#unstoppable force meets immovable object kind of situation

[paydaay]

if there is one thing that musashi, kojiro, and meowth have in common, it is that they love to talk. and so it is no surprise that musashi doesn't mind the silence she is met with as she speaks ... if anything, it's kind of nice to know she won't be interrupted by a smart-mouthed quip or attitude every few seconds. as much as she loves kojiro and meowth, they can be a thorn in her side when she's on a roll.

" i'm sure our listeners would love to hear from you about raising pokemon, @ultchamp ! it would make for a great episode, i know it. " though, the more she thinks about it ... red might be a great pokemon trainer, but he doesn't seem like a particularly great podcast guest. that's okay. not everyone can be as interesting as musashi is, after all. " of course, if your training methods are top secret, i understand. "

[pucksandpower]

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chef!Max Verstappen x vegan!Reader

Summary: in which an unstoppable force (the stubborn Michelin-starred chef of a glitzy steakhouse) meets an immovable object (the vegan just looking for something she can actually eat) … and the rest, as they say, is history

The steakhouse is packed, the ambient light just dim enough to cast a flattering glow over everyone at the long wooden table. Glasses clink together in a chorus of celebration, laughter, and conversation filling the air as your friends lean in close to chat. The table is filled with shared appetizers — charred octopus, beef tallow truffle fries, the occasional bacon-wrapped date — but you’re preoccupied with the thick menu in your hand.

“What’s good here?” You ask, keeping your voice casual. But inside, you’re already scanning for the little green leaf symbols that typically offer you some respite. There’s not a single one. It’s all meat, meat, meat.

“Everything,” someone pipes up. “But definitely the steak.”

You give them a polite smile, already sensing the dilemma growing in your chest. You could’ve sworn someone mentioned the place had plant-based options. But this is a Michelin-starred steakhouse — it seems like steak is the only thing anyone’s interested in tonight.

“Anything catching your eye?” You friend across the table asks, eyes bright with excitement.

“Not exactly.” You chew on your lip, setting the menu down. “I’m, uh, vegan.”

A silence falls over your corner of the table, the chatter continuing elsewhere as your friends stare at you. You feel your cheeks heat up, the familiar twinge of anxiety flaring up as you mentally prepare for the usual questions.

“Vegan? Seriously?” One of them finally says, brow furrowing. “You’re in the wrong place for that.”

“Yeah, it’s just ... it’s my thing, you know?” You laugh lightly, hoping to defuse the situation. “I’m sure they can whip something up in the kitchen, right?”

“I don’t know, this place is pretty strict,” another friend comments, glancing towards the kitchen doors as if expecting a sous-chef to pop out and reprimand you. “But you could ask.”

You take a breath, nodding. “Yeah, I’ll ask.”

The waiter approaches, a polished smile on his face as he sets down more drinks and asks if you’ve made any decisions. You tilt your head, giving him a hopeful look.

“I was wondering if the kitchen could prepare something vegan?” You say, your voice steady but polite. “I didn’t see anything on the menu, and-”

“I’ll ask the chef,” he cuts in smoothly, though there’s a slight twitch in his jaw as he scribbles something in his notepad. “One moment.”

As he disappears towards the back, your friends exchange wary glances. You try to brush it off with another easy smile, though your nerves are prickling beneath the surface.

“This could be interesting,” someone says, raising their eyebrows. “Michelin-starred chefs aren’t exactly known for accommodating special requests.”

“Yeah, well, I’m hoping this one’s different,” you say, half-joking, though you can’t shake the knot in your stomach.

The seconds tick by, each one dragging out longer than the last. You sip at your water, making small talk, but your mind is already in the kitchen, imagining what kind of chef you’re dealing with. When the kitchen doors finally swing open, you feel a flutter of anxiety — and maybe a little curiosity.

He’s not what you expect.

Max Verstappen storms out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel with an intensity that makes the air crackle around him. His blue eyes are sharp, his jaw tight, and there’s a heat in his expression that has nothing to do with the stoves behind him. He’s annoyed. No, more than annoyed — he’s furious.

And when he locks eyes with you, you feel like the world narrows down to just the two of you.

“Who asked for vegan?” His voice is clipped, Dutch accent thick, and it’s obvious he’s not here to make friends. Your friends glance between the two of you, sensing the impending storm, but you lift your chin, refusing to be intimidated.

“I did,” you say, matching his intensity with your own steady gaze. “Is that a problem?”

Max narrows his eyes, like he can’t quite believe what he’s hearing. “This is a steakhouse,” he says slowly, as if explaining something very simple to a child. “A Michelin-starred steakhouse. I don’t make rabbit food.”

“Then maybe tonight you could make an exception,” you reply, keeping your tone even but firm. “I’m sure a chef of your caliber could whip something up.”

A scoff escapes him, and for a moment, you think he’s about to walk away. But instead, he steps closer, the heat of his presence almost tangible. “You think I’m going to ruin my kitchen with tofu or whatever it is you people eat?”

You blink at him, thrown off balance for a second by the sheer force of his disdain. But you gather yourself quickly, leaning forward slightly. “So you’re saying you can’t do it? That it’s too much for you?”

The challenge hangs in the air between you, thick with tension. Max’s jaw clenches, his eyes sparking with something dangerous. But then, to your surprise, he laughs — a short, harsh sound that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m not making you anything,” he says, finality in his voice. “You should’ve picked a different restaurant.”

“Maybe I would have, if I’d known the chef had such limited skills,” you retort, not backing down.

His eyes darken, and for a moment, you think you’ve gone too far. But then, something shifts. The anger in his expression falters, replaced by something else — something almost amused.

“You’re really pushing it,” he mutters, but there’s a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You feel a strange thrill at that, your pulse quickening. “I’m just asking you to do your job. Isn’t a good chef supposed to cater to all his customers?”

“A good chef is supposed to maintain the integrity of his menu,” he shoots back. “Not cater to every whim that walks through the door.”

“Maybe a great chef can do both,” you say quietly, watching him closely.

For a long moment, he just stares at you, his gaze intense and unreadable. You’re not sure what you expect him to do next — yell, walk away, maybe call security to kick you out — but what happens is the last thing you expect.

He leans in even closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “You think you’re clever, don’t you?”

“Not particularly,” you reply, heart pounding. “I just know what I want.”

Max holds your gaze for a moment longer, then straightens up, tossing the towel over his shoulder. “You’re not going to win this,” he says, but there’s a hint of something in his voice — a challenge, maybe.

“We’ll see about that,” you reply, giving him a small, almost defiant smile.

He doesn’t smile back, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, something that makes your breath catch in your throat. Without another word, he turns on his heel and heads back to the kitchen, the doors swinging shut behind him with a decisive thud.

The table is silent for a moment, everyone exchanging wide-eyed looks as if they can’t believe what just happened. Your heart is still racing, your mind replaying the exchange over and over, analyzing every word, every glance.

“Did you just ...” one of your friends starts, trailing off in disbelief.

“I think I did,” you reply, a bit dazed yourself. But beneath the shock, there’s a strange sense of satisfaction. You’re not sure what it is — maybe the fact that you stood your ground, or maybe it’s something else, something about the way Max looked at you in those final moments.

Whatever it is, it leaves you feeling more alive than you have in a long time.

“Okay, that was intense,” someone else says, still staring at the kitchen doors. “Are you sure you want to keep pushing him?”

You take a breath, letting the adrenaline course through you. “Yeah. I think I do.”

“Good luck with that,” another friend mutters, though there’s a hint of admiration in their voice.

You don’t need luck, though. Not with this. There’s something about Max — something infuriating and fascinating all at once — that makes you want to see how far you can push him, how much he can take before he cracks. You’re not even sure what you’re aiming for — his respect, his irritation, or something else entirely — but you know you’re not backing down.

The minutes pass, and the chatter around the table picks up again, though you can tell everyone’s still on edge, waiting to see if Max will come back. You sip your water, trying to calm the lingering buzz of energy in your veins. Part of you wonders if you’ve made a mistake, if you’ve pushed too far, but another part — a bigger part — knows that this is exactly where you need to be.

When the kitchen doors finally swing open again, the table falls silent once more. Max strides out, his expression unreadable, and heads straight for you. He doesn’t have a plate in his hands, and for a moment, your heart sinks, thinking he’s come out just to reiterate his refusal.

But instead, he stops in front of you, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” you say, meeting his gaze steadily. “I’m not.”

He studies you for a long moment, his blue eyes piercing. Then, to your surprise, he sighs — a heavy, resigned sound.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” he mutters, shaking his head slightly.

“So I’ve been told,” you reply, lifting an eyebrow.

He lets out a low, frustrated growl, but you can see the ghost of a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. The tension between you is still palpable, but it’s shifted — softened in a way that neither of you acknowledges.

“All right,” he finally says, his tone somewhere between exasperation and something almost like admiration. “I’ll make you something.”

Your friends exchange surprised glances, but you keep your gaze locked on Max, not letting yourself get too excited just yet. “You don’t have to,” you say, though the look in your eyes says otherwise.

“I’m doing this once,” he warns, pointing a finger at you like it’s some kind of punishment. “And if you don’t like it, you’re not getting a refund.”

You bite back a smile. “Deal.”

He narrows his eyes at you one last time before turning on his heel and heading back to the kitchen. The doors swing shut behind him, and this time, the silence at the table is charged with something new — something like disbelief, mingled with anticipation.

“What just happened?” Someone finally asks, breaking the spell.

“I think Max Verstappen just agreed to make a vegan dish,” you say, a touch of incredulity in your own voice.

“That’s got to be a first,” another friend chimes in, shaking their head. “You’ve got some kind of magic power.”

You laugh, the sound lighter than it’s been all night. “I don’t know about that. I think he just likes a challenge.”

“Or maybe he just likes you,” one of them says, waggling their eyebrows suggestively.

You roll your eyes, though a part of you wonders. There was something in the way he looked at you — something beyond just irritation. But you push the thought aside. Whatever this is, it’s not something you can figure out in the middle of a crowded steakhouse.

The minutes tick by, and though the conversation at the table picks up again, you can feel the undercurrent of curiosity running through your friends. They’re all waiting to see what Max will come up with, and honestly, so are you. The anticipation builds, your mind racing with possibilities — what could a Michelin-starred chef possibly make that’s both vegan and up to his standards?

When Max finally reappears, he’s carrying a single plate in his hands. He walks with purpose, his expression serious, but there’s a glint in his eyes that wasn’t there before. As he approaches, the table falls silent again, everyone leaning in to see what he’s brought.

He stops in front of you, holding out the plate with a sort of grudging respect. “Here,” he says simply.

You look down at the dish and feel your breath catch. It’s stunning — an artful arrangement of roasted vegetables, grains, and a vibrant sauce that you can’t quite place. It’s clear that he didn’t just throw something together — he put thought into this. Care, even.

“This looks amazing,” you say, genuine awe in your voice.

Max shrugs, though you can see the faintest hint of pride in his expression. “I told you — just this once. Don’t get used to it.”

You give him a small smile, something warm blooming in your chest. “Thank you.”

He nods, but before he can turn away, you add, “I’m serious. It really means a lot that you did this.”

For a moment, his eyes soften, and you see a flicker of something vulnerable beneath his tough exterior. But then he smirks, the mask slipping back into place. “You’re just lucky I’m in a good mood.”

“Is that what this is?” You tease, raising an eyebrow.

He doesn’t answer, just gives you a look that says more than words ever could. Then, with a final nod, he heads back to the kitchen, leaving you with the dish in front of you and the lingering feeling that something significant just happened.

You take a bite, and it’s even better than it looks. The flavors burst on your tongue, rich and complex, and you can’t help but smile. This is more than just food — it’s a statement, a challenge met and won.

The rest of the meal passes in a blur. Your friends order their steaks, and while they rave about their meals, you’re completely absorbed in your own, savoring every bite. You can’t help but steal glances towards the kitchen every now and then, wondering if Max is watching, if he’s thinking about you as much as you’re thinking about him.

By the time dessert rolls around, you’re almost too full to eat another bite. But when the waiter places a plate in front of you, you freeze.

It’s a small, delicate dessert — something that looks like a cross between a tart and a cake, with a perfectly smooth layer of chocolate ganache on top. But that’s not what catches your attention. Written in dark chocolate sauce across the edge of the plate, in neat, precise handwriting, is a phone number.

You blink, staring at it, your heart skipping a beat. Your friends lean in, catching sight of it as well, and their reactions range from gasps to stifled laughter.

“No way,” someone whispers, eyes wide with disbelief.

You can hardly believe it yourself. But there it is — clear as day, an unmistakable invitation.

You glance towards the kitchen, and just as you do, the doors swing open again. Max steps out, catching your eye from across the room. For a moment, the world seems to narrow down to just the two of you again, the noise and bustle of the restaurant fading into the background.

He gives you a small, almost imperceptible nod — an acknowledgment, a dare. Then, without waiting for a response, he turns and disappears back into the kitchen, leaving you with your friends and the plate in front of you.

“Are you going to call him?” One of them asks, their voice tinged with excitement.

You stare at the number, feeling a rush of adrenaline. “I don’t know,” you admit, though a smile is already spreading across your face.

But deep down, you do know. Because this — this little gesture, this playful challenge — feels like the start of something. Something you’re not quite ready to let go of.

You pick up your fork, take a bite of the dessert, and let the sweetness melt on your tongue. It’s perfect — just like everything else he’s made tonight. And as you savor the taste, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is the beginning of something far more interesting than you ever expected.

***

The kitchen is filled with the scent of something sweet and savory, a blend of spices and roasted vegetables that wafts through the house and wraps around you like a warm blanket. You’re perched on a barstool at the kitchen island, one hand absentmindedly resting on your growing belly, the other holding a glass of freshly squeezed juice that Max insisted you drink, despite your protests that you were perfectly fine with water.

“You need the vitamins,” he had said, the Dutch accent that once made you bristle now soothing in its familiarity.

“Max, it’s fine,” you replied, but he had just given you that look — the one that says he’s not backing down — and you relented with a sigh, knowing there was no point in arguing.

Now, you watch as he moves around the kitchen with a practiced ease, his hands deftly chopping, stirring, and seasoning. It’s a sight you’ve grown accustomed to over the years, but it never fails to fill you with a mix of awe and gratitude. He’s changed so much since that night at the steakhouse, when he’d been all sharp edges and stubborn pride. Now, those edges have softened, replaced by a quiet determination to make you happy in every way he can.

“How’s it coming along?” You ask, taking another sip of juice and trying to ignore the flutter of excitement in your stomach that has nothing to do with the baby.

“Almost done,” Max replies, glancing up at you with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “Patience, liefje.”

“You know I’m not good at that,” you tease, leaning forward to try and catch a glimpse of what he’s cooking.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he continues to stir the pot on the stove. “I know. That’s why I’m hurrying.”

You can’t help but smile at that, the warmth of his words spreading through you like a comforting embrace. It’s moments like this that make you realize just how lucky you are — how much you’ve both grown together, built a life together. It hasn’t always been easy, but it’s been worth it.

“What are you making, anyway?” You ask, your curiosity getting the better of you.

He gives you a sly look, his lips curling into a smirk. “You’ll see.”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he retorts, his voice full of playful confidence.

“Unfortunately, yes,” you admit with a mock sigh, though the smile on your face gives you away.

He laughs softly, the sound deep and full of affection. “Good thing, too.”

You watch him for a moment longer, your heart swelling with a mixture of love and contentment. He’s wearing an apron over his casual clothes, his hair slightly tousled from the steam rising off the stove. There’s something almost domestic about the whole scene, but it’s more than that—it’s the intimacy of knowing someone so well, of sharing your life with them in all its messy, beautiful complexity.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” You ask, your voice softening.

Max glances at you, his expression tender. “Not today.”

“Well, you are,” you say, feeling a sudden rush of emotion. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He pauses, the spoon in his hand hovering over the pot as he looks at you with an intensity that makes your breath catch. “You won’t ever have to find out,” he says quietly, his voice laced with a promise.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. It’s not the first time he’s said something like that, but it never fails to hit you with the same force, the same certainty that you’ve found something rare and precious in each other.

Before you can respond, he turns back to the stove, breaking the moment with a casualness that belies the depth of what was just said. “Besides,” he adds, a hint of mischief creeping into his tone, “I’m pretty sure you’d starve without me.”

You laugh, the sound a little shaky as you try to regain your composure. “You’re probably right. But I’d find a way.”

“Not as well as I do,” he counters, his voice filled with mock arrogance.

“True,” you admit, watching him with a smile. “You’ve ruined me for all other chefs.”

“Good,” he says, the pride in his voice unmistakable. “That was the plan.”

You shake your head, but you can’t help the warmth that spreads through you. He’s always been confident, sometimes to the point of being infuriating, but there’s a sincerity to it now that wasn’t there before—a genuine desire to take care of you, to be there for you in every way.

“Are you going to let me taste whatever masterpiece you’re working on, or do I have to wait until it’s perfect?” You ask, trying to peek over the counter again.

“Patience,” he repeats, though there’s a glint in his eye that tells you he’s enjoying this far too much.

“Max,” you whine, drawing out the syllable in a way that you know he can’t resist.

He sighs dramatically, as if you’ve just asked him to perform some Herculean task, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. But just a taste.”

He picks up a small spoon and dips it into the pot, then turns and walks over to you, holding it out with a flourish. “Here.”

You take the spoon from him, your curiosity piqued. The aroma is intoxicating, and when you bring the spoon to your lips, the flavors explode on your tongue — rich, savory, with a hint of sweetness that lingers just long enough to make you want more.

“Oh my god,” you say around the mouthful, your eyes widening in surprise. “This is amazing.”

“I know,” he says, clearly pleased with himself as he leans back against the counter, crossing his arms. “I had to do something special for my girls.”

You swallow, the warmth of his words spreading through you like a soft, gentle wave. “Girls, huh?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. “So you’re still convinced it’s a girl?”

He shrugs, but there’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart swell. “Just a feeling.”

You smile, resting a hand on your belly. “Well, I’m sure she’ll love whatever you cook for her.”

“She better,” he replies, though his voice is teasing. “Or I’m sending her back.”

You laugh, the sound filling the kitchen and easing the last remnants of tension in the air. “Too late for that.”

“Damn,” he mutters, but there’s a smile on his face as he turns back to the stove, stirring the pot with practiced ease. “Guess we’ll just have to keep trying.”

You watch him for a moment, your heart full to bursting with affection. He’s taken to this whole thing — pregnancy, impending fatherhood — with a kind of devotion that you never expected, but that somehow doesn’t surprise you at all. He’s always been all in, whether it’s in the kitchen or in your relationship. It’s one of the things you love most about him — that relentless drive to be the best, to give his all, no matter what.

“You’re going to be a great dad,” you say softly, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

Max pauses, his hand stilling on the spoon. For a moment, he just stands there, his back to you, and you wonder if you’ve said the wrong thing, if maybe it’s too soon, too much. But then he turns, and the look on his face — full of vulnerability and determination — takes your breath away.

“I’m going to try,” he says, his voice low but steady. “I promise.”

You nod, unable to find the words to respond. Instead, you reach out, taking his hand in yours and squeezing it gently. He squeezes back, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a gesture that’s so simple, so familiar, and yet it says everything you need to hear.

“Okay,” he says after a moment, clearing his throat and breaking the spell. “I’ve got something else for you.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “What is it?”

He smirks, pulling his hand away and turning back to the counter. “Just wait.”

You watch as he opens the fridge and pulls out a small tray, carefully covered with a cloth. He sets it on the counter and, with a dramatic flourish, pulls the cloth away to reveal ... a plate of beautifully arranged pastries, each one delicately shaped and glistening with a light dusting of powdered sugar.

“Vegan croissants,” he says, a note of pride in his voice. “Made from scratch.”

Your jaw drops, and you stare at the pastries in disbelief. “You made these?”

“Of course,” he replies, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I told you I’d figure it out.”

You’re speechless, the effort and care he’s put into this gesture rendering you momentarily stunned. You know how much work goes into making croissants, and the fact that he’s done it just to satisfy your cravings — it’s almost too much.

“Max,” you say, your voice thick with emotion, “you didn’t have to do this.”

He shrugs, though there’s a hint of bashfulness in his expression. “I wanted to.”

You reach out, picking up one of the croissants and holding it in your hands like it’s something precious. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“I try,” he says with a smirk, watching as you take a tentative bite of the croissant.

The layers are perfectly flaky, the pastry light and buttery despite being vegan. It melts in your mouth, and you close your eyes, savoring the taste. “This is ... incredible,” you murmur, barely able to believe how good it is.

Max’s smirk softens into a genuine smile. “I’m glad you like it.”

You take another bite, unable to stop yourself from grinning. “I don’t just like it, Max. I love it.”

He chuckles, leaning against the counter with an air of satisfaction. “Good. But don’t go telling anyone, okay? You’re still the only person I’d cook vegan for.”

You laugh, a sound full of love and warmth. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

He winks, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Better be. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know.”

You shake your head, your heart full as you look at the man you married — the man who, despite all his bravado, has always made you feel like the most important person in his world. “You’re impossible,” you say fondly.

“And you love it,” he replies, his voice softening as he reaches out to gently cup your cheek.

“I really do,” you whisper, leaning into his touch.

Max leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. When he pulls back, there’s a softness in his eyes that makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world.

“I love you,” he says, his voice steady and sure.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion.

And as you sit there together, the scent of freshly baked croissants filling the air, you can’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. Life might not always be easy, but with Max by your side — cooking for you, joking with you, loving you — you know you’ll always have a reason to smile, no matter what comes your way.

[rockwgooglyeyes]

One of the things that's so compelling to me about Eternal Sugar and Hollyberry's storyline, besides the fact that it is wlw, the juxtaposition of happiness and passion is super fascinating. It's easy to compare Eternal Sugar and Hollyberry's dynamic to Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla because like Shadow Milk, Eternal Sugar is not trying to kill her other half, as she "only wants Hollyberry to be happy." Yet, with Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla, Shadow Milk wished to corrupt Pure Vanilla in the same way he had been corrupted, and gain someone who fully understood him, as well as to get indirect revenge on Pure Vanilla for being chosen by the Witches instead of him. Shadow Milk did have harmful intentions when he met Pure Vanilla, whereas with Eternal Sugar and Hollyberry, Eternal Sugar has no ill intent.

It could be argued that Eternal Sugar does have ill intent, with her temper and her desire for control, the way she manipulates the people around her so that they remain within her grasp as well as subservient to her, but at the same time, she truly does view her actions as benevolent. She believes that, even if she is hurting people currently, that the ends justify the means, because as long as they stay in her Garden, they can remain happy and healthy forever. If by staying in her Garden, she continues her control over them, well that's just a happy accident!

One of her Arena Loading screen quotes is literally "Your passions will only lead to suffering..." which was such a game changer for me personally, because of the way it frames her motivation. By trapping people in her saccharine web, she is depriving them of their ability to make their own choices and ultimately get hurt, in the name of keeping them safe. Hollyberry's soul jam being passion as a variation on happiness makes a lot of sense, through that lens, because pursuing our passions makes us happy but at the very same time, passion can fizzle out suddenly, or our passions can lead us to ruin. Eternal Sugar tries to subdue the passions of her followers in order to keep them content and complacent, whereas Hollyberry is in direct opposition to that, saying that people should be allowed to go wherever the wind takes them, and her own actions embody that.

Nevertheless, the ways in which both of their soul jams are twisted by their own personal flaws is what makes it so intriguing to me. Hollyberry's "flights of passion" from her kingdom were her responding to her own restlessness, stress, and fear of stagnation, and it led her to abandoning her son and letting him grow up alone. Eternal Sugar, on the other hand, has many cookies that she cares about and yet she condescends to them and exerts control over them against their will in an effort to maintain their happiness. Eternal Sugar is very much an "ends justify the means" sort of person whereas Hollyberry lives in the moment and impulsively flits from place to place in order to keep running from her past. They both have complicated, kind of fucked up relationships with their sons, they both have devotees who follow them while remaining blind to the true flaws of the person they follow, and they both have their vices.

Hollyberry is constantly running and Eternal Sugar never moves. Hollyberry changes easily to fit whichever role is necessary for the situation while Eternal Sugar is unwilling and unable to change. It's almost like unstoppable force meet immovable object, and their polarity is what's so striking to me. Even as Hollyberry runs away from her problems, she does not allow herself to want things or get close to people, for fear of getting hurt. She may be passionate but she has, as Pavlova Cookie says, a cold and empty heart. That's why what Eternal Sugar says to her is groundbreaking because no one has given Hollyberry permission before, but here, she's can take time and it's not about everyone else, it's about her. Yet, the fact that Eternal Sugar is worried about everyone but herself is a great example of the similarities between them, as they both prioritize others above themselves and ignore their own emotions for the sake of other people. They are inherently so different and so similar, literally different shades of the same color, Hollyberry with her warm undertones and Eternal Sugar with her cool ones.

With Dark Cacao and Mystic Flour, they clash because of the fact that they are both unwilling to compromise on their ideals and willing to do whatever it takes to maintain their position. With Shadow Milk and Pure Vanilla, they clash because of Pure Vanilla's unwillingness to entertain Shadow Milk's tricks at a certain point, instead seeing through them and cutting through the bullshit to confront the person behind the mask, something that Shadow Milk is extremely uncomfortable with. Burning Spice and Golden Cheese clash because of Burning Spice's lack of care for his own people and Golden Cheese's possessiveness over her hoard, her kingdom, and her unwillingness to sacrifice that. Burning Spice is too free of burdens, to the point that he has no attachments, and Golden Cheese has so many attachments that they both empower her and bog her down.

The diversity through which the juxtaposition between the Beasts and their Heroes is shown truly is impressive because of both the overlap between different duos and the fact that each duo has something unique to just them. Every duo has shared traits between the two members, and every one has similarities between the Beast and the Hero but the ways in which the level of similarity compared to the level of difference changes throughout the depictions is very cool to me because of the way that it shows how people who are similar can clash over the littlest things, and how people who are so different can come together and unite under one banner.

[aingeal98]

More Jason and Cass thoughts (sorry but also not sorry) but if I was magically given full control over DC and could write what I'd want obviously I'd make Cass Batman but I've been thinking of what sort of reaction and role Jason would have in response. I think I'd write his version of "Congrats on the new job!" as a test, involving the Joker and civilians and gangs and Red Hood and a ton of explosives. Bruce failed me, and now he's given up. You're his successor, let's see how you handle this dilemma that freaked him out so badly he threw a batarang into my throat rather than let me avenge my own death in front of him.

So obviously Cass will overcome the traps and the puzzles. That's the fun part to show how competent both of them are and sprinkle in little character moments as we go. But then we reach the emotional crux of the matter, probably laid out as some sort of saw trap because it's Jason. Here I am, a victim of murder. You say nobody dies tonight but I did, and I want the man who did it dead. Not only did Batman fail to avenge me but he failed to stop the Joker from going on to create even more victims. What right do you have to stop me from getting justice for myself? What right does this man have to life after what he's taken from me and from countless others? I'm not trying to kill a random stranger, I'm specifically demanding justice for my own death that I never got while I was gone.

There are two ways this could go. The straightforward route if I knew my time on this run was limited would probably be a pyrrhic victory like the ones Cass's og series was so fond of. Just like Bruce in utrh, she acts on instinct and saves the Joker (and Jason this time) . A win technically, but she fails the test. Jason is once again vindicated but with nothing to show for it. The story ends with Cass sending the Joker back to jail and going back to the batcave, where the old Robin costume looms judgementally, highlighting her failure. It would be the most fitting end given their character molds, all tragedy and conviction and unstoppable force meets immovable object etc.

However... I think the option I prefer would be a little different. Cass levelling with Jason, a killer talking to a murder victim. She has no right to stop Jason from getting justice, she has no love for the Joker but she knows any death she allows to happen like this would devastate her, just like that death row inmate long ago she tried to break out but ended up letting go once the family of the victim talked to her and demanded justice. I think... In this specific situation, she'd just be honest. Morally she has no right sure. Personally she just really really doesn't want anyone to die. Give her one chance, please. Let her try it her way. Not demanding, not lecturing or insisting, just... Please. Don't do this. Let me try another way.

And then what? Jason asks.

In the end a deal is struck. Cass will take the Joker and lock him up, ensuring he never harms anyone again while also trying to rehabilitate him. But the second she fails and he gets free, Jason kills him and she won't stand in his way. It's the kind of deal that leaves both of them mildly disgusted and dissatisfied with themselves, neither of them naturally creatures of compromise when it comes to this specific topic. But Cass is willing to do anything to avoid death and Jason did not expect the new Bat to be so... Flexible? Kind of? Of course maybe she won't actually hold up her end of the deal and when the Joker gets loose she'll try and stop Jason from killing him and he'll get his miserable vindication, but right now this is something strange and new and he's mildly confused and curious about where it will go. He doesn't believe in her ability to contain the Joker forever but he's willing to let her try because her reaction to that future failure interests him. She's given him a sword of damocles to hang above her head and he didn't ask for it or expect it. It's the type of power he never thought the Bat would just... Hand to him.

The conflict ends with neither of them fully winning or losing. They both don't really know what to feel about this.

The thing is, the second Cass let's Jason kill the Joker she's hanging up the mantle. She's staking the Bat on this, because it's always go big or go home with her when it comes to saving others, even someone like the Joker. In this magical universe where I have unlimited power, Cass would lock the Joker in a secret bunker and have Leslie Thompkins talk to him daily, mostly because I think her pacifism speeches and debates in the comics would make a fun contrast to the Joker's evil sadism. (But what about his rights? Doesn't he deserve a trial and to be held in a regular prison? I'm going to be honest I think Cass would be very comfortable bending the rules on this specific situation. Morally questionable but I'd have fun with it. She's going to let Leslie treat Joker like her personal pet project to save his soul because yes she wants him to change but also she's got a city to save every night so go crazy Leslie, have fun.)

And the Batman series would continue with Cass as the lead, new challenges and new antagonists and every twenty issues or so for the first hundred we'll cut back to the Joker briefly if his chats with Leslie can help highlight some thematic element of the current arc. But bit by bit he'd slowly fade away onto oblivion, maybe getting referenced every hundred issues or so until eventually no one remembers or cares about him because there's so much else going on. Meanwhile Jason's got a good thing going as Red Hood, primarily based in Park Row and a tentative ally on the occasion when their vigilante work aligns. Unlike Joker he's a much more frequent character in the comics, and after say 10 years (this is my magical fantasy universe Cass's batman run is going to last for a very long time alright) when people think of DC characters they think of Red Hood long before they think of the Joker.

Is any of this realistic? Right now of course not. It's why I'd go with the pyrrhic victory if I actually got the chance, because it would be the best way to tell the story in the larger context of the Bat narrative. But it's my fantasy DC editor and writer daydream and I'm going to dream big. They're never going to be normal happy siblings, their personal demons will never fully let them be free and the looming possibility of losing everything they currently have narrative wise if Bruce comes back as Batman will always be there. But it's maybe the closest to peace they'll ever get. Unsatisfying and tame compromise that probably violates several laws and ethical codes but whatever. Cass has never read the Geneva convention and Jason's not going to shed tears over the Joker. Let him die relevancy wise if not physically.

[solxamber]

Roommate Rumble || Vil Schoenheit

You and Vil end up as roommates due to administrative error. Unstoppable force (Vil's perfectionism) meets immovable object (your chaos). It ends up working out perfectly.

and they were roommates!!!!

You’re sitting in the most soul-crushing waiting room imaginable—stale air, uncomfortable plastic chairs, and the smell of desperation. You’re waiting for the housing office to process your late application, which, in hindsight, you should’ve done weeks ago, but hey, it’s college. Time isn’t real here.

Between borderline disastrous drinking sessions, last-minute assignments, and your general vibe of chaos, the fact that you’ve even made it this far is kind of a miracle. But now, thanks to your masterclass in procrastination, you’re about to get assigned a random housemate for the year. At this point, you’re too mentally checked out to care who it is. As long as they don’t steal your ramen, it’ll be fine… probably.

The door swings open, and in walks the most absurdly pretty man you’ve ever seen. Like, this dude looks like he stepped straight off the cover of a magazine. And not just any magazine—like, one of those high-fashion ones where people look all ethereal and judgmental at the same time.

You try not to stare, but it’s impossible. He’s got this aura about him, as if he’s too good for this building, this situation, this plane of existence. He walks up to the front desk, where the housing clerk is, predictably, typing at the speed of a snail.

“I’m here to check the status of my application,” the guy says, his voice smooth but with a distinct undercurrent of annoyance.

The clerk squints at her computer, clicks around a bit, then frowns. “Uh… what was your name again?”

The guy rolls his eyes, but still answers with the grace of a runway model, “Vil Schoenheit.”

You nearly choke. Vil Schoenheit? Isn’t that, like, some kind of celebrity? You’re pretty sure you’ve seen him on billboards for fancy skincare products or something. Now you’re really trying not to stare.

“Uh… huh,” the clerk says, now looking vaguely uncomfortable. “It seems… we may have, um, misplaced your form.”

Vil stares at her, and you can practically feel the temperature in the room drop by several degrees. “Misplaced?” he repeats, his tone icy. “You lost my form?”

“W-Well, not lost,” she stammers, “more like, uh, temporarily… not found.”

Vil’s eyes narrow, and you have to hand it to him—he makes passive-aggressive sound like an art form. “And how, exactly, do you plan to rectify this?”

The clerk clicks around desperately on her computer again, clearly wishing she was anywhere else. “Well, um, we’re going to have to randomly assign you a housemate. Since we don’t have time to redo the whole process… y-you’ll just have to— Oh, wait!” She pauses, glancing between you and Vil. “You both applied at the same time, so you can just… be housemates! Problem solved!”

There’s a beat of absolute silence as you and Vil both process this. You glance at him, and he glances back, slowly looking you up and down with the precision of someone scanning for flaws in a diamond.

Finally, he sighs, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “Acceptable.”

You blink, unsure whether you should feel insulted or… flattered? He says it with the same tone you’d use to describe a pair of shoes that don’t quite match your outfit, but are passable in a pinch.

You don’t even get the chance to respond because, let’s be real, your brain is still trying to catch up. Did Vil Schoenheit just say you were “acceptable” as a housemate?

Honestly, though, you shrug it off. If you’re being real, as long as he stays in his room and you stay in yours, who cares if you’re housemates with a guy who looks like he bathes in designer moisturizer?

“Great!” the clerk chirps, relieved to have avoided death by model glare. “You’re all set, then! Enjoy your semester!”

You glance at Vil one more time, who’s already looking like he regrets every life choice that led him here. Meanwhile, you’re just hoping he doesn’t judge you for eating pizza rolls at 3 AM.

It's three days into this whole housemate arrangement with Vil, and honestly, it’s not bad. You’ve barely even crossed each other’s paths, which works out perfectly. He does his thing, you do your thing—totally peaceful.

You stumble out of bed one morning, still half-asleep, grab the first set of clothes you can find on the floor (you’re 90% sure these jeans don’t belong to you), and zombie-walk your way to the kitchen. You’re already 15 minutes late to class, but who cares? Time isn’t real, and neither is your motivation.

As you shuffle in, you spot Vil at the counter. He’s sitting there, back straight, eating what looks like a perfect, Instagram-worthy breakfast. It’s all eggs and avocado toast and some kind of smoothie that’s probably made from fruits you’ve never even heard of. He’s impeccably dressed, even though it’s like 7 AM, and you can’t help but be mildly impressed. The guy is a full-time student, works as a model and actor, and still manages to look like he just walked off a red carpet.

Meanwhile, you’re over here in a mismatched hoodie and some band T-shirt from high school, hair resembling a rat’s nest, and the sheer determination of a person who’s willing to eat raw cereal to survive.

You try to be polite, offering Vil a smile. Or at least, what you think is a smile. It’s probably more of a grimace, to be honest. You’re running on fumes, and it shows.

Vil glances at you, eyes narrowing like he’s silently assessing every poor life choice you’ve made up to this point. Still, he says nothing, just gives a tiny nod of acknowledgment.

You head straight for the pantry, grab a box of cereal, and rip open a Red Bull. Breakfast of champions. You’re about to pour the cereal into your mouth raw, no milk, no dignity, when suddenly—

SMACK.

The Red Bull flies out of your hand, clattering to the counter, and you’re left holding an empty cereal box like some kind of fool. You stare at it in shock, then turn to Vil, who’s looking at you like you just summoned Satan.

“Dude??” You blink, genuinely confused.

Vil crosses his arms, expression disgusted as he points at the stove, where there are some leftovers of whatever perfect meal he made earlier. “That,” he says, enunciating like he’s explaining basic math to a child, “is food. What you were about to ingest is poison.”

You look between him and your spilled Red Bull. “Uh, that was breakfast?”

“No,” Vil snaps, “that was a caffeine overdose waiting to happen. And dry cereal? Have you lost the will to live entirely?”

You’re still processing the fact that he just slapped your breakfast out of your hands when you glance at the stove again. Your stomach growls, and, well, you guess your organs could use something that won’t actively try to kill you.

“Fine,” you mutter, shuffling over to grab a plate. “But if I’m late to class, I’m blaming you.”

Vil barely glances at you as you load up your plate with whatever masterpiece he’s made. “You’re already late,” he says flatly.

“...Okay, fair.”

You sit down at the table, expecting the silence to be awkward, but it’s surprisingly chill. You eat, Vil eats, and for a brief, strange moment, it’s kind of peaceful. You didn’t think breakfast could be… normal. Not with someone like him.

Just as you finish, Vil stands up, wipes his mouth, and gives you a small nod. “You’re welcome,” he says, like he’s just saved your life—which, in his eyes, he probably has. Then he grabs his bag and leaves the kitchen without another word.

You sit there for a moment, fork still in your hand, feeling oddly touched. Then you glance at the clock.

You’re now 30 minutes late to class.

Totally worth it.

You pass out at 4 a.m., your body finally giving in to the pure exhaustion that college life has inflicted on you. You're in that deep, blissful sleep when, at exactly 7 a.m., you're jolted awake by a scream so loud it feels like it rattled the entire room.

At first, you try to ignore it, desperately clinging to the last remnants of sleep. But after a moment, you groggily realize there’s no escaping it. You groan and roll out of bed, stumbling into the hallway with all the grace of a sleep-deprived zombie, not even bothering to change out of your mismatched pajamas.

Standing outside his room, on top of a chair(???), looking absolutely frazzled, is Vil Schoenheit. Hair still perfect, but his usual calm demeanor is gone, replaced by… well, panic?

“What the hell happened?” you mumble, rubbing your eyes.

Vil’s face is pale, and he gestures to the door of his room with a shaky hand. “There’s—there’s something in there.”

Your brain immediately jumps to the worst. An intruder? A stalker? A wild animal? Something actually dangerous? Vil shifts behind you, as you carefully open the door just enough for you to peer inside. You brace yourself, expecting to see something terrifying.

Instead, Vil points dramatically toward the floor. “There.”

You blink. And then you see it—a cockroach. A big one, sure, but still. A cockroach.

You turn to Vil slowly, your face a mask of pure judgment. “You woke me up… for this?”

Vil, now perched on a chair, crosses his arms indignantly. “It’s not about fear. It’s about disgust. I am not touching that.”

You sigh, dragging a hand down your face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

“...No. No, you don’t.”

Resigned, you grab a cup and a piece of paper from the kitchen. You approach the cockroach like some kind of extermination expert, scoop it up, and open the nearest window. With one swift motion, you throw the unfortunate bug into the outside world, praying it finds a better life somewhere far, far away.

“There,” you say, tossing the cup in the trash. “Crisis averted.”

Vil, still standing on his chair like the floor is lava, steps down carefully, brushing off his clothes with an air of dignity as if he hadn’t just been screaming at a cockroach. “I wasn’t scared,” he says, straightening his posture. “I was disgusted.”

You nod along, patting him on the shoulder with the patience of someone who knows it’s best not to argue. “Sure. No problem. Don’t worry about it.”

Vil purses his lips, his pride clearly a little bruised, but he still offers a tight smile. “Thank you.”

You wave him off as you shuffle back to your room, your bed calling you back like a siren. As you flop onto the mattress, you think to yourself, He might be a diva, but damn, he’s gorgeous.

With that, you pass out again, hoping to squeeze in a couple more hours of sleep before the universe inevitably conspires to ruin your day again.

You and Vil have settled into an odd but functional arrangement. If not quite friends, you’re definitely acquaintances with benefits — and by benefits, you mean Vil keeps you from dying a slow death via your terrible diet, and in return, you serve as his on-call exterminator for the various bugs your old house seems determined to spawn. It’s a mutual understanding, and lately, he’s stopped questioning your life decisions. Well, not as much.

One afternoon, you’re sprawled on the couch, half-asleep and doomscrolling on some social media app, when Vil clears his throat. You jolt upright, momentarily thinking you’re about to get a lecture about posture, only to find him standing there, looking at you in a way that’s… almost awkward?

“What’s up?” you ask, genuinely curious because Vil being awkward is as rare as you cooking anything edible.

Without a word, he hands you an invitation, embossed with gold lettering and all. It's for a performance competition on campus. The kicker? Vil’s participating.

“You want me to come?” you ask, surprised.

He waves a hand, trying to look nonchalant. “Only if you’re available,” he says, but there’s a slight tremor in his voice. He’s trying to play it cool, but the slightest hint of tension betrays him.

You have no plans (unless eating ramen at 2 a.m. counts), so you agree. “Sure, I’ll come.”

The day of the competition arrives, and you actually dress like a normal human being for once. Vil didn’t give you any kind of ultimatum about your outfit, but you figure you should at least try to look like you belong among the living.

You’re in the front row — of course, Vil had VIP tickets to a performance competition. The crowd is buzzing, but you’ve barely noticed because your attention is glued to the stage.

Vil appears, bathed in light, and you swear you’ve just glimpsed into heaven. His voice is smooth and captivating, his moves are graceful, and his gaze? One hundred percent lethal. It’s almost unfair. He’s the kind of performer that could turn someone to stone with a look.

You’re standing there, feeling the ridiculous urge to brag to the people around you that he’s your roommate. “Yeah, that’s right, I share a bathroom with that guy.”

Then, Neige LeBlanche takes the stage. Now, you’ve heard the hype. Neige is the campus sweetheart, the kind of guy who probably smiles at babies and rescues kittens from trees. If Vil is the untouchable beauty you admire from afar, Neige is the best friend you’d want by your side, also weirdly gorgeous.

You expect another powerhouse performance. You’re bracing yourself for it. And then… he starts singing.

Wait.

Is Neige… singing a nursery rhyme?

You blink. The crowd is eating it up, swaying along like they’ve been hypnotized. Meanwhile, you’re just standing there, dumbfounded, the only person in the front row not bopping along.

You glance around, jaw practically on the floor. Is everyone here insane? The man is singing something that you swear you heard at preschool.

And then it happens. Neige wins. The audience erupts into cheers, and you think the universe is playing a cosmic joke on you. What the actual—?

“What the fuck?” The words slip out before you can stop them, loud enough that the people around you turn to stare. Apparently, your disbelief is showing. You even catch Vil’s eye for a moment, and he smirks weakly at your outburst, but it’s clear the loss stung. A little part of you feels something unfamiliar—anger on someone else’s behalf.

You don’t even stay for the encore. It’s either leave or throw something at the stage, and you’d rather not get banned from campus events. You march out of the hall, still fuming.

Later, when Vil returns, you can see it in the slight slump of his shoulders. The air of perfection is still there, but it’s a little cracked around the edges. That anger bubbles up again.

But you have a plan. A master plan.

Vil’s been telling you for weeks that you’d look decent if you just took care of yourself, and you’ve been brushing him off like the human disaster you are. But tonight, for him? You’re willing to make a sacrifice.

So, when he looks at you, barely meeting your eyes, you blurt out, “You can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes widen slightly. “What?”

“Whatever creams, lotions, skincare products—you want to use on me. Go wild. I’ll be your project for the night.”

Vil’s expression lights up like a kid who just found out Christmas came early. You didn’t think it was possible for someone to get this excited about transforming you from a crusty goblin into a passable human, but here we are. And honestly? You kinda owe him at least this much, considering he makes sure you don’t die from malnutrition.

The next hour is nothing short of war. Vil is aggressively applying products to your face like he’s trying to sandpaper your soul clean. His focus is deadly serious, his hands precise as he rubs some fancy serum onto your skin.

Between all the smearing of moisturizers and the occasional Ow!, the two of you start talking. Or rather, you start griping about Neige’s performance.

“I mean, seriously? A nursery rhyme?” you groan, rolling your eyes.

Vil huffs, his fingers moving swiftly over your cheeks. “Don’t remind me. The judges clearly have no taste. What kind of competition rewards… that?”

“Right? I was ready to riot. Your performance was like…” You search for the right words as he smears something cold on your forehead. “It was like watching art come to life, and then he goes and sings Twinkle Twinkle and everyone acts like he just reinvented music.”

Vil laughs—an actual laugh, something deep and genuine that makes the tension in his shoulders ease a little. “You sound like you wanted to run on stage and throw him off.”

“Maybe I did,” you mutter, wincing as he pats something into your skin a little too enthusiastically. “Honestly, the only reason I didn’t is because I didn’t want to get banned from campus events.”

By the time he’s finished, Vil steps back to admire his work like an artist assessing a freshly painted canvas. “There,” he says, his voice softer now. “You look… acceptable.”

“Wow, high praise,” you snort, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks, Vil.”

He smiles back, something quieter and more genuine. “Thank you.”

You wave him off, already heading to your phone. “So… delivery tonight? I’m thinking chicken?”

Vil wrinkles his nose. “Not fried. How about sushi?”

“Deal,” you grin.

As you place the order, you can’t help but think—yeah, maybe you and Vil are friends now. Weird, slightly dysfunctional friends. But friends, nonetheless.

You’ve been working on this project for months. Countless sleepless nights, caffeine-fueled coding sessions, and a pile of stress larger than your student loan debt have led to this moment. It’s crunch time. You’re this close to submitting your final assignment. You think you deserve a break, so you go to order a coffee—just 10 minutes, tops.

But when you come back? Your laptop, your precious laptop, is gone.

You look around in disbelief. This can’t be happening. Someone stole it. The weeks of coding, months of planning, your entire project, everything. Gone.

You do the only thing you can think of when life throws you a sucker punch like this: you go drink.

You’re a few shots deep when your phone buzzes. It’s Vil. He’s asking, “Are you going to be home for dinner?” His voice is sharp, but you can’t even string together a coherent answer. You let out some garbled mess of a response that’s more slurred syllables than actual words.

There’s a pause, then a very clear “Send me your location. Now.”

Vil shows up at the bar like he’s stepped out of a luxury fashion magazine, a vision of elegance in this grimy little dive. You’re nursing what can only be described as a sad excuse for a cocktail, and he just gives you this look—disapproving, concerned, and about two seconds away from reading you the riot act.

He doesn’t say a word as he helps you out of the bar and drives you home. You can barely sit upright in the passenger seat, mumbling something about losing your laptop. You’re not even sure if he hears you.

Back at home, Vil sits you down on the couch and hands you a glass of water. “Drink,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You sip the water, slowly sobering up, though your mind is still a mess. Meanwhile, Vil is pacing back and forth like an actor in a drama, preparing for his monologue. And then it comes. He’s yelling at you, frustration and worry bubbling up to the surface.

“What are you doing to yourself? Why are you so determined to self-destruct?!” he demands. “You eat like garbage, you barely sleep, you pass out at random hours of the morning, and now you’re drinking like you’re on some kind of mission to obliterate your liver!”

You can’t take it anymore. His words break something inside you, and you just… fall apart. Tears stream down your face, and you sob, unable to hold it together any longer.

Vil immediately stops pacing, his expression softening in an instant. He crouches down in front of you, gently resting his hands on your shoulders. “Why are you crying?” he asks, his voice now quiet, almost tender.

You try to explain between hiccupping sobs. “My laptop—it’s gone. I… I worked so hard, and now it’s all gone. Someone stole it.”

Without hesitation, Vil pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his voice soothing. “We’ll figure it out.” He holds you like he can somehow undo the theft, like he can bring back what’s lost just by being there. And in that moment, you cling to him, sobbing into his shoulder as if the world could collapse around you and it wouldn’t matter because he’s holding you together.

You wake up hours later, still curled up on the couch, with a hangover so brutal it could bring empires to their knees. But something’s off. You realize you’re not just lying on the couch—no, you’re lying on someone’s lap.

You blink and look up. Vil’s sitting there, talking softly on the phone, one hand gently patting your head. You try to make sense of it, but the pounding in your skull makes that nearly impossible.

“No, Rook, I don’t care how you do it. Just find it.” Vil says into the phone, his hand still idly resting on your head. He doesn’t seem too concerned about you waking up—if anything, he seems almost like he’s daring you to go back to sleep.

And you do.

The next time you wake up, it’s to the world’s loudest human: Rook Hunt.

“Ah, mon ami, I come bearing treasures!” he announces as he swoops into the room, a grin plastered across his face. In his hands? Your laptop.

You sit up, blinking in disbelief. “What…? How did you get my laptop?”

Rook flashes you a sly smile, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Ah, it was no small feat, but for Vil’s amour—”

“Rook!” Vil snaps, cutting him off with a glare that could freeze fire. “That’s enough.”

You look between them, still not fully understanding what just happened, but you’re too relieved to care. You practically leap off the couch and grab your laptop, hugging it to your chest like it’s your long-lost child.

Before you can stop yourself, you turn and hug Rook, then Vil, a huge grin spreading across your face. Then, in a moment of pure, unfiltered gratitude, you kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Vil blinks, momentarily stunned by the gesture, but before he can say anything, you’re already dashing back to your room to finish your assignment.

As you shut the door, you can hear Rook’s laughter from the other side.

“You’re impossible,” he mutters to himself, but there’s a warmth in his eyes. Maybe you are a walking disaster, a self-destructive potato. But you’re his favorite potato.

It’s finally the end of the semester, and a little notification pops up on your phone: Housing Applications Now Open.

If you apply now, you could get your old dorm back—no housemate, no interruptions, just you and your tragic life decisions. No one telling you to eat healthy or waking you up at ungodly hours over insect-related emergencies. Just you, alone, in your beautifully chaotic mess. And Vil? He’d probably go back to wherever he was before, maybe with someone like Rook who actually knows how to behave like a normal person.

You should be thrilled by this prospect. A whole apartment to yourself again. But instead, your stomach is doing weird somersaults, and not the normal “I forgot to eat breakfast” ones. This feels... different. Kind of like the time you ate that suspicious leftover curry, except this time it’s your heart that feels like it’s about to implode.

Oh. Oh no.

You sit there for a solid 10 minutes, staring at the housing application, feeling something suspiciously like heartbreak. And being the impulsive disaster that you are, you decide the best thing to do is to blurt out your feelings without any consideration for how unhinged it might sound.

So when Vil comes home, looking elegant and put-together as always, ready to greet you with his usual "Good evening..." you don’t even let him finish. You jump up, and before you can second-guess yourself, you blurt out, "I’m in love with you. Deeply. Hopelessly. In love."

Vil freezes mid-step, his eyebrows shooting up so fast they might actually fly off his face. There’s a solid beat of silence as he processes what you just said.

“…Excuse me?” He blinks, looking like you just told him you set the kitchen on fire again. “What did you just say?”

You gulp but there’s no backing out now. You’ve committed. “I said I’m in love with you. Like... seriously. I think you might’ve ruined me for life.”

Vil stares at you, and for a second, you’re terrified that you’ve broken him. But then—he laughs. He laughs so hard he doubles over, clutching his sides like you just told the world’s best joke.

You blink, baffled. “Uh... you good?”

Vil wipes at the corner of his eyes, still chuckling. “Oh, potato…” He takes a deep breath, shaking his head, amusement still dancing in his eyes. “I love you too, you ridiculous creature.”

“Wait, what?” Now it’s your turn to stare in shock.

Vil sighs, but there’s a fond smile on his lips. “I was going to ask if you wanted to room together again next semester. But, you know... in a better apartment. One without bugs or whatever demons this place keeps spawning.”

You blink once, twice, processing his words. He wanted to room with you again? In a better place? Your heart does a little flip in your chest, and before you can stop yourself, you’re grinning like an idiot. “Oh, hell yeah.”

Without thinking, you pull him close and kiss him. It’s quick and impulsive, but somehow it feels right. When you pull back, you find Vil smiling at you with something soft in his eyes, like he’s genuinely content.

“Maybe I don’t wanna die young after all,” you mutter, mostly to yourself.

Vil raises an eyebrow, his smile widening. “That’s a start. Now, go drink some water before you pass out from dehydration.”

You laugh, content for the first time in forever. Maybe this whole “life” thing wasn’t so bad after all. At least, not when you had Vil by your side.

Masterlist

guys I promise I don't hate neige I just hated the VDC ending I wanted to off myself fr

[jungle-fae]

Just finished reading Thousand Autumns, so I thought I’d share my random thoughts while it’s still fresh in my mind

Spoilers for the entire series ahead

- We finally have the answer to the age old question of what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object—you get whatever the fuck Shen Qiao and Yan Wushi have going on

- I hate to admit that I was also made a fool by Yan Wushi’s book 2 betrayal; not my dumbass thinking Shen Qiao was actually getting through to him (and speaking of, the AUDACITY to call that chapter ‘friends,’ I was fuming)

- Shen Qiao overall is such a goddamn king—he’s such a likable protagonist, I think precisely because he is so patient and kind yet can be so unflinchingly resolute and ruthless (and just downright badass) when the situation calls for it

- Shen Qiao’s inner monologue is absolutely hysterical—especially during book 3 when he seriously considers knocking Yan Wushi unconscious almost every time that man opens his mouth

- It was also incredibly satisfying to see Yan Wushi suffer the consequences of his own actions for a good while once he caught feelings; like yeah of course Shen Qiao’s not gonna believe you’re being sincere now you asshole

- Shen Qiao is best father—istg every time a child appears in his general vicinity it leads to the sweetest interactions, I was damn near tearing up when he accepted Shiwu as a disciple and when he risked everything to save Dou Yan and Yuwen Song from Chang’an; absolutely heartwarming

- A little disappointed Shen Qiao didn’t get to kill Sang Jingxing himself, but I’ll settle for (presumably) Bai Rong having the honor to kill that bitch

- And speaking of Bai Rong she annoyed me to no end in the beginning, but by the end when someone claimed she used her ‘womanly wiles’ to obtain the sect leader’s position—damn was I ready to throw hands because they did not just insult my girl like that

- Bian Yanmei and Yu Shengyan essentially becoming Yan Wushi’s unwilling wingmen at the end was hysterical, especially when the entire time they’re like ‘there’s no way Shizun actually like likes him right?’

- Yanshen definitely aren’t winning any awards for most functional relationship, but goddamn do they make a terrifying couple—the two strongest martial artists in the world, one of whom managed the impossible by stirring the Demon Lord’s notoriously callous heart—like what is anyone even supposed to do against these two?

- From my reading I don’t think Shen Qiao ever actually forgives Yan Wushi; he accepts that what’s past is past because at some point he comes to the realization that he can’t imagine a future without this man in it

- I think this story was so interesting to me because of the very simple idea that life happens; it’s wild, it’s a rollercoaster and a half, and it crashes into you in ways that you can never fully predict no matter who you are or how steadfast your beliefs (Shen Qiao and Yan Wushi both get caught off guard by their feelings for one another—they never would have expected that they would eventually grow attached to the other)

Anyway that’s enough of my rambling for now, just wanted to share some thoughts I had while reading and after completing the series

[lavenderprose]

I want you guys to know that I am fully and exclusively dedicated to furthering my EdIzzy 'trial' separation to Steddyhands throuple pipeline agenda. The ONLY dynamic that makes sense for them is 'I am so so in love with you but we are driving each other so so crazy.' Meanwhile Stede Bonnet is a beautiful man who manages to homewreck from both sides of the bed and look like an angel while he does it, and it is exactly what Ed and Izzy's twenty years itch needs. This is a Pina Colada Song type ass situation only when they meet in the middle there's Stede. With the Pina Coladas. Stede and Ed are together in every universe but Ed and Izzy are DIVORCED in every universe and it's kind of an unstoppable force meets immovable object scenario.

[ratgrinders]

It be really funny if we have a senior year campaign and Kipperlily and Lucy are still dating and like Kipperlily might not be planning assassinations anymore (I like to think as a peace move kristan makes her the student consul treasure because embezzlement could be where she thrives) but she’s still kind of vaguely evil and we get to have a Hallariel moment where Lucy is asked about if she’s okay with this and Lucy is just like “I liked her before the rage crystal and she was still like this.”

And yknow….if the bad kids are going to go on and be grand adventurers and superheroes they’ll need a reliable rogue gallery and maybe that’s who the ratgrinders are gonna be.

Kipperlilly would THRIVE in embezzlement ABSOLUTELY!!!!!!!!! Although I'm not sure she'd ever accept a position as a consolation prize, esp from her Worst Enemy™️. I'm picturing any situation where Kristin and Kipperlilly on the same leadership council as carnage. Absolute Carnage. There'd be no survivors. Unstoppable force (Kipperlilly's unflinching work ethic and Type A management style) meets Immovable Object (Kristin "main campaign strategy was giving speeches at the steelworkers union, who Cannot Vote" Applebees).

And YESSS that's EXACTLY how I picture it. Look imo Lucy's gotta be at least a LITTLE unhinged to be friends with all the Rat Grinders in the first place and that 100% extends to Kipperlilly. "Your girlfriend looks like she wants to kill me" "I know, isn't she cute <3".

AND YEAHHH ok my Ideal for the Rat Grinders is that their rage simmers down a bit but they still have some beef with the bad kids, just in a friendlier(?) high school rivalry way. I want Fig and Ruben constantly dissing each other and competing for #1 on the charts. I want Oisin and Adaine enemies to snarky academic rivals who constantly try to show each other up but who can eventually become friends(?). More Kristin and Buddy "you and what god?" "yours only came back once". PEAK Rat Grinders/Bad Kids dynamic to me is one where they can still be competitive and little shits to each other, just in a way healthier way this time.

[the-writing-mobster]

Why do you ship Sans x Frisk? As a person who ships them myself, what do you see in them, like about them? Personality traits, situations, tropes etc, anything that comes to mind, what makes you enjoy them and continue to breathe life to them?

Honestly, for me, personally? There's no satisfying answer for this because it just kind of clicked. They're the same height and they look good together aesthetically. I ultimately ship Sans with a human. Frisk is The Human (idc about what sticklers consider canon, canon is honestly dead to me, but whatever)

Hold on... Let me pull a better reason out of my ass real quick.

The Official "Why Mob Ships Frans" Explanation:

✨ In Game Pacifist Route:

His mystery, his unattainability (Frisk can flirt with everyone but him, which could mean many things, but I think it's cute if it's like a super flirtatious person that can't seem to function around the person they actually want), the outings he takes Frisk on just to chat. The fact he seems to trust Frisk with sensitive information? The little pranks.

💔 In Game Geno Route:

The neverending fight to the death. The "I'm onto your tricks" The judge vs the Executioner dynamic. Unstoppable force meets immovable object.

Aaaaannnnnnd, reeeaaaallllly, I started shipping Frans because of Underfell. It just makes even *more* sense with Underfell because Sans is such a... I consider him the most romantic of all Sanses? Weird and twisted romance, of course, but still. Hence why the main content on my page is Underfell related (I'm starting to branch out though, aren't we all proud?? Haha)

So yeah. There's your answer.

[miiracleboys]

idk if you're in the mood, but I feel like it's been a while since I've heard any hq headcanons from you... do you have any 👉👈

it’s no longer ushiten uwednesday in my timezone but it is in my heart. anyway:

i have an Extremely specific vision of first year ushiten, mostly because they’re both new to shiratorizawa and they’re not settled yet in their school or in themselves. i think that they clash at first and tendou starts to follow ushijima around out of a combination of fascination and spite and ushijima doesn’t know how to handle it so he Doesn’t, opting to ignore tendou when he can. unfortunately for him it’s a situation of unstoppable force meets immovable object, and it turns out that tendou’s ceaseless chatter is kind of comforting regardless whether or not ushijima is really listening (and he starts listening more often than not as the weeks go on) in a white noise kind of way. it also becomes increasingly apparent to tendou that ushijima is also some breed of little weirdo, albeit not the same kind, and he discovers with a start that he’s funny. he doesn’t always mean to be, but he’s straightforward and blunt and it’s kind of refreshing.

it’s around this time that they start swapping food at meals. their respective sensory issues have a tendency to cancel each other out, and tendou forks over things like mushrooms in exchange for ushijima’s yakult (ushijima likes yakult fine, but he doesn’t care for the texture it leaves in his mouth).

more than once, tendou drags ushijima out into the rain during storms and goads him into splash fights. he always regrets it the second ushijima gets the Look that says he’s going to try his damndest to dunk him in an inch of water if if kills him. he keeps doing it anyway.

they both have a funky relationship with touch, and while this manifests in tendou as being incredibly touchy-feely with everyone, ushijima needs at least eight inches of personal space at all times. tendou compensates for this by tugging on ushijima’s clothing, his bag, his uniform, and eventually, as they both warm up to each other, ushijima will let tendou touch him in certain little ways. he doesn’t mind brief nudges or shoulder taps and he gets more comfortable with tendou absently playing with his fingers when they sit together. tendou practically celebrates the first time ushijima actually leans into him. by late second year it’s not uncommon for tendou to be perched on a piece of furniture and ushijima sat on the floor, leaning against his legs, while tendou cards his fingers through ushijima’s undercut.

post-timeskip, ushijima wakes up much earlier than tendou does to go on runs, but if he’s feeling particularly lazy, sometimes he’ll shower after he comes back and lays down with tendou again to wait until he wakes up. usually he scrolls through his phone or replays matches in his head in the meantime. tendou loves these mornings because it means he gets his weighted blanket boyfriend back.

[evenmoreofadisaster]

A Leoneusagi ask!

Considering Usagi is a samurai or guardian (I'm assuming, if I'm wrong I'm sorry), and that he doesn't usually have many ninja allies but a lot of ninja enemies (In Neo Edo at least), will there be any problem with the relationship between Yuichi and One when they have their story in Japan or will everyone be chill about it? (All this assuming that One already considers himself part of the Hamato family and a ninja)

By the way, what do Yuichi's old friends, allies, and family think of One?

(By the way, I've noticed that I've been asking a lot lately, if I'm bothering you, tell me, and I'll try to contain myself a bit)

Good question! I love Usagi questions lolol (and don't worry these questions don't bother us! :D)

There won't be any issues with One and Usagi's relationship among Usagi's friends in terms of him being a ninja, since they've learned to be more trusting of ninja after Chizu's arc in the show's canon. Also, Hana was raised as a ninja before Usagi's aunt adopted her, and Usagi sees her as a sister. While ninja clans are definitely a big antagonist in Usagi Yojimbo, I think that Usagi's main enemy in Exile are people connected to the shogun and military.

I think if anything, they can just tell that One's a bit of a shady guy just cause he's Like That (suspicious, overprotective, a bit of a jerk to everyone else). But they quickly see that One and Usagi have a special bond. They don't really know WHY, but they also figure it's not out of character for Usagi to befriend someone so standoffish, and while theyre a bit wary (they know Usagi can be a bit oblivious sometimes), they overall trust his judgment, and settle for just keeping an eye on One until they get to know him better.

I also think they aren't as put off about One's criminal/evil warring warrior scientist lackey background since their friend group is made up of a thief, a bounty hunter, a ninja, and an (sort of accidental) assassin. But it's for the same reasons that they do have their reservations.

Other than that, I think they warm up to One pretty nicely after a year or two. (They definitely handle One a lot better than Raph did when they first met loll)

As for his family, his aunt will take to One very well. She is grateful that he's there to watch Usagi's back and keep him safe, because when he finally returns to the farm (against his will) it's clear to her that he has no intention of doing it himself. Up until One got to Neo Edo, Usagi was mostly on his own. One will get along with Auntie primarily because they share the same interest of protecting Usagi, but she is also very kind to him. She can see right through him, past his prickly exterior, much like Usagi does, and offers him a home that he then has for several years.

Hana is a little suspicious of One but isn't afraid of or intimidated by him, so it doesn't really show. She'd keep an eye on him until she gets to know him more, but is otherwise very welcoming. Like Usagi's aunt, she sees through his defenses and makes him feel at home.

Miyamoto Usagi pretty much knows everything that Yuichi does about One, which is unfortunate for One. He trusts him and sympathizes with him but doesn't let him get away with much of anything. It's sort of an unstoppable force meets immovable object situation with Miyamoto and One. One will be antagonistic with Miyamoto, who won't bat an eye and will often tease and pester One lightheartedly. He knows EXACTLY what's going on between One and Yuichi and makes it obvious that he knows. He's sort of like their undead uninvited wingman.

There's another character in Exile named Naoko who is sort of the equivalent of Tomoe Ame because i was distraught that she wasn't included in the animated show. Usagi meets her after returning to Neo Edo and before he rescues his friends. She and One do NOT get along very well, but she, at least, tolerates One (he does not return the courtesy). She thinks One is overdramatic and testy and is usually not impressed with him, but she sees that One and Usagi have a special bond that One is VERY obsessive protective of and respects it.

i can think of a couple more people I could maybe touch on but these are the main people who would be engaging with One and Usagi the most in the exile arc. I hope that answers your question!

[toomanyf4ndoms7]

Adventures in Babsitting: Naptime.

Summary: An unstoppable force meets an immoveable object.

Masterlist.

@helenababs

@spoilerqlert

It turned out that convincing Barbara Gordon to take a nap was harder than either Huntress or Black Canary could have predicted.

"Listen, it's been a long day and sleep is a good remedy, just give it a shot."

"I'll sleep when it's actually night-time, the sun is still out!"

"The sun just finished setting thirty minutes ago.”

Barbara crossed her arms with a huff.

“I’m not doing this and you can’t make me.”

Dinah’s face was a mix of concern and light frustration.

“Barbara, please, it’s for your own good, the world isn’t going to explode if you take a nap.”

Barbara narrowed her eyes.

"I told you before. I'm not a baby, I don't need this!"

Suddenly, Dinah‘s phone played her ringtone. She pulled it from her pocket, her eyes said it was something important. Her face turned to Helena, then to Barbara and back to Helena,

“I’ll be back in a moment. Huntress, do your best.”

Helena was close to begging Dinah not to leave her alone with Barbara, but Dinah was already starting the call as she walked out of the room.

Damn.

The Huntress took a moment of deep breath, running her hands up her face. Okay, she worked as a teacher, she knew how to exhaust kids. Just, play it smart, don’t do anything stupid, and don’t curse at Barbara.

“What’s it going to take for you to sleep, Barbara? Do you want some phone time? A story? Because I’m sorry to say, but you’re not getting out of this.”

“Do you even know any bedtime stories?”

A smirk graced Helena’s face, she sat on Barbara’s bed.

“Well, once upon a time, there was a woman who worked for a very mean and demanding boss-

“Boring story,” Barbara interrupted in such a childish way that it would almost be endearingly funny if not for the situation.

Helena's eyes noticed something poking out from under Barbara's bed. A small blue cloth peeking out from the drawer In a lightning fast moment, Helena opened the drawer, seeing, of all things, a Batgirl handmade plush.

Oh... Oh, this was funny.

Helena heard Barbara gasp, trying to reach to snatch the secret away, only for Helena to hold it above her head. Literally and figuratively.

"Give it back!"

Oh, she sounds like such a kid.

“I will, just as soon as you tell me where it came from.”

Barbara’s face scrunched up in annoyance, and for a moment, Helena was worried she’d crossed a line. But instead of bursting tears, Barbara began to explain.

"My friend made it when we were kids. Her name was Marcy. We were… very close.”

Barbara's anger faded away as she recounted, her small hands clutching the bedsheets.

"She... made it before she moved away. We said we'd keep in touch but we didn't. I didn't."

Helena relaxed. A nostalgic reminder. She could relate to that. An idea came to her head. A way to both ease the air and tire Barbara out.

“What was she like? Marcy, I mean.”

Something lit up in Barbara’s face. Nostalgia, most likely.

“She was amazing. So creative, we’d race home and she’d come up with superheroes for hours. Rocketgirl, Marvelous-girl, Lady Super, and I’d be so happy to just listen to her explain.”

Emerald eyes rested on the Batgirl plush.

“The day before she moved away, she made me this toy. It’s probably where my collection started. So, it’s important to me.”

Slowly, Helena handed Barbara the toy, smiling as she watched her friend take it into her arms.

"Thank you, Helena. Can you… tell Dinah I’m sorry? She was just trying to be nice.”

It was a genuine gratitude this time, no sarcasm or smugness included. Helena returned that kindness.

“You’re welcome. Get some rest, Gordon, that's an order.”

------

Helena exited Barbara's bedroom, nearly bumping into Dinah, who was wearing the smuggest smile that anyone could possible have.

"It's so sweet to see you two getting along," Dinah teased with a sickly sweet attitude. Helena reply was to elbow her shoulder.

"Yeah, yeah, don't rub it in. So what were you doing while I was putting her to bed?”

“I was talking with Zatanna. She says she can take a look at the magic watch tomorrow.”

Helena nodded, finally, some good news. She took a seat on the couch. What a day…

Dinah turned on the news, and by sheer coincidence and luck, the news was reporting a hostage situation in the nearby bank.

The very nearby bank.

Canary and Huntress looked to each other. They could get changed in a few minutes and kick some crooks around.

After all, while Babs was sleeping, the Birds could play.

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

Hi! I have a few questions regarding the Overlord lore and stuff (hope they do have sense😅).

What is the difference between Destruction and Obliteration/Void? I mean, yes, it was stated that the first one just brings things out of existence (contrary to Creation, which brings stuff into existence), while Void wants to cancel the change and life, so it will erase anything in the end. But, well, it's kind of just the same thing in the end, isn't it? Are there any more differences, if it's not a spoiler?

It's just a note that it's cool that Neutralization/Green and Void/[REDACTED] could be opposite to both corresponding element and essence. I mean, Obliteration hates existence, so it's against Golden Power, which represents circle of creation and destruction, constant changes that form reality, but also it can be enemy of Green, which represent things that CANNOT BE DESTROYED, so we have an unstoppable force/immovable object case! On the other hand, [REDACTED] seems to represent apathy, stagnation, and the opposite of change and unity (and, maybe, undead, since we will have crystal zombies 🤔), which is a direct opposite of the Green Element, but also it's kind of a 'corrupted' form of Neutralization, when, instead of harmony between changes, you just make everything static and proud of yourself controlling everything (even in a wrong way), somewhat 'divde and conquer'.

So, is Overlord a Guardian right now, or he WILL become guardian when he shares his essence with someone?

What if Overlord granted FSM his essence? How will the balance change in this case?

In your version of 'Cryatllized', will Crystal King's plan be to get the Golden Weapon to create many of Blue Crystals so he will then just come into the 'network' and 'soak' the whole Ninjago with his essence (just like cordyceps mushrooms grow in ants)? Sorry if it's a spoiler.

What if Wojira meets Overlord?

Is Great Devouver in InverseAU still a guardian of the Green Element (but accidentally created along with Genesis), or in this case we will have Corrupted Snake from cannon?

Thank you!

I'm sure I'll get around to refining it properly, but if we wanna be pedantic, yes it does essentially boil down to being the same thing, just in a different context. Like how Energy and Life are technically the same thing in this universe, but depending on the context you use/refer to them in is where you can find the nuance in where they differ

I like this note :D

He could be technically seen as a Guardian as soon as he shares his Essence with someone (tho keep in mind that he only possesses Garmadon, and Garmadon's body is already acclimated/claimed by the Essence of Destruction, so no Guardian for him) (.....also this is technically what's implied in the Inverse!AU when the Overlord gives his powers to Harumi....which parallels what happens in Crystalized-events in OG!verse. Lots of layers here.)

We'd probably have a Lucina situation where the FSM "properly" balances out himself and idk the Overlord would vanish because his job is technically done or he just floats around as a powerless cloud, idk

His plan DOES involve putting his Essence into Blue Crystals, actually. (which, actual spoiler, is related to how he is also 'defeated' in S3 AHAHAHAHAHA) (also i love how you mentioned cordyceps, I literally got to ramble about my special interest in this in a recent chapter hgfdsfd. this ask is old-ish so it's probably be I posted that chapter, but I love that your mind is on a similar track to mine >:3)

FIGHT!!! (but also I find it really really funny that Wojira gets sealed/slayed right before the Overlord mainfests to take out the GP Inheritor two whole times jhgfdgfd. I'd have two weird nickels-)

We would still sort of have a corrupted snake, but in the og verse the Devourer went so ravenous due to the exposure to Garm's element; here she'd be exposed to Wu, which I think I have a post on how that affected her instead, but I gotta hunt it down. Definitely still would've been -accidentally- created along with Genesis, but in Inverse!AU this happens a LOT later in the FSM'ss life, so there's probably some ramifications of that too. But tl;dr, GD is still Guardian of the GE even if the element doesn't currently have an inheritor

[jbuffyangel]

We'll Always Have Paris: Arrow 1x21 Review (The Undertaking)

Oliver and Felicity hit the casino to save Walter (remember Walter?), which provides the best Freudian slip in the history of Arrow.

We finally get some much-needed flashbacks on Robert Queen & Lauriver to fill in the holes of history and it’s a horror show. I can’t unsee what I have seen, so now we just get to rant about it.

Oh, and the writers completely telegraphed the demise of Lauriver in this episode. It just took me the better part of decade to notice it. It's all about Casablanca. Yes. Really.

Let’s dig in…

Olicity

Finally! Some decent Olicity content. Season 1 is rough y'all.

Source: Paige

Oliver is still Oliver which means he hasn’t apologized yet to Diggle for abandoning him. Felicity is trying her best to get the bromance back on track.

Source: Paige

Unfortunately, this is an immovable object meeting an unstoppable force kind of situation, so until Oliver pulls the stick out of his butt and admits he was wrong – Diggle is sitting this episode out.

Felicity: I know Oliver is religiously against admitting when he’s wrong, but the truth is he needs you.

Diggle: Yeah, and when Oliver is ready to say that he knows where I live.

John is not some disciple who will blindly follow Oliver wherever he goes. Diggle has self-respect and will not accept anything but an equal partnership from Oliver. Fighting for a man’s soul is going to cause some fights. Diggle needs to win more than his fair share if we are going to see any growth in Oliver Queen.

So, it’s left to our Girl Wednesday to hit the streets with The Hood when they get a lead on Walter. I honestly forgot he was kidnapped it’s been so long since they’ve mentioned him.

A dirty accountant on The List paid two million dollars to Dominic Alonzo on the same day Walter was kidnapped. Alonzo runs the biggest underground casino in Starling City, when he’s not busy with his day job of kidnapping and murder. Oliver needs to access Alonzo’s computer to find a location on Walter.

Source: @olicitygifs

And guess who is really great at counting cards? Oliver immediately refuses Felicity’s help. His deep aversion to putting her in any kind of danger will never stop being hot. This is the big break on Walter that Felicity has been waiting for, so she insists, and Oliver relents. I love that she never lets Oliver tell her what she can and can’t do.

The goal is for Felicity to be caught counting cards, so she can get a friendly warning from Alonzo and bug his computer. She is more than a little concerned that the friendly warning will be a bullet. Felicity is not a trained soldier like Diggle and she’s not a ninja/archer like Oliver. She’s signed up to fight crime, but she never shies away from expressing her fear. It’s what makes her so relatable because any person in these circumstances would be afraid.

Oliver immediately downshifts into his soft, gentle and reassuring tone that’s becoming more and more for Felicity Smoak only. The man is a growling serial killer who turns into Fluffy McSoftie Bear around her.

What makes Felicity a hero is she faces her fears head on. She doesn’t let anything stop her and Felicity Smoak is determined to find her boss. Walter gave her a job, health insurance and dental. Never underestimate a loyal employee.

Source: olicitygifs

Annnnnd we've arrived! The Freudian of all Freudian slips. This is a little risqué for the CW back in the day. Felicity’s inadvertent sexual innuendo is hilarious every time, but this one takes the cake. I believe it’s Emily Bett Rickard’s favorite as well.

If you were a Olicity shipper in Season 1 the Laurel fans would use scenes like this to prove Felicity just has a crush, Oliver will never return her feelings, and she’s just comic relief.

But who is introducing the sexual element between Oliver and Felicity? The writers. If this is supposed to remain a platonic friendship - why even go, there? These were the thoughts I would think watching live, wondering if I was crazy for seeing so much more than comedy between these two characters.

Felicity does get caught and initially it’s a friendly warning, until they find an earpiece the size of Saturn and demand to know who her partner is.

Someone put their hands on Felicity, so say goodbye to Fluffy McSoftie Bear and unleash the Kraken!

Source: @andjustforthismoment

Unfortunately, Alonzo doesn’t have good news and tells The Hood, after a good thumping, that Walter is dead. Oliver tells Moira and Thea that one of Diggle’s army buddies works for the FBI and he confirmed Walter is dead. Instead of grief, Moira is enraged and firmly believes Oliver is wrong. Almost like she knows something Oliver doesn’t.

Thankfully, Oliver has grown a brain when it comes to his mother and rather take her word for it or delude himself into thinking she’s just in shock, he follows her Merlyn Global as The Hood. He records her conversation with Merlyn.

Moira: You promised if I cooperated with The Undertaking that Walter wouldn’t be harmed.

Merlyn: He hasn’t been. I’m a man of my word Moira.

Moira: We both know better than that. I know you’ve had him killed.

Of course, Walter is alive and still in the cell Merlyn has kept him in for the last six months. So, Oliver discovers the following:

Malcolm Merlyn, his best friend’s father, kidnapped Walter.

2. Moira knew all along who had Walter and why.

3. Moira is working with Merlyn on something called “The Undertaking.”

It’s a rough day when you learn your mother is colluding with a super villain and is an accessory to kidnapping. Oliver retreats to the darkness to wallow and mourn how completely messed up his family is. Then Felicity steps into the bunker and the room is flooded with light. It’s always the light.

Source: @smoakmonster

And with the light comes the truth. Oliver tells Felicity to track Malcolm Merlyn’s last phone call, which leads to Walter’s location. Oliver, in full superhero mode, attacks from the sky and lands on the roof with a parachute no less. Walter’s cell conditions are not great. Let’s not talk about the bucket of poo next to his bed. Immediately, we, and Oliver, know the man has been through it.

Oliver meets Walter, Moira and Thea at the hospital post Hood rescue.

Walter: Thank you, son.

It’s just a second, but we can see Oliver is really touched by Walter’s affection. We’ve gone from Oliver accusing Walter of sleeping with Moira at the dinner table his first night home to accepting Walter calling him son. That’s called growth my friends.

Yet, there was sadness in Oliver’s smile too. He was able to bring Walter home, something he couldn’t do for Robert Queen, and it was clear how much Oliver was missing his dad in that moment.

Felicity pops up in the doorway, carrying a bouquet of brightly colored flowers, wearing a deep fuchsia jacket and her sunshine hair pulled back into its signature ponytail. She physically is such a stark contrast to Oliver’s melancholy, and it snaps him out of it for a little bit as he introduces Felicity to his family.

Source: Paige

Felicity has become so fully entrenched in Oliver’s life that it actually took me a minute to remember Moira, Thea and Laurel have no idea who she is. She was introduced in Episode 3 and we’re on Episode 21! It’s almost like the writers forgot and realized they had to introduce Felicity to the rest of the cast. It’s wild y’all.

First up is Laurel earlier in the episode at the bar. She’s informing Oliver of her breakup with Tommy when Felicity pops in to advise him of another break – Walter’s kidnappers. It’s been a long-held belief in the Olicity fandom that Laurel’s reception was cool. One could even say snotty. I tried to go into this with an open mind, but yeah, I have to say that impression still holds for me. It’s like Felicity is a bug to be crushed.

Meanwhile, Felicity is so sweet to the woman Oliver Queen is hopelessly in love with (or so she thinks). It’s the way Felicity says gorgeous, almost sadly, like she sees for herself how beautiful Laurel is and its confirmation she won’t measure up. Oliver Queen will never look at her the way he looks at Laurel. So, it has to sting a little when he introduces Felicity as the person setting up his internet. It irked me. It felt dismissive.

Source: Paige

It’s very easy to dismiss Felicity as comic relief, and her Freudian slips are funny, but there are real and true feelings underneath. Felicity is in love with Oliver. It does cause her pain to see him with other women.  

Felicity’s insecurity is easy to understand. Oliver is not the only person who has growing to do. Felicity needs to realize she is just as beautiful, smart and lovable as Laurel Lance. What’s more, she has to realize Oliver does look at her in a way that’s different than Laurel, but it’s not less. It’s infinitely more. But we’re nowhere near ready for either character to acknowledge that yet.

When Oliver introduces Felicity to Moira and Thea, he calls her a friend, which is quite the glow up in twenty-five minutes. It’s warm and it’s true. More importantly, it carries much more significance than “Internet Girl.”

The deal was Felicity would join the team to find Walter. Well, they found him. That should conclude Felicity’s involvement in Oliver’s life. But he isn’t dismissing her as a “nobody” like Felicity did with Laurel. He is stating the opposite. Deal or no deal, Felicity is remaining in Oliver’s life.

Maybe that’s why he was more dismissive of Felicity with Laurel. Maybe he didn’t want Laurel to know there is another woman in his life. One he may be having more than friendly feelings towards. Oliver, Laurel and Tommy aren’t the only love triangle on this show.

Source: Paige

Lauriver

Holy hell.

We have all patiently waited for the holes to be filled in on Laurel and Oliver’s past. We’ve waited for some kind of reference to happier times – any kind of evidence these two, at one point, were madly in love and destined to be together until fate (and Oliver’s stupidity) stepped in and ripped them apart. We’re supposed to want Oliver and Laurel to get back together. They are the Plan A couple. This is the Green Arrow and Black Canary. DC Comic’s third tier golden couple. They belong together, right?

Someone may want to inform the Arrow writers of that because what we see in these flashbacks is absolute hot garbage. Of course, the immediate response is, “Of course Jen. You’re an Olicity shipper. You hate everything about Laurel and Oliver.”

Yeah, but how did I get there? EPISODES. LIKE. THIS. I did my absolute very best to ship Oliver and Laurel all through Season One because they are comic book canon. It was a foregone conclusion they would end up together and shipping Oliver with Felicity was setting myself up for five years of disappointment. I know how television writing works, friends. They very seldom deviate from the couple set up as endgame in the pilot. Oliver and Laurel are Plan A. It’s just math.

Well, the math ain’t mathing y’all. Blessedly, we get a break from the Island flashbacks and Arrow is spending some time in Starling City five years ago. Oliver and Laurel are ordering pizza as she’s studying for the bar exam. It’s cute. It’s sweet even. They’re in their little love bubble and we’re seeing them happy and together – the place we’re supposed to be rooting for them to return to in present day.

Laurel mentions their friends are moving in together and Oliver is happy for them because they've been together forever. Laurel immediately informs Oliver they’ve been together longer. Cue Oliver internally screaming. Deer in headlights. The building is on fire. WHERE IS THE EXIT? ABORT! ABORT!

Laurel, ever the lawyer, comes prepared with an argument. Moira busted Laurel in a morning-after-sex-romp and Lance threatened to tase Oliver the last time he stayed at Laurel’s, so she’s just being practical. Economical even. Why don’t they get a place of their own? (If the parents aren’t cool with you sleeping together while living separately what makes you think they’ll be ok with you MOVING IN TOGETHER, Laurel? Whatever. You do you babe.)

Oliver offers up a feeble maybe and then tells her IT’S A LITTLE FAST. Dude, for real? What Laurel is asking for isn’t unreasonable. She’s ready to take the next step and for Oliver to call that fast after probably several years together (college, maybe even high school) doesn’t make any sense if he’s in love with Laurel.

I’m a big believer in He's Just Not That Into You. Men are not overly complicated creatures. If they like a woman, they go after her. If they love a woman, they don’t need to be convinced to move in together or get married. They want to do those things.

They sure as hell don’t run screaming all the way to their father’s yacht for a three-week trip in the NORTH CHINA SEA with their girlfriend’s SISTER. This is exactly what Oliver does after he lukewarmly tells Laurel he’ll move in with her.

Source: Paige

Laurel meets Oliver on the docks to say goodbye. In an extra classy move, he phones Sara on the walk down to Laurel and tells her to circle around the parking lot until her sister leaves. This guy is such a prize. Fall to your feet, women of the world, and swoon. We have found THE ONE.

Laurel is not stupid. Well, she’s not always stupid. She knows something is up and asks her boyfriend if he was running away to the North China Seas to avoid moving in with her. Oliver scoffs. What’s this you say? Pure poppycock, milady. For when I return from my sea voyage we shall be betrothed henceforth!

She gives him the picture. The sodding picture. Honestly, it reeks of desperation. Oliver kisses it and it’s just awkward and gross. Please break up immediately. I can’t watch this anymore.

Oliver races back to the boat, to Sara, and Laurel is left alone on the docks. She gives a helpless little shrug. Deep down, Laurel knows Oliver is running away from her.

In present day, Laurel is at Oliver’s club drinking coffee and informs him of the big break up.

Oliver: It’s probably just cold feet.

Laure: Like it was with you? Oliver, you don’t sleep with your girlfriend’s sister unless you’re looking to blow the relationship up.

That’s the smartest thing she’s said all season.

Oliver: If you still want to be with Tommy, do what we should have done. Talk to each other and be honest.

You mean what YOU should have done Oliver? Laurel was honest. You were the liar and YOU’RE STILL LYING. Oliver is pretending he has no idea why Tommy broke up with her. He knows exactly why.

BECAUSE OF HIM.

Oliver tells Laurel to have honest conversation with Tommy, when he knows Tommy can’t do that BECAUSE HE’S KEEPING OLIVER’S SECRET and that’s one of the primary reasons he broke up with Laurel. It’s all so friggin manipulative. Where is something to throw at him??!!!!

Also, Oliver is acting all smarmy and flirty with his Humphrey Bogart reference. Wait a minute…

It’s interesting that the writers chose Casablanca. I know it’s kind of a cliché line when talking to a girl in a bar, but if we look at the plot Casablanca there are similarities between Oliver and Laurel.

Rick (Humphrey Bogart) and Ilsa (Ingrid Bergman) meet in Paris during WWII and fall in love. They aren't big on sharing too many details about themselves however. The rule is no questions. We do find out Ilsa's husband died. However, when she discovers he's alive, Ilsa leaves Rick with no explanation.

When they meet again years later in Casablanca, Ilsa explains why she left Rick standing at the train station. Ilsa husband's, Victor Laszlo, is a true hero. He is noble, idealistic and a leader of the Resistance. He was a prisoner in a Nazi concentration camp, but instead of dying like Ilsa thought - he escaped. He was very ill after being in the camp and needed her care. She was afraid if she told Rick, he wouldn't leave Paris and it was too dangerous for him to stay.

Ilsa's abandonment left Rick bitter and disillusioned. He opens a bar in Casablanca and while he allows people to arrange safe passage out of Nazis occupied Europe, he remains staunchly uninvolved (never a great look when it comes to the Nazis). But deep down Rick has a heart of gold. He ultimately saves Victor from the Nazis and ensures his safe flight to the United States. Isla still loves Rick and plans to stay with him in Casablanca, but in the end, Rick puts her on a plane with her husband.

Rick:  I'm saying it because it's true. Inside of us, we both know you belong with Victor. You’re part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that plane leaves the ground and you're not with him, you'll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.

Ilsa: But what about us?

Rick: We'll always have Paris. We didn't have, we, we lost it until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night.

Ilsa: When I said I would never leave you.

Rick: And you never will. But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going, you can't follow. What I've got to do, you can't be any part of. Ilsa, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world. Someday you'll understand that.

Rick: Now, now...Here's looking at you kid.

They just don’t write them like that anymore. It’s a classic for a reason.  There was real love between Rick and Ilsa and their love didn’t disappear because of circumstance. In the end, Rick gives Ilsa up for the greater good. His patriotism is reawakened and plans to continue the dangerous fight against the Nazis on his own. He wants Ilsa safe in the United States.

More importantly, he recognizes Victor is a good man truly deserving of her and needs Ilsa to continue his fight against the Nazis. Rick knows, deep down, she loves Victor and will regret staying with him. Their lives have taken them down two different roads and she was needed elsewhere, just like he was.

Their time was in the past. They are holding on to a memory. Rick can look back on that time fondly now, but it’s a time they can never recapture. Even though they love each other very much, ultimately, they couldn’t bridge the time that separated them.

He sends Ilsa off with the better man who can keep her safe and happy, even though it breaks his heart to do so. This selfless act of love proves Rick is a hero just like Victor and equally as deserving of Ilsa.

Laurel is Ilsa. Oliver is Rick. Tommy is Victor (the husband). I’m not arguing we have a Casablanca level love triangle here. Hardly, but Casablanca is the blueprint for how the Oliver, Laurel and Tommy love triangle should be resolved. Key word is SHOULD.

What about how Ilsa feels? Is she just a pawn in a chessboard between Rick, Victor and the Nazis? No. People have been arguing for years whether Ilsa loved Rick or Lazlo. My perspective is she loved them both. Rick is her passion, but Victor is her life. Ultimately, she knows Rick is right and chooses devotion over passion.

At this point we are uncertain where Laurel stands with Oliver and Tommy. The truth is, like Ilsa, Laurel loves them both. However, in the immortal words of Queen Catherine on Reign, “I know you think you love them both. And while that may be true, I argue that you love one more.”

Who does Laurel love more? We’re not going to get the answer until the season finale. That’s how love triangles work, but Casablanca maps out the choice Oliver should make. He needs to take a step back and recognize what he is chasing is a memory. Laurel and Oliver’s love is in the past.

What Laurel has with Tommy, a good man, is real. Maybe it doesn’t have all the heat and drama she has with Oliver, but ultimately that’s not what lasts. Passion fades and you need to the bedrock of devotion to sustain a relationship.

Oliver has shown Laurel anything but devotion. He went running to that boat because he didn’t want to move in with her. It was more than cold feet. You don’t cheat on a woman you are in love with. These are not circumstances Oliver has found himself in by accident or fate. Oliver made choices and those choices have consequences.

I truly don’t believe Oliver knows what love is yet. He thinks Laurel is what he’s supposed to want. Returning home to Laurel and fixing what went wrong was all he thought about on the Lian Yu. That’s a long time to convince himself she’s his true love.  She’s the key to fixing everything. If Oliver chose Laurel, Sara would not be dead. Robert would not be dead. He would have NEVER spent five years away from home. There’s no mission. There’s no hood.

I’m not denying they love each other, but they lack trust. They lack devotion. It’s not the kind of love you build a life on. If it was then Oliver would have built a life with Laurel rather than getting on that boat and blowing up their relationship instead.

There are moments in life when it’s clear which path you take. There is a right path and a wrong one, but you don’t choose the right path because it’s too hard. Laurel approaching Oliver in that hallway is one of those moments. Tommy told Laurel she should be with Oliver. She comes to the hospital to ask Oliver to speak with Tommy.

This is the moment. This is the moment Oliver needs to let her go. PUT HER ON THE PLANE , OLIVER!!!!

But he doesn't.

Source: @blackcanarysource

Laurel’s intentions are pretty clear. She wants Tommy. Then Oliver drops this bomb and simply walks away. He has absolutely no intention of being with Laurel, of telling her the real truth, but refuses to let either of them move on. This will absolutely mess with her head and obliterate the path back to Tommy.

Admitting that his time with Laurel has past, that he can never go back and undo what happened between them and erase those five years, is too hard for Oliver. He can’t let go, so he clings to Paris. He clings to a romanticized memory of what he had with Laurel.

But make no mistake, if Laurel chooses Oliver, she will regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But someday.

Robert Queen and Malcolm Merlyn

Speaking of plot holes, we also had to wait a long time to get clarity on why Robert Queen was in cahoots with Malcolm Merlyn and the answers are bonkers.

Robert, Malcolm and Frank have joined forces to convince the city’s worst to do what’s best with some not so friendly blackmail. They all have their reasons for cleaning up Starling City – Malcolm’s wife was murdered in The Glades and Frank’s daughter was raped. Everyone in the room lost something to The Glades.

Merlyn feels their efforts are futile and to save Starling City they have to do something big – level The Glades. Malcolm promises it can look like a natural disaster. Unidac Industries has a prototype, five years away from completion, that can make it look like a natural disaster.

It’s around this time Robert realizes Malcolm Merlyn is batshit crazy. He attempts to talk him out of mass murder, but Malcolm is too far gone. The pain of losing his wife, of listening to her die over and over, has created a madness in him reason cannot penetrate.

So, what did Robert lose to The Glades? His soul according to Malcolm. It’s not until Robert confesses to Moira that we learn what that means.

Robert: I’m not the man you think I am.

Robert was approached by a local councilman before the steel factory opened in The Glades (Oliver’s bunker). He wanted money because bribes are the way things work in The Glades, but Robert refused. They got into an argument and he fell. Robert accidentally killed a man. The List, cleaning up Starling City, and working with Malcolm Merlyn was Robert’s way of atoning for his sins.

It should not be lost on us that the steel factory (now Oliver's bunker) is where Robert Queen lost his soul, but it’s where his son is finding his.

Moira immediately points out Robert is atoning for one murder by committing hundreds or thousands. She tells Robert the real path to atonement is to stop Malcolm Merlyn from committing this atrocity. At least one of Oliver’s parents has not gone completely nuts.

Moira makes Robert promise he will stop Merlyn, so he comes up with a plan. Robert is convinced Malcolm won’t level The Glades unless he can rebuild it. Malcolm has been buying up properties in The Glades for years and Robert’s proposal to Frank is to buy up the rest of the city. He’ll lose the control he requires to rebuild it. This is also about good old-fashioned greed. Merlyn will make millions rebuilding The Glades.

Unfortunately, Frank serves Robert up on a plate and tells Merlyn exactly what he’s planning. They plant a bomb on the Queen’s Gambit, but since there’s typhoon warning it will look like it went down in a storm. What is this guy’s deal with murder masquerading as natural disaster? Now that I know Frank betrayed Robert, I don’t mind as much that Moira betrayed Frank.

Malcolm: One man alone can’t save this city, Robert. We both know that.

This is an ominous warning for the present day as well. Robert couldn’t save the city alone and neither can Oliver. After learning of The Undertaking and facing off with Merlyn in a tense exchange at the hospital, Oliver realizes he needs help and apologizes Diggle for letting him down. He realizes now Diggle was right about Moira all along and it will take all three of them to put a stop to Malcolm Merlyn.

Source: Paige

Stray Thoughts

I’m being philosophical when I talk about heat and passion with Laurel and Oliver. They are supposed to be all the passion, while Tommy is the steadiness. It requires chemistry to see this concept physically manifested and Stephen & Katie simply do not have it. It’s a huge problem and makes their romance that much tougher to believe.

Moira doesn’t want to know who Robert’s mistress is. Guess this explains why Oliver believes you can love someone and cheat on them at the same time.

Not to be completely superficial, but Felicity’s hair and dress are WOW! You all know how I feel about red. On that same superficial note, Felicity's daytime Season 1 wardrobe is rough though. YIKES. We need a budget increase ASAP.

Diggle paints or takes photographs. Also I saw a saxophone in his apartment too. Why didn’t we revisit this at some point?

“Tommy, I love you and I think you still love me.” So, she DOES love Tommy. First time we heard her say that. About damn time.

“Honestly, you belong with Oliver. He’s still in love with you.” Shut up Tommy. You’re your own worst enemy.

Listen to the Watchover podcast reaction to 1x21!!!

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[willfulscarlet]

I love superhero stories that effectively involve the Furies - the unstoppable force of heroic intent meeting the immovable object of worldly reality. The Greek tragedy of it all - this is insoluble, it is already written, this is your fate, you cannot act other than how you have but it will be your downfall. If the (long, distant) roots of superhero comics are in heroic myths and legends, these stories and closer to that root.

The Sandman is a great example - Morpheus is obliged to act as he does, and killing Orpheus is an act of mercy that Orpheus begs him for. But it’s still the murder of his son, and it is his doom.

The Hiketeia is another good fate-and-fury tragedy. You should absolutely go read it now.

A young woman, Danielle Wellys, comes to Diana, and pledges herself, using a sacred ritual - the Hiketeia - which pledges her life to Diana’s service, in return for Diana’s protection and hospitality. But she’s informed by the Furies that they are watching her and her new charge - both are bound by the ancient laws of vengeance. Danielle killed her sister’s murderers, who tricked and abused her into prostitution and who killed her - by the laws of the Kindly Ones, she was obligated to seek vengeance on her sister’s behalf. But Diana is bound by her sacred vow - If she fails to protect Dani, she’ll be subject of the Furies vengeance, for reneging on her oath of protection.

Enter Batman. Dani wrought her vengeance in Gotham, and so Batman is hunting her - he can’t ignore four murders, even of murderers. He tries to fight Diana to get to Dani, which goes poorly for him. Dani explains why she killed them and Diana understands - her mind goes to Donna and Cassie, and what she’d have done in Dani’s place. Batman refuses to wait, to listen and see if together they can find a kinder route to justice - Bruce has his own oaths of vengeance.

After dealing with Batman Diana asks Dani to rest, so they can talk about what to do in the morning. Dani instead flees, and Batman catches her, leading Diana to have to stop him again.

Rather than keep putting Diana in an impossible situation, Dani jumps to her death. She survives long enough to release Diana from her oath, so Diana is free of the Furies physical vengeance - but this is a tragedy, and Diana is still left knowing she was unable to protect Dani.

I love the voice Rucka gives Diana. She’s so often an idealised caricature- here, she feels weighty and burdened. Her instinct to do good - to accept Dani’s plea without asking why - is what puts her in an impossible situation, one which would have destroyed her if Dani hadn’t released her. Diana wasn’t compelled - she chose this, and the concomitant fate that came with it. She could have refused - but she wouldn’t be Diana if she had, and so her choice is no choice at all. The story doesn’t adopt a breakneck pace in case you get bored between panels - the art is allowed to breathe, to carry the pauses and build the tension. You hope and hope that there will be a way out - for Diana to fulfill her vow of protection and her vow of justice. But of course she won’t be allowed that kindness. All tragedies end the same way.

[msommers]

the old ones compel me to prompt you F H I V for auretta, greer, and meredith xoxo

my brain finally allowed me to finish these (mostly lmao)!! freedom from the drafts!!! // oc asks: au abcs

F. fey. What kind of fey or fairy creature would your OC be? Would they be in a spooky, intense fairy world or a playful, lighthearted fairy world?

turns out this question is actually the bane of my existence, more so than the pacific rim one. fey be gone from my life forever challenge

AURETTA — ok every article i looked at to clarify if high elves technically count as fey gave me a different answer, so for fun i'm just going to settle on Yes to play with the silly idea of an au where the other three siblings have to take a trip to taltempla to retrieve auretta because she got too accustomed to the elven ways and they haven't heard from her in decades. i simply think it'd be funny for them to have to work their way into getting to evermeet, then her particular city, all while dealing with all of the dreadful stereotypical elves because the island nation is made up of 99.8% old ass elves. the isle is breathtaking and the feats of magic casually going around are awe-inspiring but gd are these side-eyeing elves starting to really grind their gears (and trigger taea's anxiety).

GREER — i don't know if i can see her as any type of fey, but that could be on my lack of knowledge and search results not giving me anything suiting. getting dropped into a spooky and dark fairy world sounds like the exact kind of luck she'd have, the intensity of it can rival her own and it can be a fun unstoppable force meets immovable object scene.

MEREDITH — hey i'm gonna keep it real w you chief i'm just giving up. my brain won't work for this one particular prompt and i'm not forcing it anymore, we got plenty of yapping under the read more about all of the other topics so i don't even feel bad. follow the fun more like follow my fucking sanity before it flees the country

H. horror. Would your OC survive in a horror situation? What would their role be? How would they deal with being tossed in a horror scenario?

AURETTA — answered here!

GREER — oof. oof oof oof. i want to say yes just because her canon backstory has her enduring and surviving so much, but on the other hand?? she's the girly who shouts to take the attention of a monster from someone she wants to protect, the type who tells somebody to go ahead and don't look back and stays behind to fend off the threat, the one going "take me, not them", the one who volunteers to take on the mini-quest with the path directly through danger to complete a task necessary to surviving—basically she's guaranteed to put herself into danger to keep others safe, so her odds are immediately lower than they should be. i'd say it comes down to what threat she's up against. if it's human then she's easily making it out, she's quick-thinking and resourceful and not worried about getting a little feral and violent to make it out alive. paranormal?? she's probably cooked, doesn't know how to fight a fucking ghost and would die trying to protect someone from it. i think she'd be funny as an until dawn sam or mike character, aka she has plot armor for 98% of the story and then she can finally die from the slightest fuck up right at the end if you weren't paying close enough attention to know how to keep her alive with split second decision making.

MEREDITH — she's a cousland, i have no choice but to say of course she's surviving. she's coming out the other side covered in blood, frantic and paranoid, with a lovely brand new permanent haunted look in her eyes and habit of keeping a weapon close at hand, but she's surviving! prime final girl material, i'm ready to toss her into every horrible scenario known to man for her to crawl her way out of rn. the cousland origin is kinda lowkey a horror opening already if you think about it, and it's got so many blades involved that my mind jumped right away to the slasher genre. so i like the idea of putting her into one of those and having her outwit the person/people trying to take her out. she's dealing with the horrors by stuffing every emotion except anger deep deep deep down so that she can stay locked in without distraction, which naturally leads to her final fight ending in a severe overkill with her screaming and crying and stabbing until her arms give out as all of the emotions come rushing to the surface.

I. intellectual property. Are there any popular series or franchises that your OC is well-suited for? Which 'verse(s) and what makes them so well-suited?

AURETTA — it's been a hot minute since i've read the books (never finished the show oops) so i'm forgetting a lot of the details, but the magicians came to mind for her. she's very well suited for the intricate magic system between easily being able to memorize an absurd amount of material and quickly calculating her surroundings to adjust a casting and all that jazz. i think her practical take on enacting rituals for certain creatures/entities/etc to gain the benefits while not actively caring for or believing in them could suit well in a way that pisses certain people off. i also do have as a Thing for her that she used to be more lighthearted when she was younger but she had to harden to protect her siblings, so that's a snug fit for former fillory lover turned "ugh, move on, they're just books." she's also a fucking snobby know-it-all study freak prep so she fits right in at brakebills 💙 honestly, i believe if i re-familiarized myself with the world then i'd only find more reasons she perfectly suits the setting, but i'm lazy rn. obligatory mention of grishaverse because of the grisha!taea talk a while back, auretta would be a squaller with a particular flair for summoning lightning. she and taea would be excellent with the small science, it's an s tier setting for them tbh.

GREER — oh man. any world where she can be righteously angry about a magical cause, she's perfect. stick her into the grishaverse as a grisha that’s fucking sick and tired of the side eyes, abuse of their power, and persecution by the drüskelle. those guys are her #1 target and are going to be in for it after her charismatic ass has racked up a shocking amount of allies and companions to take the fight to them. toss her into runeterra where she can be a demacian mage that rebels against the mageseekers after escaping one of their prisons and reclaiming her magic by striking the petricite cuffs from her own hands. yeah she injured herself with the action, but that pain is minor compared to the euphoria of unleashing her magic on those chasing her.

MEREDITH — i immediately want to stick her into any kind of political drama set in fantasy, or even scifi. settings like asoiaf and the expanse where her backstory of a political heiress who has her inheritance violently stolen from her and is forced to live on the run to survive, while also juggling some insane quest she was handed, can fit snugly into place. both of those settings are capable of hosting the needlessly cruel coup against her family, and easily facilitate a charismatic young woman hellbent on vengeance and solving problems in her path. i imagine that in asoiaf she'd lean more heavily into the cunning and paranoia of her character, while the expanse gets to showcase her altruism and struggles with patience. highkey i think she'd fit the witcher as well, she'd be interesting as a noble figure in that universe and could offer some fun conversation with the monster hunters. (i personally also want to see her in a period romance but that's just me being indulgent with no particular verse in mind.)

V. vigilante au. What would your OC's superpower be? Would they be a hero or a villain? Do they believe that with great power comes great responsibility?

AURETTA — there have already been so many goofs about how she's just another storm. girly would have weather manipulation powers with a mastery of wind and lightning, and a lesser but still notable skill with water. i actually think it's kind of interesting to consider that she didn't put much thought into diving into any heroism until her siblings started coming at her with insistence that they have a responsibility to use their powers for good. it's not that she's opposed to the idea, just that she's so locked into her studies and gaining the approval of her parents that she couldn't see beyond her tunnel vision there. her powers would've been going to waste on mundane shit until they pulled her into action, and then she gets to redirect all of that intense focus and overthinking of hers onto superhero things.

GREER — honestly just keep her magic and call it “fade energy manipulation” and you’re good to go, matches the typical powers naming convention and some media is so insane we don’t even need to question it fitting. greer has the supervillain origin backstory right there but she’s a hero at the end of the day, unless you ask the certain type of enemy (hi templars <3) she mercilessly targets and they’ll start spinning stories on how she’s one of the most unhinged villains. greer’s kind of an extremist so yeah she’d believe in the great responsibility motto, and probably take it one step beyond that and actively get angry with those who don’t live up to it. she won't accept excuses either, if you have power(s) and the opportunity to do good then you better fucking get to work, people need you.

MEREDITH — she'd kinda just lowkey be an oliver queen type, huh. rich young heiress loses her family to a betrayal that forces her into a fight for survival scenario, with the cute subplots of taking what’s rightfully hers and clearing her homeland of people that have both betrayed and/or failed it. they’re also both archers lmao.  i don’t think she’d have any superpowers, she’d be one of those types who just has extensive training and experience to the point of mastering certain skills and abilities that allow her to go up against powered beings. she's such a politically focused character usually but these series usually don't dive too heavily into that, so there'd probably be a lot more exploring of her archery skills and then some heavier focus on her relationships with others and how they develop.