#like i get that its set in hell but why does the entire show have to be a giant blob of pink and red

[understandableparadox]

a comprehensive list of everything wrong with hazbin hotel.

quick note before i lose myself in madness, my standards for helluvaboss are non existent because its a free show on youtube. also i kinda like helluvaboss and i will indulge in any bias i damn well please.

oh and spoilers. i guess.

the greater narrative of the entire season is "White lady civilize inner city hoodlum". ex: The blind side. rich girl, affluent family yadda yadda.

the story is set up to be like amphibia, owl house, svtfoe, steven universe, that being starting as something episodic then transforming into story driven narrative. why? because we know the benefits and drawbacks, episodic starts allows us to wander the world, it allows us to understand the dynamics, we are not forced to reckon with anything because there is no deadline. characters are allowed to bloom and shine and the audience can actually get attached.

the source material is Vary Clearly formed from remnants of something out of a middle school edgelord narrative. the usage of transformation, the big spooky grins, the "and then i smile as my eyes glow and-"-isms which in most cases i don't mind because in some instances but in a vary Particular case its astoundingly annoying and that annoyance is like a mold, shit spreads quick.

the color Red. as a lover of homestuck cherubs and karkat and aradia, as someone who fucking loves the color red, it is so painful to say but holy shit tone it the fuck down, i know its hell but their are so many other colors that you can use, its everywhere, the streets, the air, the windows, the screens, the characters, i know the pride ring is represented with red but change up the palates every so often for backgrounds

the rush, this ties into the second point made but i think the story itself is rushed. we know everything way to early. i know way to much and it makes it hard to care about anything because im still trying to digest the last chunk of info. "oh ok, so they clear out hell once a year. oh hell has a heaven embassy? ok. oh that adam the angel, i though he wou- oh its every 6 months now. wait the exterminators die a lot? then why is everyone sca- people in hell already have weapons that can kill angels? w- oh we are in heaven now, ok ma- no one in heaven except for the elites know the exterminations occur? how do-" and its that, just this incessant rush to explain everything to you. notably that's just the god damn spark notes, we need to know everything about the characters now, every single bit of their story, their insecurities, what charlie needs to fix, how she can fix them, the major bad guys, everything. you are never allowed to dwell on a character because we need to rush towards something else. it almost feels like this should have been like... season three, it would have been a fantastic season three if you dropped the introductions honestly.

the concept of redemption. for a story of redemption to work you need to look at three things. What is there crime, Do they want to change, What is preventing them from changeing? there is only one single character that has a notable path of redemption, angel dust, but if you look through their story it feels off. What Exactly is he guilty of? he has sex, does drugs and drinks. his apparent nymphomania is tied to his sad backstory as someone forced into the sex industry so how is that their fault? then if you think about it you start to spiral and notice "hey why are most of these people in hell?" like sure some of them may deserve punishment but then you see the fucking dichotomy and its like "I was a inventor in england and died of the fucking plague, i may have made evil little contraption hoohoohoo" vs "I was a cannibal, a full on cannibal, i fucking killed people and ate them and then someone shot me". ONE OF THESE THINGS ARE A LITTLE MORE FUCKING EXTREME. i'm going to go fucking nuts, the thing they went to heaven with when presenting a case to angels on the idea that redemption and becoming a better person is actually real was angel dust not drinking at a party and not having sex with consenting adults and i want to go fucking insane. WHAT IS THE CRIME, WHO IS THROWING THE BOOK, WHAT DOES THE BOOK INTEL, ARE WE ON GOOD PLACE RULES?! half the cast dont Need redemption they need fucking help, and the other half of the cast do need redemption but they do not seek it making the point moot. sir pentious acts like he has the brain of a hyper intelligent toddler tossing about toys, its almost like he did his one bad thing of spying and then got caught, sank his little diddy about forgiveness and second chances and become a null point through out the rest of the series, sure their was Some weight to him sacrificing himself, he was a decently funny character and he had good moments but him popping up in heaven felt like a fore gone conclusion, he didn't deserve to be in hell so why do i care that he is suddenly in heaven? because its working on the concept the good place already made. no one actually deserves eternal punishment they just need help processing what makes them a dick, but instead of looking at all the parts of the afterlife that make it bad, inefficient and then creating and trying ideas to see if it work instead over a few seasons, we crash dick first into all the major plot points in regards to that and say "tada, we fixed it.".

having a sub-plot about sexual assault and its victims then having multiple sexual assault related gag ruins your point.

don't make a bunch of stereotypically jewish characters into cannibals, that was a big thing, really shouldn't have to say it.

if you are going to make a character black, make them black, you can say alastor was black but sweet seren-fucking-dippity that's not a black man.

pot meet kettle but yeah the cursing could be a little less liberal. maybe just blue hair or the pronouns, not both.

there is a very distinctive art deco/jazz aesthetic which normally i love but i feel as though it is not used to its full extent and in some cases really hurts the character design in and of itself.

this is a vary obvious bit but the story is a million times more interested in gay men then it is of lesbians, which culminates in this insane thing where the writers clearly have more talent or perhaps it would be more abt to say practice writing male gay pining then they are with lesbian pining. which i personally think is hilarious because i did not know you could min max fujoshi-ism that hard.

this next section is more to do with each character on a fundamental level, for the sake of brevity whatever there is left, i'm just doing ones with speaking roles.

13. Charlie:

(see what i mean about that red thing?)

as originally stated charlie fits rather comfortably into every white saviour narrative, though that seems to be part of her joke. though i'm not entirely sure how much of a joke it can be when its rewarded and expected to advance the plot.

her character design says nothing, it has the motif of old puppets or dolls, she wears something vaguely similar to service suits, her demonic form is just some extra horns.not to say every character needs to have their life on a clothes rack but some more snake and goat imagery would be nice

its not the chol design of charlie with snake hair, not an actual problem but its a problem to me, damn you @cholvoq for ruining my ability to look at any of the characters without wishing i was seeing your designs instead.

character wise aside from the white savoir bit, i'm having a bit of trouble understanding what the arc of the character is. she is shown to be naive, someone who doesn't understand how the world works but everytime she says something its something astoundingly clear like "people can actually get better". and its treated like someone demanded faygo in every water fountain. is the joke that the world around her to cynical or is so to naive? please pick one or the other.

now if you know me, you know i fucking hate overpowered characters with a blinding passion, one that would set alit the god damn abyss but in this one special instance, i feel like its warranted, she's the direct descendant of fucking God, she can swing her weight around a little, i mean god damn. she in so many instances looks like shes cowering so often, why would the daughter of lucifer get backed down by some rando pimp? why wasn't she the one to fight adam? sure you can say she is young but how young? her parents were there since pre-abrahamic times, most of the characters showed up in hell in the 1900s, some of them showed up in the 1600s, how old is charlie??? how long does it take for her to learn how to be strong? The story does not suffer if charlie is strong and knows she is strong. it can easily be a case of "i don't believe in violence to a weird degree". fit it into her apparent naivety about the world to believe that violence is never the answer even when dealing with a being that is unilaterally horrible and abusive and monstrous.

she ga- no im kidding, i do think her romance was waysided a bit, it would have been fine to have more scenes of them togather and in love you know?

14. Vaggie

why did you name the lesbian vaggie...? Don't do that maybe?

I like how her design is almost moth like but again i feel as though you could have amped that up.

she feels as though someone tried to combine undyne and pearl from steven universe, same story beats and design elements. it makes it hard to really distinguish her as a character.

i honestly dont have much to say about her. she is fine.

christ kill me, lets just get the big one out of the way

15. Alastor.

God Damn

where to start.

"alastor is mixed race" mixed with fucking what? concrete? there is not a single black feature on that creature, now im not saying you have to make him a png of louie armstrong but it wouldn't hurt to add a curl to the hair maybe? make it a tiny bit more wavy? Something? a crumb i beg of thee?

his symbolism is all over the god damn place, native american monsters (you know the one), voodoo, radio, puppets, stitches, circuses??? and Tentacles i guess. two of those are from closed religions so if you dumped those you would actually get a more concise character focused on the concept of vox populi as a means of societal control and influence as we see in his first song. but again that gets drowned out repeatedly by all the other random toy box bits shoved into him.

tumblr sexy man bait

he serves no purpose in the story. he does spooky stuff, pretends to do things and then goes back to sitting around looking spooky. i understand that his motif is supposed to be aloof mastermind but maybe have him do more mastermindy things? if you remove most of alastors scenes, bar the songs, it doesn't change all to much. husk and nifity can still be at the hotel, they could be looking for outs in their contracts the same as angel dust. hell it even helps with the one scene where he dose some spooky shit, asking charlie for a favor in exchange for his help in the fight with the angels instead of asking him about angel weapons which should have remained a strictly vaggie scene.

his presence in a way delegitimize the story, as I noted in in the section regarding redemption, the three parts are "what is the crime, do they want to change, what is stopping them?" and alastor kinda just spits in the face of that. he is a serial killer cannibal that has no qualms about how evil he is and apparently must continue being evil due to being under the control under someone legitimately called the Root Of All Evil. show him take a slight interest in the idea that maybe shit for him could be better, make him Want Change at the bare fucking minimum or dont have him at the hotel.

his stupid little fucking horns, big shot the troll liker wants characters to have big fucking horns, make them noticeable or dont have them.

he looks more like a dog boy, which could have been an interesting thing with the collar motif but fuck me i guess.

personal pet peeve but i fucking hate characters that have a million plus powers, stick to a set number, be creative.

im getting more petty as i go on so last point: he could have been in less episodes, he didn't need to be in dad beat dad, that should have been just a lucifer and charlie episode. inverse the red and black and i think he would be fucking great color wise, his body type is the same as ten different characters, he isnt radio enough, aside from the voice and and staff if you told me he was the fucking Cat Demon i would have been just as convinced.

16. Angel Dust

what the fuck, gay spider? its hard to actully articulate all the thoughts i have on angel dust, not in the sense that he is a deeply thought provoking character but in the fact that there is not much meat on the bones.

all around i think angel dust is kinda middling. he has a decent enough romance with husk, he has a decent enough story line that revolves around battling addiction and removing yourself from an abuser (which the story tries to brand as "Redemption???")

I dont like that most of his jokes would qualify as sexual harassment, i don't mind him being sexual as a character but continuing on when clearly someone doesn't like the jokes hurts the character.

not a critique but he is pink, which honestly ill fucking take at point, as long as its not more fucking red.

i think his design is an improvement over some of the old vivzie designs but it feels like it could have done with going a few more rounds of design changes.

same thing with alastor, charlie and vaggie, there is not enough of the animal that they are supposed to be. You could have told me angel dust was a fucking bee or something and i would have had to believe you. nothing about angel dust initially says spider, hell he dosent even have enough limps to be a fucking spider.

17. Carmilla carmine

are... are you supposed to be a rabbit...?

Big Yoai Hands

ballet fighting style, could have been cool, wish she fought more like sanji or chun li.

A single mom that works to hard, who loves her kids and never stops-

her song was decent, not great, decent. it feels as though the actress has experience singing but not in the way they tried to make her sing during her two songs. they have a obvious mexican influence, honestly just let her sing in spanish in the english dub. go listen to the spanish dub, "out for love" sounds great in spanish.

i wish i had more thoughts on them, fucking rip.

18. cherri bomb

that's not a punk aesthetic that's 2010s alt

decent character, they showed up once or twice i guess, no real thoughts.

19. egg boiz

absolutely perfect, i have not notes on them, these are perfect creatures.

20. Emily

im so fucking happy to see a singular blue character

does the naive dreamer bit better then charlie

We really shouldnt have seen her until the end of season two or middle of three.

good contrast with the other angels on screen.

Wait she is supposed to be black??? Where???

21. Husk

keith david you absolute delight, Why on gods green earth did they only give you one singing part?

one of the few charecters where its clear husk is a cat, i do like the kinda... marquee design, he is a magic cat, thats neat. i still think you can toss the wings and eyebrows and still have just as good of a charecter.

has a deeply intresting story of someone who died as a nobody, became the fat cat of hell and then was forced back to the bottom by their own vices, not used at fucking all.

huge potential, little pay off.

22. lillith

I know nothing about her except she ditched her kid and husband to vacation in heaven and i think thats kinda funny.

alot of werid things floating around her, again she shouldnt have been shown in the show at all until next season.

23. lucifer morningstar

no notes, funniest charecter, did a song based on friend like me.

few notes: i do like the idea that the immortal symbol of pride is a constant emotional wreckage constantly seeking approval through grand showmanship and manic energy that threatens to take over anything they touch.

would have liked more snake stuff on him, maybe some more goat things like horns.

that is such a stupid fucking staff lmao.

24. Adam.

alex brightman you absolute fucking delight, you should have had more songs.

I wish his design was more focused on the idea of him being a glam rock wash up

I fucking hate his mask

We shouldn't have met him until the end of the season.

25. Niffty

again she is supposed to be a bug or cockroach but nothing about her points to that.

token straight

keeps rocketing back and fourth between sexulization and infantilization

you had kimiko glenn but didnt give her a single fucking song?

26. Sir Pentious

the secret season one redeemed.

the pilot version of him felt more like someone that could do a season one redemption arc, a megalomaniac constantly attempting territory grabs, there is something you can work with, actual character flaws to work through.

essentially a child after the first episode.

actually a snake which i appreciate.

no where near steampunky enough.

27. the villians of the show dont make much sense, each one feels like they should be season long deals on their own instead of a bunch of team rocket esque idiots that show up on occasion, do a bad thing and then leave.

28. Valentino

gOD THERE IS SO MUCH RED

only a moth some of the time.

sucks as a villain, maybe they need more screen time to show why they suck in a more substantial way aside from being told that he sucks.

it is interesting that angel dust is only under his magical control when in the studio, it shows that angel dust has to make a conscious choice to return, which in turn can be made to show how abusers can draw back their victims. I do not think it was done well in this circumstance as it shows him to be cartoonishly evil, constantly flying back and fourth between sweet and utter psycho, there is no actual reason for angel dust to ever actually go back to the studio, he just does so every so often.

29. Vox

legit who cares? the only thing about him that is in any way substantial is all the dope ass fan art we get.

propaganda machine angle that is not explored at all, just hinted at. no actual barring on the story whatsoever.

why didn't he try to do the same shit as alastor by the way? he knows its bad if alastor gets in good with charlie so shouldn't it be a ass kissing race?

same body shape as literally every other male character.

tumblr sexy man version of pyrocynicals fursona.

30. Valvette

the actual poster child of the shows huge problem of "Show me, don't tell me".

apparently the glue that holds the villains together. never shown.

apparently the one that makes the love potions that valentino is famous for. had to learn about that in the fuckin wiki trivias

we know so much about her from things outside of the show.

was there to call carmilla a coward, that's her plot contribution. she shows up every now and again but its never anything substantial and serves to more around take up run time for people We Don't Need To Know Yet.

im not trying to be mean, animation is animation, we need smaller studios to have success in the industry so that other indie studios can have that success, felling a tree makes it easier for others to follow. showing that its possible to number brain rot exacs helps all animators.

but this show has so much bullshit attached to it, it has so much fucking potential that it fries my brain with unyielding frustration.

this took a bit to write, im tired, thanks for reading.

[neiptune]

to hell with the stars, keep shooting for the moon

cw: 3k wc, female reader, established relationship, suggestive if you squint, reader is a gymnast, my entry for the super fun summer olympics collab by @tetzoro! hope you'll enjoy the little surprise i squeezed in hehe

“For the last time, I’m not having sex with you on one of those cardboard beds”.

Atsumu isn’t the least bit discouraged by your exasperated scowl, which is met with a pout.

“But babe-”

“I don’t care how many times Tobio’s done it, ‘Tsumu” you click your tongue.

“It’s just so fucking bizarre that he gets so much action, the guy doesn’t even do anything! Shoyo agrees, we discussed it and still couldn’t find a reason” the blond, excessively petulant Miya who makes it a point to be the bane of your existence, keeps listing all the reasons why he believes his teammate shouldn’t be getting laid in the olympic village. Or anywhere else ever, for the matter.

The heated arguments float through a distant hemisphere of your brain, where they dissolve before you can quite catch their meaning and soon enough become simple sounds you’re passively absorbing, thoughts too preoccupied with something entirely different.

The choreographies you put together with your trainer have been playing in the back of your mind ever since last night, after the all-around individual qualification round. You are part of the 10 gymnasts with the highest scores, four performances with each apparatus earning a fairly decent ranking and good enough points. Well, they’re certainly good enough, given that you get to represent Japan at the individual final. But you just know they could be better. Your feet should’ve been firmer, hands less sweaty around the clubs, you should’ve stretched for at least 50 minutes prior to the routine instead of the usual 40 ones.

Pulse picks up in pace, heart thrumming faster against your ribcage, dizziness clouds your mind for a moment as different moves chase each other in rapid succession: the penché comes first, then follows the elbow stand, front walkover, one forward roll, a chest stand-

Gentle, calloused fingers grasp your chin and tilt your head upwards in silent demand. Look at me.

“Get out of there and talk to me, sugar” the fondness in his chocolate gaze is a balm that instantly soothes the churning sensation sabotaging your stomach.

“I won’t make it” it’s blunt, raw in its honesty “I’m too scared”.

“Ya worked your ass off the past four years. Your entire life actually”.

“I know”.

“And whatever happens, you’re one of the best ten gymnasts in the world”.

“I know”.

Atsumu gets closer as his hands hold your face now, gentle but firm, an all too familiar flame starts dancing in feverish eyes.

“But?”.

You recognize that gaze, the raging, febrile determination taking over. He gets it on his side of the net, where he gets to run the show. And oh, isn’t that always a sight for sore eyes? It certainly was at the olympics too, when the entire world got to witness what Japan is already used to. The game against Argentina was nothing short of glorious, the way Atsumu coordinated his team’s offense, established the entire tempo and overall built the confidence in his passers had the crowds chanting his name over and over again. By the evening, you’re positive at least a hundred new Miya Atsumu fan accounts had started following you on instagram.

And yet he doesn’t take any of it for granted. Atsumu always gives his very best, at the olympics or during regular training with his friends. Whether Tobio is going to play or not. That passion simply sets his soul ablaze at all times, with no exception. He’s the man you love and the only one who can truly understand how you feel, the one person who is ignited with the same delirious resolve currently burning in the pit of your stomach.

“But I really want that fucking medal” you whisper. Not to prove him that you have it in you just like he does: truth is you’re the only person who needs additional convincing.

Sharp canines make their appearance when Atsumu smiles widely.

“Then go get it. The hell are you scared of? That medal belongs to you”.

Your eyelids flutter as they fall shut, a deep breath filling your lungs with fresh air. When you open your eyes again, you feel your heart filling up with something else too.

“I love you”.

His eyes soften at that, affection pools within crinkles by the eyes as a confident grin morphs into a warm smile.

“Love ya more, champion” Atsumu kisses your forehead with tenderness, lingers for a moment too long with lips pressing to your skin with intention. Then he lets go of your face but not before searching for any remnants of self-doubt. His chest swells with pride when all he can find in your eyes is that determination he adores.

“Will you be there?” you ask because you can’t help it. It’s perfectly understandable that he might not be able to, his schedule is just as busy as yours and Japan’s final game is just two days away. It’s not entirely fair to ask and someone else might’ve rolled their eyes with a sigh, reminded you that they don’t get to decide that. But not Atsumu. He takes one of your hands and brings it to his lips to kiss each knuckle.

“I’ll do everything I can to be there”.

“Thank you” you lightly pinch his nose with an infatuated smile and he fakes a groan “see you later”.

“I love you!” he shouts as you run away, loud and obnoxious and passionate, just like his affection always is. Once again, Atsumu’s love is thrown over your shoulders like a comforting blanket that weighs just right.

Back at the beginning of your relationship, you had to unlearn a very specific thought process that posed the risk of ending something that still hadn’t had the chance to fully start. It was your first time dating another pro athlete, a very talented and quite renowned one no less. You were first introduced to him at a party, he had no idea who you were but of course you were all too familiar with his name and accomplishments.

Miya Atsumu was a pro volleyball player, known for his exceptional flair and fierce passion ever since high school. His reputation made you believe that, as an athlete yourself, you had to prove him that you were just as good in your own sport. Wasn’t that all he’d be interested in? Dating someone who wouldn’t embarrass him with their mediocrity, someone who wouldn’t stain his polished reputation?

Turns out, by no means Atsumu was interested in all that. He asked if it was okay for him to come watch one of your competitions, coincidentally one of your worst ones. You were all too aware of how badly you had competed, nerves and a recent flu contributing to a terrible performance, yet at the end of it Atsumu greeted you with stars in his eyes. He couldn’t stop talking about how elegant yet strong you looked, going as far as describing your choreographies as breathtaking. With a nervous chuckle, he half-jokingly said he couldn’t believe you’d let him date you. 

That’s when you kissed him for the first time, fiery and feverish in a way that would’ve probably scared anyone else off. Not Atsumu, though. He wrapped his arms around you without so much as an ounce of hesitation, kissed you back like it was the last action he was allowed to perform on this earth. And you knew: he didn’t need you to be a winner, to be shiny at all times, to feel proud. To love you. Whether you end up bringing the medal home or not, he will still be your biggest fan and loudest supporter.

The intensity of the crowd doesn’t bother you at all: given your anxious nature, Chisaka-san has been adamant about training you with headphones and loud tapes for years. Music, cheers, booing, clapping, national anthems, you’re used to it all by now.

You observe the ukrainian gymnast, the way she moves so elegantly with her colorful ribbon. It looks like she’s flying, hopping on invisible steps made of air, sparkly leotard catching the light just right. Yours cost a fortune: handmade, sewn in Italy, a triumph of colorful stretch mesh, thermal crystals and sew-on rhinestones in various sizes and shapes.

As Chisaka-san helps you practice the usual deep breaths with a hand pressed to your chest, your eyes are still glued to your opponent. The podium is yours, unless you fuck up so badly even the bronze slips away. Daryna currently has the highest score and it’s certain she will protect the lead at the end of her final routine. Then follows Bulgaria’s Katerina, but you’re hardly worried about her: she finished her last exercise without catching the ribbon, a penalty you can easily overcome if luck and nerves are on your side.

When after an impeccable Daryna your name is announced at last, your trainer gives your butt a friendly, encouraging pat. She believed in you more than anyone else, more than yourself. She knew you’d qualify for the olympics and would be flying to Paris before you could even dream of such an achievement. And now you get to honor her trust, you get to prove that Paris is where you belong. The podium is yours because like hell you’re allowing it to slip away. But you want more, you want that gold.

The crowd seems louder now, flags raised in flashes of white and red in your peripheral as you smile radiantly and position yourself to start the routine. You don’t check if Atsumu was able to make it, don’t allow yourself to think of anything but the way your feet and legs and arms and hands are supposed to move.

The longest 85 seconds of your life begin along with the music, Piazzolla’s libertango but with a modern, energetic arrangement. The ribbon is not as scary as the hoop, it moves with you like an old friend, seamless and reliable. You throw the handle into the air and perform two forward rolls before catching it again in one fluid motion, lips perpetually stretched into a confident smile. The crowd erupts in deafening cheers at your backscale pivot, the more you keep cutting through the air with precision, control and passion, the more your smile grows. Yes, this is where you belong, this is what you love and were made to do.

There’s your signature move, difficult and risky and one Chisaka-san always attempts to talk you out of: a technical element, Bessonova’s swan, while simultaneously kicking the ribbon into the air with your foot once more. You catch it one last time, perform an aerial cartwheel and then a perfectly balanced backward somersault, wrap yourself in the colorful shades of your apparatus and gracefully conclude the routine on the floor.

The crowd is ear-splitting in their support and you don’t have to wait for the score to know: it was perfect. It’s the best you ever did and the tension finally melts into hot tears as you wave and smile and foolishly attempt to wipe the wetness from your cheeks at the same time. Chisaka-san wraps you up in her comforting embrace and you hide your face in her white uniform, ears ringing, blood scorching in veins throbbing with adrenaline.

“I can’t look” you whisper into her shoulder and she gently guides you to the bench, all emotional murmurs and soft touches. She sits next to you, holds your hand as you force a quivering smile to the camera, peace sign held high. And then you can barely catch a glimpse of your scores before Chisaka-san forces you into her arms and against her chest again, right as fresh tears stain your cheeks. She lets you have this moment, shields your first reaction from the world and the prying eyes of cameras that are on you once more because holy shit, Daryna has a 140.60 but you have a 142.850. They gave you a difficulty score of 19.300 and an execution one of 8.550.

“I knew it!” Chisaka-san is the only thing keeping you grounded because it truly feels as if you’re floating. It doesn’t matter how badly you wanted it, how much you fought for it, the moment doesn’t feel real. Not even as the other gymnasts come to hug you and you congratulate them in turn, it’s a whirlwind of all-encompassing love and support and mutual happiness. Moments like this make your sport truly special, they remind you that fierce competition only feels right when balanced by appreciation for your opponents’ efforts and individual journeys.

The crowd erupts in new, loud cheering and you catch a glimpse of the different face the cameras are now focusing on. A handsome face with suspicious dampness glistening on cheeks and a smile so warm, beaming with pride. You can’t help but smile back as your legs move on autopilot, a bottle of water dropped to the floor as you sprint towards the bleachers. Atsumu is in the front row and he easily catches you right as you jump onto him, arms wrapped around his neck.

“Told ya. It belongs to you” he whispers in your ear and you almost start crying again at the trembling in his voice, so many overwhelming emotions swarming in your chest at once.

“Thank you for believing in me” you mutter and pull back to look at him, because even in a venue packed with people and cameras and journalists he still manages to be the brightest, the one thing you could look at forever without ever growing tired of it.

“Always” Atsumu grins, eyes glazed with defiant tears “you did so well. Look at ya, my girl’s an olympic medalist!”.

And because you know he won’t do it, god forbid he takes the most special moment of your life away from you, you kiss him. It’s brief, two pecks that linger just enough before he lets you go, urges you to go back out there and celebrate. You don’t care that videos of this moment are probably going to be flooding every social media platform in a matter of minutes, similarly to how Atsumu hardly gives a damn about all the phones and cameras he has in his face when he runs to you after a game, whether his team wins or not.

It’s hard not to tear up again as the japanese national anthem echoes through the building, so many people singing along as you stand on the podium you have dreamed of every single day of your life. You smile, proud and big, take selfies with the other two medalists and make sure you hug every single gymnast you come across goodbye before walking out of the venue, a promise to catch up with your trainer in the evening.

Atsumu waits for you outside, he doesn’t have any additional training left for the day and you want nothing more than to walk back to the village with him, lovesick smile growing in size when you spot him underneath the afternoon sun, golden light caught beautifully in that honey blond hair.

“There she comes, the girl of my dreams” he coos and you roll your eyes with affection “I hear she’s now the greatest gymnast in the world, too!”.

“Corny” you murmur against his lips as he pulls you in for a real kiss, one of those you’re never willing to give him in front of the cameras.

“About those cardboard beds…” it’s a faint whisper into his mouth but it’s enough for Atsumu to pick you up and twirl until you’re both laughing between kisses, until someone clearing their throat prompts you to abruptly pull back and force your feet onto the ground again.

When you turn around, the embarrassed smile quickly grows into a surprised grin. The stranger is looking back at you with the faintest hint of a smirk and Atsumu isn’t entirely sure he loves the way you take a tentative step toward him.

“Congrats. It was a good routine, not your best though”.

“Oh my god” you chuckle, astonished, and Atsumu is now certain he doesn’t enjoy watching you run to hug this weird, 6’1 stranger with dark hair and teal eyes. He definitely doesn’t enjoy the way the stranger wraps his arms around you with a sigh.

“I should’ve known you’d be here! How long has it been? Look at you, all grown up!” you let him go, still smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.

“Too long” he concedes and if the stranger wasn’t still all caught up in old, familiar patterns of stubborn coldness, maybe he would be able to utter the truth about how much he’s missed one of his oldest friends.

“I missed you” as usual, you take it upon yourself to fill the spaces left empty by his obstinacy with warmth. His eyes soften and you smile again as you turn to look at your boyfriend.

“’Tsumu, c’mere!” you’re holding out a hand, an impatient invitation “come meet Rin!”

Atsumu is openly wary of your friend, one you’re obviously close enough to address by his first name. As he shakes his hand with a fake megawatt smile, Rin seems to be equally skeptical and does nothing to hide it.

“He’s your boyfriend?” he asks, briefly scanning Atsumu from head to toe with an openly dubious gaze “came all the way here just to support you?”

“Atsumu is a pro volleyball player, he’s in the national team just like you!”

“Volleyball, huh?” Rin cocks his head “doesn’t really interest me. I find it to be overrated”.

“I mean…”.

“And what would your sport be, Itoshi?” Atsumu can feel a vein throb on his forehead as he politely interrupts you.

“Soccer”.

“Oh!” a seemingly friendly laugh bubbles up from his throat but you recognize the petulant vibration to it “soccer! I think there’s only so long you can watch a player throw himself on the ground because he stubbed his toe on the grass or, I don’t know, try the same failed corner kick for the millionth time”.

You uncomfortably clear your throat and Rin directs his attention to you once more. Isn’t that what being a mature adult is all about? Ignoring pretentious assholes he doesn’t even know?

“I mean it, by the way. You deserve that gold more than anyone else I know”.

“C’mon, say it” you chuckle “I know you noticed”.

He mirrors your smile, pleased that the familiarity strengthened by years of friendship is still here.

“Barely catched that ribbon in the end, could’ve made that front walkover less stiff. Good job overall, though”.

Atsumu wants to punch him in the goddamn face, especially as you laugh once more.

“How come he’s so familiar with gymnastics?” he asks instead.

“Rin used to come watch my training sessions back in high school, although it’s insane to me that he still remembers!”.

“She never missed any of my trainings either” Rin smirks once more, gaze locked to the man in front of him.

“Speaking of!” you lightly smack his arm “when are you guys playing?”.

“Tomorrow. I can arrange special seats if you want”.

“Oh, I’d love to come! We should totally go, ‘Tsumu!”.

“Yeah, totally” Atsumu forces another smile onto his lips.

That night, as you’re cuddled against his chest on that infuriatingly uncomfortable cardboard bed, he believes it’s of the utmost importance to share the picture of you with an adorable smile and the medal around your neck as you stand proudly on that podium, followed by the two of you kissing right after your win.

miyatsumu the most hardworking person I know. my golden girl, now an olympic champion ❤️🥇

He thinks it’s a good caption and, as you softly snore in the quiet of the dark room, Atsumu also believes he’s in a mood good enough to decide not to block Shoyo on the spot after receiving his stupidly enthusiastic text about befriending some super nice dude on the national soccer team.

Whoever the hell Isagi Yoichi is anyway.

[runariya]

The Auction (JJK) • Chapter 1

summary: After being sold to a dangerous wolf hybrid at a secret auction, you find yourself bound to him in a game of control and obsession. pairing: wolf hybrid!Jungkook x cat hybrid!female reader genre: mafia!AU, hybrid!AU, dystopian!AU, S2L, dark romance, slow burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: DDDNE, angst, violence, trauma, hybrid trafficking, JK is an Alpha, nud!ty, hormone suppressants, b!ting, blood, sniffing, the obsession is slightly showing, murd€r, gun, branding, fainting, lmk if I forgot smth - THX word count: ~ 1.8K

a/n: why would I give you a sneak peek when I could just gift you the first chapter? hihi 🤭 the chapters to this story will be as short as this one...soooo....and PLEASE MAKE SURE TO CHANGE YOUR SETTINGS, I CAN'T TAG SOME OF YOU 😭

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

masterlist • 2

You haven’t slept in days, haven’t felt right in yourself for even longer, but somehow the adrenaline still floods through you, keeping you wide awake, on edge, your senses sharper than they’ve ever been, catching every little movement around you like your life depends on it, which is truly does.

It’s hard to believe that just two months ago, you were innocently walking down the street, not paying any attention to the blacked-out car with its door wide open or the figure standing across the pavement pretending to be on the phone. You had no idea then that you’d soon wake up miles away in another country, surrounded by other cat hybrids, far from the only home you've ever known.

You’re not stupid—you know exactly why they took you, what they’ve got planned, what they want from you. Even so, you stubbornly refuse to accept the grim future they’ve laid out for you.

The factory hall you’re crammed into now, in some grubby back room with the other hybrids, is every bit as filthy as your once-pristine black fur. What was once sleek and soft is now matted with dirt, so vile it makes you want to gag.

You’ve overheard the men who dragged you here talking about some hidden annual auction, where dangerous men from all over the world come to bid on the likes of you. Ever since, the other hybrids have been breaking down, sobbing and begging, their wails so relentless you feel like your brain is going to explode. Yet you stay quiet, ears pricked, your senses locked on every faint sound coming from behind the door.

Soon enough, they come for you all, shoving you roughly through the corridor you were brought down earlier, though this time they steer you down a different path, lining you up on a shabby makeshift stage. The construction site-style floodlights beam down so harshly that you can’t keep your eyes open for long, the brightness overwhelming and painful.

Through your squinting eyes, you catch glimpses of the men gathered in front of the stage—some muttering quietly to each other, others smoking as they lazily size up each woman. You search for even a hint of kindness in their faces, but of course, there’s none to be found—only cold stares from the most powerful predator hybrids. You feel completely exposed, even with clothes on, so vulnerable that it’s a wonder you don’t simply keel over from the intensity of being watched.

The auction starts soon enough, but it drags on endlessly, until finally, you’re the last one to be put up for bidding. It’s a shock when your price rockets past the others by millions. What doesn’t surprise you in the least is when a dangerous wolf hybrid steps forward to claim you. You knew, from the moment they snatched you off that street, that your life was always headed straight to hell. 

When you arrive at your supposed new ‘home’, the wolf hybrid, who had you driven in a separate car from his, two golden retriever hybrids—one male and one female—greet you silently, as the wolf hybrid barks out “Get her ready, run all the tests.”

They bow nervously to him with obvious fear, muttering, “Yes, Alpha,” before leading you stumbling over your own feet away.

They scrub you clean, working the conditioner into your fur, detangling the knots that have formed over time. It ought to feel soothing, and on some level it does, but the very fact you’re being ‘prepared’ for something you can’t even begin to imagine keeps you from feeling any real sense of comfort. They run a barrage of tests—urine, blood, checking for illnesses like STDs—and though there’s some relief in knowing you’re healthy despite your malnutrition, the fear never leaves you. Your tail, now soft and groomed, curls tightly between your legs, trying its best to shield your bare chest from their prying eyes.

Once they’ve finished prodding and poking you, they dress you in clothes that fit a little too well, and when your fur is finally dry, they lead you up several floors until you reach the penthouse.

The space is shrouded in darkness, save for the twinkling lights of Busan’s cityscape outside. Every surface, from walls to ceiling, is dark and gleaming, with deep brown furniture blending into its shadows, the only touches of light come from minimal brass-coloured décor scattered sparingly around the room. The golden retrievers push you silently to the centre, where the wolf hybrid lounges lazily on a leather sofa smoking a cigar, his eyes fixed on you, never wavering. The retrievers do nothing more than bow silently and exit, leaving you alone under his cold gaze.

His stare penetrates you, inspecting every inch of your trembling body from your twitching cat ears down to your feet, while the heat from the nearby fireplace stings your fragile skin. You try to lower your gaze to the floor, hoping to escape the intensity of his, but his dark eyes pull yours back like they have their own magnetic force.

“What’s your name?” he asks, his voice low and rough.

You want to answer, you really do, but it’s as if your voice has been lost since the day you were taken, and your only response is the bristling of your tail in an instinctive attempt to protect yourself.

When it becomes clear you won’t speak, he’s not having any of it, and his voice booms, “I said, what’s your name!”

You flinch at the loud slap of his tone, a frightened hiss escaping your lips before you can stop it. His expression darkens, one eyebrow raised in irritation as his finger taps impatiently against the backrest.

Summoning every ounce of willpower, you manage to whisper your name.

“Speak up,” he snaps. “I’m not a fucking feline.”

You gulp, clearing your throat as best and silently you can, and try again with a parched throat, this time just loud enough for him to catch. He nods, seemingly satisfied for now.

“Strip,” he orders after a long pause, his cold eyes locked onto yours, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The last thing you want to do is obey, but you can see the anger rising rapidly in him again, and you know better than to push your luck. Trembling, you begin to undress, feeling utterly exposed even before your clothes hit the floor. He watches you with the cold detachment of someone examining an object rather than a person, and though you’re fully naked, your tail desperately tries to cover your most private parts.

The wolf hybrid sighs heavily as he stands, exuding a casual dominance that reminds you exactly who he is. He moves around you slowly, inspecting every inch of you while you stare blankly ahead, your ears twitching nervously to follow his movements.

He stops behind you, towering over your smaller frame, and you feel his cold hands glide up your arms, squeezing your shoulders lightly before his nose brushes against your neck up to the back of your ear. He inhales deeply, and you feel your legs grow weak with a dizzying wave of fear.

“You smell divine,” he mutters to himself, though the words ring loudly in your sensitive ears. “But something’s off.”

His hands trail back down your arms, his nose following the curve of your spine, your fur standing on end as goosebumps spread across your skin. He stops at your lower back, just before your tail begins, sniffing intently before, without warning, sinking his teeth into your soft flesh. You yelp in shock and pain as he spits something metallic onto the floor beside you.

“Fucking bastards,” he growls, and you know he’s right. The implant he’s just bitten out was the one messing with your hormones, suppressing your natural cycle and heats, placed methodically where you can’t reach. Though the bite stings violently and blood trickles down your legs, you feel immediate relief now that the implant is finally out.

He runs his hand back up your spine, stopping when he reaches your neck, his fingers grazing over the small burn mark where your slave number is branded into your skin. The sensation makes you shudder violently, triggering nerves that are too raw to keep you standing still, but he seems entirely unbothered by your reaction.

“Alpha…” a voice interrupts. The door opens and a crocodile hybrid strides in without so much as a knock, freezing when his eyes land on you. Instinctively, you try to back away, only to bump into the wolf hybrid behind you, making you tense even further.

The crocodile hybrid doesn’t move, his gaze fixated on you with a predatory gleam in his eye. You hear a low growl rumbling from the wolf hybrid behind you, followed by the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked close to your sensitive ear, and then a deafening shot. You flinch and scream violently, hands flying to your ears in a desperate attempt to cover them, but the damage is already done—your ears ring painfully as you crouch down, overwhelmed by the unbearable noise, tears collecting in your lash line.

It takes a moment for your senses to return, and when they do, you realise the wolf hybrid is crouched beside you, his legs brushing yours, his hands gently rubbing your upper arms soothingly as he murmurs, “I’m sorry, kitten,” kissing against the top of your head. All while the crocodile’s body lies crumpled on the floor in a growing pool of blood nearby.

You tremble uncontrollably, paralysed by fear, your mind struggling and utterly unable to process what happened around you. But the wolf hybrid doesn’t seem to care, helping you back up to your feet, brushing your soft hair over your shoulder to reveal the burn mark once again.

You barely dare to breathe as he steps away, but when you see him take an iron rod from near the fireplace and hold it in the flames, heating it until it glows angry red-hot, memories of the previous branding flashes through your mind like an alarm. You panic, your breath coming in desperate, frantic gasps. “No, no, no…” you chant quietly, but your body is frozen in place, still paralysed by the overwhelming terror.

The wolf hybrid, unfazed to the core, pulls the rod from the fire and walks towards you. Just before the hot metal touches your skin, branding you over the old mark, you hear his voice growl behind you, cold and final, “You’re mine now.”

You scream until your ears begin to bleed, your voice tearing through your throat as you collapse onto the cold, hard floor, the world around you fading into a welcoming, merciful blackness.

masterlist • 2

a/n 3: hope you enjoyed it👀 lmk what you think in any way you like!

a/n 4: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for this fic 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Check out my other work here!

All Rights Reserved © @/runariya 2024 taglist: @jksusawife, @darkeneddiary, @dumbheadblog, @justjkkkkk, @staytinyville, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @ericawantstoescape, @mjuser, @sp1derk0ok, @fluttershyvanilla

[cranberryjuice-posts]

ARLT GIRL I HAVE A REQUEST FOR CLARISEE‼️

OK SO CAN YOU DO LIKE A ATHENA!DAUGHTER!READER WHERE MOST PEOPLE ASSUME THE ENTIRE ATHENA CABIN IS JS BORING ITS ALL NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC AND BOOKS

AND THEN WHEN THE READER AND CLARISSE JS LIKE KINDA STUMBLE APON EACHOTHER, CLARISSE JS ASSUMES THE READER IS VERY FUCKING BORIJG BECAUSE THEYRE A CHILD OF ATHENA

AND RHE READER TRIES TO KIND OF CONVICE HER THAT SHE ISNT BORING AND ALL

(and pls a lil make out im begging you😔)

(also i love your work stay strong girl‼️🔥)

RAHHHH‼️‼️‼️

Let’s give this thing a try

Pairings - Clarisse La Rue x Fem! daughter of Athena! Reader

Pt 1 — pt 2

The big house was quiet. Quiet was something you had to fight for, being a demigod your life was always chaotic and well noisy— so when you wanted to actually spend some time reading you would make arrangements to spend time in the big houses libary.

That’s how you now found yourself sitting in the library’s floor with multiple astrology books open around you and a note book filled to the brim with your findings

You heard the door open behind you, you looked back and saw clarisse standing in the door way with a few books in hand. Confused you raised an eyebrow studying the beautiful girls collected face. “What’s with the books?” You asked.

At first she didn’t respond, only setting them down on a chair. “Chiron asked me to leave some books here.” Her tone flat and uninterested, in the pile however you noticed a book about the stars that you had been searching for for hours.

You practically ran across the room grabbing the book like it was going to disappear. You looked down smiling at the cover— your excitement was innerupted as clarisse scoffed.

“I swear only Athena kids get off on this shit.” She rolled her eyes while turning to leave.

“Excuse me?” You spoke harshly.

Clarisse let out an irritated sigh. “What?— did I stutter I said Athena kids are the only people I know who can actually enjoy crap like this” she gestured her head towards the mess you had made earlier. “All you guys are the same boring blueprint of your mom”

“I’m not boring” you let out a scoff like laugh. Setting the book down on a table you crossed your arms not wanting to stand down from where you were.

Clarisse raised an eyebrow, it was clear she didn’t believe you. “Know what fine” you walked towards her. “Come here tomorrow midnight and I’ll show you that I’m not boring”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because I can get you out of whatever trouble your in with Chiron”

There was silence for a moment until clarisse rolled her eyes once more, threatening you to make it worth her time before actually leaving

———

You laid face down in your bed with Annabeth standing near by. You screamed into your pillow fustrated “and who does she think she is! I’m not boring she’s suc—“ you continued to complain until annabeth stopped you

“And Why do You Care what she thinks?” Annabeth sighed while sketching on a map of the forest, making plans for the upcoming capture the flag game.

You kept quiet.. annabeth turned in her seat looking over at you, her sharp grey eyes analyzed you until you knew the secret was you. You groaned in you pillow while annabeth sighed. “Her?! Really.. y/n there’s so many better options here but her your really gonna go with her?” She scolded you.

“Look, It’s.. fuck ok she’s really pretty and her being a bitch is attractive sue me” you rolled over in your bed embarrassed. Annabeth shook her head in disapproval. “Besides your not so innocent I see how you look at the son of Poseidon, uh Percy right? Yeah how does mom feel again about you fraternizing with the man she hates son”

She threw a pillow at your head in response. You just held the soft fabric close wondering how the hell you were gonna survive clarisse, you didn’t even like her that much

…

..

You did like her that much.. fuck

———

You sat in the big house looking out the wall length window admiring the stars. You had a telescope set up propped outside the window with a few books opened around you. Annabeth so graciously and forced helped you set up a cosy scene with some blankets and pillows.

You wore a cute form fitting black jumper dress with a light blue camp sweater underneath and a white ribbion in the back of your half pulled up hair. But this wasn’t a date. You had to constantly remind yourself that you were just proving you weren’t boring.

In mid thought you heard the libary door open, stepping in clarisse wearing some red plaid pj pants and her normal orange camp shirt. You felt your voice get stuck in your throat.

Clearing your throat you patted beside you. “Common”

“This looks boring I’m going back to my cabin”

“Dude”

Clarisse rolled her eyes and sat down— only there because you could get her out of cleaning the big house which you found out was because she may or may not of broke a kids jaw.

There was uncomfortable silence, it clear she was just trying to psyc you out so you would call quits but being the stuborn girl you were you refused.

You saw a shine in the corner of you eye making your face light up. “Look” you smiled. Clarisse groaned as she moved over and looked into the telescope. “It’s a meteor shower”

“I’ve been studying the stars for years but recently I’ve noticed a shift in some of the stars usual locations, see a meteor shower happens when the Earth passes through the trail of debris left by a comet or asteroid, As a comet gets closer to the sun, some of its icy surface boils off, releasing lots of particles of dust and rock—“

You had to stop yourself from continuing, proving you weren’t boring didn’t include you yapping about stars. The shower ended quickly and which was normal for a small storm like that one. While clarisse continued to look at the sky however You put a hand on the tool.

“Right here” you shifted it, you showed her the Aries constellation. “There’s Aries, and that red circle underneath it is mars” shifting the telescope some more you continued to talk “and there is the great square of Pegasus”

It was still quite the only round being the creaking from the telescope. You pulled away fiddling with your hands. “I—“

“It’s cool” clarisse mumbled “i guess” she looked over at you from where she was laying. Your cheeks flushed from the sudden compliment. “I still think your boring though spending all your time reading in here, but this” she titled her head more toward the window “this is all right”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not boring”

“Mmhm” she sat up stretching as she did.

The two just sat there looking at eachother. You now taking the chance to really admire the girls features with the only source of light being the moon. “Your hair.. I like it, the way you style it and keep your curls in such good condition… it’s pretty”

“You can touch them if you want” her offer took you back, but you didn’t deny her. You reached out and touch her soft hair wrapping a curl around your finger. “Your hair smells like fruit punch” you giggled.

“Thanks?” She laughed softly, her hand now tracing gentle circles on your thigh. You could tell she liked the jumper dress on you, making your heart beat faster.

You leaned closer to clarisse nervous you read the situation wrong. Your lips were close just barley brushing against eachother.

You felt your heart start to race, you’ve kissed girls before but something about clarisse made you nervous, nervous like you wanted to run away but excited like you needed more.

Clarisses hand trailed up your body and found its way to your waist, she gently pulled you forward finally kissing you. The kiss was short repeating a few times adding a sense of hesitation.

You felt clarisses Hands squeeze you lightly as you both looked into each others eyes. Your left arm was now around the girls shoulder with your other hand keeping you up for balance.

You moved you hand to her hair before leading her in for a more passionate kiss. It was immature and inexperienced but needy. Clarisse Bit You bottom lip making you moan allowing her to move her tongue into the mix, you moved while kissing her to sit on the girls waist.

You both fell now with clarisse laying on her back and you pinning her down, both panting while looking deeply into each others eyes. You kissed her again with a sense of urgency.

Whines and soft moans filled the air as you kissed. Clarisses hands finding themselves under your tight jumper dress resting on the sides of your thighs while you had your hands held the girls face.

Pulling away you hid you face in the crook of clarisses neck allowing her to shift positions around now with her on top, trailing kisses down your cheek jaw and neck.

She pulled back panting. “How far are we going” her eyes meeting yours.

“Only.. only this” You whispered, clarisse nodded before kissing your neck again while softly nipping leaving dark hickeys.

——

The following morning you had to hear a long lecture from annabeth about the marks on your neck and the new found relationship between you and the daughter of ares

Annabeth - shes a terrible Person

Y/n - now it’s suddenly a crime for a woman to have a personality?

—

Go look at this persons post about Palestine and aid links

[coraniaid]

It's true that the Buffy writers' answers to the closely related questions "is there a meaningful distinction between a vampire and the human being who was sired to create them?" and "when you get down to it, are vampires basically people?" clearly undergo something of a shift in the second half of the show.

This is a transformation that starts with Buffy's reluctance to stake Willow's vampire alter ego in Season 3's Doppelgangland and continues at pace with the gang's collective reaction to finding out that Harmony has "become" a vampire in Season 4. It's a process that continues as long as Harmony remains a recurring character on the show, until, by mid-Season 5, Buffy (and Buffy) has essentially undergone a complete switch in its view of vampirism. The later seasons handling of vampires are very hard to square with the speeches made by Buffy in Lie To Me ("you die, and a demon sets up a shop in your old house [...] but it's not you") or Giles to Xander [about the late and largely unlamented Jesse] in The Harvest ("you're not looking at your friend: you're looking at the thing that killed him"). Whether this is a change for the better or not is a matter for debate, but that it is a real change that happens is pretty hard to dispute.

It's also true that the writers are obviously increasingly reluctant to show their show's protagonist, the titular vampire slayer, actually going around killing vampires. At least any vampires who've had a chance to establish some sort of personality. How many of the dozen or so named, recurring vampire characters does Buffy actually kill over the course of the show? Not very many.

I make it two in Season 1 (if you're generous and count Luke as a recurring character), one in Season 2 (if you're similarly generous and count Buffy sending Angel to hell for almost three whole episodes as killing him) and ... that's it, right? Somebody other than Buffy kills Darla [=Angel], and Colin the Anointed One [=Spike], and Dalton [=the Judge], and Mr Trick [=Faith], and vamp!Willow [=wishverse!Oz, twice] and Sunday's only-named-in-the script henchvamp Tom [=the Initiative], and Sandy [=Riley], and Spike[=... well, Spike, ultimately, I guess]. Nobody ever kills Drusilla or Lyle Gorch or Harmony, all of whom make multiple appearances on the show and (un)live to the end of the series. And Angel and Spike (and even Darla, eventually and temporarily) all come back after apparently being killed.

Buffy might have a sacred calling to slay vampires, but the show is very uncomfortable about her killing non-human characters who've had a chance to establish themselves as people. Perhaps that's why the show stops having vampiric Big Bads completely after Season 2, and why Season 7 tries to introduce a whole new category of personality-free, definitely-not-people monsters to replace its existing vampires. (Perhaps not entirely succesfully, if we're being diplomatic.)

It's certainly true that the show does not have a consistent take to offer on vampire lore. Like everything supernatural in Buffy, vampires are essentially walking metaphors: and the things that they exist to represent and comment on change and evolve throughout the show's run. Buffy's worldbuilding is not very deep or rigorous.

But what's not true at all, and what I wish people would stop claiming, is the idea that Angel's awkward "well, actually..." when Buffy assures Willow in Doppelgangland that "a vampire's personality has nothing to do with the person it was" represents some sort of big departure from the show's established or implied lore up to that point. It does not. At all.

In fact, it's Buffy's claim that is at odds with everything that the show has been saying up this point. A vampire's personality has always, always been something that the show wants us to believe is informed by the personality of the person who died to create them, This goes all the way back to Season 1.

In Angel, Giles does tell Buffy flat out that "a vampire isn't a person at all", but he also says that a vampire may have "the memories, even the personality of the person that it took over". In the part of her speech from Lie To Me that I elided earlier, Buffy admits that if you're turned the resulting vampire "walks, and it talks, and it remembers your life" [and the clear implication here is that the vampire walks and talks like the original person did, otherwise what is this supposed to be saying?].

If the show's original position was that a vampire's personality had nothing to do with who they were in life, why would Giles have felt the need to tell Buffy (in Season 1's Never Kill A Boy On The First Date) that Andrew Borba had been on the run for a suspected double murder the night he died and rose as a vampire? Why would he have told her in Season 2's Bad Eggs that the Gorch brothers "massacred a village" before they were vampires? Why would he warn her in Season 3's Helpess that Zachary Kralik was a "criminally insane" serial killer even before being sired as a vampire? If the show -- or even just Giles himself -- really did have the position that a vampire's personality has nothing to do with the person they were before death, as Buffy claims in Doppelgangland (and some fans apparently believe), how would any of this make sense?

If we weren't supposed to think vampires inherited at least some part of their personality from their host then why, in The Harvest, would vampire!Jesse still be obsessed with pursuing Cordelia Chase? Why would Drusilla still be driven mad as a vampire as a result of the pyschological tortures that Angel inflicted on "her" when she was a mortal? In Halloween, why would Buffy be trying to find out more about the sort of person Angel was as a human? Why would Willow and Xander still be together in the world of The Wish?

The idea that a vampire inherits the personality of the person whose body they take over [or who they were before "becoming" a vampire, in the later seasons' parlance] isn't any kind of retcon. It's one of the few consistent takes on vampires the show had from beginning to end. Continuity of self; moral standing as a person; capacity for self-reflection and personal growth, whether or not vampires can breathe ... these are the things about vampires the show changes its stance on. But a vampire's personality was always informed by who they were in life, right from the very first pair of episodes.

(Spike and Drusilla being capable of at least some kind of romantic love and mutual jealousy in Season 2 is also not a retcon, incidentally. We saw that with Darla and Angel in Season 1 as well. And even the Master clearly felt emotions and had some sort of affection for his favorites among the vampires that worked for him. Spike and Dru do represent a significant -- and welcome! --change in the tone of the show, but they aren't somehow a walking refutation of what Giles has been telling Buffy (and through her, us) about vampires for the past year.)

I mean, I don't really have a big point to work to here, it's just that I keep seeing takes on my dash about how this particular scene represents a big change in the show's lore about vampires. And that .. just isn't true?

[ayy-junipei]

Why You Should Watch Bang Brave Bang Bravern

An essay by Junipei while they wait for they friends to come online so we can watch episode 3. Some spoilers for episode 1-2 I guess

Reason 1 - It be Nefarious

Ok so let me tell you how I came to actually watch this show. I have a friend who does one of those seasonal anime review podcast things and I was basically helping man go through the bottom of the barrel. Things that were either going to be cute for an episode before its gimmick ran into the ground or just straight up trash. I was the emotional support Juni.

So we boot up Bang Brave Bang Bravern knowing only that it's a generic mecha show with a fucked up name and a bromance thrown in for fun. That's what we thought

THAT'S WHAT WE THOUGHT

We thought things were getting interesting when the aliens showed up. Ok it's not just a gritty anime it's a Pacific Rim Top Gun thing, ok, that's more interesting than what we thought, that's fine.

AND THEN BRAVERN SHOWS UP.

AND WE REALISE THIS ISN'T JUST A GRITTY REALISTIC MECHA. IT GOT COLLIDED WITH A FUCKIN SUPER ROBOT SHOW FROM THE 70s.

I have not had my jaw this dropped since episode 1 of Code Geass. We were played like fiddles bro.

So we watch episode 2, wondering where the hell its going to go from there. IT GOES TO-

Reason 2 - Robot Gay Hell

As a person who enjoys human sized people kissing 10ft tall death machines, I have been starved my entire life. I take what I can get.

So imagine my surprise when the show sets up that Bravern is head over heels in love with his pilot Isami. So much so that he refuses to let anyone else get in that cockpit. Wahey!

It has mostly been played for a joke, that's the one single downside. That's not very sustainable. BUT I am very curious to see where it goes. This leads into-

Reason 3 - Something is UP my Dudes

If the carefully planned bait and switch says anything, it's that the show has a lot more planned up it sleeve. And you see that in allmost every scene. Bravern and the one-dimensional aliens creates a massive tonal dissonance with the original part of the show.

You see, the realistic gritty mecha bit is still playing out like a realistic gritty mecha. Our boy Isami gets waterboarded by the CIA for any info he has on Bravern. Things don't magically get better after Bravern saves the main cast, the Earth is going to shit real fast.

So if you think of Bravern and the aliens in the context of the more realistic part of the show, shit is mighty sus. Are you really going to take man's word that he's a hero here to defeat the bad guys?

It could turn darker, it could turn spicy, or it could sustain the show past the "gimmick turns stale real quick" problem anime has these days.

If you've made it this far good job soldier, now get out there and make me some gott damnged robot yaoi. I HAVE STARVED FOR 20 YEARS FOR THIS CONTENT. GIVE IT- GIVE IT OT ME NOW

[victoriadallonfan]

Lets Talk: The Predator Franchise

About two months ago, I put my thoughts into my feelings on the Alien Franchise, and why I felt that they've been faltering so much.

It felt only fitting that I do the same for the Predator franchise, but I ran into a very curious thing... there's only one bad Predator movie.

A shocking statement, I know, but I'm not counting the AVP movie series (that's it's own separate thing). The Predator (film) is easily the only bad film in the entire series, but I'll get to that later.

First things first: lets talk about Predator (1987).

It's an all time classic, a great deconstruction of the 80's action film, with insanely quotable dialogue and memorable characters - not just the Predator itself, but all the human characters are easily recognizable.

Unlike the Alien (1979) and Aliens (1986), Predator is not predominantly a horror film, nor is it emphasizing a tough topic such as sexual assault. It does HAVE horror aspects (the first time they find the skinned corpses is intensely unnerving, especially when they realize that this group of marines apparently lost all self-control and fired in all directions), and it does touch a bit on how the US government is using its own soldiers as cannon fodder to destabilize third-world countries.

But it's not really built to scare the viewer so much as to present a simple idea: what if these action heroes met a bigger, stronger, more advanced version of themselves? And the result is a near total party wipe.

Watching the original film, you realize that the Predator is depicted as incredibly unfair. The majority of its kills are it sniping someone from afar, rushing them when they aren't even looking (while cloaked), and doing a combination of the above. It would have killed Arnold while his back was turned, if the net trap hadn't been set in place.

Hell, it even kills a wounded soldier that Arnold is carrying, after Billy's "last stand" (that lasted mere moments at best, implying the Predator didn't give him the time of day).

(Also, speaking of Billy... he's psychic? Apparently?)

But yeah, the Predator depicted is not the honor clad warrior that some fans may stan (and some writers believe) but more like the equivalent of Counter-Strike hacker. The fact that it takes Arnold untold amounts of traps, ingenuity, and willpower for the Predator to finally face him man to man, no tech, no weapons is meant to be a testament to how impressive Arnold is.

Likewise, the Predator decides to blow himself the fuck up while cackling manically like a supervillain as he tries to finally kill Dutch, also opens him to showing that as alien as it is, it's remarkably human. A spite filled asshole of a human, but humanish nonetheless (amplified by him copying human speech on prior occasions).

It's a really great film about how alien life, if more advanced than our own, might see us as lesser people or outright livestock to hunt (keep a pin in that).

Predator 2 (1990) is often divided amongst fans.

Some hate the fact that it takes place in the "modern day" LA, instead of sticking to the blazing heat of the jungle (as the lore of the first movie implies that the Predator or a Predator visits at the hottest time of the season to create the local bogeyman figure), but this film does a fine job justifying the LA heatwave and honestly... the idea of keeping the Predator to one type of biome is pretty limiting. So I don't mind that.

As one can tell already, I don't think this movie is bad. As good as the first? No, it rehashes a bit too much for that. But it's still a fun and good movie.

And, notably, scarier.

But for context, Predator 2 is set in the far future of... uh, 1997 LA, where there has been open warfare between the LAPD and the Jamaican and Colombian Cartels. Like, not drug busts or stings, but actual warfare with armies of gangs and shit.

The late 80's and early 90's loved to depict LA as a dystopian hellscape where "law and order" was the only defense from total anarchy (as anyone who has ever lived in LA can tell you, racial tensions, especially between the public and police have not been good to say the least).

This entire setup is like a D.A.R.E nightmare or wet dream depending on who's asking.

(Also the Jamaican drug leader, King Willy, might also be psychic? This is the last time it's brought up, but man, I sort of wish we could see future plot lines where people are randomly psychic in these films.)

Anyways, the situation is certainly perfect for this Predator (named City Hunter to differentiate between Jungle Hunter), who takes to the city with a gusto. The difference in how the Predator is portrayed is fascinating, because the bare bones remain the same: he hunts people who are deemed as sport with alien technology.

Fitting with the ultra-violent theme of this film however, this Predator feels like a legitimately horror movie monster. Unlike the Jungle Hunter, City Hunter doesn't prefer to attack from afar, but rather ripping and tearing in close quarters combat, and when he does use ranged weaponry, it's stuff like spears, bladed discs, and nets that shred people into bloody messes.

And he's 110% a bigger asshole that Jungle Hunter: when the City Hunter decides to focus on our lead man, Danny Glover, he doesn't just hunt the man but psychologically torture him. He murders his partner - who is probably the least threatening human in the entire series - just so he can taunt Glover with his necklace at his own grave. He then copies the innocent words of a child just so he can use it as a creepy catchphrase when he decides to hunt Glover's other partners.

The iconic subway massacre perfectly exemplifies both aspects of the City Hunter. He interrupts a massive stand-off between armed civilians, gang members, and the police, just wading in and killing everyone indiscriminately as people frantically scream and claw over each other trying to escape.

(Speaking of, this film does have a LOT of fun having the Predator on modern sets. The above subway scene, City Hunter investigating a meat locker, and him performing emergency surgery in an apartment bathroom are all really cool).

Also, for being so divisive, this film creates a lot of Predator lore: the Predator won't kill (unarmed) children, he won't kill pregnant women, and he WILL kill the elderly if they are packing heat.

And this includes the trophy wall (with xenomorph skull - actually funny because we never see a Predator collect a xenomorph skull in the AVP films) and that the Predator tribe will honor and respect those who defeat their kind with a reward.

It does include that the government is aware of the Predator existence and tries to capture them, but this won't be a major plot line again until The Predator (2018) though it gets some tongue in cheek reference in Predators (2010).

Anyways solid film, lots of cheesey scenes and very tropey stuff that hasn't aged well (or aged in a way that makes it amusing). It's also that last movie that actually tries to be true horror, in my opinion. The rest of the films stick to Action with Gore, but Predator 2 is truly the last film where you feel like this was written to be a horror film.

Also, this film will be the last to really play into the world as being an overly dramatic action movie earth. It's all realism from here.

And then the film franchise will go quiet until 2004 and 2008 for the AVP films (that I won't cover here).

Finally, we get to Predators (2010), and obvious title call back to Aliens (1986) and I have to say, a pretty good trio of ideas: The human targets are actually kidnapped and dropped on a safari planet, there are multiple Predators with their own unique designs and gimmicks, and there is a internal war between the Bad Bloods (aka the Predators who break the "honor code") and the 'normal' Predator clans.

(It should be noted that Bad Bloods have been a thing for years in comics and books, but not really in the mainstream until this film introduced it to movie audiences)

I have to say, despite having a fondness for the film and loving the new ideas, this film is not as enjoyable as Predator or Predator 2. It unfortunately suffers from what I call 2010ism, where there's a lot of CGI blood/gore, a lot of lighting/shadows aren't natural in a horror sense, and the dialogue isn't memorable because it wanted to ditch the action movie dialogue.

The last part isn't necessarily too bad, and it even works with how Adrian Brody is portrayed as a cynical asshole who is purposely meant to be the opposite of Arnold in every way. But the most memorable dialogue is definitely from Walter Goggins (including his highly disturbing "bitch raping time" speech).

Also, it really wastes Topher Grace, Laurence Fishbourne, and Danny Trejo, along with the whole idea of a gang of multinational killers/soldiers/enforcers forced to work together. Not nearly enough time is given to them to bond as a team and have a moment where they show off how cool they are like Predator and Predator 2 did.

Coupled with the safari world being just... a jungle, it feels like a lot of good ideas with "safe" execution.

I don't mean to rag on the film, it's still very fun, and a lot of that is due to the Bad Bloods.

The idea of a particular group of Predators being so evil that they are even warring with their (smaller) counterparts is a great idea, imo, and these Bad Bloods are memorable for their gimmicks.

You had one who used drones as "falcons" to scan and scout out large tracks of terrain, another who employed alien "hounds" to harass humans like a fox hunt, and the leader who had a rapid-fire plasma caster that was overpowered as hell. They also employed other tech like alien bear traps, net traps, and voice decoys.

This movie definitely had the most advanced Predator tech seen on film at the time, making the Jungle Hunter and City Hunter look low tech by comparison, and I think also served to try and force the idea of the Bad Bloods being really "unfair" compared to others.

And of course, we get our first Predator vs Predator fight, which was suitably graphic and badass. Also, I liked that one Predator died by a human pulling a suicide vest attack. Idk, I thought it was pretty ironic considering that's what predators do when they are about to lose, and thought it was neat.

Ultimately, there isn't much else to say about Predators (2010), even though the film ends on a cliffhanger with more people (and aliens) being dropped on the planet. I enjoyed it, it had a lot of cool ideas, cool tech, and cool lore... but if the prior films could be compared to novels, this one felt more like a guidebook.

And now... eight years pass and we get The Predator (2018)

Where do I begin with this movie.

I guess I start with the obvious: it's bad. It's a genuinely awful movie with few redeeming qualities. I'd say it's on the tier of Alien: Resurrection, except this movie is actually offensive because of autism ableism (turns out that autism is actually the next step of human evolution and makes you naturally predisposed to using Predator technology).

And don't get me started on the sex offender controversy.

Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself. It's just that this movie... jesus christ, I rewatched it for this post, and it feels like a fever dream.

The Predator (2018) ultimately, is a film that looked at everything that came before it and said, "What if we did it all on a grander scale? And make it bad?" The plot is that a Predator is being hunted by an even larger, more powerful Predator, because it plans on harvesting humanity. You see, in this movie, some Predators use the genes of animals they hunt to improve themselves. The Super Predator as he is called, is a massive 10 foot tall monster that has turned his body into a super weapon, with technology built directly into his biology.

The Good Predator arrives on Earth to warn humanity and deliver a "Predator Killer" suit of Iron Man armor that will help humanity defend the Earth from the oncoming invasion force. The Super Predator wants humanity harvested because... autism makes them super geniuses.... and he declares that a 12 year old boy with autism to be the greatest Predator he's ever met... just because he has autism...

Look, I don't know how the fuck I'm supposed to describe the plot of this movie. It's just bad. It's stupid. At one point they turn a Predator hound good by giving it a bullet lobotomy.

It feels like this movie hates everyone. It hates the Predators, literally killing off the Good Predator not even halfway through the film. It hates the cast, because all of them are forgettable except for Olivia Munn and Super Predator, and it kills the mystique of the Predators because it has Super Predator monologue like an actual supervillain.

The dialogue is genuinely awful, the actors have no chemistry, and the comedy (oh yes, this film acts like a comedy on several occasions) is the definition of cringe. I would call it "ChatGPT writes Predator" but honestly, ChatGPT could do it better.

Let it be known that my words do not do how awful this movie is justice. You can only understand how bad it is by watching it, but it's absolutely NOT worth the time.

Is there anything good about this movie? Besides the Holiday Special on home release?

The effects are pretty good. We see a lot of high tech Predator stuff and that's always cool. I think this had the highest budget of any of the films and it shows.

There's an action set-piece where Good Predator escapes from a government facility and uses an M4-Assault Rifle which is badass. One of the best action scenes in the movie and a neat tie-back to the government investigating them.

The Super Predator is a cool concept and I actually enjoyed him for a large part of the film. I liked that he could just pick up a human like a toy and gut him like a fish before tossing him aside. I love the idea of a Predator that isn't a hunter, but rather a soldier sent in to fuck shit up, showing off the different tech. Really gives the impression that their society has different roles and tech for Predators beyond hunting.

I wish they gave him a helmet and didn't let him monologue like a supervillain.

And that's it. That's the good stuff. Nothing else matters. It says a lot that I don't think Super Predator or the autism plot has been accepted into lore in comics or books.

It's even been argued that this film was deemed non-canon because of how abysmal the reception was.

Suffice to say, after this awful film, fans were pretty low spirit. Which made it all the more surprising when Prey (2022) was released 4 years later.

There was a lot of drama about this film: the franchise is dead, why is the film so woke for including woman and minorities, how can any human expect to beat a Predator with a bow?

This drama is stupid and should rightfully be mocked.

Prey (2022) was a breath of fresh air for the franchise and I'd argue the best film in terms of quality.

It quite literally goes back to the roots of the series and does something that really elevated the film: it made the Predator symbolise something!

This film takes place in the 18th century on the Great Plains, following Naru the Commanche healer who dreams of being a hunter. Meanwhile, a young Predator - known as the Feral Predator for his aggression - is dropped on the planet for his first ever hunt.

Obviously, you can see the parallels between the two as Naru learns to use tricks and tools to handle her weaknesses, while Feral uses brute-force and high tech equipment to slaughter the animals and humans of the planet. The Bear hunt scene, where Naru is forced to flee from a bear and helplessly watch Feral kill the creature with it's bare hands (haha), thus condemning her in his eyes as not a threat is perfect character foil.

Also, he's such a piece of shit, cheating the moment he feels like his prey has the better of him. But in a good way that makes sense for his character.

But on the grander scale, the Predator represents colonialism. A secondary antagonist of the film are the French fur trappers, who have been skinning wild buffalo and depriving the commanche of their food source, openly compared to the Predator skinning animals/humans for trophies instead of resources.

It's actually a lesson Naru has to learn from her brother and mother, that to become a true hunter is about doing so to support a community, not just for ego and idolization.

Its no accident that the Fur Trapper leader dies when Naru sabotages his gun and Feral dies when Naru does the same to his gun as well, with both of them trapped and crippled without any means of escaping their demise.

This film finally moves to make the Predators feel like evil villains who are supremely selfish, much like the first 2 films emphasized (and the third film did to a lesser extent).

But talk of how amazing Naru is as a protagonist and how great the Feral predator is as an antagonist, the film is just good. The cinematography is gorgeous, the actors are great, the Predator effects and costume are terrifying, and lore wise, it does a lot to show that the Predator society is not stagnant.

They evolve over the years and it shows.

And my god are the action scenes incredible. The Predator vs Fur Trapper fight is probably one of the most iconic scenes in the entire franchise now, and for good reason.

Or Naru's knife fight massacre

All in all, this film really shows that the Predator films can be more that action films and... whatever the fuck The Predator (2018) was trying to be.

These films can be used to explore the history of humanity and symbolize concepts that deal with oppression, bigotry, and dehumanization.

The title of Prey - the focus on making the protagonists human - versus the Predator title is incredibly fitting.

While a sequel is left up in the air, we do have confirmation that a new standalone film - titled merely Badlands - is set to come out soon.

I can only hope they learned the right lessons from Prey and we can leave the horrid past of The Predator (2018) behind us for good.

[comicaurora]

What are your thoughts on guardians vol.3? (If you have watched it) I went into it, expecting it went to the garbage like the rest of the mcu, but I was pleasantly surprised by its creativity, trope subversion, and how it wrapped up the previously unresolved arks of its characters.

That's what I've heard!

The thing is, Guardians 3 could be the most transcendent work of cinema ever made, and I'd probably still feel little to no motivation to watch it at this point. It's not Guardians's fault - it's just suffering from the same problem that superhero comics have been struggling with for decades: no matter how good an individual arc or run is, absolutely nothing good lasts or matters in the long term, and the stories are shaped in such a way that "the long term" is the only thing anyone gets to build towards.

Whenever I complain about the MCU I get a handful of people loudly complaining about my complaining, with the general thesis that if I don't like it I shouldn't watch it or talk about it - if I'm not having fun, just stop engaging with it. And the thing is, I have. I am intellectually interested in why this massive franchise is fumbling the bag so hard, which is why I still check in on it sometimes, but I've long since stopped turning to the MCU for uncritical entertainment. And even the good movies or shows with a lot of interesting ideas - good character arcs, fun concepts, interesting planting for future payoff - don't draw me in anymore, because they're hooked into a massive moneymaking machine that will scrap and squander anything if they think it'll make them more in the quarter. It doesn't matter how good the writing is, because the writers are not allowed to tell a complete, finished story, and they have no control over what happens to their characters outside of their own script.

Captain America's arc was set up from literally minute one to answer one burning question at the core of his character: does a world without a war still need Captain America? After that incredibly basic tee-up at the end of First Avenger, half a dozen movies failed to come up with a reason to say "yes," and now Steve is retired for good after getting fumbled through four different storylines that couldn't even pretend that they needed him (the unused Chekhov's Phone from the end of Civil War still haunts me). The foundational arc of his entire character never happened because nobody bothered to keep track of it past a single movie.

Taika did something interesting with Thor in Ragnarok - take away Mjolnir, force him to recognize what it means to be the god of thunder, give him a very Odin-y missing eye - and the very next movie undid all of it. Just kidding, never mind, here's an eye and a new weapon and also his old weapon again, and in one more movie we're even gonna give him his hair back, probably as an apology for all the completely unironic fatphobia we're gonna slather him in for two and a half hours. I'm not even surprised Love And Thunder was such an overblown mess that barely took itself seriously - why would Taika bother trying to give Thor another arc when the powers that be will just roll it back in six months anyway?

I hear Rocket Raccoon has a fantastic arc in this movie. That's great, and demonstrates that he's being written by a writer that deeply cares about him. But he's part of the MCU, and the MCU doesn't let anything end, so if current patterns hold, Rocket is going to continue to serve as quippy plushie-bait for the next dozen movies and none of that depth is going to come through in the long term. Hell, since they're making Kang noises for the Next Big Threat and Kang's entire gimmick is rewriting timelines, literally none of this is guaranteed to matter. By next year, it might not have even happened anymore.

The MCU has successfully shaped itself into a paradigm where the bright spots of good writing are overridden and lost as soon as the writers room turns over, and that makes it really hard for me to muster up the enthusiasm to watch even a really good movie that's locked into the exact same grist mill as everything else. I'm glad people liked it, I hope it gets to stay good this time - I just have no desire to watch it.

[juleswrites223]

Midnight Rain 𓍲⋆˙⟡ᡣ𐭩

Carlos Sainz x Reader

Context: Your father does not think Carlos is good enough for you and you slowly realise you don't belong in his glamorous world of F1 and fame.

a/n: uff been in an angst mood lately. Yes I did the iconic fleabag scene. This was rushed af but enjoy.

Carlos never experienced love with such intensity. He was pretty sure he was going to marry you, have cute kids with you and eventually die by your side.

So when you wanted to break up, it hit him like a truck. Yeah you guys had your ups and downs but you truly loved each, even the media could see how much your relationship with Carlos was different than all his other relationships. Carlos showed you affection in public hell he even hard launched your relationship and constantly showed you off on his social media.

“Amor I just don’t get it. Please tell me why.” Carlos begged, clearly on the verge of crying.

The desperation in his voice was evident, his heart hurt so badly. He knew that this couldn’t be your decision and he had already suspected you father may be behind this. When he first met your parents, your father outright showed his distaste towards your boyfriend while your mother still tried to be subtle but you knew they didn’t think he was good enough for you (after all they heard stuff about Carlos being a cheater.)

Being born into a wealthy and famous family, you were used to the constant spotlight on you since you were young. Your mother, a really famous actress and your father, a businessman with a net worth of over a billion dollars meant that you were under constant scrutiny of the media whether it was for being a “spoiled brat” simply for not wanting the paparazzi to take pictures of you as you left your school or for having it “easy” and dating an F1 driver.

“Carlos please we have to break up. I’m so sorry.” You said as tears fell out of your eyes like pearls.

You hated yourself in this moment, looking at Carlos’ face made it worse. You had only seen Carlos cry twice the entire time we were in a relationship with him and now was the third in which you were the one who caused him pain.

"I love you." He croaked.

"It'll pass." You whispered.

You always felt out of place in Carlos’ world. You were used to the media and paparazzi but dating an F1 driver was a different kind of media frenzy. You love Carlos but you’re not so sure you belong in his world. The world seems to think you’re a distraction for Carlos from his career. You don’t want to believe these people but you start to see it.

As much as it pained you (& him) to breakup, you know you had to. Carlos needs to focus on his career first, its his childhood dream while you are just a girlfriend. It killed you to break up with him, it killed you when your father set you up with some rich bachelor and it completely shattered your heart when you attended one final race only to support Carlos and he was P1, putting on fake smiles yet his eyes showed sadness.

His eyes catch yours in the crowd and so many words are spoken, just between you and him. He was sunshine while you were the midnight rain.

[flower-boi16]

The Problems With Charlie As The Main Protagonist

I've spoken about my thoughts on Charlie as a character before a few times on this blog, but I think it's finally time to discuss why Charlie isn't exactly the best protagonist. On the surface, there doesn't seem to be much wrong with her, she's likable and endearing enough and she's easy to root for. But...once you look deeper, the problems begin to rear their ugly head.

1. Charlie Never Grows

The first major issue with Charlie as a character is how she never really grows over the course of the first season. The show never really gives her much of an arc...? Like, by the end of the season, what does Charlie really learn by the end? The only thing I can think of is that she was right about sinners being redeemed and...that's it.

And it doesn't really make Charlie that particularly compelling as a character, she's entirely stagnant. She does have a conflict with her father, which, while executed fine, isn't enough to make her a developed character. She only gets small tinges of development and that isn't really enough for me.

Charlie doesn't learn anything or grow as a character, which makes her pretty underdeveloped as a character. The show never really gives her any real character flaws to grow from and become a better person, she's always portrayed as in the right anyway and never challenged once. Speaking of that...

2. Charlie is Always Right

This more or less ties back into the "Charlie never grows" point I've said before and I've talked about this several times before, but it's still an issue with Charlie's character; she is ALWAYS in the right. Charlie's "everyone can be redeemed" mentality is never once challenged by the narrative, and anybody who does oppose Charlie in any way is considered as wrong by the narrative.

The reason why this is a problem is because Hazbin Hotel heavily preaches about being against black-and-white moralities, as seen with Heaven and especially Adam. Heaven is meant to be seen as bad because of its black-and-white mindset of "Sinners can't be redeemed and never will". This is put on full display with Adam, and his song Hell is Forever, to the point it literally includes lyrics like "the rules are black and white there's no use in trying to fight it".

You Didn't Know further pushes this with this line "the rules are shades of gray when you don't do as you say and you make the wretched suffer just to kill them again".

So the show wants to push a message of "black and white morals are bad", but...it's rendered moot by the fact that Charlie is purely portrayed as in the right. Charlie is completely correct, everybody can be redeemed, everyone even the most evil people who did the worst possible things can still be good, and anyone who opposes her is wrong cuz she's completely in the right...gee, for a show so heavily against black-and-white moralities...doesn't this all seem very black and white in it of itself?

Charlie's "everyone can be redeemed" mentality is just as black and white as Adam's "nobody can be redeemed", they are both extremes leaning in opposite directions, that are also both wrong in their own ways, yet the show portrays Charlie's extreme as the right one and Adam's as the wrong one.

I've already talked about this before but Adam is a pure straw character; he only exists so Charlie can prove him wrong, he cant have any real character depth beyond being a generic asshole or have a real point because the show is so dead-set on making Charlie purely in the right no matter what; the narrative never challenges her and anyone who opposes her is portrayed as automatically in the wrong.

This is not the only time this happens btw. In episode 5, Lucifer is also portrayed as automatically wrong for opposing his daughter’s goals. He himself says that “Our people are AWFUL. They got gifted free will and look what they did with it!”, and the show…never counters this, despite what Lucifer is saying…being true. The people in Hell ARE awful and it's their own fault, many of them ARE deserving of death because…well, their shitty people.

Charlie is never challenged once throughout the show and its a problem because not only does it fly in the face of the show being so anti black and white, it also wastes an opportunity for the show to develop Charlie as a character; with her learning that some people can't be redeemed because they either are incapable or uninterested in changing.

That would fit more with the show’s anti-black-and-white themes and also have Charlie go through real growth as a character as she learns that not everything is all sunshine and rainbows. But sadly, we can't really have that.

So Charlie's ideals are never challenged by the narrative and thus it not only flies in the face of the show's themes it also wastes an opportunity for Charlie to grow as a character. Now it's best to get into the next issue with her...

3. Charlie is Barely Focused On

Another big issue with Charlie as the show's main protagonist is that the show doesn't really focus on her that much, especially the first half. Now, shows don't need to focus on the main protagonist at all times, obviously giving some screen time to other characters is definitely something shows should do.

But the problem is that Charlie gets very LITTLE focus in the series despite being the main protagonist, and this contributes to the problem of her being underdeveloped. The first half of the show is especially bad at this; episode 1 Is the only episode in the first half that focuses on Charlie, but even then it's overtaken by the B-plot involving the other characters trying to film a commercial.

Episodes 2&3 are entirely dedicated to what characters like Alastor or Angel Dust are doing and episode 4 is completely focused on Angel and his arc. It contributes to the issue of the show not being able to develop Charlie that much as a character because she's constantly being overshadowed by other characters. The second half is better in this regard for focusing more on Charlie but still, for the first half of the show, it feels like Charlie is overshadowed by other characters which is embarrassing because, well, she's the main character, yet she feels like she's barely gotten any actual spotlight.

4. Conclusion

I want to love Charlie as a character. I really do. I mean, she's a part of one of my favorite character archetypes. I always LOVE over joyful optimistic characters because I just find them a joy to watch on screen, but sadly, Charlie doesn't have much depth beyond that archetype. She isn't that developed making her fail to be much of a compelling protagonist, her ideology is never challenged by the narrative wasting an opportunity for her to grow and contradicting the show's themes, and she's heavily overshadowed by other characters despite being the main protagonist.

So ya, that's why Charlie isn't that great of a protagonist...bye.

[portgasmalia]

HELLO!!! I don't usually send reqs but I had to get this out of my system... (thank you in advance if you write something out of this :)))

I hc that Law designed/inked his own tattoos (what can this man not do??) and when reader figures this out, she wants a tattoo similar to the one on law's chest…. but over her breasts.

law agrees but its hard for him to focus when your entire upper-body is exposed during the process... you know what i mean?? 🤭

ʚ 𝗔 𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗟𝗘 𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗕𝗕𝗟𝗘 ɞ | trafalgar d. law

𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: trafalgar d. law i & fem!reader 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌: nsfw content (mdni), implied smut, naked breasts, staring which comes off a little perv 𝖍𝖎 𝖎'𝖒 𝖒𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖆: so, i have tattoos, and i would let law give me one any given second of the day. here i thought about getting law's death tattoos those past days haha. so, i placed it around the collarbones and the last little peak of the heart would be in the valley of the breasts.

seated patiently on one of the stools in law's office, you started to pull the fabric of the thin shirt over your heart. trafalgar law's back was turned in your direction as he prepared the last lines of the template for the tattoo. a design, you wished for badly and one, he knew how to draw perfectly. when he walked around the polar tong with his coat opened, presenting the ink that covered his tanned and toned body, you almost felt a pinch of jealousy. finding out, a couple of weeks later, that he was the one who literally drew them and decorated the different parts of his body as well, you immediately asked him for one.

what law not expected when he agreed, was the very uncommon position and that you wanted a replica of what he wore on his chest. the heart with the smiling face of his jolly roger in the middle. "do you want me to remove my bra too?" you asked, so innocently, making the situation worse. seated on the stool, in the middle of his office room, waiting for him to touch your soft skin around your breasts while inking his tattoo into you, it caused feelings in law. feelings, he could not understand. "guess so, or it won't stretch out towards your collarbones,"

"oh but i want it to be really wide and end in the valley between my boobs," you stated, showing the directions and placements with your fingers while the doctor forced himself to not look at your longer than a second. any gaze, which lingered too long on your exposed breasts, the hardened buds due to the temperature change under the deck, he would lose himself. not completely but painfully slow until giving in to the sweet desire of ravishing you. "alright," he held the template between his slender fingers, turning around and walking towards you.

and hell, you looked even better undressed than the drawings in his thoughts could ever create. sweet curves, smooth skin, and that cursed smile of yours, which cast a spell over his being all the time. "let's get started, this will take a couple of hours to finish." law took a seat opposite of you, holding up the thin piece of paper in front of your chest, and hesitating. he hesitated to touch your skin in such inappropriate places, and inhaled deeply. " can you like, place it yourself with the help of the mirror over there?"

eyes hidden underneath the mess of black strands and the brim of his beloved, white hat. the shadows casted over the upper half of his face saved the stoic captain from being seen with a tint of crimson red across the span of his cheeks. the situation made it difficult to think straight, or at least focus on the main reason behind being in such a scene. “why? is something wrong?” you questioned a second later, innocence written across your face and sweetness twisted in your features.

as if your naked chest wasn’t enough to push him closer to overstepping the set boundary, your glances and naive behavior became torture. those sweet, dilated doe eyes awakened an unexplainable instinct in the captain. something that increased his primal desire of wanting to touch her, and blemish her soft skin. “it’s nothing,” law commented, holding the template towards her.

“i think it’s better if you place it, i don’t want to do anything wrong,” you admitted, shaking your head carefully and pressing your chest further forward. an allowance to touch her breasts without having to say a word. “shit,” law muttered underneath a deeply frustrated groan before scooting closed. eyes at the same height as her hardened buds, his mouth watered at the sight.

carefully, he placed the tip of the heart between her breasts, fingertips pressing the template against her soft skin. it didn’t bother him, the worst part was how his hands wandered across the swell of her breasts and along her collarbone, making sure the thin paper with the most important outlines was sticking to her skin. “your touch is so soft,” you muttered, focused on how carefully and slowly his tattooed fingers moved around her chest, always avoiding go touch her breasts directly.

what you couldn’t see, was how trafalgar law inhaled and exhaled deep breaths, attempting to keep them steady enough to get through the session without ravishing you completely. afterwards he couldn’t promise did anything.

credits go to portgasmalia.

[dapper-lil-arts]

what do you think of the pillars? I always thought they were so fascinating

criminally underutilized, somewhat poorly placed on occasion, but individually very very fun characters. My favorite is Somnambula because she's just cute as hell, design is great and voice is adorable (I used the element of hope for Sunset Shimmer in one of my fics lmao) I apreciated getting to see the MLP gandalf even if it wasn't strictly necessary; He does turn out to be fun as hell; Though damn he barely appears.

All the others are pretty fun! (Why is flash here?! Why there 2 flashes lol)

I apreciate how they mirror (some) of the mane 6 better than others (I see little to no combination with Pinkie and Sonnambula) And how their backstories do feel like legendary tales (I think Mistmane's is awfully nice, giving up on a thing you're known for just to help a friend, even if the whole conception of 'beauty' could be interpreted as skewed. after all she and became a gilf lol)

I think that each of the Mane 6 could have used episodes partnering up with their counterparts, or even episodes where the pillars lead (Hell, an entire spinoff show set on the ancient time of the pillars coulda been pretty sick. Younger Celestia and Luna, and a fun group with dudes that aren't one dimensional in it) AND you get a rethread of Rarijack but old people flavor. nice.

Also its so dumb that they all just lose pathetically in the finale LMAO they literally help with nothing, thanks for nothing tirek

[lunar-wandering]

things about the Boboiboy series that drive me NUTS (this list is written solely from memory)

the fact that the first three elements, Wind, Earth, and Lightning, didn't really start out as having different personality's from Boboiboy himself (at least, not by much/it wasn't extremely noticable) but then, Lightning, after being split for too long, losing his memories completely, and achieving tier 2, becoming Thunderstorm, suddenly goes all Edgy(TM). and then Wind eats a mood-changing potion and goes manic, and not only does that unlock his tier 2, making him Cyclone but that becomes his personality. like. hello??? the implications.... and then later on, Fire, Water, Leaf, and Light manifest WITH their personalities pre-set. what??? the vague implication that the elements are sentient and the personalities started becoming more obvious when Boboiboy's mind started slipping/letting them have freer reign haunts me every day.

speaking of Fire's manifestation. he initially manifested from the stress of exams and walked around accidentally burning shit down in the middle of the night. what a mood tbh.

if the elements are sentient, the implications of Retak'ka stealing them from Boboiboy and using them- without having his personality change, is INSANE. like bro. he used them as a weapon instead of letting them be actual people..... and then later on in the comics Thunderstorm gets taken away AGAIN and is trapped in a sword, a literal weapon, and is used. again. HELLO????

both of the first times Thunderstorm gets summoned (both the obvious first time and the first time after they all got reset to tier 1 due to Complications) involving his phobia kills me every time why the FUCK did they do that. they didn't even address it the second time around but they animated Lightning looking like he was in distress anyways. WHY DID THEY DO THAT TO HIM. i know he's the fave but like. was this necessary.

BOBOIBOY JUST DECIDING "Y'KNOW WHAT??? I'M GONNA INVENT FUSIONS NOW HERE WE GO" IN THE SECOND MOVIE AND PROCEEDING TO ABSOLUTELY WIPE THE FLOOR WITH RETAK'KA

i could list so much Thunderstorm stuff tbh he's definitely the fave they give him so many cool bits of animation. he does the "teleports behind you" move SO OFTEN and it's SO GOOD

Leaf's deadpan "Fashion Tragedy" line

that one time Boboiboy split into Fire, Wind, and Leaf, and EVERYONE agreed he shouldn't have done that and should never do it again cause those three have negative braincells when in a group together

the songs??? like. the opening songs. the insert songs used in the movies. the OST. why the hell are they so good. i mean i know i personally like em cause they tend to use rock. but like. its SO GOOD.

Yaya and Ying being arguably the two most powerful/capable members of the friend group as they should

that one time Thunderstorm and Fang fought and they paused right before hitting each other and the objects behind both of them exploded from the force of the other's attack

in the first movie when it hinted that we'd see Boboiboy without his hat for the first time ever throughout the entire movie and then it FINALLY HAPPENED when he caught a giant hammer right before it could hit him and punched the dude away with a blast of energy. he has a white streak in his hair and it's visible in the series from this point onwards.

I KNOW IVE SAID A LOT OF THUNDERSTORM SCENES BUT THAT POINT IN GALAXY WHERE HE WAS USING TIER 2 BEFORE HE SHOULD'VE BEEN USING IT AND HE KEPT SWAPPING IN BETWEEN BOBOIBOY AND THUNDERSTORM THROUGHOUT THE FIGHT??? THAT WAS COOL AS FUCK I LOVED THAT

i could list so many of the really cool shots from this series tbh. that one time Light slow-mo backflipped over a bunch of debris and then activated laser eyes to shoot at the villain is a highlight.

literally everything about the fact the plot of this show went from "aliens come to earth to steal chocolate" to "boboiboy nearly fucking dies on an almost daily basis"

[lyrinsluv]

7:49pm

timeskip! atsumu x [interviewer] reader

☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

wordcount: 1158! :D 

being a sports journalist had its perks, i mean.. it’s not everyday where you get to meet all of these famous athletes. before you got all of the interviewing jobs, you became slightly inclined towards volleyball. whether it was women’s volleyball or men’s, you were interested in how their minds worked, hence why you loved interviewing them. you did more broadcast journalism, and not classic journalism. 

now, you’ve been accepted to interview one of the men’s national volleyball team's setters, and the jackals’ setter: atsumu miya. 

it was a post-game interview, so quick and fast paced was the label for it. setters were interesting. being the brains of the team was something that wasn’t for everyone. 

you sigh to yourself as you stand in the vicinity of the game. it was a fast paced game. you noticed the relationship atsumu had with his teammates. he seemed to have their back, even when times were rough. but.. that wasn’t the case. you clearly saw the outcome of the game, even if it was just the first set. 

it was 7:49, and now you’re internally groaning to yourself as you walk up to the cameras. you swore you were used to the whole process, but you had a gut feeling about atsumu. you smile at the cameraman as he hands you the microphone. and of course, he’s walking up to you. he waves his teammates off, and he looks at you and the cameraman. 

“we’ll be live in just a moment.” you say plainly as you adjust yourself in front of the camera. atsumu didn’t like that. why? simply put, he wanted the cute interviewer's attention. 

“where’s the other interviewer — the old guy?” he asks as you look up at him. you blink and you raise an eyebrow.

“i'm sorry..?” you ask, a bit confused at his random question. there was no other interviewer, hell, no one even took up this job because they were too scared to talk to a professional volleyball player. 

“…i dunno.” you mumble as the cameraman starts counting down. you sigh as you go through the questions in your head. you look up at him and smile, indicating you were live.

“so, atsumu miya! many people always mix up you and your twin brother, considering you two live in the same city. how does that make you feel?” you ask, putting on a front. you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes wandering, but you didn’t say anything. you blink twice, confused as to why he’s silent.

“…i dunno.” he mumbles, seemingly mocking your statement that you said before you two were live. there was a cocky smile on his face -one that you truly hated. you kept up your front and you didn't push the question.

“okay then…!” you say in your cheeky television voice. you swallow back the need to just walk off, and you continue with the conversation. 

“you and shoyo hinata seem really close! why is that?” you ask politely, not wanting to cause any big issues. you move the microphone to his mouth, and he looks down at you. he smiles and he takes the microphone from you, his fingers wrapping around yours. you swore to keep your cool, but your frown didn’t show that. he leans down to answer your question, holding eye contact with you the entire time.

“mm? well, im his setter. shouldn’t i be close with the guy i'm setting to?” he asks condescendingly. you just chuckle and you nod.

“ah.. um, yes..?” you say as you basically yank the microphone back from his grasp. the interview went on like that: fighting over the microphone like cats and dogs. after the cameraman showed that the two of you were over, you just groan loudly.

he wipes some of his sweat from his forehead with the bottom of his jersey, showing his.. well, clearly built body. you were pissed off at the guy you just met, but god, he was hot. 

“what.. what the hell, dude..?” you ask bluntly, looking up at him as the cameraman scurries away. 

“i'm sorry…?” he asks once again, imitating you. you blink as you realize his stupid mocking voice.

“what did i ever do to you..?” you ask in a half grumble, half whine. you knew you were going to get your ear chewed off when you went back to the office tomorrow. the defeated look that your body posture showed spoke volumes for him. he went to stand in front of you, the same stupid smile on his face. he puts his hands on his hips and he shrugs. 

“ya didn’t say hi to me properly, cutie. i felt so unwelcome, i couldn't answer those questions properly..” he says in a half-dramatic half teasing voice. so this was your fault? you stare at him with a dumbfounded expression, ignoring the pet name he gave you. 

“oh.. my god.” you mutter, a bit pissed off at him. you scoff and you take a couple steps back.

“you’re a baby, atsumu miya.” you say bluntly as you start to head out, leaving him with a dumbfounded expression now. you didn't care if it was disrespectful to leave a professional like that, but this was his home court. he could navigate his way around. 

you sigh to yourself as you step out of your boss’s office, a frown eminent on your lips. your phone was ringing, which was kind of odd considering you took work seriously, so everyone knew to not call you during work hours. it was an unknown number, interesting. being upset with the entire interview situation, you pick up, wondering if it’ll add onto your bad mood.

“hi, cutie.” is all you can hear from the other side of the line. you want to grumble and scream in the middle of the news room, but you don't. because the unknown caller that you so happened to know speaks once more.

“next game, i want you to interview me again. i’ll treat you out to dinner for all the problems i caused.” he states. atsumu miya was a conceited, arrogant bastard in your mind. so why was this bastard saying that he’d treat you out? you swallow silently, keeping your cool so none of your co-workers tease you.

“..fine.” you mumble, not bothering to confirm if it was atsumu and how he got your number. you head over to your desk, sinking into the uncomfortable office chair. he hung up first. it was a quick call, more like he demanded you to interview him so he could fix his mistakes. 

wait. you just bagged a date with a hot volleyball player? every single thought of unimaginable things were becoming, well, imaginable. maybe this little dinner would be something memorable. 

you knew it was. why? simply put, the setter has his ways to get with his type. and you were his type. 

[sepublic]

I find it funny how some people insist the narrative should’ve portrayed Belos as sympathetic and tragic to Luz and make her “understand” him so she can see how people can be driven to do terrible things because of misguided good intentions because like. Other characters already exist for that purpose? Like Lilith, who cursed her sister but ultimately did want and need and choose family in the end. Or Gwen making Eda feel terrible about the curse because she feared for her family’s health. The Collector enslaved an entire population because they were lonely, and the Titan imprisoned an innocent child, which led to the show’s current conflict, because she was a survivor of genocide. Kikimora was someone Luz personally related to regarding their mothers. Hell Luz even understood in the previous episode why her own mom sent her to reality check camp, the whole inciting incident of the series. She’s allowed one instance where she can just call a guy out and not try to make excuses for him. Luz is entitled to setting boundaries and prioritizing her own health.

It reminds me of Steven Universe, which had an opposite but also similar problem where people bemoaned how the Diamonds were ultimately forgiven and allowed to grow, because they insisted Steven needed to see how some people just won’t listen or change. And meanwhile Marty was right fucking there. Steven and Sour Cream tried to be friends and it backfired, with the latter especially realizing he didn’t owe his dad the time of day, and cutting a toxic relative out of his life. Which is further relevant since the Diamonds are also toxic relatives. The show didn’t even try to portray Marty as sympathetic. Plus Greg did the same thing as Sour Cream too, and didn’t have to go back on that!

And sure we know for a fact that Steven Universe was forced to end fast (like TOH) because of confirmed executive homophobia, so maybe we were supposed to get something else with Marty but lbr. It just seems that people are salty about the narrative focusing on one framing, because despite their insistence that the show needs to cover all its bases for its protagonist and by extension the kids watching, it… already did??? Fandom misogyny really does mean demonizing women while excusing men.

[half-dead-ham]

With chaos brings Justice

My last entry for the DpxDCshipweek, sad I couldn't get through it in it entirety, but happy I made some for it at all!

links: [Ao3] Wc: 6656 Cw: implied/referenced torture

John Constantine was a man of few pleasures. He liked booze, nights with a full bed and belly, and keeping his head attached to his shoulders.

 So when he felt a surge of chaos magic flood the board room of the Justice League Watchtower one long morning into their bi-monthly meeting that for some reason he decided to show up to, he felt any chance of him recovering this day with booze or food leave the solar system entirely.

 Before the other Leaguers even felt the pressure change that came with teleporting magics John was on his feet, readying a defence spell just in case who (or what) decided to attack first, talk second. ‘Course the other gits just saw him knock back his chair with a flask of whatever he’d poured himself last night and thought for a second he was trollied.

 He always loved it when the other blokes did that. Fuckin’ hell, where was Zatanna when you needed her?

 He would’ve cracked a smile when the rest of them finally got the memo that sumthin’ foul was afoot, but John was too focused on the fact that he recognized the magic to try and play this off as anything but deadly serious. Why was he the only one here that was able to deal with this particular brand of chaos? Why couldn’t he have bloody stayed home like all the other bloody times he’d missed a meeting?

 The magic was perceptible now, a swirling red cloud hovering over the conference table like it might start raining blood, a static in the air, the smell of lamp oil and chaos magic making John's nose twitch. There wasn’t any use in trying to fool himself as a figure formed in the cloud, and any trace of those lovely effects of his bevvy of choice went straight out the airlock.

 A pale-faced child emerged from the mist, curly black hair with two styled points partially obscuring a set of beady black eyes that looked down their nose at the group surrounding the table.

 “Klarion,” the teen turned to John, expression unusually flat. The witch boy Hadn’t yet said anything, and his blasted familiar kept its place on his shoulder, hissing but not leaping into action.

 Now that John got a good look at the chaos magic user he almost wanted to look surprised. Klarion had changed his style; no longer was he dressed in puritan settler chic, now he wore dark jeans with black converse, a white t-shirt with the runic symbol for creation in red, and a black sleeveless overcoat. It looked grunge, and John could almost appreciate it.

 Almost.

 “Now what does the infamous Witch Boy need that he’s ‘ported in 'on our lovely gathering?” John asked, seeing as the teen (an’ he looked like a proper teen now, didn’ he?) wasn’t feeling especially chatty. His defensive spell was almost complete, if John could just keep the lil shit distracted for a little longer-

 “Stupid heroes, I have come because I have a task for you,” the Witch boy announced, looking like he sucked a lemon while saying it.

 John could see a few others in the room looking at each other in confusion, but he kept his eyes firm on the brat in front of him. “Oh? An’ what task would require our services, oh mighty mage?”

 The Witch Boy’s eyes narrowed at him, clearly not liking the sarcasm in his tone. Surprisingly, to him at least, Klarion turned to Superman, not falling to the taunt like he would’ve before.

 “Someone I respect has been captured by the American government, and while I would have no problem raising the place to the ground myself-” more than a few of the heroes present tense at that, “-this person would only find more trouble in me doing so.”

 Now that brought up a nice heap of questions for the surrounding men in tights. Why, or better yet how does Klarion know someone that needs help from the Justice League. Someone who he apparently respects enough to go for help from a group of stuffy adults with sticks shoved so far up their-

 "And why should we help you?" The big ol' Bat asks what's on the tip of everyone's tongues.

 Klarion turns to the Caped Crusader with the most serious expression John had ever seen on the Witch Boy. "Because the High King of the Dead needs help escaping the living, and you guys love to make sure this stupid plane of existence doesn't fall to war."

~~~~~

   "You seriously aren't helping, Witch Boy!" Danny calls out to the cackling teenager as he evades yet another tentacle from the thing coming out of the side of a large floating island. More of a mountain, really, but Danny's a little too tied up to care.

 "Hit 'em again!" The pale-faced teen on the sidelines jeered as the ghost boy shot off another volley of ectoblasts towards what he's starting to dub as a hermit-ectopus. Grimacing, Danny did just that, raining a hail of green towards the writing mass of tentacles, finally pushing the thing back in its cave enough so that he could seal the entrance with ice.

 With that out of the way, Danny could finally take a breather. He put his hands on his knees for stability as he panted, annoyed. Ancients curse that stupid Witch Boy, he may not need to breathe in this form, but that was one hell of a workout. 

 The cackling to his left was finally starting to die down, but not before he heard the idiot making his way closer. One final exhale and he straightened back up, giving the other teen a side glare Mr. Lancer would be proud of.

 "Give me one good reason I shouldn't soup you right now, cat boy," he demanded with a scowl as he crossed his arms.

 "'Cause you still need me to help you get that stupid antidote for your stupid friends!" Klarion quipped back immediately, smug smirk stuck on his face. "Besides, it's not like your weak little can'll be able to do anything to me."

 "You're the one who poisoned them in the first place," he sneered back, letting his hatred of the other boy leak out through his aura while trying not to worry himself over Sam and Tucker back home.

 Klarion got closer, smirk growing menacingly wider, "Well who was the ghost that kept ignoring me? This is your fault and you know it."

 Danny said nothing, just punched Klarion in the face before flying off into the mountain grumbling, leaving the Witch Boy to deal with the blood falling onto his tie by himself.

~~~~~

   "Constantine, what do you know about this 'High King of the Dead'?" Batman asked after pulling the mage into the hall. They had left Superman to deal with the details and negotiations. He's always been better at that.

 "Not much, Batsy," John sighed, really wishing he could pull out a smoke. If it weren't for those blasted 'no smoking' rules the furry in front of him enforced, he'd be chugging like a train right 'bout now.

 Batman simply glared at the man for a moment before John got the unsaid ‘well, get on with it’. “Alright, alright, I do know some things, but I don’t know how useful they’ll be!”

 “Explain.”

 John sighed, “Not much information about the ruling body of the dead gets through to the realm of the living, that whole ‘dead men tell no tales’ bit. What I know of a King of the dead was that he was a right bastard that wanted his cake and e’ryone else's. Got locked in some coffin or what have you by his ruling court, and hasn’t been heard from for about two millennia ‘til the new one came about.”

 “And this new king, is he anything like the last one?”

 Before John could confirm or contradict the question a sharp laugh came from the other side of the conference doors. The two detectives looked at each other before heading back in, Klarion watching from his seat on the table as they rejoined the group.

 “The new High King of the Dead is nothing like the last one,” the Witch Boy stated with a sneer.

 Batman turned to Superman, asking with a silent tilt of the head. He got a head shake and shrug in return. “We were talking about why he would need us specifically when he just started laughing.”

 “Oh?” The occult detective spoke up, “And what makes you say that? If you respect him he must be pretty similar, eh? Why do you or him need our help?”

 Klarion looked down, a pinched expression taking over his face. “He’s nothing like me. He’s good.”

~~~~~

   Wind tore through Danny’s hair as he flew up to the massive Vortex rampaging through mid- America. He could barely see five feet in front of him before a tree or the rare car nearly takes him out of the sky. Klarion’s magic could be seen on his ten o’clock, trying to stop the raging wind before it throws something at him too. Danny dove to grab onto the magic caster, turning him intangible before the broad side of a barn could crash into him.

 “What did you even do to make him this angry‽” Danny yells over the wind, pulling the concentrating Witch boy to another spot so they could be harder to hit. It doesn’t help, as half a tree still nearly decapitates them.

 “Absolutely nothing!” Klarion ground back through his teeth, “He just started chasing me through the Realms! I thought I could lose him in this plane but he just followed me!”

 Another tree sailed their way, and Danny had to drag the other teen out of its path. He shot a volley of ectoblasts at some clumps of dirt launching themselves at them, breaking them up before they were close enough to hit them.

 “How long ‘til your spell finishes‽” Danny asks, throwing more ectoblasts into the swirling vortex of carnage. The tornado consumes them greedily, returning fire with debris from an old storage barn it had picked up.

 “Not fast enough!” Klarion shouts back, now flying under his own power as the harder parts of the spell conclude.

 They weave through projectiles after that, Danny obliterating the larger objects thrown their way so Klarion could focus more on his spell. They were at least lucky enough that they had lured Vortex out to farm country, where they could easily provoke him out of the way of any towns. That left just the crops and their tools for the weather ghost to throw.

 At least, until Danny spotted some larger buildings.

 “Better speed that spell up, Witch Boy!” Danny urged, realizing they were heading towards the city, and fast.

 “I’m going as fast as I can!” Was all the other teen could retort as he ground his teeth further, doubling his efforts anyway. Red light swirled fiercely around the pale boy, encircling him and his familiar before suddenly launching outwards to wrap around the tornado. The wind picked it up easily, quickly turning the angry winds and clouds above a sickening blood red colour. A triumphant grin spreads across Klarion’s face at the turn of events, a giggle bubbling up before being stolen by the wind. Danny would almost be scared at the situation if it were him that smile was going against, but right now he was just a little relieved.

 Klarion spoke one final word to his spell, and with it the red smoke pulsed bright, lighting up the whole cloud before the funnel just disappeared, leaving some dark yet still clouds above them. Danny could only stare at the sight in awe.

 “What did you do dude?” He asked, noticing the odd change in the air around them. It was strangely still, almost-

 “I froze the air in place, of course,” Klarion huffed hotly, and Danny turned his awed gaze to the teen next to him.

 “You froze the air?” 

 “Well,” Klarion’s cheeks started to gain an almost normal complexion as his blush rose at the attention. “It’s not frozen frozen, but I made it so it wouldn’t move. So yes, I froze the air.”

 When Danny didn’t move or change his expression Klarion’s blush only grew. Teekl gave a lax “meow” from the Witch Boy’s shoulders, breaking Danny’s trance and allowing Klarion the time to unruffle his proverbial feathers. The witch Boy coughed lightly in his hand as he turned away.

 “Teekl’s right, shouldn’t you be doing your job now? I’ve done all the hard work, pick up the slack Ghost Boy.” Only his familiar saw the light green blush spread over the ghosts cheeks before he gave a nod and flew off towards where he could sense the weather spirit.

 “Meow,” Teekl commented playfully.

 Klarion blushed harder, “Oh shut up you hairball.”

~~~~~

   The Javelin was speeding into earth's atmosphere towards the Americas, half of the Leaguers who had been in the meeting previously plus one chaos mage nestled inside. They had decided an impromptu rescue mission was in order, despite some worries of the Witch Boy leading item into a trap.

 Batman remedied this by keeping Superman on standby, Shazam on call, and taking Manhunter with them to catch any lies the teen might be telling them.

 The plane was dead quiet, and it was honestly making Hal antsy, especially sitting so close to someone they consider an enemy. His solution? Small talk.

 “So,” the green lantern drawled as he swiveled his chair to face the teen. “From the way you talk about this King it sounds like you have something a little more than ‘respect’ for the guy. Care to elaborate?”

 Klarion gave the Green Lantern a long side eye, making Hal even antsier in his seat. Seriously, how can a kid this dorky be this creepy?

 A terse meow from the cat in the boy’s lap and the stare broke, and suddenly Hal felt he could breathe again. Klarion sighed heavily, like the topic exhausted him before he even started, but before Hal could rescind his words the Witch Boy was talking.

 “The King of the Dead and I have known each other for a few years now,” he started. “And while at the beginning we were basically at each other's throats, after his coronation we figured out we didn’t really want to be enemies anymore. Looking back we had probably already decided that without saying anything, but it just got awkward to think about after.”

 “This king was crowned recently?” Batman asked from his place at the wheel.

 “Within the last three years, if I remember right,” Klarion replied flippantly. The Bat nodded, taking his focus back to flying to their charted destination. Not wanting more stifling silence, Hal picked the conversation back up.

 “If you’ve known the King of the Dead for over three years you guys must be pretty close, huh?”

 The Witch Boy huffed, “Yes, you could say that.”

 “So could you maybe tell us more about him? What’s he like? Does he have a hobby? Don’t leave us hanging man!” Hal was encroaching on a jeer with his tone, though he died down quickly at the flat stare he received from both mage and familiar. If Diana hadn’t spoken up he might've been afraid of turning into a toad.

 “I am also curious, Klarion. You haven’t told us much about someone you seem to care greatly over, anything you could tell us about them would help us settle whatever dealings they have with the American government.” At the moment the princess mentioned the government Teekl was on alert, Klarion’s expression soured with the change.

 “The ‘dealings’ they have with your stupid higher powers is that they want to hunt his kind for sport and resources,” He spat, to the astonishment of the league members. Bruce and Diana shared a glance from the front seats, dread seeping into Bruce’s gut at the news.

 “Could you explain that further? We need to know if we want to fix this,” Diana asked more seriously, motioning for Hal to take her seat as copilot so she could focus more on the conversation at hand.

 (Hal was thankful for the distraction.)

 “Your government,” the teen hissed, eyes glinting dangerously red before settling back to their eerie black. “Has been trying to catch Phantom since before I met him. They’ve deemed anything that holds ectoplasm in their body as unfeeling and mindless, and deemed them worthy of extermination and experimentation.”

 “That can’t be legal, non-humans are protected under the Metahuman rights acts.” Diana comments with a frown.

 Klarion rolls his eyes at the princess, “Everyone says that when they hear it, but I assure you, Phantom has talked my ear off about the Anti-ecto acts more times than I care to count. They’re real, and heavily enforced.”

 Diana gave a sidelong glance to the front of the ship, noticing Batman already searching for these ‘acts’ while ever so slightly speeding up their flight. It was worrying that even Bruce didn’t know about this, considering his incessant need to keep up with things that could inevitably cause harm to those he wants to protect. She left that for him to deal with, refocusing the conversation back to lighter topics. “You mentioned ‘Phantom’, is this the king’s name?”

 The Witch Boy gave a small hum, hand moving to idly stroke Teekl’s fur as they settled with the change of topic. “He told me it was originally the name he chose for himself when he started protecting his little town, and by the time he was crowned the ghosts all knew him by that name and it stuck.”

 “Oh? The king is a hero?” Aside from Deadman, she had never heard of any spirits calling themselves heroes. Though it wasn’t entirely a surprise that another spirit wished to help others from beyond the grave.

 Another hum from the teen in front of her, face reading more thoughtful as he presumably went back to the first time they had met. “Yes, he was doing something incredibly stupid, though he called it ‘heroic’ at the time. I still don’t see why he needed to destroy that artifact after he rewrote reality, but then again he was still a boy when he did that.”

 …

 “Pardon?” Diana said, stunned. Klarion either didn't notice the stunned silence he had created or didn’t care as he continued.

 “After that I went to play with him every so often, sometimes playing a few pranks so he would stop ignoring me. He absolutely hated me when we first started, but I like to think I grew on him,” the Witch Boy gave a smirk at the memory, still not noticing the silence in the shuttle.

 She could feel Hal’s eyes on them, incredulity practically oozing from his seat in front of her. Instead of meeting the Green Lanterns with one that was sure to match, she looked to J’onn, who had quietly been assessing their guest the whole flight. He had his head cocked as he faced the teen, but nodded when Diana turned. The boy told no lies.

 They might need to reassess this King of the Dead’s threat level.

~~~~~

   A cacophony of cheers resound in the courtyard of Pariah’s Keep, now renamed officially to Phantom’s Fortress with the crowning of the new king. Danny peered out from beyond the curtain to the courtyard, his ascendance ceremony freshly ended and a crown of arora and ice twirling lazily over his snow white hair.

 “I still can’t believe this many ghosts want me on the throne… I thought everyone hated me with the way I chase them out of Amity all the time…” He marveled to himself, still not quite believing what just happened. He was a King now. He had people to rule. And they actually liked him.

 Though with the reputation of the last king, he supposed that a potato could’ve taken the throne and they would’ve been happy.

 “Is it that hard to believe that maybe you aren’t that hard to like?” A voice jokes from behind the new king, and turning from his peeping spot he couldn’t help the grin that spread. Klarion was standing not too far behind him, one arm behind his back in the clothes they picked out together. He looked good, like he belonged in this century now, and even with his posture radiating nervous energy, Danny could tell he was a lot more comfortable in a t-shirt and jeans than that stuffy puritan suit.

 “I was thinking those odds were in-phantasmal, but I guess the chance was higher than I thought. I’m glad you could make it.” His smile grew slightly at the pink tint to the Witch Boy’s ears, but he went against the thought of pointing out how cute it was.

 Klarion scoffed, as though the notion of not coming was even something that crossed his mind. “As a lord of chaos, it would be remiss of me to not show up for the coronation of a potential fellow lord. Besides, you asked me to come specifically, it would be impolite to refuse.”

 Danny gave a snort at the response, he knew very well that if the other teen didn’t want to be here he would’ve refused the invitation outright. It was nice not having to fight the other anymore, after the battle with Vortex they started fighting less and hanging out more, Danny could even take him to the mall now without a struggle. Sure, Klarion was still trapped in the past with his underground village, but slowly he was starting to relax, have some fun that didn’t destroy everything around him.

 It was nice to hang out with someone he didn’t have to hold back with.

 “So, is there a reason you’re just standing there awkwardly?” Danny asked, letting a chuckle escape at the flat stare he received. A year ago he would’ve gotten a magic blast to the face for that.

 Instead Klarion sighed, eyes glancing around the ornate hall before sighing again. “I figured- I mean- I- ugh…” the Witch Boy kept stuttering before petering off into a grumble. Danny accidentally let another chuckle escape at how cute the other teen was being, causing said teen to glare a hole into the carpet, before letting out a growl. He stomped up to Danny, so close he had to back up a step or they would be in each other's personal space, and suddenly his vision was full of orange and purple with a spatter of red.

 Another step back put the colours in focus. A bouquet of flowers was being thrust towards him by a furiously blushing Klarion, whose eyes were currently on a rather interesting vase.

 “What are these for?” Danny asked as he relieved the bouquet from the others' vice grip.

 “For you, to congratulate you on becoming king. The orange ones are lilies, the purple flowers are irises and gerberas, and the little red ones are bloody williams. The lady at the store said they say “I’m happy for your success” in flower language.” Klarion looked like he was ready to say more, he probably had a whole speech about these, but Danny just couldn’t get over the fact that one of the biggest (previous) pains in his ass just started blushing and gave him flowers.

 “Thank you,” he said, cutting off whatever Klarion was rambling about with a genuine smile. Klarion stared for a second, before blinking and clearing his throat.

 “Of course,” he replied, blush spreading all the way down his neck.

~~~~~

   The Javelin touched down a ways off of a squat white building. It was rather nondescript, save for the perimeter fencing circling the compound lined with guards.

 “This is the place?” Batman asked tersely as they disembarked the plane. None of the armed men had seen them yet, it would give them the advantage in the infiltration.

 “I wouldn’t lie to you about something so important,” the Witch Boy replied, narrowing his eyes at the compound before them. He could feel Danny in there, the strange mix of life and death energies radiating off the half-ghost was an ever present comfort to the Witch boy by now, and he was especially glad for it now.

 He wouldn’t have been able to find him so quickly without it.

 “I sense something heavy in the compound,” Manhunter noted with a frown.

 Batman, ever the detective, wanted to know more, “Elaborate.”

 The martian’s face twisted as he focused, reaching out with his mind to better read the heavy -no, oppressive- cloud that covered the compound, before gasping, recognition and anguish passing over as he physically recoiled. Green Lantern was there to steady him by the shoulders before he could so much as stumble.

 “What did you feel?” The Dark Knight compelled once it was clear there were no lasting effects of his reaching out.

 “Pain,” he replied shakily. “So much pain and suffering, hanging over the building like a fog. It is unnaturally powerful, if I hadn’t known beforehand, I would assume an entire city was under attack and not a single building.”

 The Dark Knight said nothing, simply taking what was said to heart. He moved forward with purpose, but before he could get too far a hand held him back. “Wait.”

 Batman looked down at the chaos mage, a single hand splayed out over his chest. “You need to know some things before I take you in there.”

 The  miniscule tilt of the taller man’s cowl was all Klarion needed to continue. “The facility is phase proof, the martian won’t be able to density shift through the walls, and the nature of their weapons are similar to Green Lantern’s constructs. You won’t get hurt badly if they hit you, but I’ve been told they burn.” All vital things to know. Batman's strategy would have to account for this, but he could still sense something from the teen, and so kept quiet.

 “And when we find Phantom? Get every agent you can out of there. He doesn’t like senseless killing, but I will not leave that building standing.”

 Batman gave a single nod, and with that Klarion enveloped the five in the red mist of his magic.

 ∆•∆•∆•∆

 The plan was rather simple, Wonder Woman and Green Lantern were to be dropped off at the entrance to the building as a distraction and to round up the agents while Klarion, Manhunter and Batman were to use Klarion’s magic to infiltrate and locate the King. Klarion’s mist acted as a memetic, letting the gaze of the agents fall past them on their way through the building as they ran deeper to where he could feel Danny. They had to be careful to not touch anyone though, as the moment they did they would be able to see them.

 “Why can’t you teleport us in?” Baman asked as they rounded another stark white corner into another stark white hall.

 “Death energies, do strange things to magic,” Klarion panted his reply. He was not used to actually running, and he couldn’t figure out why some humans actually liked doing the activity. “With so much, charged death and ectoplasm in the air, better to not cause an explosion. So soon.”

 Another swerve and he could feel Danny more, could almost taste that distinct flavour of citrus and menthol, the strange combination of ectoplasm and life that surrounded his ghost. The smell of citrus was strong though, and Klarion was desperately hoping he wasn’t too late with this rescue. The first real good thing he tries to do and he ends up a moment too late.

 “The source of the pain is drawing nearer,” Manhunter informs them as they pass a windowed room. Batman breaks off to take a look inside, calling to the other two to keep going. Klarion never stopped.

 One more corner and the acidic sour smell of citrus was assaulting their noses, and they started passing doors more resembling operating room entrances than offices. Lights were still on over a few as they passed, and Klarion made sure to snake a coil of mist into those that did, leaving screams and indistinct, cut off pleas in their wake. Those ones especially could rot in hell for all he cared, the smell of everdeath roiled off those rooms, alluding to whatever horrors might have been performed in them. He knew only a fraction of the ectoplasm spilt in there was from the one he cherished, but that made them no less guilty.

 The final turn led them to a hall lined with a different type of door, these ones steel grey tinted green. Klarion loathed to see the colours he associated with his spirit used in a mockery against him, keeping Danny away from him. He stalked down, using his magic to blow every door off its hinges as he passed until he hit the one his beloved was in. Turning to face it, he held up his hand, willing his magic to grasp it and tear it from the wall, throwing it down the hall and uncaring what was in the way.

 Emotion charged ectoplasm rolled out of the small cell, settling around their feet like fog and weakly intermingling with klarion’s magic.

 The sight made the mage want to puke. And weep. And decimate this measly world that would dare touch his soul like this.

 Were it not for the Martian's presence he just might have.

 Danny was there, shackled to the wall with chains at his wrists and ankles, head weighed heavy by the collar around his neck and the fucking muzzle on his face. The ghost made no move to the light that now filtered into the space, he hung limply from his chains, lifelessly. Only the faint glow around Danny’s frame gave away that he was not yet truly ended.

 But the green.

 A shaky breath from behind the mage reminded him where he was, and he urgently entered the room. He went to work on the manacles, seemingly seamless, but with one whispered word they were releasing Danny into his arms.

 “Is he?..” The martian started, too afraid to finish the sentence lest it become a reality.

 “No,” Klarion breathed out shakily. “No he’s still… He’ll recover.” He has to.

 “He’s so young,” Manhunter observed with a pained face as Klarion lowered to the floor of the cell, turning the ghost so he could hold him by the shoulders while he worked on getting his ankles freed.

 “He was even younger when he started,” with Danny's ankles freed, all that was left was the inhibitor collar and that damned muzzle. He did away with the muzzle first, desperate to see his cherished spirit's face. No magic was needed for it, thankfully, just a simple lock keeping it around the halfa’s face. Klarion gingerly removed the offending device, tossing it at a wall and making a note of obliterating it before he left. There were already chafe marks around Danny’s cheeks and on his nose, green and nearly raw from it pressing his jaw shut.

 How long has he been here for them to look so raw?

 Klarion had only been away for two months at the most, off on some insignificant errand after finding the piece of an artifact drifting in the Realms. Insignificant because apparently while he was away, his cherished one had gotten captured trying to save one of his people from this moronic group. When he had finally returned, he had to be informed about his capture. The rage he felt then… He hopes Danny wouldn’t be too mad at him for the damage he caused to the Fortress.

 A breathy groan followed by a sharp intake of breath and subsequent coughing brought Klarion out of his what if spiral. Danny was waking up, bleary eyed and confused at first -no doubt concerning his orientation- but a few seconds after the couches settled green eyes focused on black.

 “Hey, Rion,” the ghost king gave a small watery smile. “Glad you could finally make it. How was  your adventure?”

 “Stupid ghost-” Klarion has to reel back the power he was putting behind his voice with a breath that came out more like a sob. “Do you know how worried I was when you weren’t in Amity? In the Fortress? I was away for two damn months and you almost got yourself ended Danny!”

 Danny gave a chuckle that teetered into more of a cough as he weakly wiggled in Klarions lap. “They tried to grab Lunch Lady and Boxed Lunch, what was I supposed to do? It's my job as king to keep them safe-”

“NOT AT YOUR OWN EXPENSE YOU MORON!”

 The outburst silenced the ghost with a small snap of his jaw, followed by a cut off groan at the soreness from its disuse. A light cough broke the tense silence, and Danny sat up slightly to see what made it, eyes immediately sharp with alertness for any possible danger. His eyes landed on Martian Manhunter and that sharpness melted away to confusion.

 “Is that- why- Am I dreaming?” He stuttered, looking between the Justice leaguer and his lover. “Did I pass out so hard I’m actually dreaming my boyfriend came to save me with Martian Manhunter right now? Someone pinch me.” Klarion obliged the request and Danny yelped in pain. “Yep, okay, not a dream. Cool,” He whimpered, eyes now glued to the martian.

 Klarion went back to the task of freeing the ghost from his restraints, but hesitated before taking the collar off. “Do you have enough power to stay in this form if I take this off you?” He asked cautiously.

 Danny looked down, trying to see the band of metal around his neck, but quickly gave up with a sigh. “Probably not, it's taking most of my energy just to stay awake and talk right now.” He looked ashamed to say it, but Klarion was relieved to get a straight answer about his condition for once.

 “I’ll leave it on until we get you somewhere safe then,” Klarion whispered before readjusting his hands and standing up with the ghost boy bridal-style. The energy must have been draining from his cherished, as he only jolted at the movement. He could see Danny's eyes getting heavy, his head pitching forward before righting itself a few more times.

 “You’ll be there when I wake up… Right?” The Ghost boy asked, voice slurring with the effort to remain conscious. Klarion nodded once as he kissed the ghost's forehead -warmer than it should be- and walked back out of the cell. “Of course, my spirit. Rest.”

 One more wobbly nod and the ghost’s eyes closed. Klarion straightened, reigniting his magic with the help of Teekl and pushing it to blow the rest of the cell doors off their hinges. A few other ghosts floated out, and Manhunter helped a few more into the hall. They left slowly, with magical fire crackling in the prison that once held his spirit, catching the ectoplasm alight as the Witch Boy’s face contorted.

 ∆•∆•∆•∆

 The trip back to the Javelin was shorter than the trip into the facility, without the need to be covert they were able to retrace their steps through the building at a much faster pace. Batman regrouped with them just before the exit, and out in the grounds Green Lantern and Wonder Woman had done a great job of distracting and subduing most of the agents. One of them must have gone in and rounded up the scientists too, because they were tied up in a neat little pile a ways off.

 Good, he could burn this place to the ground without worry then.

 Klarion didn’t stop his stride out the compound as his magic spread to lick the walls, fire sparking to life where it touched. He didn’t stop to watch as the fire spread up the walls unnaturally fast, as it spread into the building through the holes it was melting in the reinforced glass. He didn’t pause when an explosion hit the air, the fire most likely finding the medical wing or the weapons vault.

 Klarion only stopped once Danny was securely in the small medbay of the Javelin, held securely in place for takeoff.

~~~~~

   Danny came to slowly, letting the ectoplasm of the Ghost Zone fill his lungs as he breathed deeply… Wait. Ectoplasm? Ghost Zone?? Lungs???

 Screw waking up slowly, Danny bolted up from wherever he was sleeping… and immediately regretted it. A massive headache assaulted his senses, along with about a dozen other aches and pains from his capture, most notably his jaw and starving stomach. Still, assessing the situation came before anything else, so he tried to make himself vertical despite his body's protests. Until a hand on his chest stopped him.

 Klarion met his bleary eyed confusion with a stern stare. He pushed down once more and this time Danny didn’t protest the movement. “It wasn’t a dream?” Danny croaked out, only a little bit surprised at how dry his voice sounded.

 “No it wasn’t a dream,” Klarion replied softly as he pressed a straw to Danny's lips. He was grateful for the first full drink of water he’d gotten in… he doesn't remember how long.

 “And Martian Manhinter? Was he real too then?” Danny asked when his throat no longer felt like sandpaper. Klarion hummed an affirmative as he put the cup back on the nightstand, idly stroking Teelke with his offhand. He takes a second to process that before he nearly bolts up again, startling the familiar and mage alike.

 “Is the Justice League here‽‽”

 A pregnant pause followed the exclamation before the Witch Boy gave a snort, snickering to avoid outright laughing at the bedridden ghost. “No, I left the little humans to fly back to their clubhouse while I took you back to the Realms with a portal.”

 Deflating with the explanation, Danny’s eyes travelled the embroidered constellations on the canopy of his bed, finally relaxing enough to appreciate where he was. Home. He took another deep breath, feeling his ectoplasm replenish itself more than it had in the last month in the GIW facility. The ectoplasm combined with the pine and fire smell of the mage sitting beside him only enforced the fact that he wasn’t there anymore. Tears threatened to fall with that thought.

 His boyfriend came for him. He didn’t doubt he would, but the days passed along and he was starting to lose hope. But not only did Rion come for him, he brought the Justice League, a group he knows Rion has beef with. Traitorously, a tear managed to escape and roll down into his hair.

 “You know, I’ll have to go talk to the League now that you’ve told them about me,” Danny commented, desperate to get out of those thoughts and ignoring the way his voice wobbled.

 “I’m sure you will,” Rion replied, no doubt with a roll of his eyes. “But you need to heal first. You’re in no shape to go talk to a bunch of stupid humans right now.”

 Danny gave a snort, “Those ‘stupid humans’ helped you get me back, right? Maybe drop the stupid when we see them next.”

 Rion only grunted in reply, and so they lapsed into silence again. Danny felt sleep pulling at his mind again, now that he knew he was truly safe with his beloved mage beside him. He didn't fight it for long, but he needed to say one more thing before he truly allowed himself to start healing.

 “Rion,” he mumbled out, getting the attention of the mage with a hum. “Thanks for coming to get me, love you.”

 A rare kind of smile passed the pale teen’s lips then, soft and kind. “I love you too, Danny.”