Ms and the little ‘thank you’ card got the message across.” You smile at him. There’s still the remnants of glossiness in your eyes, but seeing that smile made the Trickster beam inside.

“So your brothers can’t communicate worth a damn? That must be frustrating.” He says, laughing to himself at the irony of that statement. He knows damn well how frustrating it is.

“Yeah. It’s mostly misunderstandings, and they often refuse to tell eachother what’s really on their mind, whether it’s a concern, or a worry, or something they think, for some reason, they have to keep secret. They hide what they really think and feel from one another and all it does is cause problems.” You grimace, letting go of a breath, “The worst though is when they fight. Like genuinely fight. Like, yelling and arguing and going separate ways. It’s been a constant since right before Sam left for college and it’s become an inevitable truth with those two. If they’re not fighting now, they will be sometime in the future. But as annoying as it is they’re still the closest thing I have to a family so I stick with them and intervene when they’re being stupid.”

“Well, you’ve done a pretty good job of that from what I’ve seen.”

You smiled at his compliment, not missing the sincerity in his tone, “Thanks.”

You’d gone silent again, and the trickster worried that you were getting stuck in your head so he spoke up. “So. The apocalypse huh?”

“Yeah.” Your voice was despondent, hollow and tired.

“What’s your plan? I know you Winchesters don’t go easy. If there’s trouble, you’re gonna fight it.” He asked, thinking about the brothers and where they are now, knowing that exact stubbornness is what landed them in TV Land.

“I don’t know,” your voice began to quiver again. Just mentioning the apocalypse was enough to put a lump in your throat, “I feel so useless in all this, and damnit I’m trying to find some way to stop the apocalypse. Anything at all, but everything leads to a dead end and there's just…nothing,” You take a few heaving breaths, and look up to the ceiling so the tears don’t fall from your eyes, “An-and I keep looking for-for answers in new places and I’m willing to try any solution I find, but we can’t find anything. I-I just—I don’t wanna watch my brothers die and-and I don’t wanna end up alone, but I-I can’t stop it. I can’t help them and I’m just…useless.” You whisper with a lump caught in your throat. You gave up, tears are streaming down your face and you’re trying so, so hard not to sob as you speak. “And, unless I can find some miracle solution, I have to sit back and watch my brothers kill each other because two stupid idiots can’t sit down and work out their issues. Could they come together and talk it out? No! Of course not! It just has to be a celebrity deathmatch. The world has to end. All because two brothers won’t fucking talk to one another!”

He feels like he’s looking at a mirror image of himself. Everything you’re going through, fuck, he’s debating telling you who he really is. He figured you’d be pissed at him if he did, and you’d have every right to be. But he can’t help seeing some of himself in you. He knows what you’re feeling and part of him wants to tell you that you’re not alone, and you won’t ever be as long as he’s around.

He hears a sharp breath and he snaps back into reality, noticing how hard you’re straining yourself to avoid crying.

“Hey, come here,” he offers, opening his arms to wrap them around your shoulders. You immediately fall into him and wrap your arms around him, hiding in the crook of his neck, “It’s okay to cry Sugar. Let it out, it’s okay.”

You tremble in his arms before a violent sob rips from your throat. You squeeze him tight and burrow yourself in his neck, clinging to the only thread of safety you’ve felt in weeks.

“I know, I know, it’s alright. You’re safe here. Let it all out.” He’s gentle with you. One arm holds you against him while the other is gently running through your hair. His voice is soft again as the bubbling ache beneath your skin rears its head and shows itself.

There’s a pit deep in his stomach. Seeing you cry - you, the person whose saved his hide twice now, whose always been kind to him, whose given him a chance when all the Winchesters want to do is stake him, you with the compassionate eyes that see so much more of him than anyone else - seeing you cry makes his blood boil. And knowing his brothers have to do with it makes him want to take his archangel blade and have a heart-to-heart with both of them.

And then there’s the Winchesters. Yeah this was all predetermined. Yeah, Lucifer and Michael were always destined for those two. But Sam and Dean were ultimately the ones who kickstarted all of it. Even if it was an accident, they’re one of the reasons you’re crying right now and god, he hates it. He wants to void any agreement he made with the brothers and leave them in TV Land for the rest of eternity.

But he can’t do that. He knows you’d miss them. Them disappearing would be as bad as them dying, or worse, and there’s no way he could put you through that. He may not be their biggest fan, but they matter to you and there’s not a chance in hell he’d ever want to make you cry.

So he sits there with you on the edge of the stage, holding you and whispering reassurances in your ear while you sob and leave tear stains on his jacket.

He doesn’t mind of course. He’d hold you like this til’ the end of time if you’d let him. He’d be there to dry every tear and chase away any danger. He’d carry you in his arms and protect you from every fear you’ve ever known. All you’d have to do is say the word.

Not that you know that. And not that you will. At least not for now.

But there is something pulling at him, urging him to show you that he cares. There's a part of him that just wants to hold you tight against him and tell you that everything’s gonna be fine no matter how grim the future looks.

So despite what he knows about his brothers and the apocalypse; despite that he doesn’t believe what he's about to say is true, he’s overwhelmed by this need to comfort you. He wants to give you some shining ray of hope even if he doesn’t think there is one. So he leans down to your ear and whispers gingerly, “You’ll find a way to save them. I know you will.”

For a second he debated whether to add on his final thought, a little addendum to what he’d said. But when you squeeze him again, and look up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, it just slips out, “And no matter what happens, I swear that you won’t end up alone. You will never be alone.”

You nod, a glint of hope just starting to shine in your eyes, “Thank you Trickster.”

You sniffle a few times and he poofs up a box of tissues for you. You thank him with a quiet laugh.

“You know, we’ve met so many times, you should probably give me something to call you other than just ‘Trickster.”

He huffed a laugh. Maybe this wasn’t the time for the whole truth to come out, but maybe a little sliver of the truth wouldn’t hurt for the moment. “You can call me Gabe if you like.”

You nod, “Thank you Gabe, for everything.”

“Anything for you Sugar.”

~~~~~~

Check out the prequel I wrote for this story: Sweet Surprises!

Tags!

@justalittletomato

@fanficsforheartandsoul

[violettduchess]

Hey Violet! Thanks for taking my request! 😄 Here's my idea:

IkePri Suitor & Fem!Reader who is nonchalant about her feelings on the outside but actually really loves the suitor and is scared to tell him, but ends up having an, "Idiot I'm in love with you!" explosive moment. Can be with any of the Suitors you see fit!

A/N: This was written before Luke's route was released! I am currently reading it now (only on Ch 4) but I know its not canon. I hope it's still enjoyable anyway!

Fluff and first kisses

Word count: 1592

There is nothing quite like the forest in autumn. The greens of summer melt away and Mother Nature, sensing the impending gray of winter, has the chance at one last hurrah. So she throws caution to the wind, whipping out every manner of red and gold and yellow and orange, dazzling the eye and heart with a cavalcade of colors. 

You would enjoy them, if you could. But right now, that is impossible. Not when you are crunching your way over leaves which nefariously hide tree roots and dips in the ground, muttering to yourself about lazy princes and warnings and how much better it would be if you were drinking hot chocolate instead of trudging through the woods.

Of course Luke wasn’t at the meeting Sariel called about the upcoming ball. Of course not. Why would that man ever attend something he was supposed to?

Clutching your brown suede bag closer to your body, you continue onward, past the pond towards the spot you know the young prince favors. 

You pause under the copse of trees, preening in their autumnal glory. For a moment, you’re distracted by the sun shining through the leaves, illuminating them like stained glass. It’s beauty that you could lose yourself in…..if you weren’t on a mission.

Squinting, you turn a slow circle, shielding your eyes as you search the tree branches until….there it is. A singular long leg, sheathed in dark leather pants and a high brown boot, dangling from a tree limb impossibly high above you. You follow the line of that supine body, curved against the trunk of the tree like a babe cuddled against its parent. His arms are crossed loosely across his broad chest, chin drooped down in slumber. His red hair damn near blends in with all the leaves surrounding him in his ridiculous sleeping spot.

Cupping your hands around your mouth, you yell. “Luke!!”

The long leg doesn’t move. You narrow your eyes. Drawing in a deep breath, you try again, forcing as much volume out of your body as you can.

“LUKE!!”

The leg twitches and then begins to fall, bringing the rest of the lanky body down with it.

You flinch as Luke Randolph, the eighth prince of Rhodolite, tumbles through grasping tree branches to the forest floor where he lands with a loud thud.

“Luke!“ You rush to his side as he pushes himself up with a groan, one large hand reaching up to cup the back of his head. He’s a mess of scratches, one particularly bad one already dripping blood down his left cheek like red paint down a canvas. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” He bats your hands away as he stands up slowly, stretching out his limbs experimentally. You have to tilt your head up to look at him since he towers over you, a sequoia standing next to a tiny, aggravated shrub.

“You most certainly are not fine.” You take in the scratches, his cheek, the red areas that will blossom into purple and blue bruises. Poor thing. Your heart frowns at the sight and you feel the impulse to hug him suddenly shoot through you, willing you forward.Your muscles contract, ready, but your mind sounds out the alarm, stopping you in your tracks. What was this? Hug Luke? Why would you even think that? 

You shake your head, clearing out those odd, little butterfly-shaped thoughts.  

“You’re a mess and that cheek looks bad. Come on.” You turn on your heel, marching off in the direction of the lake. You hear his lumbering footsteps behind you and can’t help the small smile on your lips. Luke is not one for subtlety. 

After a few minutes, you make your way down the slope to where the cool lake water meets the grass. A large, flat rock provides you both with the perfect place to sit. Now you finally have a moment to look at him, really look. His green eyes, the color of fresh basil, are downcast, embarrassed to meet your gaze. The other scratches from his descent are minor, the same little puffed ridges made by an artist using a palette knife on a canvas, but the cut on his cheek is still weeping red, angry at the world for being born.

You open your bag, rifling around until you find the white handkerchief embroidered with tiny red roses.  It had been a gift from Leon, welcoming you to the palace. Now you dip it into the cold water, then raise it to Luke’s cheek. He jerks away and you automatically grab his face with your other hand, keeping a firm hold on his chin.

“We wouldn’t have to be doing this if you hadn’t shirked your duties. Again.”  

Annoyance, that's a good thing to focus on. It dances around your mind like a court jester, distracting you from the feel of his face in your hand, the strong line of his jaw, the smoothness of his skin. 

“Those meetings are pointless,” he mutters. He speaks softly, his low voice brushing against you, winding itself around you, soft and seeking. You swallow down the jolt of attraction that ripples through you.

“You have a duty to attend them!” 

Your own voice is tight, edging toward a higher pitch than usual. You breathe out, trying to focus on cleaning the wound on his cheek. Luke raises his gaze to watch you. If you had been walking, you would have stumbled. If you had been dreaming, you would have been startled into waking. His eyes, warm and soft as the rolling hills of springtime, are now locked onto yours. Your heart does a somersault in your chest. Your mind begins setting up barriers everywhere, trying to contain it.

You pull away to dip the cloth in the water once again, rinsing it out, trying to steady yourself while passion and reason prepare for battle. When you look up again, he is tapping at the wound with his fingertips, probing it.

“Stop that!” You react without thinking, smacking his hand away and he winces, a frown settling over his handsome face.

“Hey! You didn’t have to do that!”

Your fingers curl around the handkerchief, balling it up as if you could use it as ammunition. 

“Yes I did! You’re making it dirty again after I just cleaned it. This is what I mean, Luke, you just...do things without thinking of the consequences! You miss meetings and you miss events and you disappear without telling people! You take naps everywhere. You just can’t DO things like this when you are a prince of Rhodolite!”

He shakes his head, his red hair catching the sunlight and drinking it in. 

“Because none of those things matter! There are SEVEN other princes around to handle stuff like that! I don’t have to be there! I don’t WANT to be!” 

There’s a pause as he runs a hand through his sunset hair, frustration woven through every gesture. “Besides, why do you even care so much anyway? Why are you always so annoyed?”

You feel your teeth clenching, your heart a battering ram against the walls your mind has constructed, thoughts flying around in a dizzying array of pops and whistles and bangs.

“Because I know you can be better than that!”

Luke’s eyes narrow. “No I can’t!” His voice rises in volume as he straightens out his long body.

“Yes you can! I know it!” You can’t help it, your voice rises in pitch, your blood now storming through your veins, your heart leading the charge. 

“How? How do you know?!”

“Because I love you, you idiot!” 

Your heart screams in victory as the words fly out of your mouth. Rational thought is left behind, waving a tiny white flag of surrender.

His jaw drops and you are almost certain your expression is as graceful. 

You…love…Luke?!

You love Luke.

You love Luke!!!

A small laugh escapes you. And then another. And another. Soon you can’t stop yourself. Your heart has tipped its hand and every bit of affection and desire and friendship and attraction and frustration and admiration you have ever felt for him is pouring out of you like liquid sunshine. 

Your laughter filling the crisp autumn air pulls Luke out of his stunned stupor. He begins to laugh with you, his hands reaching out to take one of yours between them. He lifts it to his lips, his kiss sweet and welcoming. You reach out again, cupping his face in your hand, gently, almost shyly. 

“Say something,” you command. You feel wobbly inside, like a spinning top slowing its rotation.

He leans close to you, his gaze darting over the planes of your face like he can’t find one place to settle, it’s all so exciting and new and beautiful. Your hand still held between his, he brings his face mere inches from yours.

“Something.”

This man. You open your mouth to protest, to tell him now isn’t the time for such nonsense, but he doesn’t allow you to protest. You can’t even say a word. Because Luke Randolph, eighth prince of Rhodolite has gathered you into his arms and is kissing you with lips as gentle and sweet as the honey he so treasures. 

The handkerchief falls from your hand as you reach to return his embrace, landing in the cool lake water without a sound. Slowly, it floats away from the two figures on the rock, who are so wrapped up in each other’s arms, they'll never even notice it's gone.

🍯

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing @queen-dahlia @moonstruck-writing

[raxistaicho]

Why Dimitri’s treatment of Randolph matters.

This post is mostly aimed at Dimitri’s stans rather than the prince himself. You see, while Dimitri himself repents his actions while he’s in boar mode during Azure Moon (well, to an extent, his treatment of Randolph is just kinda ignored when Fleche isn’t involved), I’ve seen a disturbing number of his fans excusing or even defending what he does to Randolph in chapter 14. I am, of course, referring to the scene where Dimitri threatens the defeated Imperial general with torture, slow slaughter of his men, and mutilation until Byleth is forced to step in and perform a mercy kill.

I’ll now go through some of the usual excuses I see, and express why they offer him no defense.

“Byleth killed him before Dimitri could get started.”

Doesn’t matter. Threatening to perform violence upon somebody can be just as harmful as actually attacking them. Randolph’s tormented state prior to his death is also evidence enough that Dimitri’s words alone were causing him severe distress.

Let me be clear right away; what Dimitri did to Randolph was torture, end of, even if he never got a chance to lay a finger on him.

“But Edelgard started it!”

Nothing justifies what Dimitri did. It doesn’t matter that Randolph was an Imperial general. It wouldn’t matter if the very worst of the things Edelgard’s detractors say about her were true and Randolph was lockstep with her “human supremacist” and “imperialist” ideology; defeated enemies are afforded certain rights, and “they started it!’ or “they did worse!” is not a justification for violating those rights.

Even executing captured enemy soldiers is unacceptable. It’s also worth pointing out that Seteth, Claude, and Gilbert all call for no quarter to be given as a first resort, and Count Bergliez had to offer up his own neck lest his soldiers all be executed, compared to Edelgard allowing defeated enemies to surrender, but that’s getting off the rails.

Dimitri didn’t even have the bad excuse of torturing Randolph for information or for any kind of benefit to his army; it was just to feed his lust for revenge, pure and simple. When you cross lines Velvet, “I am a monster!” Crowe wouldn’t, you’ve gone too far. Hell, even the goddamn Doom Slayer ends his enemies swiftly (if brutally).

“But he was in boar mode at the time!”

The most chilling aspect of this entire scene is how calm Dimitri is while it runs its course. He is perhaps at his most rational, tranquil, and thoughtful as he ever is during his Boar phase as he breaks down Randolph with his words and paints a vivid picture of the torment he’s about to unleash on him. And he can indeed paint quite the picture! He speaks of the piles of corpses Randolph has made, their wails for mercy, and how his very hands bear the stench of rot from all the bodies. He then proceeds to slowly outline his intent to kill Randolph’s soldiers one-by-one and mutilate the man himself before finally allowing him the mercy of death.

In this scene he’s not a man fueled by passions he’s struggling to control. For once he’s not screaming or speaking to people no-one but him can see; he’s fully in control of his faculties and proceeding with meticulous care and cunning. He’s paying close attention to everything Randolph says and moving accordingly, even using his care for his men against him.

Darker implications

The sheer efficiency with which he breaks Randolph’s spirit, and how smoothly he slips into doing it for no clear reason, suggests that Dimitri has made a habit of capturing Imperial officers and tormenting them this way over the time skip.

In conclusion, this one scene paints a far graver image for Dimitri’s actions during the war than any amount of Edelgard calling Rhea a beast ever could, and people REALLY need to stop trying to defend him for it. The man himself does not.

[austarus]

HR Wells x Reader - Reversal of Denouement

*A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to its rightful owner.

**Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

***I’d also like to thank @grimtamlain-writes​ for being my beta reader.

Word Count: 8251

MASTERLIST

A low groan left HR's lips. His body felt numb, his chest ached - tingled as his heart beats steadily. Is it beating? The darkness of his eyelids eased the stinging coming from his mind – it wasn’t so bright. The headache formed there. His body screamed at him as the novelist made the slightest of movement. His left shoulder in particular had protested in desperate agony. He couldn’t move it very much, the area succumbed to restraints of some sort. HR’s throat felt raw as his body throbbed, the blood coursing meticulously through his blood vessels. The sound of a soft voice greeted his ears, but his eyes refused to open.

"I... you, HR... even if... see it." The voice was so familiar, so gentle. So sweet. "Should... better." A drop of water hit his numbed hand, static still prominent there from the little movement his body had done. “I wish…” The dark-haired doppelganger could only understand fragments of what the speaker was saying. He felt a pressure on his hand, tender skin holding onto his before something tickled his forehead. Feather-light. What was it? Who was it? A few moments passed and he heard nothing, the novelist only assumed that the voice’s owner had left. He didn’t want to be alone right now though, not with the darkness.

It had become unbearable.

Since... Since when did…? How...? Oh. Right. Savitar... Am I dead? Is this where spirits wait for their turn to pass into their designated afterlife? Have I really...? Events from earlier resurfaced to his mind, his senses coming together. Right, had to protect Iris. For Barry – it was my fault Savitar had gotten to her. My big mouth. Even if Barry didn't really see me as a helpful friend. At least... At least I proved Savitar wrong, who ironically is a version of Barry. That's hella twisted. He huffed out a breath before venturing back into the calmness of sleep. Maybe a little more rest will help?

***

HR cracked an eye open: this time, harsh filtered light had greeted him. The novelist grunted in pain, adjusting himself slightly to assess where he was. What day was it? What was the time? How long have I  been here? A yawn left his lips this time, his throat and mouth as dry as a desert.

“Well look who finally decided to wake up?” HR’s eyes met Cisco’s, who stood with a tablet in hand. “How’s sleeping beauty feeling?”

The Wells doppelganger cleared his throat. “Like I’ve gotten assaulted by an Amtrack bus, and not the good kinds.” HR’s baby blue eyes scanned the room, landing on the flower vase that was set on a table near him. Blue forget-me-knots and pink hydrangeas stood proudly in their vases, nurtured well. HR felt his heart swell, his eyes not daring to leave the delicate petals that accented the med bay in better tones. Cisco handed him a cup of water to which HR downed it immediately.

“Amtrack does trains.”

“Not on my Earth, Francisco.” The author couldn’t help but ask, his eyes lingering on the flowers once more. “Did Tracy bring those?”

Cisco pursed his lips, an odd look present on his face. He wanted to tell HR, but… “No. Um, she didn’t.” Tracy had been visiting, though it had become some sort of a nuisance to all her complaining at this point. She hadn’t even known HR for that long, anyway.

“Oh?” His shoulders dropped subtly in disappointment. “They’re beautiful, I was just wondering and…”

“Let’s just say, a special someone’s been… dropping by and bringing a new flower each day. That’s all you’re getting from me, Aurora.” Cisco reasoned with the Wells doppelganger. The mechanical genius knew, but it wasn’t his place to say. It killed him, but… “I wouldn’t move around too much, if I were you. You’ve got a fractured shoulder and that chest wound. I’ve been told to relay the message that you’re to be on strict bed rest until that shoulder further heals.” HR lowered his gaze to see the cross-body sling. He clenched his slinged hand and unclenched it to bring some feeling into the limb.

“What about my chest?”

“Miraculously, that’s been healing really well since day one.” Cisco kept the talk real, showing the injured doppelganger the schematics and pictures. “You got lucky that it missed your heart by a centimeter.” A stab wound like that should have… I wonder if she knows that I know.

HR blinked at the seriousness in his injury, the looming idea of death from his decision. “How long was I out?”

“A week and a half.”

“What?” HR’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I-”

“HR!” Tracy’s sudden voice pierced the room, stunning Cisco and triggering an ache in HR’s head. The grad scientists shuffled over to him, both forgetting that Cisco was in the room. “HR, my love, how are you? Are you feeling okay? Is there any pain?” He continued checking his friend’s vitals and adjusting dosages to the IV and morphine administered – as per your request. The room was growing ever louder with HR and Tracy. Tracy embraced him, minding his injuries as she continued to fuss over him. It made the Wells writer smile, yet… his heart didn’t swell as much as it used to.

Odd.

Cisco sent you a quick text while the two were preoccupied, but you were already at the Labs. You stopped just outside the entrance, the wall and dimly light hallway obscuring you from who remained in the med bay. They wouldn’t be able to see you from where you stood.  A shaky breath left you as you clutched the Freesia flower in hand. Your heart shriveled in your chest as you backtracked. Hearing his voice is enough. After all, with Tracy around you couldn’t be near him – those dirty and hateful looks she’d send you. Best to keep my distance, I guess. You couldn’t help but sneak a peek at him though, the man who had unknowingly captured your heart and would never reciprocate your love. You pushed down the lump in your throat. Hastily, you sent Cisco a text to check on the flowers. Silently, you trailed away from the med bay and to the upper levels of STAR Labs. I wonder if he liked the flowers. Standing at such altitude with the wind blowing lightly had calmed you a bit. Looking down at the flower, you gripped it tightly before you began to pick off the petals one by one. The little moments you had with the goofy novelist surfaced to the forefront of your mind with each petal you held. Your little curious escapades. The little talks. The nights you’d visit him when Tracy wasn’t around.

“He loves me, he loves me not,” You murmured, a stray tear trickled down your cheek. The freesia symbolizes unconditional love and honor. “He loves me, he loves me not,” Your voice cracked as more tears fell. “He loves me, he loves me not…”

***

A frown presented itself on HR’s lips as he tilted his head to crack his neck. The crack relieved him tremendously. It didn’t make sense. The novelist mused to himself, setting aside the current chapter draft he was working on. The voice I heard was… different. It didn’t sound like Tracy’s. HR couldn’t get that voice out of his mind – the tenderness that was laced in the tone of that voice. Nothing like the slight shrill in Tracy’s. He eyed the flowers once more that day, their presence was prominent. If Tracy hadn’t brought those, then who had?

The team had helped situate HR in his room in order to vacate the med bay should another imminent event occur. He had overheard Cisco tell Wally that you were preoccupied with something in Star City – a bit of disappointment twinged inside him. HR had taken up doing bits of physical therapy for the rest of his body without moving his shoulder as much. His shoulder and arm remained in a crossbody sling. The flowers sat on his bedside counter; he tended to them as best as he could with the limited movement he had. Tracy protested that they don’t need to be around, but the novelist was vehement on keeping the plants. HR won’t deny the fact that he had gotten annoyed several times with her around when he needed thinking space for his writing. He couldn’t write with noise and nonsensical chatter, especially if it’s mainly coming from someone who doesn’t want to really listen to his input. She’d go on and on about her scientific research and such, but wouldn’t hear a word from HR regarding his writing. The longer the novelist was confined to his room for rest, the more he had time to think – to contemplate. Yes, he liked Tracy, but… it just seemed that she didn’t really see HR. She does all the talking; she doesn’t really ask about how I feel about things or ask me about my life, even things about Earth-19… It’s like she doesn’t see me for anything other than a pretty face. It’s not even my face that Tracy sees, just Randolph’s. Was I too quick to jump at the first person who showed interest in me? Had I rushed into ‘forever’ with her?

He tabled those thoughts for now. HR reached for his laptop; one hand opened it to start it up. While the device loaded, he grabbed his black-clear glasses and set them on his face. If anyone saw him as such, they wouldn’t be able to tell the physical difference between him and his handsome, yet grumpy doppelganger. Except for the eyebrow scar, but that was obscured by the glasses. HR did a couple of searches with a concentrated look. Surely, it was the person with that… angel-like voice.

“Hydrangeas,” HR whispered as his eyes skimmed over the text that had popped up. “The hydrangea represents gratitude, grace and beauty. It also radiates abundance because of the lavish number of flowers and the generous round shape. Its colors symbolize love, harmony and peace.” The Wells doppelganger scrolled further. “Pink hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotions.” Interesting. HR continued his research, glancing at the other flower type that resting in the vase. “Forget-me-nots symbolize true love and respect. When you give someone these tiny blooms, it represents a promise that you will always remember them and will keep them in your thoughts. They are also considered a symbol of fidelity and faithfulness.” A particular link caught his eye, he clicked on it. The novelist read to himself the text once more, “Based on Christian lore, the story about forget-me-nots is that God was walking in the Garden of Eden. He saw a blue flower and asked it its name. The flower was a shy flower and whispered that he had forgotten his name. God renamed the flower as forget-me-not saying that He will not forget the flower.”

HR swallowed thickly; contrary to popular belief around here, he wasn’t stupid. Sure, he wasn’t a science-based genius, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t an expert on other aspects of life and had basic common sense. The author was emotionally intelligent and intact with the world around him. These flowers weren’t picked out on accident. But who would do that? Who doesn’t want me to forget about them? The dark-haired man shook his head slightly as he shut his laptop. A surge of sadness welled inside him at the notion of ‘being forgotten’. Who had he done that to? He’d get to the bottom of this mystery in due time. Right now, I need to jog my memory on what I was writing. A hand found a rough draft paper, his eyes scanned over the words he had typed out. His brows creased as the written notes he’d made on the paper as well. (Y/N) … I had… What had I been writing about again? The novelist read each line, each note he had made no drafts and scratch paper.

The hairs at the back of his neck stood up as realization hit him the more he had read on. The drafts, the notes, all of it – the little novel he had been writing regarding his adventures. But this particular part of his story – the ‘angel’ in his story. The one who stuck by him since coming here, the one who had given him a safe space… And the one he hadn’t seen since waking up. How could he forget? HR lowered the paper; his eyes became half-lidded as guilt shot through him. Before Barry had gone to the future and gotten hints of Tracy with her Speed Bazooka, HR had been working on his book. A book that he had pushed off to stick with Tracy and help in any way that he can to make the speed weapon possible. He had gotten distracted from doing the things he loves. A few conjectures arose in his mind as he slipped his glasses off, one arm end pressed to his lips. His heart hammered into his chest; you were among the last faces he had seen before passing out that night.

The irony. How could I forget that (Y/N) was the ‘angel’ in my story?

***

“Look at you, up and at ‘em.” Cisco strolled into the lounge with a cheeky grin. The mechanical genius didn’t take HR for granted anymore, not with the stunt he pulled. No, Cisco willingly checked up on him – not just for you, but for himself. HR had truly become one of his close friends in the end, especially with all the advice about Gypsy. “What are you cooking up this time?”

“Just an omelet with a side of bacon and toast, Francisco,” HR turned to the mechanical engineer who continued to tinker away at the schematics to get Barry out of the Speedforce. He offered Cisco some with a gesture only for the scientist to politely decline. “I haven’t seen (Y/N) anywhere. Um, is she also…?”

“Oh, you know how she’s like. Either up in the vents or chilling in her birds’ nest on the roof. And on that note, our resident hummingbird has become quite the firecracker.”

HR raised an eyebrow at his friend. “How so?”

“She punched Savitar square in the face then decked him multiple times over when Barry brought him in. Harry had to be the one to pull her away – well, more like carry her away kicking and screaming bloody murder at him. It sounded badass; wish I had been there to see it.”

The Wells doppelganger gritted his teeth at the mental image of Harry carrying you – touching you. The thought ruffled his feathers for some reason.  HR expertly masked his irritation, turning the stove off and assembling the food on his plate. “Why?”

“Because he hurt you, HR.”

“…”

“He almost killed you.” And that was unforgivable, especially to her. “We almost lost you. She almost lost you.”

A rough sigh escaped HR as Cisco had sent him a knowing look before exiting the STAR Labs lounge. The Earth-19 man chewed on the inside of his cheek. Only a fool would misunderstand Cisco’s subtle intentions. HR knew what he had to do – he’d been reflecting on his time here, thinking about the people around him, about the relationships he’s formed. The novelist glanced outside – the sun shined, the birds chirped, and the trees rustled with the wind. 

And the world continues to move on.

***

“When are you going to tell him?”

“…” You tensed at the abrupt voice. You snapped your head up, eyes darting to find Cisco approaching you with pocketed hands in his gray-black jacket. He wore a Bulbasaur shirt. The clouds surged by with the intensity of the breeze. Your hair blew over your shoulders slightly. Tilting your head, you turned back to watch the city. Days had passed and you refused to see HR, content on what Cisco had been telling you. He’d been recovering tremendously well, but… you didn’t really want to hear about what he and Tracy were up to. It wounded you. “Tell who, what?”

“You know exactly who I’m talking about, Ms. I’m-going-to-put-my-feelings-in-a-box.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Ohohohoho, no. I am tired of the love eyes, the lingering gazes, the pining. It ends.” Your best friend came to sit down next to you with that frustrated look on his face. “I know you have powers.” Your heart stopped in your chest at his accusation. “I know you used your powers to heal HR.” You bit down on your lip, not wanting to validate his statement. Cisco saw “I analyzed the wounds, looked at his healing at a microscopic level. I’m not Caitlin, but even I can pick up a few things. His cells were excelled to heal, but there were residues of your genetic markers at the wound point. You stitched his wounds together, cell-by-cell. My point is: why didn’t you say anything? Your powers are a-”

“-A curse.”

“What?”

“They’re a curse.” You threw a hard look at Cisco, making sure your hands wouldn’t touch him. “I can’t be playing God, Cisco. And… it’s unpredictable, volatile. I could either heal the life in my hands or take it away. I could rip someone ‘cell-by-cell’, Cisco. There’s no ‘in between’, not this time. He got lucky with my powers. He got lucky I didn’t make things 100% irreversible.”

“But why didn’t you say anything?” Cisco eyed the gloves you wore; it wasn’t the season for leather gloves.

“Because I didn’t want to give anyone false hope.”

“You don’t want to give yourself false hope, you mean.”

“…I can’t even heal a plant, Cisco. No matter how hard I tried, it wilted further. It’s a curse.”

“That’s not guaranteed every time, you know. It takes practice – discipline to get your powers to work with you instead of for you.” He nudged your shoulder with his, turning his gaze to the flock of birds drifting through the wind. “You know, he broke up with Tracy.”

“Ok?”

“Happened a week ago. She didn’t take it well and let me tell you. Tracy Brand was livid – the rage and yelling were off the charts. I think she has Harry beat. I knew it wasn’t going to last anyway, it was too superficial to begin with.”

“Uh huh.” You tried to sound uninterested, but deep down you were relieved. You heard a little ring in your ear. You wondered…

“She’s gone, won’t be coming here anymore.

“Ok.”

“So, go make your move.”

You turned abruptly to face him. “Cisco, have you thought that maybe HR doesn’t want to dive into a relationship right away? That… maybe he needs space to focus on himself?” All were things you had contemplated for yourself before.

“And what better way to do that than with a new roommate.”

“Excuse me?”

“Surprise, you’re getting a temporary roommate while we fully fix up things around the labs. I volunteered you since you have the space and the patience to deal with HR.” Your blood froze in your veins.

“Francisco Ramon, I am going to-”

“-Thank me, you’re going to thank me.” He had already breached away before you had the chance to strangle him. Heat rushed to your cheeks at the idea of HR living with you, even if it was a temporary living arrangement. You scolded your heart for beating loudly in your chest. One hand gripped tightly to your other. An audible sigh escaped you as your mind played with the idea.

Shit, what am I going to do?

***Day 1***

Cisco blew out an exhausted breath, setting down another box on top of a box in the guest room. You and the mechanical genius had been breaching back and forth with HR’s things as said novelist was crippled. His arm would take about another four weeks to heal. About 20 percent of shoulder fractures are displaced and may require some type of manipulation to restore normal anatomy. Occasionally the rotator cuff muscles are injured or torn at the same time as the fracture. Fortunately for HR, his rotator cuff muscles weren’t as damaged. This can further complicate the treatment. Therefore, in that time, HR would just be handling the lighter stuff, bless his heart. The novelist entered the room with his black backpack slung over his functioning shoulder – it was the last thing that he could carry.

“I think there’s one more box left,” HR pointed with his thumb towards his back direction, the breach closing behind him.

“I’ll go get it, not a problem. Why don’t you two get started on unpacking, huh?” HR shrugged with one shoulder and stepped away to set his bag down by the bed. Cisco threw a cheeky look your way when HR had his back turned, his eyebrows wiggling. ‘Have fun love birds,’ the scientist had mouthed at you. You flicked him off with a deadpanned look. Instantly you dropped it when the Wells doppelganger turned as Cisco snickered before he breached away. He gave you a confused look, but you waved it off.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For allowing me to stay obviously. And for all the help since I’m, well, a bit tangled up at the moment.”

He was referring to the cross-body sling that clung onto him like a spider. HR rubbed the back of his neck, and you didn’t miss the way his bicep flexed at the motion in that gray short-sleeve shirt. Calm the fuck down, it’s just a toned muscle. You’ve seen things like that before.  The puppy-like smile HR sent you had your cheeks warming up. The gentle smile that made your heart melt all over again. You cleared your throat as you reached for a box. “It’s no big deal, HR.” Undoing the tape seal with scissors, you opened the box- and the first thing you see are a pair of handcuffs accompanied by a silky black blindfold.

“What’s in the box?”

A little noise left you as you shut the flaps of the box, trying to seal it again. The flaps remained downward in the box. “Nope, nothing. Just some clothes here. I’m going to get that one box from the living room.” You had backtracked right into the door, your nose throbbed in response at the collision. “Ow,” you muttered to yourself, rubbing the skin.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine,” your response was quick, but not rude. A deep chuckle made its way to your ears as you scrambled out the room, your heart hammering in your chest. Your thoughts scolded you for being so awkward and flustered around him. Be cool, just chill out… The man you’re hopelessly in love with is just living with you temporarily, it’s not like anything will amount from this. You picked up the last box in the living room, hoping that just clothes would be in here and not anymore kink toys. I mean… I have toys, too. AW SHIT, I HAVE TO HIDE THEM!

HR’s eyes never left you as you made your panicked exit. He let out a little breath before shuffling over to the box you had been attending to. Immediately, he face-palmed hard when he had opened it with one hand. His face felt impossibly hot at what you had seen. She must think I’m an idiot or something. His mind thought back to when you helped him shop for some new clothes then it had gotten ruined from a meta. His hand fell away from his face, the image of your kind grin imprinted in his mind. I am an idiot, though. A fool.

Once Cisco returned, you three continued unpacking HR’s things for the time he’d spend here. The labs were still in ‘piss-poor’ shape according to Cisco and that he’ll need to consult with Harry and Wally regarding repairs.

“HR, how are you showering?”

“Um, like a normal person?” A dumbfounded look crossed HR’s features as he set the plate of sandwiches down. The novelist had knitted his eyebrows at Cisco. He had taken up to experimenting in the kitchen when he wasn’t writing. The tea and coffee were still brewing in your kitchen.

“No, I mean with how your shoulder is injured,” Cisco snuck an evil look at you, you returned it with a glare, “must be hard handling it alone.” You knew exactly where this dumbass wanted to take this conversation, so you stayed silent as to not get caught in the crossfire.

HR thought to himself for a moment. “Just a bit, but I’ve gotten used to the mild discomforts and pain. I can mostly reach everything thanks to my long limbs. But I think the nice thing is that it’s an internal issue, not an external one. An external injury or wound would require me to really have help with showering that way the area doesn’t get infected or irritated with the contents of soaps.” A laugh fell from his lips, but his mind wondered what his friend was playing at while you were around.

“I’m just saying, if you ever need a hand well,” Cisco trailed off with a smirk, chomping on his third sandwich.

Oh, I see. Devious, but a futile effort. “I’ll make sure you’re the first one I ask for help,” HR teased with a smirk of his own for Cisco to drop his in disgust. A cough escaped you, which had HR’s eyes land on you. Your eyes met for a moment before you deviated your gaze. HR felt hypnotized for a moment. Hm… The engineer quickly recovered from HR’s snide remark.

“Alright kids, I’ll be going now. The labs require some diligent work that I, a capable and distinguished engineer, could only do.”

“Yet, we still have the occasional security issues,” You sipped your tea once the snarky comment was out. HR stifled a chuckle, but you heard it. The corners of your mouth lifted slightly at the notion.

“Hey, that’s not fair. They always come up with something new to invade our space by.” Cisco pointed a finger at you, mocking a hurtful expression on his face. It dropped into a sneaky smile. “Make good choices and always use protection, you two!” He breached away before you could throw your cup at him.

***Multiple Days Pass***

Through his time here, you noticed HR fueled to write what’s on his mind in the guest room. You could only assume that he continued his adventure story. Sometimes he would venture out for some coffee or take a walk to give his creativity a break. Keeping that in mind, you gave HR the space he needed as well as all noises to a minimum. You knew he liked the quiet atmosphere to pour his heart and soul into words as he did research for a scene. Pulling your jacket on, you compiled a list of groceries before you stepped out of your apartment. Locking the door, you headed out to the store picking up a few necessities as well as some snacks for HR. Like Harry, the novelist can easily lose himself in his task – which meant that he tended to forget about eating and such. You found a bag of Jitters coffee beans, adding it to your cart of items. Buying some snacks and fruit, you’d leave a note in the kitchen of the snacks when he emerged from his writing cave.

On the way back, you stopped by at Iris’ studio to check up on her. A few groceries for her as well were in hand. Cecile and you did your best to visit Iris. But you can’t deny that you blamed her to a certain extent. Had she spoken up once she had left Savitar’s place disguised as HR, HR wouldn’t have been hurt that night on Infantino Street. Surely, she could have contacted her father or Cisco or something. The transition could have been smoother. HR wouldn’t have been… The journalist was faring; she pushed through the pain and as Barry had told her ‘to keep living’. So, Iris did. She hadn’t been herself since Barry went into the Speedforce – she pushed too much, the smile wouldn’t reach her eyes sometimes. You sympathized; she lost the love of her life. But you almost had too.

“How are you?”

“I’m fine, just… taking it one day at a time.” You nodded at her response, a small smile on your face. “How are things with you and HR? I heard of the temporary living conditions.”

“It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m in my bubble and he’s in his doing his writing.”

“Right. Nothing going on whatsoever?”

“Iris.”

Iris set her cup of hot chocolate down and raised both hands in mock defeat. “We all saw it. We all see it.”

“See what?”

“How smitten you are for him.”

“I’m not-”

“-Don’t say you’re not. If you weren’t you, Harry wouldn’t have to pry you off Savitar before you clawed his eyes out.”

“…” You just looked into your tea, the honey that settled at the bottom. Iris placed a sympathetic hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t look at her.

“The heart will want what it wants, (Y/N). Pushing your feelings into a box and denying it out loud won’t change things.”

“I know.”

And my heart wants him, over and over again. Even if he can’t see me.

***

HR tapped his pencil against the desk at a steady pace. His mind wouldn’t focus on the words in front of him, on the scene he wanted to set. Instead, it kept drifting further from it. Further towards you: your eyes, your smile, the kindness that you held; the serenity that your existence held as the world continued to turn and chaos had unfolded at each turn. HR didn’t see much of you while he was here, the novelist missed your company. You were here, but you weren’t really here. You were either in your room or at the balcony with a book or on the couch with your Switch. He didn’t want to bother you, but… sometimes HR just wanted to sit beside you and pull you close to talk. To hold you in his arms and ask you about your day, to understand what you were thinking. HR cracked his back in a stretch from where he sat on his bed, being mindful of his injured shoulder. It didn’t hurt as it had originally done a few weeks back. The Wells doppelganger noticed that you were careful to avoid touching him or him touching you. Not even a hug that you used to graciously give him. You were especially guarded with your hands. A rough sigh left him as he threw his pencil down. The frustration was setting in, he was getting nowhere. You consumed his thoughts. HR wondered if you were revolted by him but doesn’t verbalize his thoughts to you. He didn’t think you’d give him your truthful answer. Maybe she is revolted by me. She did find the cuffs and the blindfold… No, she knew about the cuff stage thing well before that.

The sound of the front door greeted his ears followed by the soft tune of music. A frown made its way onto his face. Might as well take a break. HR stretched once more when he fully stood up, a little noise of relief left his lips. He cracked his back once more before smelling himself. For safe measure, the novelist sprayed a bit of cologne on himself and turned off the candle he had on. He mentally noted to take a shower after dinner since his last was yesterday. He liked the feeling of being clean, to be honest. HR carded a hand through his hair. I need a haircut soon, too. Yeesh, I feel like I’m letting myself go. Once I’m all healed it’s back to proper cuts and the labs’ recreation room. He wanted to go back to lifting weights and doing yoga for body stability purposes – especially now because of his shoulder. HR rested a hand on his chest, the wound had healed completely, but a scar remained. Upon entering the kitchen, he saw the groceries on the table and heard you whisper along with the lyrics. The music was set to a low level that your whispers were audible enough. He watched you sway a bit with the tune.

So please don't break my heart

Don't tear me apart

I know how it starts

Trust me I've been broken before

Don't break me again

I am delicate

Please don't break my heart

Trust me I've been broken before

The guitar tune pulled at his heart, feeling the raw emotion behind the lyrics. He eyed you for a moment. HR cleared his throat to make his presence known, he knew you didn’t like to be snuck up on. However, a little gasp left you from where you were. “You went out shopping?”

You looked up from where you crouched to put away the cereal. “Uh yeah, we were running low on some stuff.” You shut the cabinet and went to the other items you had bought. The music continued to delicately play.

“Need any help?”

“Um, sure. Uh, just set these into the cabinet on the left.” Normal, be normal. He’s not going to eat you or anything. Distance is good. Distance keeps you safe. You didn’t meet his eyes, the eyes that’d pull you in and never let you out – your heart shook with him here and the song that played. You were hoping HR wouldn’t come out while you prepped dinner to have a sort of peace of mind. The next song played before you could stop it-

My last made me feel like I would never try again

But when I saw you, I felt something I never felt

Come closer, I'll give you all my love

If you treat me right, baby, I'll give you everything

“I like this song,” HR started as he was finishing up with putting his side of the groceries away. Another guitar-like song that brought out the soft feelings of love and rejection. HR mused to himself if fate had planned this out. If this was some sort of sign or a cruel joke… You had stopped yourself from clicking the button to skip the song at his comment. You don’t know what possessed you to let him indulge in another song that you’ve cried to late at night. “Hey, I can cook dinner tonight. I have something I’ve been wanting to try. I’m not that crippled so I can manage with a few cookware.” HR chuckled to himself, a goofy grin on his face. Your heart leapt in your chest; his grin caused a small smile to pull at your lips. “You can wash up first?”

You swallowed thickly, your eyes meeting his icy blues. You felt your cheeks warm up slightly as the nerves crawled up your spine. “Oh, ok. Cool, yeah. Can’t wait to see what you cook up.” You nodded, ducking your head away and shuffling out of the kitchen with that shy smile on your face. You missed the longing look he had sent you as you fastened your steps to head to your room.

God I love that smile. What goes on in that little head of yours? We used to be so close… before Tracy came into the picture. HR pulled out the spices and the chicken breast. He shook his head and proceeded to prep the food with his one useful hand. I need to consult Francisco.

***

“We need to talk,” HR’s voice broke the silence in the side lab of the Cortex. He had breached to the labs using the Breach Extrapolator after he had showered and such. His damp hair was pushed back in HR’s normal style.

“About what?” Cisco raised a concerned eyebrow at the writer, stopping what he had been doing.

“(Y/N).”

A nervous laugh left Cisco as he went back to attempting to make the necessary modifications to the Speed Bazooka. Tracy was reluctant to help the mechanical engineer after the breakup. “What about (Y/N)?” Cisco put down his screwdriver. “Did you do something weird to her?”

“What? No! I- we used to be closer. We always talked, we’d hang out after a long day here at the labs.”

“Uh huh.”

“And, maybe it’s just me, but things have changed.”

“How so?” Cisco was wondering what conclusion HR was leading himself to.

“Things changed when Tracy came into the picture.”

Cisco made a little ‘o’ with his mouth with a little nod before closing it. He pushed a rough sigh past his lips, he was getting really tired of this puppy love game. “Why do you think that?”

“Francisco, she flinches when I get close – almost when I touch her… Does she hate me?”

“I think you and I know the answer to that one. But I think the real question should be: Why do you care so much? Why does it bother you? Do you love her, HR?”

The novelist tensed a bit. “…” HR pursed his lips as Cisco walked around the table that the speed weapon was mounted on. Blueprints were scattered on one table while the glass board held variables and equations he could not decipher. “What?”

“I said what I said,” the mechanical genius smoothly responded. One look at HR and Cisco knew that he was baffled by his forward words. But they needed to be said. “Now run along and use that head of yours to think about what your heart wants. Barry isn’t going to get himself out of the Speedforce.”

***

Cisco’s words mulled through HR’s mind as he breached back to your apartment’s living room.  Only the lamp light on the side table was on. HR’s eyes landed on you, who laid on the couch with the book you had been reading on the back ledge of the couch. The novelist took off his shoes and set down his bag. He had detoured to the bookstore, looking for the next installment of your current book. The Wells doppelganger had assumed you didn’t buy it yet as it was vacant from your bookshelf. The gentle giant stepped silently closer to you; the dim light cast over you like a glow. There were slight bags under your eyes. She hasn’t been sleeping well lately. Spotting a large and fluffy blanket near, HR grabs it and lays it on top of you. He remembered you mentioned to him prior that you easily get cold, especially at night. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, HR contemplated something before his body moved impulsively. The novelist placed a gentle kiss on your forehead; his lips lingered for a few more seconds. Pulling back, HR watched your chest rise and fall.  He turned the light off and stumbled over to his room with his phone light guiding him. He knew what he was going to write. Cisco’s question pestered him enough though.

Do you love her, HR?

HR took one look out his door before shutting it, his heart squeezed tightly in his chest as he whispered, “Goodnight, my angel.” Only the shadows that lingered were a witness to the fondness laced in those simple words.

***

You woke up with a start, you hand instantly smacking right into your chest. Heavy breaths left you as your nerves were in overdrive. Cold sweat beaded your skin as you gasp for air. It was another night terror – the same one for a few weeks now; a new way in which you caused HR’s death. Swallowing thickly, you screw your eyes tightly shut and whisper the mantra that calmed you down. After a few minutes, you started to regain control of your breathing – the thoughts that ravaged your mind finally ceased like the tides subsiding after a tsunami. You blinked languidly, hating nights like these. They weren’t rare, but they weren’t an uncommon occurrence. Deciding that you needed to step out for some air, you did so with the intent of getting a glass of water from the kitchen. Your fingers found the lights for the dimmers in your room, setting it to its lowest setting for you to see yourself out.

Cracking the door open, you were instantly met with the scene of HR passed out on the couch again. He’s been doing that for around two weeks now, the couch his new base of operations. His mouth was slightly open as little snores escaped him. A lovestruck smile crossed your features at the sight. Papers were littered around him, on the ground, and on the tables. Must be the manuscript he’s working on for his final draft. I hope I can read it at some point. Coming back from the kitchen with the water in hand you couldn’t help but stop to admire the sight. You noticed the glasses still perched on his face. Moving as silent as a ninja, you inched closer to pull off the glasses from his face. They’ll break if he keeps them on while he sleeps. Then he won’t see for shit when reading things. You nibbled on your bottom lip as your eyes drifted to the papers. One peek won’t hurt anyone. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Seating yourself on the ground, you leaned your back against the foundation of the couch. You were opposite to where HR’s upper body was. If there were any telltale signs of him waking, you’d hightail out before he could fully wake up and process what you were doing. Picking up a small stack, you started sifting through them. Your mind became engrossed with the words – the beginnings of the story he had spun about his adventures as to how he came to Earth-1. Then… mentions of an angel eluded you. It couldn’t be Tracy, could it? I know they broke up, but… on the other hand, it doesn’t mean that he can’t say that she was his angel at the time. Like a character development thing leading to their break up?? Well fuck, I don’t even think he’d mention such a personal thing in his book. I know I wouldn’t… would I? I don’t know. A little smile danced at your lips while you read on about the synonymous things regarding Team Flash that you failed to notice HR rouse from sleep.

“Do you like it?” Lethargy intertwined his words. A stunned noise left you as you clutched the papers. You turned to see HR rubbing his eyes before gazing at you.

I could get lost in those eyes if I stared too long.

“Uh, yeah, its- it’s really good,” you stuttered, setting the papers down in your lap. Embarrassment of getting caught gripped you. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I don’t mind you taking a peek. I don’t have anything to be ashamed of in it.” HR shifted his lithe body to sit next to you on the ground.

“Oh.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s not that important, I’ll be ok.”

“If you say so,” HR’s shoulders sagged slightly. “I’m here if you want to talk.” You nodded at him, whispering a little thank you. HR ran a hand over his knee, he took a glimpse at you who stared at the papers. He noticed what chapter you hand been reading – the angel was making an appearance in the story. The hair at the back of his neck stood while you thumbed the words on the paper back in forth, just lost in your mind. Your hair was messy from sleep, the bags under your eyes were still there. It killed him how you wouldn’t confide in him anymore. But he didn’t push you. You would open up to him if you wanted to or not, even if he wanted you to do so as so his mind can be at ease with knowing what’s going on with you. Cisco’s question sprang up in his mind once more before he licked his lips, his eyes watching you. “I do.”

You gave HR a strange look. I do, what?

“Tracy wasn’t her.” Realization struck HR the more you whispered with him.

“Huh??”

“I heard this voice before I woke up.” The novelist fully turned to you with intense eyes, the enlightenment in them – the fire that burned brightly. “The tenderness in it could rival any tasteful delight in the multiverse.”

“A voice?”

“Mm, it made me think that only a heavenly deity would have such a voice.” You remained silent as he spoke. “I never got to hear that voice since my coma… until now?”

You tensed at what he was insinuating. “Now?”

“How could I forget?”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“How could I forget about you?” The baritone huskiness in his voice made you melt with the way he said those words. You swallowed, trying to calm the butterflies that raged in the pit of your stomach. “The flowers that were left – beautiful, delicate, yet meaningful. You left those after visiting me.”

“…”

She didn’t deny it. “But you never visited when I was awake because of Tracy.”

“She hates me.”

“And I was too blind to see that until I broke up with her, she threw quite a fit.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you must have loved her so much that it would be hard to let go.” She was your angel, after all.

“She didn’t even know me. Truly know me.”

“… Did she hurt you?”

“Slightly, but the bruise is gone.” You and he were silent for a moment. Only the sound of a distant car horn was heard from the streets. “You didn’t deny it.”

“Deny what?”

“The flowers, the visit…” HR licked his lips as a rough breath left him. His nerves were climbing, but he needed to do this. “Cisco told me what you did to Savitar when you saw him. How angry you were that Harry had to pry you off him – I was so angry.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t know then… but I know now.”

“And?”

“Tracy was never the one written in my story – she didn’t care. She didn’t see me for anything other than a pretty face obsessed with coffee. You did.” HR tucked your hair behind your ear, carefully gauging your reaction. He saw how you tried not to flinch away from him. “Do you hate me?” He asked as he retracted a hand from you, happy that he was at least getting through to you.

“Never could I feel such a way towards you.” You hesitated for a moment before testing the waters. You started to explain, “I- the night you were stabbed by Savitar I… I just broke. I pushed Tracy away, I had Barry rush you back to the labs. You were dying, unconscious on the gurney and… I got to work trying to resuscitate you. I had Cisco take care of Tracy while I worked, I needed space to think clearly, but I couldn’t. When- when the others were preoccupied with Iris’ appearance, I used these powers.” It was now or never. “I was desperate. Your life was hanging by a thread- I didn’t think it was going to work, but nothing else was working. You were bleeding so much. But I had to try. I…” Your glassy eyes locked back on his, your hands pulled close to your body. HR understood now why you never tried touching him. Why you are avoiding getting too close. “Cisco found out, he confronted me. But these powers, life isn’t guaranteed. They’re volatile, unprecedented – regardless of how I feel in the moment the balance can tip between giving a life and taking one.” There was a tightness in your chest as your voice cracked, “I’m cursed, I could hurt you.” I’m dangerous.

“I don’t think you will.”

“You don’t know that!”

“But I do,” HR reached a hand out to hold yours. Tension filled your heart as panic started to settle. “You wouldn’t let yourself hurt me. It would pain you too much.” HR squeezed your slightly shaky hand, his other hand still bound by the cross-sling. “My life is in your hands.”

“How can you trust me so much?”

“Because love cannot be built without a foundation of trust.” He placed a sweet kiss on the knuckles of your hand. “And understanding.” He took the other and kissed it, baby blue eyes shifted back to yours with such intense emotion. The adoration that filled the author to the brim for you. Just for you. Only you. The one who saw him for everything and anything that he is. His safe space – the one other thing he wanted to be for you as well. He wanted to eliminate any fears that resided in your heart, the pain and doubt that remained.

“Do you hate me?”

HR cupped your cheek tenderly as he leaned close, your heart wanted to stop as blood rushed to your cheeks and ears. Your half-lidded eyes shut slowly as his lips skimmed over your own. “Never in my life, angel,” the novelist whispered as he captured your lips in a tender and sentimental kiss.

Never in my life could I hate the one who my heart has yearned for.

[oh-hush-its-perfect]

things i forgot about mcga in the 3 year break i took between reading HoT and SotD

Samirah— not just Alex— can shapeshift

Halfborn exists

Alex is Mexican— but this doesn't really count because it wasn't really brought up until SotD anyway

Blitz and Hearth are, in fact, 20 years old and not, as I thought they were, 40.

Blitzstone isn't actually canon

Magnus has lupophobia

Blitz's thing with ducks

Eitri Jr. exists (and the crafting duel was a thing that happened)

Hearth had a brother who died

Hearth practices magic

Randolph had a family

Surt exists

Utgard-Loki exists (and the meeting with Ran and the bowling tournament were things that happened)

Samirah's mother is dead

Alex is kinda a softie <3

T.J. likes video games and is also obsessed with the Civil War

Mallory died taking a bomb to the face (though to my credit, it's kinda a throw-away line in book 1)

Alex has the Urnes snakes tattooed on her neck

Amir finds out that Samirah is a Valkyrie (I remembered he existed but forgot pretty much everything about him besides "Samirah's fiance")

The ENTIRE plot of book 2. I vaguely remembered that the wedding happened and Alex dressed as the bride, but I did not remember that she was taking Samirah's place

Ratatosk exists

[trivialbob]

Sheila and I went over to St. Paul to have dinner at a dive bar. It was all that I’d hoped for. We passed a few other dive-looking places on Randolph Ave. I’ll probably be back.

The evolution of my french fry consumption: At an earlier age I would order the full basket of fries--for myself--and leave the restaurant feeling like Fat Bastard. And no way would I share any with whomever I was with.

Eventually I’d share a full basket with my wife. As we tell our kids, if you run out we can always order more. Spoiler: We never had to order more.

Tonight we split the half order of fries. That was the perfect amount. I left the restaurant not looking like a hippo or counting my stretch marks.

Coming home we stopped at Target for something. Apparently the supply chain problems, or flat out Goldfish flavor discrimination, has affected Target. Not one bag of pizza flavored ‘fish. The store mocked me with a sale price even lower than what I found at my local grocery store.

On the rest of the drive home Sheila and I tried to write an episode of The Office in 2020-2021 where the characters had to deal with the pandemic.

Michael feigned a disability so he could butt in front of the line to get a shot. He also wanted to hug everyone to show he wasn’t afraid of the virus.

Kelly was seen frequently with her mask off, so she could bedazzle it. She also had a different mask for each hour of the day.

Meredith got so irritated being told to wear her mask that she came to work wearing nothing but a mask. The whole episode she was pixelated from the neck down.

Angela went full Karen, keeping track of everyone who so much as let one nostril become uncovered. By the end of the episode her little Field Notes book had not a single blank page.

Darryl got his shot and wore his mask as well as anyone. He didn’t like Kevin trying to fist-bump him and saying “Oh yeah, you and me, no vaccine am I right?” Kevin passed away from the virus at the end of the episode.

Ryan has a side gig making counterfeit vaccination cards. After a drunken date with Kelly he tells her the next day the virus makes it too risky for them to become serious.

Creed got his shot because he thought it was an illicit drug. When he didn’t get high he “realized” he’d been microchipped. He bought one of Ryan’s fake cards for a thousand dollars because he thought it was a high yield savings bond.

Stanley enjoyed working from home so much he declared he’s never coming back to the office. In every Zoom meeting he’s wearing a silk smoking jacket. A glass of red wine is always visible in the background.

Phyllis said she’s only getting a shot if Bob Vance gets his too. Bob Vance, of Bob Vance Refrigeration, will not get the shot.

Pam doesn’t work much because she’s devoting her time to making baby-sized masks for her children.

Jim bothers Dwight. Jim keeps moving a little fan on his desk to position it to blow air over Dwight’s desk.

Dwight is taking Ivermectin via IV drip. He also has enough plexiglass around his desk to supply an Olympic sized hockey rink. He’s really frustrated when Jim keeps saying, “What? I can’t understand you through all this plastic.” Jim can totally hear Dwight.

Andy keeps saying to Jim, “Hey Big Tuna, got the ‘rona yet?” Then he starts singing My Corona to the tune of My Sharona.

Toby is flustered with this HR nightmare. He wants to follow the rules carefully yet the entire episode his mask never covers his nose.

Oscar is upset with Michael for calling it the Wuhan Flu. Oscar says “Actually... it’s it’s a novel coronavirus or COVID-19.”

Erin enjoys greeting visitors with complimentary mask and a dash of hand sanitizer. She loses her cool when Meredith keeps drinking it.

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Mae Catt’s Cyberverse Q&A

Here’s a neater version of some key Q&A responses from Mae Catt’s Cyberverse stream. 

Please note: not everything is verbatim, and also note that Mae Catt said “Don’t take things I say as the end-all be-all.” She’s a big supporter of fanfic writers!

This Q&A session contains spoilers for Season 3 of Cyberverse. For a (somewhat) more comprehensive transcript, please refer to this post.

Q: Megop rights?

“Oh absolutely, duh.”

Q: What does Optimus do when he’s not giving speeches / being a leader when they were all hanging out on the ARK?

I think he reads, he seems like a heavy reader. It’d be cute if he read really bad Earth romance novels. He seems like a guy who needs a break from everything.

Q: Does Optimus have hobbies?

Not to borrow from Rung, but doesn’t it seem like Optimus would make model ships? Very quiet, very focused detail-oriented hobby. *pauses* Oh duh, he also plays basketball.

Q: How did the Decepticons learn to stream? 

Because they’re deceptive! Megatron knew he should dedicate some time to winning the hearts and minds of humans. Starscreams’ funeral was not the first time they streamed. Optimus would use the official media channels (like the news), not a streaming service. Megatron would try to speak more directly to the people.

Q: Is Optimus the type of streamer who would take 10 minutes to figure out how to un-mute his microphone?

Optimus is a dad. He has no idea what’s going on with streaming. Optimus would say embarrassing things while Bee and Hot Rod were in the middle of streaming something.

Q: Is Megatron dead?

In discussions we wanted to kill him. We wanted to do a reverse Optimus death. However, in the final product, I kinda enjoy the ambiguity rather than the final decision. Can’t remember if we were decisive about that in the script.

Q: Did the Titan mind Decepticons living in them?

The Titans want to be cities. They want citizens. They want to be lived in, that brings them joy.

Q: Does Megatron do anything for fun or is he too angry?

I want to say he’s too angry, he has fun beating people down but I don’t think he’s had fun for a long time.

Q: How would you feel about a female Optimus Prime? 

[GAY LAUGHTER] 

The question is: do you turn Optimus Prime into a woman, or do you take characters like Elita One and uplift her? I would want to lean more into giving Elita One more oomph, I do love how Optimus doubts himself and if he’s worthy of being a Prime.

(Mae Catt talked a lot about representation and later mentioned how there's more pressure to write the girl characters well, especially because of the need for better representation. They wanted more girls in the show, and they planned to have Jazz be a girl).

Q: Elita prime when?

All the time, in my heart!

Q: Did you plan to have ___ character in the show?

Almost every character was discussed at least once. 

She really regrets that they didn’t get to have Beast Machine Obsidian or Rumble and Frenzy in the show, and says she would’ve loved a MTMTE-style Ultra Magnus / Minimus and Transmutate. She didn’t know what Obsidian’s personality would be, it was just a “Look how cool he is!” sort of thing.

(Note: We have Mae Catt to thank for Whirl getting into Cyberverse)

Q: What was your favorite episode?

“I Am the AllSpark” because of the Megatron and Starscream dialogue (which she wrote). Also S2 04 Soundwave and Shockwave.

I enjoyed writing Starscream most, Clobber and Hot Rod became a joy, S2 E4 was my first episode, and it was fun getting into Hot Rod’s voice. It was hard doing Optimus’ voice, I’d always pass it off to someone to look at it.

Q: Did you ever plan to have Hot Rod become Rodimus?

Rodimus was never considered for the show because Optimus dying has been covered to death, but we were adamant about portraying Hot Rod as someone who wanted to be a leader. Hot Rod is someone who is learning to be a leader.

(On that note, when someone asked if she thought Bee would ever become Prime, Mae Catt said:)

I don’t think Bee would be a Prime. Windblade and Hot Rod would be a better Prime. He wouldn’t want to be a Prime. He’s the #2 to Primes!

Q: Did Megatron always plan to return to Cybertron?

Megatron’s priorities changed when he saw his doppelganger. Realizing he was a horrible tyrant, that scared him enough to return and not kill Optimus and make peace no matter what.

Q: Which death hurt you the most?

Starscream. (Slipstream’s hurt too).

We didn’t want to kill people off willy-nilly for shock value, but in certain instances it made sense. Like, the audience will fall in love with Slipstream because she’s becoming good, so she has to die. (She apologized for that sounding harsh). We killed Prowl because it was Shadow Striker doing the killing and he’s a self-sacrificing lieutenant. I almost wanted Starscream to emerge from the Judge’s head untouched, but I’m ultimately glad that idea got shot down.

(She circles back to this comment later, so I’m making note of that here since it wasn’t a direct response to a question)

When I was desperately trying to save Starscream’s life even though I brutally murdered Slipstream, I wanted Starscream to have amnesia and have a redeption arc. I wanted him to have a Windblade shard and have it be kind of like Castaway, where the only person he talked to was that (and the shard only had 5 phrases it could say). Eventually Bee would befriend him and he’d wind up with the Autobots.

I wanted to write Starscream kind of like an abuse victim who expects the worst of the Autobots, but I wanted him to warm up slowly to them. I wanted to have a Starscream and Optimus episode where Starscream messes up on something and Optimus is like “you did your best and that’s what counts”, a response which is totally new to Starscream. But obviously we didn’t have time for that.

Regarding redemption arcs (a continuation from the previous question, and a huge highlight from the stream):

Re: the potential for Starscream’s redemption arc “A redemption arc needs to be facilitated by a character acknowledging that what they did was wrong. He would have had a laundry list of excuses for it, even if there was all that evidence to the contrary, but the character needs to acknowledge that reasons don’t matter because people got hurt [by their actions]. [The character] needs to intend to do better. Let them try and let them fail, they don’t need to do a 180, it’s hard work to be a better person.”

NOTE: Mae Catt also made a few more comments re: the idea of a Starscream redemption arc on her Tumblr page.

Q: Did Megatron really kill Starscream?

The Starscream beatdown was super severe and they were like “holy frick they’re really going for it” when they saw the storyboards. According to Maecatt, Megatron didn’t kill Starscream when he slammed him down (which is a bit confusing since the show definitely made it seem like Starscream died). 

Q: Did Drift die? Why was he a double-agent?

According to us, Drift did not make it, but I fully endorse whatever you want. We needed a double-agent, someone who would (seemingly) kill Hot Rod. (She says they went with Drift because of his history in the comics).

(Later on in the stream)

Maybe Drift is alive, maybe he’s rethinking his decision and he’ll come back later. Drift would’ve been helpful in S3 for sure, maybe he’d come back with Repugnis or something.

Q: Why are you so mean to Percy? 

He's so mature and pragmatic that he can take it, and is willing to take one for the team bc he understands that it's what he needs to do. (In response to someone’s comment about his personality) Yes, he’s calmly feral.

Q: Is Skullcruncher Percy's bouncer now that he's running Maccadam's? 

Oh totally.

(She later mentions that Percy has permanently taken over Maccadam’s. Also: Skullcruncher is a lady! She misses Mac, but Percy takes good care of her).

Q: If Tarn is the perfect Decepticon who's the perfect Autobot? 

A firetruck alt mode, and an Autobot insignia as a face. Nat (her fiance) and I talked about it a lot. Optimus SHOULD be a fire truck, it makes the relationship between him and Ratchet a little more fun since Ratchet is an ambulance, and Optimus has an ax. It just makes sense!��

(She agreed that the perfect Autobot would be Thunderclash after the chat said that).

On that note, Mae Catt said they used Tarn for the show because: “OBVIOUSLY (the perfect decepticon) should look like this guy. A faceless mindless Decepticon that only serves Megatron”.

Q:  What sort of documents DID Optimus work on in the archives? 

Probably historical archives and working on stuff about all the Primes. Something like the French / American revolution equivalent, which informed his speech writing for Megatron and his own ethics.

Q: Did you always plan to make Optimus socially awkward? 

We “found” the social awkwardness for Optimus. Optimus was depicted as a father figure in S1 (implying it’s because S1 is from Bee’s perspective), S2 / S3 we were able to explore more and found the limits [writing him] and found it was hard to maintain that level of heroic dialogue. Optimus would feel awkward about it too. Randolph did an impression of Optimus’ speech for the Party Down episode. “[Optimus] can’t not be in war-mode.”

Q: Were Optimus and Megatron ever friends, or did they just work together on the speech stuff? 

Oh hell yes, I think [the story] is always enhanced when they’re friends and when Optimus really believes in what Megatron was working on. Optimus’ rejection of Megatron is what pushes him over the edge, his best friend rejecting him pushes him into a place where he becomes a tyrannical person.

Q: Does Maccadam know we love him? 

Mae Catt: *puts hand over hear heart and looks off into the distance dramatically* Yes.

Q:  What’s the best selfie Arcee’s ever taken? 

I like the one with the giraffe. Or maybe a selfie with some humans. I like the idea of Arcee having a bunch of human friends. 

Q: What do the Transformers think of the Florida Man? 

They can’t really tell the difference between humans, they don’t really get it. It just sorta looks like all the normal stuff they see on Earth (or something). 

Q: Who’s the Florida Man of the Transformers? 

Rack ‘n Ruin. But he’s too nice. Hmmm.

Q: What was most important to you personally to put out in each episode? Like humor/characterization/arcs 

I wanted to make sure I didn’t write dialogue that was condescending to kids, wanted to be true about the character. Dialogue needs to be true to the characters, and gay. (Laughs)

Q: Do Transformers know what memes are?

They know what they ARE, but they don’t get it. We wanted Hot Rod to be super into Earth culture (winning races and driving off before humans could realize no one was in the car), but we never had time to really get into that.

Q: What music does Soundwave like?

We had a cut joke from S2 E5 [where Megatron and Optimus are popping through portals all around the world trying to find the All Spark] . Soundwave pops into Brazil where there’s a music festival and he crashes the concert and hang out. He likes EDM the most? 

His favorite song is Despacito. He thinks its so sad.

Q: Were you surprised that Jake Tillman was in his 20s listening to his Optimus voice the first time?

She apparently listened to his vines a lot when he was in his teens so meeting up again like that was a cool coincidence. 

Q: What other dimensions or places did you want to be in the show?

I would’ve liked to have the other Transformers series show up (TFP, TFA, G1, Shattered Glass) but we don’t have those assets or budget. 

“This will quickly become unclear to audiences who aren’t (you people).” They couldn’t have all these references when some of their audience wouldn’t get it. 

Q: What about ____ ship?

Mae Catt says she doesn’t want to yuck anybody’s yums. For example, someone asked about Arcee/Grimlock, and while she said she sees them more as friends, she didn’t say they can’t be in a relationship. (Mae Catt also said she doesn’t ship Bee with anyone because she sees him as a little brother).

As she said several times in the stream, “Don’t take things I say as the end-all be-all”!

That being said, she did say she likes Dead End / Perceptor and Windblade / Slipstream.

Q: Why are there no humans in the show?

From the show’s conception, there were no plans to include any humans. They didn’t want humans distracting from the Transformers.

Q: Why did the Scientist collect Soundwaves?

He collects Soundwave because Soundwave is COOL! Wouldn’t you collect a single father of 5 who carries them around in his chest?

Why does anyone collect what they collect? “That’s a really angry dad who’s got five children he carries around in him and he plays music. Gotta have that!”

(Later on, she circles back to this question)

All the Other Universe Soundwaves the Scientist collected also had their own Laserbeaks. I wonder if the scientist would’ve taken them out. He might’ve just gotten rid of them.

(And of course, here are the boyfriend questions from the stream:)

Q: Is Dead End a good boyfriend?

Dead End is a work in progress, but maybe Percy is patient enough to get him there

(Mae Catt says she really loves the Deadceptor ship. She knew people would ship it, but she didn’t ship it herself until she saw the fanart for it).

Q: Is Astrotrain a good boyfriend?

No, no...he’s not a good person, really.

Q: Is Percy a good boyfriend?

Absolutely--WAIT HOLD ON. He’s very blunt, he doesn’t mince words, if you can handle his bluntness then you’re good. He is what he is and you have to deal with him.

Q: Is Soundwave a good boyfriend?

Soundwave is not a good boyfriend. He’s a good casual romance but he’s not a good boyfriend. Soundwave would be a terrible listener. He hears a lot but he’d tune you out.

Other information tidbits:

- If Thunderclash was in the show he and Jetfire would HATE each other. Thunderclash would be a rival reality star (maybe) to Media Fire.

- Mae Catt said “A lot of intelligent life is inherently mechanical” in space, explaining why so much of the non-Cybertronian life we saw in the show were robots.

- Knock Out was considered for the show, but every Transformer under the sun was discussed at some point in the writer’s room. (Ex: “Rumble and Frenzy are always considered in my heart, but there wasn’t enough time or space or assets to do so”).

- “The brand team had grown up on the toys as we had grown up on the ‘toons, so we just wanted to make the best thing imaginable.”

- They decided Optimus would be in the Other Universe’s Matrix and have a plinth because they wanted to show he was dead. “Logical backflips because he needed to be among the 13 to talk to Windblade.” 

- Dead End’s eyes are white.

- The team wanted Jazz to be a lady (!!!!!!!)  

- These characters have their own lives that we don’t see. Lots of stuff happening between episodes that we don’t always necessarily see.

- Developing Sky-Byte’s character was simultaneous with Jetfire’s character. “We knew we wanted Sky-Byte to be a poet, and we wanted him and Megatron to be chummy”.

- Percy did permanently take over Mac’s bar.  

- Her favorite VA is Jeremy Levy, he’s a really cool guy.

- She thinks Starscream and Cheetor could become (not necessarily friends, but connected?) because of their connection to the All Spark. Mentions how Starscream acknowledge Cheetor as the “Guardian of the Allspark”.

- Mae Catt describes Starscream as an “Awful gremlin” several times.

- Astrotrain and the Insecticons are from Megatron X’s universe.

- She thinks Cliffjumper and Bee wouldn’t get along, solely because of the IDW2 comic stuff. (They had a cut joke about someone telling Bee he should paint himself red and Bee saying, “But then everyone will think I’m Cliffjumper!”).

- Cyberverse got 26 episodes for season 3 because they had the 4-part episode movies.

- Megatron cares about his troops, but not in a way that we would notice that care. 

- AcidStorm is genderfluid. 

-  Cold Construction doesn’t exist in this show. When asked why all the Seekers look the same then, Mae Catt says “Maybe there’s one jet mode all the seekers really like”.

- She loves the idea of Wild Wheel robbing Astrotrain in train-mode, totally Wild West-style.

- One of the things she’s proudest of was turning Lugnut into a gal (and having so much body diversity and gender-neutral designs for a lot of characters). They wanted to include many more girls in Cyberverse (Nickel and Lightbright among them). She also mentioned that  Shadow Striker is taller than Optimus or is his height.

- She describes Cosmos as “R2D2, but a Transformer!”

- Maccadam looking like a buff Rung was just a strange coincidence.

- Blurr really was the fastest.

- Mae Catt says we absolutely SHOULD write fanfic. Fanfiction made her into the writer she is today. She wrote non-stop Matrix fanfic from the age of 12-20 years old. It helped her learn a lot about writing.

- She uses “They” pronouns for Rack ‘n Ruin when referring to both of them, but says that individually they both use “he”.

- She’s really sad that Skywarp didn’t get a speaking line.

- Mae Catt won’t say whether Ratchet finished medical school or not. (She laughed when someone commented "I don’t believe that man has ever been to medical school”). She also says she wants “I choose to believe Ratchet has never been to medical school” on a T-shirt.

- When asked why Rack ‘n Ruin were captains of the Ark in one universe, she says they’re probably the Prime in that one weird universe (lmao).

- She loves the idea that Transformers have siblings / families.

- In a world where they had an unlimited budget, it’d be fun if Cybertronians were constantly shape-shifting and changing their forms. Example: she’d like having Transformers who “grew a beard” and decided to “shave it”.

- She doesn’t understand cycles or astrocycles, she doesn’t understand the weird Transformers time stuff. (mood)

- She loved Beast Wars Inferno, she loved that Inferno called Megatron a Queen. It was played as a joke because the 90s weren’t very socially conscious, but she liked that Megatron never corrected him or beat him down.

- Shockwave altered his spark to have maximum bad vibes to destroy the All Spark.

- She said it’s hard talking about writing a show because you’re designing the experience and you have to make sometimes what sounds like cold and pragmatic decisions (eg: "we need a cold and spunky female”) which sucks, but they need to balance out the show. She says she’d never do that just for the sake of doing it, but it’s part of something that they do need to be aware of while working on a show. “It starts from a weirdly cold pragmatic place, but we try and put truth in it”.

- They didn’t want to have Unicron in the show since he’s the default “big bad”, but if he was in the show, Mae Catt says “If you put the proverbial budget-gun to my head, I’d keep Unicron in planet-mode because it’s more mysterious, but I want both alt modes”.

- Her favorite Megatron is Beast Wars Megatron.

- She doesn’t like Sky Lnxy’s design, it’s creepy. “He talks in the G1 episodes and the voice makes it worse.” She can’t get over his face.

- “I’d love to see more jets [who aren’t our usual gang] and find out all jets are kinda snobby, which explains why Starscream’s the way he is”.

- Everyone on the Autobot side are friends with each other.

Thanks for your time Mae Catt! We’re lucky to have you. Thank you for all your hard work on this amazing show.

[teaveetamer]

Also this is weirdly perfect timing because I just replayed an old indie darling, Always Sometimes Monsters, and tbh some of the ways that game preaches about choice and consequence line up pretty well with what annoys me about 3H fandom discussions about choice and consequence.

For those of you who weren’t around during 2014, or just don’t remember anything about a 7 year old game, the premise of the game involves the down on their luck Main Character trying to make it across country in 30 days to win back their ex... who is set to marry someone else. The main draw of the game isn’t the destination so much as the journey. Your character travels through several different towns, mostly scraping by on what little money you can earn along the way, and you have to constantly make decisions of varying degrees of morally questionable and it’s literally impossible to come out of it squeaky clean. I won’t spoil too much just in case anyone wants to go back and play it for themselves, because really it’s a great game (aside from it getting a little preachy at times).

But in the first town at the very start of the game there’s a plotline with your character, your character’s best friend (Darkeff. A semi-famous, recently sober musician), and your best friend’s ex-girlfriend (Viper, definitely not sober). It begins when Viper shows up to the club Darkeff is supposed to be playing at with a baggie of heroin. If you tell her to get lost, she leaves the heroin anyways. If you don’t pick it up and flush it down the toilet, Darkeff will get a hold of it and he will relapse and OD. Later, when the MC and Viper are hanging out in the hospital, you can call her out for bringing the drugs around Darkeff in the first place, and she will try to wash her hands of all guilt and insist that it’s not her fault he OD’d because she “didn’t force the needle into his arm.”

And it’s like... No you didn’t, but there are ways in which your choices affect and narrow other people’s choices.

While you didn’t force the needle into his arm, you brought the opportunity right up to his door step and laid it at his feet. At this point in the game Darkeff is very, very recently sober. He’s definitely been working on limiting his access to drugs because he knows if he has them in front of him then he won’t be able to resist (hence why he dumped Viper, it’s hard to stay sober when you’re around people who aren’t). By bringing drugs directly to him and waving them right under his nose you’ve effectively removed one of his strategies for keeping sober, which makes the decision to avoid doing the drugs infinitely harder for him. And we see that if she hadn’t done that then he wouldn’t have fallen off the wagon (because if you do dispose of the drugs before he sees them, then it’s Viper who ends up in the hospital after ODing).

And that is the thing that drives me crazy about how the Three Houses fandom treats choice and consequence. No one exists in a vacuum, and your decisions never only affect you. When you create the circumstance that drives people to bad things, you absolutely bear some responsibility for the outcome.

Now obviously that doesn’t quite map 1:1 onto Three Houses. I’d argue up to that point in the game Darkeff seemed to be doing everything right to stay sober, and addiction is one hell of a monster so I’d personally place more blame on Viper for bringing drugs around someone she knew was trying to stay sober than I would if she’d brought drugs around someone who had never tried them. The point is, it’s complicated and the way the 3H fandom talks about choice and consequence is so often not.

I do think Dimitri demonstrates this complexity well in his interactions with Fleche and the orphan kids in his Byleth support. He is both the result of circumstance that pushed him to do bad things, and the cause of circumstance that pushes others to do bad things. If he hadn’t killed Randolph then Rodrigue would probably still be alive, since Fleche wouldn’t have tried to kill Dimitri and forced Rodrigue to make the sacrifice. If Dimitri hadn’t killed those orphans’ bandit parents then they would have never tried to kill him in return. Was he justified in killing Randolph or the orphan parents? That’s up to you to decide (personally, I think he was, but that’s just me). At the same time though, he never would have killed Randolph if Edelgard hadn’t started a war and sent him to kill Dimitri, and he never would have killed those orphan’s parents if they hadn’t become bandits terrorizing innocents in the first place. And you can take that out as far as you like. For instance: why were they bandits? Would they have been bandits if the economy in Faerghus was better? If Lambert hadn’t been murdered and political turmoil hadn’t destabilized the whole place? But of course now we’re getting extremely hypothetical.

In real life there’s infinite threads leading to infinite causes and effects and the whole thing can get as messy as you like, but in fiction there’s only so many places those threads can go before we’re into baseless speculation. Unfortunately, a whole hell of a lot of those threads stop at Edelgard and a whole hell of a lot of people flat out refuse to acknowledge that, or they only want to acknowledge one half of that equation (I’m talking the “It’s okay for Edelgard to do bad things to other people because TWSITD/The Seven did bad things to her, but it’s not okay for Dimitri to do bad things because Edelgard did bad things to him” types of arguments).

At least to Always Sometimes Monsters credit, I do think you could argue that this is just Viper trying her best to assuage her guilt. If you don’t get rid of the heroin before Darkeff sees it, it counts as one of the “morally questionable acts” you’ll get called out on near the end of the game. Which implies that the MC should feel some responsibility for their choice to leave the heroin around despite Viper’s “no one forced the needle in his arm” speech. I don’t know if that was the dev’s intention--personally I don’t think it was, since this theme comes up in other places of the game--but you can absolutely make the case for it. I can’t really say the same for Three Houses, since it never really seems to want to explore Edelgard’s responsibility in the conflict.

[johnnys-green-pen]

Random E! Thoughts: S3E6 - Snakebite

So first of all, I love love love that Johnny’s coming back from a fishing trip with Roy… and Chet. Going on holiday with the co-workers says a thing or two about Johnny’s social life, as per usual, but it’s also really sweet, especially because it means that Roy persuaded his family to let him. Also, Chet likes Johnny enough to go on a fishing trip with him. I could say I’m surprised, but I’d be lying. Saps, lol.

Fun fact: The white Land Rover is Randolph Mantooth’s actual car. 

Also, one of the rare pointers that, whatever Roy’s reasons for never letting Johnny drove the Squad may be, his driving skills are not it.

I think it’s interesting how Johnny and Roy react to an off-duty medical emergency - Roy’s clearly not dealing well without his usual procedures and equipment and the resulting helplessness, while Johnny’s pretty much just acting like he normally would.

I love how Doc Frick’s the exact opposite of what anybody would’ve expected so everybody’s reaction is just “what the fuck”.

I just really love the 70′s overload and his magnificent hair

The match cut from “can you imagine the reaction to this back at the station” to Mike’s “big deal” is the funniest thing I’ve seen in a TV show lately. The timing’s perfect, as is Johnny’s instant indignation.

Chet trying to half-seriously backpedal calling Johnny and Roy “the best in the business” and the way Johnny clearly doesn’t believe one iota of that.

Johnny actually jerks back before the snake bites him - that part’s also, unlike the rest of the scene, not overdubbed in post production, and I have a feeling that was just the actual snake they had on set actually startling him. 

Also, he drops the HT across the car roof in the wide shot but has it back in his hand when he sits back on the ground.

I just noticed that he referred to himself as “John” and not “Johnny” in his call back up to the engine and now I’m curious if he always does that or nah.

I love how Johnny’s tone of voice there is basically just “aw man :/” personified.

I also love how everybody springs into action - between “Chet, Marco, move” and Dix calling Dispatch the second she hears what’s going on, that’s a beautiful level of speed and competence.

 I would’ve loved to see Roy’s reaction to learning what happened to Johnny - he’s just suddenly shown up at the base station between scenes

aaaand Johnny STILL doesn’t like needles, even when he himself is the one administering them. 

Captain Stanley and his infamous Backwards Mic. I’ve heard at least one person claim that talking into the back minimizes interference noises or whatever, but I can’t remember where I read that so take that with a huge grain of salt.

Johnny being unable to repeat his call is heartbreaking, as is Captain Stanley’s slight hesitation before repeating it for him, as well as the little look Dix and Kel share.

Also, Roy just standing there looking like he doesn’t even know how to react anymore.

(I’m calling bullshit on the skin test for the antivenom though; if the antivenom might potentially kill him but the poison almost certainly will, I doubt they’d waste a full twenty minutes when every minute counts)

I love Johnny’s and Chet’s bickering, especially when the writers nail their good-natured friendly rivalry as well as they do here.

Also, Johnny’s utter enthusiasm about sharing his new-found field experience

“She didn’t even remember me?!” - “Well, I do, and that’s what’s important. Now c’mon, have a cookie.”

d’aww

[fearfulkittenwrites]

Their first walks on the Wayne’s garden - Chapter 1: Dick Grayson

A glimpse into Bruce's relationships with his kids, seen through the first time he took each of them on a walk through his garden.

Or: Bruce Wayne actually tries to communicate and care for his children. Because fuck canon.

Word count: 1806

Notes: Hello! This is a multi-chaptered work. It doesn't exactly follow canon (bc canon had Bruce being an awful dad) but also doesn't disagree with most of it. It's simply short stories of the batfam, all set in the same environment. Each chapter will focus around Bruce and a certain kid. This one, as the title says, is focused on Dick and Bruce.

TW// This chapter talks about racism and bullying. I used a slur in one of the characters lines, but in no way do I (or the character) condone it's use. It's there because said character is reporting a bad event. Those mentions are not graphic and shouldn't make your experience reading this unpleasent, however, if you feel unconfortable with this, please, skip this chapter.

Bruce Wayne is an introspective man with too much to do. Inside the manor, there was usually this unspoken pressure he put on himself and other to always be occupied with something. Of course, living alone, that was probably due to the fact that everyone but him was working on something - working for him. So he felt his quiet restlessness was only fair. If he ever needed to be alone with his thoughs, he would take walks around the garden, when the gardeners – who also worked for him - had already left. Every afternoon, just before the sun would set, he’d stroll through the vast green area that surrounded the building, appreciating every tulip, lily and carnation planted there. He particularly liked the roses Alfred cared for.

He jokingly called them Alfred’s children once. The buttler had told him that if this were true, then Bruce could consider himself the plant’s foster brother.

When Dick moved in, he also took a liking of the garden, although for very different reasons. He liked to be there early in the morning, basking in the sunlight before he went to school, when it was brimming with life and movement. The gardeners treated him like a son, showed him how to care for all the different flowers and plants they had and allowed him to check the bushes for bugs he could save before they’d prune and shape them. Of course, Alfred wasn’t exactly pleased with the habit, since he would always get dirt all over himself before school, and would need to change into a new uniform after being called back inside. However, no matter how upset the extra laundry made him, he would never deny the boy such a simple pleasure; when he first got to the manor, his smile was a rarity to be cherished. Alfred kept a brief mental list of everything that could put a grin on Dick’s face.

One day, after school, Bruce’s stomach felt cold and tight. Something was up with Dick. He knew it, but couldn’t explain why the small boy was gloomier, less fidgety and more still than usual. When inquired, his answer would invariably be:

“It’s nothing B, I’m fine.”

After the third attempt, he decided to approach this matter through a different strategy.

Dick was sitting next to him on the couch, pretending to watch a movie.

“Come with me,” He said, extending his hand to him as he got up “Let’s take a walk.”

He hesitated for a moment, but decided to go. The sun was starting to set, but the clouds still painted the sky white. Bruce’s pace was slow; he wasn’t in a hurry. Dick kept his head down as they walked in silence, but grew more and more nervous by the second. He couldn’t bring himself to speak right now, even if he wasn’t the type to enjoy quiet. Thankfully, Bruce noticed his discomfort and started to talk.

“I do this every day.” He explained “For some reason, it’s almost like I can’t think properly inside. Like there’s not enough room.” Dick kept himself quiet, wich scared the man a little “Of course, that sounds a little silly considering where we live.” At least he could bring a little smile to the boys face. Good. Keep going. “Still, for some reason, my head clears out when I’m outside. I noticed that when I was sixteen, and then the walks became a habit. It’s almost like my version of venting.” The sky was starting to turn pink at that point, and the clouds took on warmer colors to match it “Sometimes, everything can be so chaotic. But here, it’s always so quiet. So beautiful.”

He stopped and kneeled down, examining a pink carnation between his fingers.

“I know something’s up Dick.” He said, trying to sound understanding and caring, unsure on whether he was succeeding in it or not. “You can talk to me, if you want to. Or Alfred. It’s also okay if you prefer to deal with it on your own, but you don’t strike me as the type to keep things to yourself.” He smiled a little, standing up.

“You think I’m a crybaby, don’t you?” Dick sounded more doubtful and hurt than angry as he asked.

“No.” Bruce answered “I think you have a healthier approach to life than I do. You share things. You learn to let go, eventually. I keep silence and carry burdens because I don’t have that skill anymore. You know how to trust people in a way I’ll never be able to. I don’t want you to lose that because you don’t think I want to hear what you have to say.”

“Do you?” He asked, still uncertain and scared. “Want to listen to me, that is?”

“Of course I do, Dick.”

“Okay.” The boy still reflected for a couple of moments “It’s... silly. Some kids at school are making fun of me, and, well, it was harder today I guess.” Bruce had questions. Who were these kids? For how long had this been going on? Why were you keeping it a secret? Still, he bit his tongue. He knew he had to listen now, the questions could come up later “There’s this girl, Lisa. Mr. Hans, the gardener, he told me to give her a flower and tell her how I feel, and Alfred gave me one of his red roses for me to give her. She’s really pretty.” He sighed, ashamed “But she didn’t want it. She laughed and...” His eyes got a little teary and he choked on the words, words that tasted like iron on his mouth and felt like poison on Bruce’s ears “And she told me she’d never be with a dirty gypsy like me.” Dick couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, so he hid his face in his hands before finishing “It’s just... I never thought she’d think like that too. Just the boys was bad, but... It hurts. It hurts so much.” Bruce kneeled down to be at his height, and placed a hand on his shoulder “And then Thomas came up and stomped on the flower, called me a charity case, a circus freak, and pushed me down, and I couldn’t do anything because I didn’t want the reporters to talk about me like they did last time.” He was sobbing now, and Bruce pulled him in a hug, wrapping his arms so tightly around him, desperatly holding his child as he fell apart in front of him.

The last time he mentioned was when he got in a fight at school for the same reasons, on his first week with Bruce. The newspaper wrote a small commentary on him, titled “Richard Grayson-Wayne: Perfect heir or Problem Child?” Dick was so angry. He cried himself to sleep that night. He didn’t tell anyone, but Alfred heard him as he walked away from Bruce’s room.

“I miss... I miss the circus Bruce.” He went on “I know it’s been years now, but I still miss it. I miss moving, and I miss performing there, and I miss my mom and my dad. I wish I could have it back.”

“I know kid.” Bruce said, rubbing circles in his back.

“It was so much easier. So simple.” After a while, the tears subdued a little “I’m sorry Bruce. I don’t want to sound ungrateful. You gave me so much...”

“It’s okay Dick, you’re not ungrateful. It’s normal to miss it.”

They held each other for a little while longer. Dick was the one who let go, when he was ready to. The sky was almost entirely navy blue when they resumed walking. This time, Dick lead them to the white roses and sat down in front of them.

“They are my favorites.” He smiled, taking in their strong scent. “At least for now.”

Bruce sat down next to him and placed a hand on his back.

“Dick, I don’t want to upset you,” He started “But I need to know who’s been making fun of you.”

“It’ll only make things worse Bruce.” He answered, looking down.

“Dick, this is serious.” Bruce insisted.

“It’s just bullying Bruce, I’ll be fine. If you do something, it’ll get worse, trust me.”

“It’s not just bullying Dick.” Bruce turned around to face him, but the boy averted his eyes “Dick, those kids... I know it’s hard, but... Lisa said a very racist thing to you.” His eyes were still fixated at the ground, avoiding Bruce’s “I’ll understand if you don’t want to take action against it Dick, and I’m only trying to protect you, but...”

“It’s Thomas Kline.” Dick interrupted “Thomas Kline, Matthew Peterson, Calvin Harrington and... Lisa Randolph. They are the ones who call me that.” Both of them kept silent for a while, Dick writting patterns on the dirt while Bruce watched him.

“Thank you Dick. I’ll talk to the principal tommorow. And if those kids ever treat you like that again, well...” He smiled “You are Robin. And the media would surely belive you have jiu-jitsu lessons, should things get out of hand.” Dick chuckled a little at that.

“Thanks Bruce.” Dick launched himself forward, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist and burrying his face in his chest.

“No problem.” Bruce smiled as he ran his fingers throug Dick’s dark, messy hair.

...

“Alfred,” Bruce called as he pulled his suit on “I just tucked Dick in. I need to go out for the night.”

“As Bruce Wayne? Or should I worry, master Wayne?”

“Andrew Randolph is throwing a party. I wasn’t planning on attending, but due to current events...” He smoothed his shirt and he walked through the door, Alfred following suit. “We need to talk about his parenting skills.”

...

The next morning, Bruce made the front page. Dick woke up to “Good Morning Gotham!” showing picture’s of him punching Andrew Randolph’s teeth in, in the middle of the socialite’s ball room. The kid’s hair was still smushed on the side, his eyes were a bit puffy and he wore his pajamas as he watched it.

“I don’t know, Charlotte,” One of the anchors commented “The attack seems completly unprovoked.”

“Well, Peter, we have no clue on the content of that conversation.” Charlotte answered “What happened that led the sociable and easy-going billionaire to lose his temper like that?”

“Actually,” The third person, a woman named Nadia, began speaking “When asked about the incident by one of our reporters, Bruce Wayne answered with a simple ‘I don’t appreciate any kind of prejudice. Especially if it’s directed towards my son.’ It’s safe to say that what provoked the fight was, most likely, an unnapreciated comment on Richard Grayson-Wayne’s romani heritage.”

Dick turned off the TV and turned to the man queitly sipping his coffee behind him.

“What did you do last night?”

[antiquery]

the other day I was talking to a friend and I said something like “the dream quest of unknown kadath, much like other epic fantasy of its type, honestly reads like someone’s rpg campaign that just went completely off the rails.” this is true.* because I have absolutely nothing better to do in quarantine, i have gone through the entire novel and empirically determined what rpg class randolph carter would be (sheet included). you’re welcome.

*inb4 “but el there’s only one protagonist”: I’ve played one-on-one d&d before and it can ABSOLUTELY work and be completely delightful, so hush.

GROUND RULES

I’m using 5th edition d&d, because it’s the system I’m most familiar with. stay tuned for the sequel, where I do this all over again but with pathfinder.

I’m also using UA stuff + some of the new things from explorer’s guide to wildemount, because dunamancy is very thematically lovecraftian.

carter is very clearly a seasoned adventurer in this story. textually, he’s only the fourth human to ever venture to unknown Kadath; additionally, “being old in the land of dream he counted on many useful memories and devices to aid him.” with such qualifications in mind, let’s go ahead and make him level 20. this is, after all, the sort of nonsense high-level PCs get up to— challenging gods and the like.

RACE: human, obviously. let’s go variant human, both to reflect his oddball nature & to pick up a 1st level feat. 

BACKGROUND: this one’s a bit trickier. according to Lovecraft he’s a resident of Beacon Hill in the waking world, the most upper-class neighborhood of Boston, so let’s say he’s got the noble background.

ALIGNMENT: an interesting question! carter isn’t exactly your standard fantasy hero, and he’s not really out for anyone but himself. he demonstrates a clear willingness to allow other people to come to harm in pursuit of his goals, though he himself never actually harms anyone for any reason other than self defense. but he’s interpersonally kind, and clearly doesn’t actually want anyone to get hurt. let’s say true neutral.

ABILITY SCORES

strength: not his best ability score, though he does seem to be fairly athletic when it’s absolutely needed. let’s make this a 10.

dexterity: carter is fast on his feet, nimble, and clearly good at feats of escape, which he pulls off several times in the text. let’s make this his highest score, at a 20.

constitution: he’s not especially tough. another 10.

intelligence: carter speaks several languages and knows a great deal about the history and culture of the Dreamlands. when he can’t talk his way out of trouble, he tends to reason his way out. let’s make this pretty high, though not as high as his charisma— a 16.

wisdom: this one’s a bit tricky. while he’s relatively perceptive and skilled at things that depend on wisdom, he doesn’t seem to have a ton in the way of common sense, and (as demonstrated by his encounter with the merchant in dylath-leen) his insight is absolutely abysmal. let’s make this a 12.

charisma: carter’s pretty sociable with just about every creature he encounters on his travels; people seem to like him, and he has friends all over. additionally, he’s an excellent liar, and quite persuasive, when simple likeability doesn’t get him where he needs to go. let’s make this an 18.

SKILLS

survival: carter clearly knows his way around the natural world.

“Carter detoured at the proper place, and heard behind him the frightened fluttering of some of the more timid zoogs. He had known they would follow him, so he was not disturbed; for one grows accustomed to the anomalies of these prying creatures. It was twilight when he came to the edge of the wood, and the strengthening glow told him it was the twilight of morning.”

deception: when carter can’t get his way through persuasion, he’s more than happy to lie, and quite skilled at it too.

“Then Carter did a wicked thing, offering his guileless host so many draughts of the moon-wine which the zoogs had given him that the old man became irresponsibly talkative.”

“For a week the strange seamen lingered in the taverns and traded in the bazaars of Celephaïs, and before they sailed Carter had taken passage on their dark ship, telling them that he was an old onyx-miner and wishful to work in their quarries.”

religion: carter displays an impressive knowledge of the workings of both the gods of the dreamlands and the outer gods (though the latter might actually be better classified as an arcana skill, now that i think about it).

“Now the use of all this in finding the gods became at once apparent to Carter. It is known that in disguise the younger among the Great Ones often espouse the daughters of men, so that around the borders of the cold waste wherein stands Kadath the peasants must all bear their blood. This being so, the way to find that waste must be to see the stone face on Ngranek and mark the features; then, having noted them with care, to search for such features among living men. Where they are plainest and thickest, there must the gods dwell nearest; and whatever stony waste lies back of the villages in that place must be that wherein stands Kadath.” 

“He knew, however, that no beings as nearly human as these would dare approach the ultimate nighted throne of the daemon Azathoth in the formless central void.”

“[...] for he knew from old tales that the Great Ones’ castle atop unknown Kadath is of onyx.”

“And they sang many songs and told many tales, shewing such strange knowledge of the olden days and the habits of gods that Carter could see they held many latent memories of their sires the Great Ones.”

“Carter surmised from old tales that he was indeed come to that most dreadful and legendary of all places, the remote and prehistoric monastery wherein dwells uncompanioned the high-priest not to be described, which wears a yellow silken mask over its face and prays to the Other Gods and their crawling chaos Nyarlathotep.”

investigation: in the taverns of dylath-leen and elsewhere, carter shows a remarkable facility for collecting useful information. 

“Meanwhile he did not fail to seek through the haunts of far travellers for any tales they might have concerning Kadath in the cold waste or a marvellous city of marble walls and silver fountains seen below terraces in the sunset.”

history: same principle as arcana, really; a huge chunk of the information we get about the dreamlands comes with the mention that carter himself knows all this.

"[Carter] recognised the templed terraces of Zar, abode of forgotten dreams; the spires of infamous Thalarion, that daemon-city of a thousand wonders where the eidolon Lathi reigns; the charnal gardens of Xura, land of pleasures unattained, and the twin headlands of crystal, meeting above in a resplendent arch, which guard the harbour of Sona-Nyl, blessed land of fancy.” 

“The dead temples on the mountains were so placed that they could have glorified no wholesome or suitable gods, and in the symmetries of the broken columns there seemed to lurk some dark and inner meaning which did not invite solution. And what the structure and proportions of the olden worshippers could have been, Carter steadily refused to conjecture.”

“At last far below him he saw faint lines of grey and ominous pinnacles which he knew must be the fabled Peaks of Thok.”

“And Carter knew right well what they must be, for legend tells of only one such twain. They were the changeless guardians of the Great Abyss, and these dark ruins were in truth primordial Sarkomand.“

perception: despite his consistent failure to notice when people are lying to or tricking him, carter’s fairly observant of everything else.

“He noticed that these cottages [on the moon] had no windows, and thought that their shape suggested the huts of [the Inuit].*”

nature: concordant with his apparent skill in surviving in the world, carter is quite good at recognizing different natural phenomena.

“As the coast drew nearer, and the hideous stench of that city grew stronger, he saw upon the jagged hills many forests, some of whose trees he recognised as akin to that solitary moon-tree in the enchanted wood of earth, from whose sap the small brown zoogs ferment their peculiar wine.”

“They were not any birds or bats known elsewhere on earth or in dreamland, for they were larger than elephants and had heads like a horse’s. Carter knew that they must be the shantak-birds of ill rumour, and wondered no more what evil guardians and nameless sentinels made men avoid the boreal rock desert.”

persuasion: people tend to like carter quite a lot, and he excels at getting his way without resorting to violence.

“The captain, after landing, made Carter a guest in his own small house on the shore of Yath where the rear of the town slopes down to it; and his wife and servants brought strange toothsome foods for the traveller’s delight.”

“After much persuasion the ghoul consented to guide his guest inside the great wall of the gugs’ kingdom.”

“And all through that second day he made progress in knowing the men of the ship, getting them little by little to talk of their cold twilight land, of their exquisite onyx city, and of their fear of the high and impassable peaks beyond which Leng was said to be.”

“The ghoul that was Pickman glibbered gravely with its fellows, and in the end Carter was offered far more than he had at most expected.“

athletics: despite his apparently mediocre strength score, carter’s rather good at feats of athleticism (running long distances, climbing, etc)

“But there was a way, and he saw it in due season. Only a very expert dreamer could have used those imperceptible foot-holds, yet to Carter they were sufficient.”

“For hours he climbed with aching arms and blistered hands, seeing again the grey death-fire and Thok’s uncomfortable pinnacles. At last he discerned above him the projecting edge of the great crag of the ghouls, whose vertical side he could not glimpse; and hours later he saw a curious face peering over it as a gargoyle peers over a parapet of Notre Dame.”

“Once he thought he heard the hoofbeats of the frightened beast, and doubled his speed from this encouragement. He was covering miles, and little by little the way was broadening in front till he knew he must soon emerge on the cold and dreaded desert to the north.”

acrobatics: the multiple times over the course of the story carter falls from great distances, he manages to land on his feet. additionally, he’s apparently an accomplished climber, so make of that what you will.

stealth: as one might expect from a character who’s so used to going at problems slantwise, carter is very good at sneakery. 

“There was one chance that Carter might be able to steal through that twilight realm of circular stone towers at an hour when the giants would be all gorged and snoring indoors, and reach the central tower with the sign of Koth upon it, which has the stairs leading up to that stone trap-door in the enchanted wood.”

“Carter allowed his curiosity to conquer his fear, and crept forward again instead of retreating. Once in crossing an open street he wriggled worm-like on his stomach, and in another place he had to rise to his feet to avoid making a noise among heaps of fallen marble. But always he succeeded in avoiding discovery, so that in a short time he had found a spot behind a titan pillar whence he could watch the whole green-litten scene of action. “

FEATS

lucky: what it says on the tin; carter’s luck is extraordinary. multiple times during the novel, he’s saved from certain doom by a stroke of happy chance.

observant: a huge part of the text’s travelogue sense comes from carter noticing specific and responding to specific elements of his surroundings.

mobile: again, carter’s very quick and hard to pin down. sort of an extension of the idea behind giving him athletics proficiency, & one of his class features.

LANGUAGES

goblin: “Carter, however, had no fear; for he was an old dreamer and had learnt [the Zoogs’] fluttering language and made many a treaty with them.” small carnivorous pack-hunting creatures with a primitive society and language of their own sound pretty goblin-like to me.

celestial: when he reads them, carter is "disappointed by [...] the meagre help to be found in the Pnakotic Manuscripts and the Seven Cryptical Books of Hsan.” since these texts all concern the gods of the Dreamlands, we can safely assume they’re written in celestial.

undercommon: “A man he had known in Boston—a painter of strange pictures with a secret studio in an ancient and unhallowed alley near a graveyard—had actually made friends with the ghouls and had taught him to understand the simpler part of their disgusting meeping and glibbering.” honestly, what is the vale of pnath if not the underdark? it’s got cities and everything!

MISC. PROFICIENCIES

vehicles (water): “The sea party, commanded by Carter, boarded the anchored galley and rowed out to meet the undermanned galley of the newcomers.” not sure where he learned to sail— the miskatonic crew team, maybe, or summers on the cape?

thieves’ tools: never shows up in canon, but come on, obviously he’s got some trap-disarming/lock-picking ability! 

CLASS

BARD 11 / COLLEGE OF LORE

we know from the paratext of his narrative that carter is an artist— he’s a novelist, and a talented one at that. even here, though, his relevance and abilities are in large part due to his creative capabilities as a dreamer. it’s not exactly traditional barding, but I’d argue that what is a bard if not someone whose creativity reshapes the world? whether that takes place through the medium of music or just through the raw power of imagination is more a question of internal distinction than anything.

the college of lore is all about the seeking after of knowledge and beauty, forbidden or not. these bards are absolutely focused on the pursuit of truth at any and all costs, sometimes to their own demise. if there’s a better college for a doomed dreamer on a quixotic quest after something fleeting and beautiful, I don’t know it. here are some of the places in the text carter acts particularly college of lore-y:

“Carter felt that the lore of so far a traveller must not be overlooked.”

“At last, having gained all the information he was likely to gain in the taverns and public places of Baharna...”

“It was from these children of the exiled hill-people that Carter had heard the best tales about Ngranek when searching through Baharna’s ancient taverns.“

“And as that music grew, the shantak raised its ears and plunged ahead, and Carter likewise bent to catch each lovely strain. It was a song, but not the song of any voice. Night and the spheres sang it, and it was old when space and Nyarlathotep and the Other Gods were born. [...] Faster flew the shantak, and lower bent the rider, drunk with the marvels of strange gulfs, and whirling in the crystal coils of outer magic. Then came too late the warning of the evil one, the sardonic caution of the daemon legate who had bidden the seeker beware the madness of that song.“

ROGUE 9 / SCOUT

we mentioned above carter’s clear facility with the natural world, but more than that, his way of confronting (or not) the various sticky situations in which he finds himself is decidedly roguish. he sneaks about rather than plunge into a fight he knows he can’t win; he enlists other people to fight for him; he’s profoundly strategic about what conflicts does and doesn’t engage with, martial or otherwise. rogues are all about fighting smart, not hard; scouts in particular are all about self-sufficiency and solitary capability. I was actually torn between scout or inquisitive for his roguish archetype, considering as inquisitives are very much focused on detection, perception, and investigation— but ultimately inquisitives are far, far better at reading people than carter is, to the extent that one of their core class features relies on it. so, scout it is!

SPELLS 

and here we get into somewhat trickier territory, because our dear protagonist is not himself especially magical. I’m taking a little bit of liberty here for the sake of plausibility as a player character. we know from the text that carter is able to manipulate the world around him, if only subconsciously, because he’s a gifted dreamer. I tried to reflect that idea in his spell list, giving him a mix of enchantment and transmutation spells, with a few psychic damage and divination tricks thrown in. an important note: I can’t imagine carter casting spells like a regular bard, playing music or reciting poetry or giving a speech; instead, I imagine it would look a lot more like how your average sorcerer does things, re-writing reality through sheer force of will.

cantrips: minor illusion, mind sliver, mage hand, prestidigitation

1st level (4 slots): charm person, sleep, identify, longstrider, speak with animals

2nd level (3 slots): enlarge/reduce, enhance ability, suggestion, wristpocket

3rd level (3 slots): blink, clairvoyance, psionic blast, tongues

4th level (3 slots): charm monster, polymorph

5th level (2 slots): commune, legend lore

6th level (1 slot): eyebite

and there we have it! randolph carter the true neutral human 11th level bard/9th level rogue. I took the liberty of writing up his finished sheet (art credit @sator-the-wanderess​), which you can find viewable below as well. if anyone wants to actually play this version of carter (or a leveled down version) or use him in their game, please do, and please let me know!

LINK TO PDF CHARACTER SHEET

[leonthecardboardunicorn]

The Oracle Prince, Happy Ending

Pairing: Viggo/Liz

Summary: We’ve found the gems of the Dragonkin, but now Hawkeye has their eye on the treasures of the noble families. The Foundation Day royal ball seems like the perfect time. Luckily, we have the help of the crown prince- Viggo?!

First: Chapter 1

Previous: Chapter 12

Unhappy Ending

Normal Ending

The Dragon of Time. All of my life, I'd heard the legend of the mighty dragon who watched over this land, a being sealed away in stone.

But that night, stone became flesh, and the dragon's mighty song filled the air- a power so great I could barely remain standing.

"Liz!" Viggo wrapped his arms around me, shielding me. Finally, the light faded. "Are you all right?"

"Ah!" My heart jumped as I saw them. Jaden and Daniel were still standing, but they were frozen like stone. Only the king remained unfrozen.

"Their hearts were filled with wickedness." The voice boomed through the tower, and my gaze fell upon the dragon. "They will awaken in time, but they will be without their magic. This is the fate of all those who followed them."

"Amazing.." I had read about this power in the storybooks, but it was different to see it in person.

But all my attention turned as the dragon landed before us. Those eyes.. the eyes that had watched over this land were now fixed on Viggo. "Your presence is strange, familiar and also.. new. Who is it who awakens me?"

"I am a descendant of Siegfried," Viggo said clearly. No longer was he trembling, as if all his fear had faded away. "I am a prince of the kingdom the two of you dreamed of long ago."

"I see. I have slumbered for a long time."

Viggo nodded. "You have guarded us for all this time. But someone told me that even you deserved to see the light of day again." He nodded towards me.

"And who are you?" His gaze fell on me, but his eyes were gentle.

So many things that I wanted to say, but I couldn't find the words. "I-I'm Liz Hart. I'm h-honored to meet you."

He seemed to smile. "The honor is all mine, Goddess of Time." The blood rushed to my cheeks as I heard him.

"Ha.." And Viggo and I realized at the same time there was still someone left in the room.

"Ah, crap! Hang on!" We quickly ran over to the king, untying him.

"Thank you." But the king was trembling as the dragon's gaze fell on him.

The dragon approached him, sniffing him. "You too are the blood of Siegfried. You are the one who leads this land."

"I-I am. I've heard.. the legends all my life, but I never thought.. I never dreamed I'd see you like this."

"I didn't think I'd see the light of day once more," the dragon said. "It's thanks to the bravery of all those gathered here- especially those two who dared to face me."

"I know." The king smiled at Viggo. "I feel like I can learn from their bravery."

And just then, I remembered. "O Dragon of Time! I forgot to mention- we're not the only ones here! There are some old friends waiting to meet you! I'm sure they'll be really excited!"

"Well then, let's not keep them waiting."

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

When we got back to the floor, the first thing I noticed was all the frozen figures, just like Jaden and Daniel, frozen mid fight. Even Cordelia amongst them.

'So this is what's become of Hawkeye..'

A hush fell over the room as all eyes on fell on the Dragon of Time.

"Just as the legends say," Vain murmured, eyes wide, "so this is the Dragon of Time.."

Randolph smiled as he approached him. He reached out, touching the dragon's snout. "It's been a long time, old friend," he greeted warmly.

"It seems a lot has happened while I slumbered."

"More than I can say. I've been watching over this land for all of these years. It's different, but.. wonderful all the same."

"This power.. just like I remember, all those years ago," Felix said, a distant look in his eyes.

The dragon turned to him with a smile, a knowing look. "I see that you too have awakened from your long slumber."

"Yes. It took a long time, but.." He looked over his shoulder at Willem and Lacan. "I found my way home. It's good to see you again."

I couldn't help but smile as I watched them. 'It looks like everything's working out.' But something hit me.

"Oh, wait!" In all of the confusion, I had almost forgotten about the ball. I couldn't imagine the confusion back in the ballroom, with everyone leaving so suddenly. "Viggo, shouldn't we be getting back to the ball now?"

“Crap!”

Headmaster Schuyler stepped forward. "Your Majesty, you, His Highness, and Liz should go on ahead. We'll take care of getting these," he nodded towards the frozen figures, "back to the castle dungeons."

"We can help with that," Felix offered. The other two nodded behind him.

"I'll go with you," the Dragon of Time said, nudging the king. "I'm looking forward to seeing what Gedonelune has become after all these years."

"Huh? Sure.."

My heart warmed as the four of us started walking together. 'It looks like things are working out.'

Suddenly, something cold touched my nose as we stepped outside. "Huh?" I held out my hand, confirming my suspicions.

"What's wrong?"

"It's.. snowing."

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'What a fuss.' I nearly collapsed against the wall, a wave of exhaustion sweeping over me as I left the ballroom.

"Liz?" Viggo settled next to me on the ground. "You all right?"

"It's just been a long night." I had lost count of the hours we had spent in the ballroom, taking care of the fuss. "Still.." I couldn't help but smile at the memory. "We made quite a sight showing up with the Dragon of Time, didn't we?"

"We did. May have been worth it just for the shock on their faces." He laughed, but his expression softened. "But.. seems like they took things pretty well. Everyone seemed to accept the Dragon of Time wasn't going to destroy everything. And I won't be the prince who brought destruction upon Gedonelune."

"It looks like you'll have to be the hero who saved us instead."

"A hero... That doesn't sound so bad."

The dragon we feared was kind, and now Hawkeye was gone. "It looks like everything's going to be all right after all."

He smiled a little, but his expression turned stern again. "..A lot is going to change now that he's awake. The snow is just the start of it. We can't go back to how things were before."

"I know. I know our actions wouldn't be without consequence. But we'll face it together. And, honestly, after every thing that we've been through tonight, I feel like we can handle anything together."

He smiled. "..I'm glad you were there with me," he said at last, avoiding my eyes. "I don't know if I would have been able to face it alone."

"Of course I was. I'll always be there with you."

He was quiet for a long moment as he leaned against the wall. "..I never thought that I'd make it this far," he said, his voice distant. "Thought I'd always be shoved around, in trouble until the end.”

He turned to me, and my heart was racing. He squeezed my hand, and I knew what this was. I'd felt it way back then, walking together in the town, and I knew it when we'd faced the dragon together. I knew it without a doubt.

"You are the only one who doesn't see me as just a prince- or a troublemaker. Over and over, you've shown me the future doesn't have to be as dark as it seems. You've shown me I can forge a new light.”

"Viggo-"

He smiled, sweet and warm. "I love you, Liz."

"I love you too, Viggo."

I wasn't sure how long we sat together, both exhausted from the trials. But it was a peaceful feeling. Not a girl and a prince. Just the two of us.

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By the time morning came, everything was settled. With everyone's help, we'd managed to find the others Hawkeye had kidnapped; the rest had been trivial.

In the light of morning, the castle looked like a different world. The courtyard glistened with fresh fallen snow; nobles frolicked happily through the snow or played together.

I couldn't help but smile as I saw them. 'To think, just last night, I thought the world was going to end.' And now we felt at peace.

To my surprise, I felt something drape over my shoulders. I looked up to see Viggo settle his cloak over my shoulders. "You ought to take care. It's freezing out here."

"Thank you."

"Dad usually arranges for it to snow on Foundation Day," he said, a wistful look in his eyes. "First time it's happened like this though. We'll have to start preparing for a heavy winter."

"Well, don't you two look like a happy couple." Vain strolled up to us, Hugo and Mischa following on his heels.

"You.." Viggo's gaze fell on Vain. "You're the one who broke Cordelia out. Guess I should thank you."

"Oh, that's right! Vain, there was something that I wanted to ask you. How did you convince her to help us?"

"Hmm, I wonder." As usual, all I got was his mysterious smile. But.. was I imagining the distant look in his eyes? "That's for me to know."

"Figures." Even after all this time, I still couldn't get answers out of him.

"I can tell you this." His expression turned serious. "You would have gotten the gem of wind either way."

"..Who are you, anyway?" Viggo asked.

"Well.." The story of the time travelers was a lot to explain.

But Vain got there first. "I'm the one you would have faced in the finals, if things had gone according to plan. It's almost a shame we never got to face each other."

Viggo smirked, his hand already on his pipe. "That sounds like a challenge."

"I'm up for it if you are. If, of course, you're prepared to lose."

I couldn't help but smile, seeing their spirit. "That sounds like fun! It might be just the thing to lift everyone's spirits up."

Panic flashed across Hugo's face. "Wait, Vain, I don't think that's such a good idea-"

"Don't worry, Hugo, this won't take long."

"Pugnus Tempestus!"

Vain lurched forward, hidden eye flashing- and went crashing to the ground with one swing of Viggo's mist fists.

"Huh? Why can't I summon my magic?!"

Hugo sighed, helping his brother to his feet. "That's why I tried to warn you," he scolded. "The Dragon of Time awakening threw off the magic that governs time all at once. It'll take a while for our magic to recharge."

That sounded familiar. "Oh! It's just like what happened with the Castle in the Sky." Hugo nodded.

"Hmph." Vain turned away, clutching his nose.

And Viggo wrapped his arm around me. I felt him resting his head on my shoulder, a teasing smile on his lips. “Does this mean that I win?"

"Looks like it." I giggled. "Prince Viggo, savior of Gedonelune- and winner of the tournament."

He smiled. "That doesn't sound too bad."

He leaned in towards me- and kissed me on the lips. And even in the freezing snow, he was as warm as the sun.

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"What? You can.. take away my visions?"

The Dragon of Time faced him steadily. "If that is what you desire. I have heard how you suffered at the hands of Hawkeye. How you were used from a young age because of your visions. You need not carry that burden any longer."

Viggo glanced at me, as if asking what to do. His visions had caused him a lot of pain over the years. It could be the start of a new life, to live without them. But.. he had been able to make something new for himself too with it.

I took his hand, meeting his eyes. "It's your choice, Viggo."

He was quiet, for a long moment. "I.." He sat up, his voice firm. "I won't let myself be used by anyone else anymore. I won't go back to how it was before."

"Understandable."

"..So teach me how to use them."

"Huh?"

"As much as I've hated them, they've helped guide me too. And if everyone else can use them, I sure as heck can too. So teach me how I can make the best of them."

Relief flooded over me, and the dragon smiled. "Excellent choice."

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Luca and Elias stared up in awe at the Dragon of Time.

“All that time of dreaming of the tower,” Luca muttered. “I never thought I'd get to see you in person like this.”

“Who would have thought we'd end up here?” Elias said.

The Dragon of Time looked at Luca curiously, sniffing him. “Your presence is familiar too. You.. are a descendant of Siegfried too, aren't you?”

Open shock flashed across Luca's face. "You can tell?"

"You have a similar presence as he did. Like Viggo and the king. Different, in a way- but shining brightly too."

Luca smiled. "You have.. no idea how much that means to hear from you."

Viggo looked thoughtful. "You know.. Dad's been getting better about listening. If we told him who you were, I think he'd listen to us. Especially with the testimony from the big guy here."

"You'd be willing to do that for me?"

"Who do you take me for? Of course I would," Viggo said without hesitation. My heart warmed as I watched the two of them.

"What do you say?"

He was quiet for a long time, looking between us. And then he smiled as he shook his head. "Maybe.. another time. I have family here and at the academy. For once, I.. think I'm happy with this. But.. it's nice to know that I have the option."

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"You wanted to see me, Your Majesty?'

"Ah, come in, come in!" The king beckoned me into the dining room. "Please, have a seat." I took a seat across from him; the table was filled with lavish foods.

'Not exactly what I expected when I got a summons from the king.'

"Viggo's been telling me a lot about you," he said with a light laugh. “He told me about your adventures together. And he told me that he loves you."

My heart dropped. 'This is a warning. Is he going to ask me to go away?'

"Do you love him?" he asked, fixing his gaze on me.

A dangerous question. But.. I couldn't lie. "Yes, I do, Your Majesty."

He laughed. "Well, that's wonderful! I'm glad that Viggo has someone who makes him so happy. The way he lights up when he talks about you.." He smiled warmly. "I haven't seen him smile like that in a long time. I'm sure you two will be very happy together."

I could hardly believe my ears. "Your Majesty, are you saying you approve of me and Viggo together?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

I bowed my head. "I'm not a princess, not a noble. I'm just a girl from the middle of nowhere."

"That doesn't matter to me." There was a distant look in his eyes. "I've spent too long letting people push me.. letting people push my family around simply because of their names. I nearly lost my kingdom because of it. And Viggo got deeply hurt because of it. I won't make that mistake again. So, if you and Viggo love each other, I won't stand in your way."

My heart soared. "Thank you, Your Majesty!"

"Oh, and there's one more thing before we eat. Tell Viggo he can come in, all right?"

"Huh?" I looked over to see Viggo in the doorway.

"I.. wasn't listening," he said, but he avoided my eyes.

"Come on, come on, sit next to me!" He smiled as he sat next to me. How wonderful. Now nothing could hold us back.

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Our days in the castle flew by, and soon it was time to return home.

As we settled into the carriage, Viggo wrapped his arms around me, as casual as could be. My heart raced, but I relaxed in his gentle touch.

'I can't believe I get to be by his side like this.'

"It's a little sad to be leaving this place," I said idly.

"Mhmm. But we'll be back soon enough," Viggo said. "After all, this is going to be our home, right?"

I couldn't help but giggle. "Right!"

When we got back, Amelia and Gray were waiting for us at the gates.

Amelia practically tackled me in a hug. "Liz! You have to tell me everything! I heard that you went to the royal ball as Viggo's partner!"

She went pale as Viggo stepped out of the carriage with me. He casually dropped a kiss on my cheek.

I laughed at Amelia's astonishment. "I have so much to tell you." I heard a familiar cry from above us; Amelia's jaw dropped as she looked up. "A lot to tell you!"

Gray looked up. "Is that..?"

"Come on, Gray," Viggo said, guiding him away, "there's someone I want you to meet."

"Come on!" Amelia grabbed my hand, pulling me away. "Let's get inside. It's so cold out here!"

We walked together, sharing stories of our breaks. But as we walked past the forest, something caught my eye- a figure standing there, gazing up at the tower. Someone who shouldn't be there.

"Liz?"

"Uh, you go ahead, I'll catch up with you." My heart in my throat was I approached the figure. She was unmistakably familiar- a mysterious woman with long, red hair, just like I had seen her, years ago. Her gaze fixed on me. "How are you in this form during the day?"

"Have we.. met before?"

No. Something was different. She looked almost the same, but her eyes lacked the same warmth. "Randolph?"

"You must be thinking of someone I have a contract with," she said with a pleasant smile. "Easy mistake to make."

A chill ran down my spine. This was her- the one Randolph had made a contract with all those years ago. The third mage of the tower. "You're..!"

"You can call me Mab." She smiled. "By the way, I heard that you're the one who awakened the Dragon of Time."

"Y-yes."

"I'm impressed. I didn't think anyone would have the guts. But.. it does change my contracts now. And it seems.." She looked towards the tower. "It's time to renegotiate."

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The years passed us by. And one day came a day I once would have never dared to dream of before.

This time, I found myself waiting at Viggo's door. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be. Let's get this over with." My breath hitched as I saw him, dressed in his finest. But I also smiled as I saw his eyes widen. "You look wonderful."

"You two look like a proper royal pair." I smiled at the familiar voices; Shu settled at my side, and the Dragon of Time at Viggo's.

"They'll be calling your Your Majesty soon."

"Ugh, don't remind me." But Viggo smiled even as he said it.

"King Viggo La Rochejaquelin Gedonelune," I said playfully. "Guardian of Gedonelune, awakener of the Dragon of Time-" Viggo cut me off with a kiss, taking my breath away. I loved it when he did that.

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to it. But with you as a queen.. I suppose it won't be so bad."

"Come on, Your Majesty. Gedonelune awaits."

The future that we dreamed of- and sometimes feared- had finally arrived, and, with it, came a new dawn. Like everything else, we'd face it- together.