#is that really their ship name? that is incomprehensible

[crashout-cain]

Not Twelve, who can appear at any time and place in Clara's life, showing up right before Clara's date twice in a row. "Robbing a bank. Beat that for a date" he says when they're done. Petty jealous streak a mile wide I love you Twelfth Doctor <3

[dewwshi]

he may be the better swordsman but we all know who wins the wrestling matches

(psst i'm on bluesky now i guess?)

[avoidghost]

what are your favorite ships in transformers?

Oh well y’know — I kinda like dratchrod, just a tiny bit. Nothing crazy.

[annlyticalarchive]

CHAPTER SEVEN: Warmth of Different Kinds

”You will be different, sometimes you’ll feel like an outcast, but you’ll never be alone”

Mark Grayson X Kryptonian/Clark Kent! Reader

Prologue |Chapter Six | Chapter Seven (Here) | Chapter Eight

w/c: 4.1k

a/n: I might’ve injected a bit too much mutual pining into this one-

“Okay, let me get this straight,” Mark said as he paced in front of you. He’d been pacing since before you even started properly explaining. “You crash-landed in a spaceship. In Kansas. As a baby.”

“Right,” you confirmed, arms crossed, watching him circle like a storm cloud.

“Mister and Missus Kent found you, adopted you, and raised you.”

“Correct.”

“You’ve had your powers since you were…”

“I think the earliest I was told was two.”

“Since you were two. And you’ve just been using them in Smallville this whole time?”

“Not all the time,” you defended quickly, “but yeah.”

He stared. “And then you moved here for your dad… and kept using your powers to help. Okay, I get that. But pets too?”

You blinked. “I had to save the cat, Mark.”

“You had to save the cat,” he repeated, like he was trying to process something incomprehensible. “And you using your powers is what got Cecil to notice.”

“The weird government guy, yeah. You work for him?”

“Kind of. But anyway, that’s why he asked me about you.”

“He asked about me?”

“Well—more like implied. Dropped hints, really.”

You gave him a look. “Not creepy at all.”

Mark shrugged with a sneer. “Welcome to working with Cecil. Anyway, that’s when you went back home. Touched your ship, got—”

“A weird vision,” you said. “There was this guy. I couldn’t understand him, not really. It was all in some language I’ve never heard, but… I felt like I should know it. Like I used to.”

“And your suit appeared, right? With the same crest as that guy. Think he’s related to you?”

You hesitated. “M-Maybe? But it’s not like I can ask.”

“Right. So all you could understand were three words, what you think are names.”

You nodded. “Yeah. Kala-El, Jor-El, and Krypton.”

“And this guy placed you in the ship, sent you away from the planet, and then—boom.”

“Mhm. Exploded. Just… gone.”

Mark let out a long sigh and raked his hand through his hair. Judging by the state of it, not even his old overdose of gel could save it from how much of a mess it currently was.

He finally stopped pacing and looked at you, expression softening. “That’s a lot.”

You gave him a small, tight shrug as you fidgeted with your fingers in your lap. “Tell me about it.”

A quiet beat passed between you. Neither of you quite sure what to say next. But your own curiosity gnawed at you.

“Do I get my story?” You asked as you looked up at him.

“What?”

“You lied to me about yourself too, Mark,” You frowned at him as you crossed your arms, “I told you everything about me, I want know everything about you. Tit for tat.”

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Oh,” you said aloud, unsure how else to respond. You genuinely didn’t know what to say. Every part of your mind spun, trying to find something appropriate, knowing how much Mark hated pity.

“Yeah,” he murmured, his voice heavy, from his spot beside you on the couch. He’d sat down around the time he started telling you about the fight. The fight with his father, Omni-Man. About how the truth shattered everything he thought he knew about his life.

He told you how his powers came in during high school. How his dad started training him almost immediately afterward. How proud he felt at first.

Then came the stories. Teaming up with Atom Eve, fighting alongside Rex Splode, becoming part of the new Guardians. Then things so unbelievable, you’d laugh if his tone wasn’t so damn tired.

A mission to Mars with brain stealing aliens. An accidental engagement in Atlantis. Fighting aliens from another dimension.

Then came the Viltrumites. His visit to an alien world. The meeting with his father again, and the discovery of a half-brother he never asked for, but brought home to his mom for them to raise anyway.

He told you about the another Viltrumite who came to Earth, Anissa, who tried to convince him to join their empire. How it turned violent when he refused.

Then his tone shifted. He told you, briefly, how his mom and little brother had been attacked by someone named Angstrom Levy. But he wouldn���t elaborate. His voice closed off. When you gently pressed, he just made a face, one you’d never seen before, and shook his head.

So you dropped it. Even if something about it twisted your gut. Something about the way he shut down.

Now the silence was heavier, but not uncomfortable. More like the kind that settles after both people have finally had a talk they desperately needed to have. And it seemed both of you did.

You looked at him, arms resting on your knees. “You’ve been through hell.”

Mark gave a dry chuckle. “Yeah. Sometimes it still feels like I haven’t made it out of hell yet.”

You were quiet for a second. Then, softly: “I’m glad you’re still here.”

He glanced at you then. “Yeah… me too.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Mark felt a bit guilty.

Telling her everything, his past, his secrets, the scars he usually kept buried, left him with a strange twist in his gut. Not just because he’d kept it from you, he was glad he could finally tell you, but because, somehow, it felt like he was one-upping you.

He’d always known you were adopted. You never tried to hide it. In fact, you wore it like a badge of honor, your family, your roots in Smallville, the people who raised you. The way your eyes lit up when you talked about home always said more than your words ever could.

But then Cecil came along. And whatever door he cracked open in your life… it didn’t close.

It was like a floodgate, one you didn’t even realize existed until it was forced wide open. Suddenly, you were homesick. Not for Smallville, but for something deeper. A place you’d never known. A family you couldn’t remember. A whole world that, by the time you looked for it, had already turned to dust.

And now, it seemed like you were alone in the universe.

Mark let his head lean back against the couch and turned slightly to look at you. You always insisted you were good at hiding your emotions, but right now? He could read you clearer than the headlines you would write.

There was a faint frown tugging at your lips. Your brow furrowed just enough to show how deep in thought you were. And your glasses, askew and slipping down your nose, made you look more like the quiet intern you pretended to be than the superpowered enigma Cecil was likely tracking. To his absolute displeasure to put it mildly.

Finally, he said softly, “You okay?”

You blinked, startled out of your thoughts. “Yeah,” you lied instinctively. Then paused. “No. I mean… I don’t know.”

Mark gave a slight nod. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

“I guess I just…” You trailed off, staring down at your hands. “I thought finding out the truth would feel like closure. Instead it just feels like anything but.”

He sat up a little straighter. “You don’t have to carry all that by yourself, you know.”

You looked at him then, meeting his eyes. There was no pity there. No judgment. Just something solid. Steady.

Something more real than he had any right to get.

“You’re not the last one anymore,” he added, almost an afterthought. “You’ve got me. And your friends, Jimmy and Lois. And your parents.”

You gave a watery laugh at that. “Thanks, Mark.”

“Anytime.”

A pause. Then:

“You really did save that cat, though?” he asked, lips twitching.

“I had to,” you said indignantly. “She was stuck in a tree. And it was raining!”

Mark shook his head, grinning now. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah, well.” You pushed your glasses back up. “Get used to it.”

There was a much more pleasant silence that followed, warm and comfortable. 

But then he saw you make that face. He’d watched you work a few times, and each time before you asked a question, you’d make this face. Your nose would scrunch, your lips would press into a tight line, and you’d look at someone with such an intense gaze it made him nervous.

“What can you do?” you asked him quietly.

Mark blinked, caught off guard. “I—what?”

“I want to talk about something lighter, I’m tired of thinking about things I can’t change,” you said, scooting a little closer to him on the couch. You smiled in that way you always did, like you were trying not to smile too wide, and then you reached up and straightened your glasses like you didn’t just knock the breath out of him. Something about the gesture, so you, made his heart stumble. “And I’m curious. So, what can you do?”

Mark squinted at you, feigning suspicion, but there was already a smile tugging at his lips. “Are you asking me to brag?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged, your shoulder brushing against his as you leaned in, and Mark had to summon every ounce of self-control not to lose focus. Because it was just enough to make it impossible to ignore the heat where your shoulder met his. You always did run impossibly hot.

“So. Spill.”

Mark leaned back into the couch, exhaling slowly to keep his cool. “Alright, fine. Super strength, obviously. Flight. Super speed, I can break the sound barrier. And I’m durable. Like… really durable.”

“How durable are we talking?”

“Like… ‘get punched through a mountain and survive’ durable.”

Your eyes widened as you let out a hiss of breath as you remembered what he’d told you. “Right-“

Mark gave a sheepish nod and a small grimace. “Still hurts like hell, but yeah. I heal fast, too. Broken bones, bruises—give it a few hours or days, I’m good as new.”

You gave a low whistle that made him weirdly proud. “Okay, that is cool.”

He pointed at you. “Your turn.”

“What? You’ve already seen what I can do.”

“Sure,” he said, grinning, “but I want the dramatic list.”

You grinned, clearly enjoying the attention despite yourself. “Alright. From what I’ve gathered: Super strength. Flight but I’m still working on it. Super hearing. X-ray vision. Heat vision. Cold breath. Oh—and indestructible. I don’t think I’ve ever even skinned my knee.”

Mark let out a short laugh before he could stop himself. “Wait, you can see through things?”

You gave him a flat look. “Walls. I’ve only looked through walls. And do not ask about the super hearing. I hear everything. And I wish I didn’t.”

He snorted, nearly choking on air. “That’s not what I was gonna ask!”

“Uh-huh. Sure,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“I want to see it.”

“W-what?”

Mark turned toward you fully on the couch, legs folding under him a little as he leaned in with a grin. “Come on. You said you wanted to lighten the mood, right? Let’s play a game. ‘How many fingers?’”

Besides, it’d give him something other than your effect on him to think about.

“I-I’m not playing a game with—”

“C’mon,” he coaxed, giving you a smile that he knew worked a little too well. “I want to see if it’s for real.”

You sighed, but the corner of your mouth twitched, your gaze already dropping to his abdomen.

Mark stayed still, arms tucked behind his back, watching your expression shift. There was something surreal about it, knowing someone was literally seeing through you. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. Not when it was you. But it was intense. The way you stilled, eyes slightly unfocused as you peered deeper. It sent a familiar shiver up his spine as he felt warmth begin to curl too low as his breath hitched.

Your brows pinched slightly, your gaze sharpening as you focused. He saw your pupils dilate, then narrow, as a faint, unmistakable shimmer sparked in your irises.

Blue.

“You’re changing them,” You said softly. “You cheat.”

He felt a flutter of awe he didn’t dare admit, but he happily took a distraction to deal with the very unwelcome feeling that had reared its head.

“Huh,” he said aloud, grinning when your expression relaxed and you blinked, focusing on him again.

“What?” you asked, already wary.

“Did you know your eyes glow when you do that?”

“They glow?” You reached up, as you touch your eyes as if to test.

“Yeah. Blue. It’s subtle, but cool.” Mark’s voice was a little softer now.

You dropped your hand, looking almost sheepish. “Most things I can see through,” you admitted. “Ma and Pa figured it out early. Had to start saving up to buy lead foil for Christmas and birthdays.”

Mark laughed, maybe louder than he meant, and the sound bounced off the walls, lifting the intense warmth that had began to fill the space, turning it into something lighter, something that should be between friends.

“Lead foil?” he echoed between chuckles.

“Hey, it’s not cheap!” you shot back, but your smile was unmistakable. “You ever tried being a seven-year-old with X-ray vision in a house during Christmas?”

Mark held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, you win. I’m sure that was brutal.”

There was a quiet beat after that. Not awkward, just calm. Peaceful, even. And in that stillness, Mark looked at you again, really looked.

How could he have ever thought, even for a second, that you were anything like his father?

All of it. Your uncertainty, your strength, your warmth, all was written plainly across your face. No mask. No hesitation. Just you. And for a moment, Mark truly forgot everything else.

“You know,” he said softly, “I think you’re doing a pretty damn good job of being you.”

Your cheeks flushed, and the sight hit him like a punch, sharp, breathtaking, unforgettable. He locked it away in his memory.

He swears he didn’t mean to lean in. But he did.

But your knees were touching. Your hands brushed, just barely. His breath caught when your fingers curled over his, faint, tentative, and gentle.

And then, without warning, you shot to your feet.

Clumsy. Sudden. Like something had yanked you back from the moment.

Mark stood up, too, blinking. “W-what? What’s wrong? I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Something’s happening.” Your voice was tight, urgent. Not scared, but focused. “Downtown. There’s screaming. It’s—” You paused, hand pressed lightly to your temple like you were suddenly overwhelmed. “It’s bad. I can’t tell exactly what, but it’s big.”

Mark straightened immediately, the heat in his chest replaced with something colder. Sharper. “How bad are we talking?”

You met his eyes again, the softness gone now, replaced by steel. “I have to go.”

“I’m coming with you.”

You hesitated, only for a second. Then nodded.

“Then suit up, Grayson,” you said as you turned heading toward your bedroom with quick steps.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It wasn’t until you were halfway through tugging your skirt back on over the main body of your suit, that your hands faltered.

Reality sank in like ice water through the fabric.

You’d leaned against him. Smiled at him. Your hands had brushed, and you’d let yourself imagine something for a moment. The warmth in his eyes, the soft curve of his smile, the way his voice dropped just a little when he said your name through laughter, you’d let yourself believe maybe it wasn’t just you.

But it probably was. Of course it was.

You stared down at your skirt, now wrinkled in your grip, and tried to ignore the shameful burn behind your face. 

Stupid. 

You were smarter than this. Smarter than to read into things that weren’t there. Just because he’d sat next to you and opened up didn’t mean he felt anything.

You were just someone who understood. Who could relate.

Someone like him. Not with him.

With a sharp breath, you forced your thoughts down, back where they belong, shoved them into the corners of your mind where you kept all the things you didn’t want to think about. Like the blurry visions from your ship. Like the fact that your entire planet was dust and ash and ghosts and you’re all that remains.

There were people out there who needed help. And you had a job to do. Maybe if you threw yourself into it hard enough, maybe if you focused, you could forget how your heart had fluttered like a bird trying to fly out of a cage it built for itself.

You hated the idea of using hero work, a tragedy you can still hear, as a distraction. You hated feeling like you needed anything to distract you. But right now?

Right now, it was the only thing keeping your chest from caving in from embarrassment.

So you tugged and attached your cape into place, wiped the emotion from your face, and told yourself this was about saving lives.

Not about a boy who smiled at you like you were something more than you were.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You led Mark downtown. Although it didn’t take much leading, sirens already echoed through the air as fire trucks raced below you both, lights flashing wildly in the dusk light.

And it didn’t take long to see why.

An apartment complex was burning. Not just a unit. Not a floor.

The entire building was engulfed in flames.

Black smoke billowed from broken windows, curling into the sky. Screams seemingly echoing down the block. The stench of burning plastic, scorched wood, and seared metal hung heavy in the air. The kind of smoke that clung to your lungs and burned your eyes. Even from the sky, you could feel the heat radiating up to meet you.

You’d dealt with fires in Smallville. Hated the way the sensations attacked each and every one of your senses. But this fire, was the worst you’d ever seen.

Below, firefighters scrambled to uncoil hoses and set up ladders, but the flames were too high, too hot. Windows burst out with the heat, sending glass raining onto the sidewalk. Debris crumbled from the upper levels, crashing into the street with a sound that made your teeth ache.

You hovered mid-air, scanning the structure. Your super-hearing focused. You could hear them.

Eight.

Eight heartbeats. Eight distinct voices. Some small and trembling, others hoarse from smoke.

You didn’t hesitate.

Not even when Mark called out your name, “Wait—!”

You dove.

The rush of air tore at your skin, but you didn’t stop, didn’t falter. You crashed through a second-floor window like it was tissue paper, the glass glinting around you before vanishing into the inferno.

The heat was instant and suffocating. Like stepping into the core of the sun. You could feel your suit cling tighter against your skin, moisture from your breath evaporating instantly in the dry air.

Smoke curled through every corner, blinding, disorienting. The walls glowed with angry red cracks. The floor beneath your boots groaned like it might give way at any second.

But you could hear them. See them through he walls.

A baby crying. A child sobbing. A man shouting for help with a rag pressed tightly his mouth.

You pushed forward, muscle memory guiding your steps. You tore a flaming door off its hinges and stepped into a room thick with smoke. A young woman was curled in the corner, shielding two children with her body. One of the kids was coughing so hard it sounded like their lungs might collapse.

“Hey,” you said, kneeling beside them. “It’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

The mother, maybe she was a sister, you couldn’t tell, looked at you like you were a miracle. Her eyes wide and glistening in the flickering firelight.

You gathered all three of them gently, carrying them back to the hole you’d made in the wall. But you paused just before exiting.

Turning your head toward the open windows down the hall, you narrowed your eyes.

You took a breath.

A deep one despite how thick the air was with ash.

And when you exhaled, the air dropped to freezing.

A visible burst of white mist flooded from your lips and swept down the hallway like a winter storm. The windows shattered outward with the sudden change in pressure, and the fires in those rooms hissed violently, smothered and dying out. The temperature dipped drastically in the rooms closest to the building's edge.

The effect was immediate.

From below, firefighters surged forward, now able to enter the floor through doors and side stairwells. You could hear the radios crackled to life.

You leapt into the air with the three civilians in your arms, lowering them to the nearest medic with gentle care.

“Five more,” you said. “Young. Higher up.”

Then you shot back into the sky, Mark meeting you halfway.

“You’re insane,” he said, wide-eyed. “You could’ve been trapped!”

And a small part of you understood his worry. Cause despite both of you knowing you were indestructible, you didn’t know if your lungs were as well. 

But a larger part of you knew that the civilians didn’t share even the smallest portion of your abilities. So you didn’t care about yourself.

“They would’ve died,” you replied shortly, spinning midair and diving back in through the fourth floor.

The hallway was half-collapsed, flames roaring down the corridor like a beast that knew it was cornered. A door bulged from heat, its knob glowing red.

You punched through the wall instead.

Inside, three children and a man were huddled in a bathtub, the metal scorching hot but the porcelain barely holding together. The man had curled around the others protectively, and they all screamed as you burst in.

“Shh, I’m here. You’re safe,” you said, voice steady, gentle despite your racing heart. “We’re getting out. Now.”

One of them reached for you with a soot-stained hand, tiny fingers trembling. You scooped them up and cradled all four carefully in your arms, shielding their heads as you turned.

This time, Mark met you at the broken window, his eyes wide with alarm as he saw your cargo.

“Go!” you told him. “Get them to safety!”

He didn’t argue. He didn’t have to.

He took the man and a child from you, careful but quick, and shot down toward the waiting medics. You did the same quickly following his path downward.

But as you set them down, you could still hear it.

One heartbeat.

Still inside.

Top floor.

You flew up like a missile, crashing through a collapsed ceiling and into the topmost apartment. The roof above had started to cave, chunks of it burning and falling.

You found him, a boy, maybe ten or eleven, trapped beneath a beam. He wasn’t crying anymore. Just breathing shallowly. His eyes fluttered open as you landed beside him.

“You’re safe,” you said softly. “I’ve got you.”

Your fingers curled under the beam. It was searing hot, metal warped from the fire, but you lifted it without thought, tossing it aside. He coughed weakly as you scooped him up into your arms.

And then the roof gave way.

It happened too fast to think, an entire section collapsed above you, falling like a guillotine.

You turned your back, arms curling tight around the boy, and braced.

Flames engulfed you.

Smoke swallowed everything.

The floor beneath you finally gave as well and you crashed through three floors, your body shielding the child all the way down, until you slammed into the lobby with a force that cracked the marble tile.

You blinked through the dust and ash.

He was alive.

Coughing, but alive.

You smiled, dazed, and stood with shaky steps as the firefighters rushed in to take him.

You stepped outside.

And the crowd that had formed across the street went dead silent.

You were scorched and covered in soot, but standing. Cape torn. Eyes still glowing faintly from your x-ray vision you’d used to pinpoint the people and make sure you didn’t agitate any breaks or fractures. Smoke from dying embers that couldn’t burn you rolled off your skin.

Mark hovered just above the building’s wreckage, watching you with an unreadable expression.

You looked out across the chaos, emergency vehicles, medics, people crying, people clapping, and for a moment, you just stood there. Breathing. Scanning the crowd, making sure that everyone that needed help was getting it.

Until you finally moved.

Back into the air, next to Mark, who still hadn’t said anything.

You hovered beside him, silent.

And then he muttered, voice low but certain:

“Y’know, Lois had it perfect.”

You frowned at him as you tilted your head, “What?”

“Calling you Superwoman. The name is perfect.”

[mymoshangthoughts]

i now know that mobinghua has an actual ship name i need to find and tag my posts about it LOL but thats effort so imma just make a new post about it

modern au where mobing are mutually pining roommates and airplane moves in next door. and what does a mutually pining couple need more than a cute new neighbor that they're both crushing on?

qinghua crushes on mobei early on, BECAUSE OF THAT RACK CMON YA'LL, and binghe clocks it because that boy is made of vinegar. so even tho he's crushing on qinghua, he also sort of wants to throw qinghua out of a window so that the little gremlin stays the fuck away from HIS mobei. which results in delightfully sexually charged competitive hate-flirting between bingplane

binghe can't help but enjoy how vicious and funny qinghua is, not to mention shameless. he's just someone binghe can be really comfortable around despite knowing for such a short amount of time. BUT ALSO qinghua keeps trying to flirt with mobei and binghe has killed for less. qinghua meanwhile clocks that binghe is his competition for mobei, knows that he doesnt stand a chance against this drop dead gorgeous man, but decides to shoot his shot anyway. partially because he is just that shameless, partially because it might actually help mobing to finally confess, partially because this is all FANTASTIC fodder for his novel, and partially because binghe's flustered face is really fucking addicting.

mobei is blind to both binghe and qinghua's attention, he's been trying to get binghe's attention for YEARS via his own extremely awkward and incomprehensible methods of flirting. He's also tsundere as fuck and binghe is CRAZY popular with both the lads and ladies, so he's just sort of given up that this might be the best he's ever going to get. but he is full of longing. and then qinghua moves in next door and he's a lot like binghe, but also cute and unique in new ways, and mobei is conflicted bc qinghua is definitely tugging at his heart but he still loves binghe and he hasnt worked out the magic of poly yet so he's just "but how can i be in love with both?"

mobing are childhood friends and they didnt get along initially, but then they forged a friendship based on protecting one another at their weakest. they've always kinda had a "boss and lackey" relationship, which was really funny when they were younger, mobei was like 10 and binghe was like 6 and there was this tiny 6 year old bossing around a 10 year old and mobei just let him and it was Very Cute and i should prolly make a separate post later about my cute childhood friends mobing hcs

this post makes no sense LOL im just excited about them and shooting the shit pfff

[sitp-recs]

hello loveliest liv :) it's almost semester break for me which means a lot of time for reading drarry! (...as if i haven't been procrastinating all term reading drarry anyway... but shhhh)

so i am coming to you, my most trusted drarry reccer, cup in hand, begging for some lovely, long, plotty recs, pretty please? i'd take anything you have to offer (except for horror-themes they make me queasy ups)

sending love x

Hello my darling! Ahh how nice, you deserve a lovely and chill break full of Drarry treats! I can’t wait to leave on vacation in early August myself 🙏🏼 I did two lists with long, plotty recs (here and here) but it was a while back so I thought I’d add some more. I haven’t read much this year tbh, but really enjoyed these long-ish fics. Happy readings!

your braids like a pattern by @hoko-onchi-writes (E, 31k)

Harry soldiers on with the get-to-know you activity, noting each counsellor's interests and repeating their names. Harry’s eyes land on Malfoy. He’s the last counsellor in the circle. One blond eyebrow is arched, his smirky mouth turned up at the corners. That can’t be good.

À Bon Chat by @oknowkiss (E, 35k)

Draco Malfoy didn’t intend to lead a life of crime after the war. It’s just that being good had turned out so incomprehensibly boring. Now he's thirty-five, a fully redeemed member of society, the darling of the wizarding social pages, and a newly minted consultant for Gawain Robards' Investigative Research division. In his spare time, he enjoys good whisky, casual sex, and moonlighting as an art thief.

Truth to Materials by @toomuchplor, lately (E, 54k)

In which Harry learns to appreciate art and other pleasures of the flesh.

this heaven of mud by @garagepaperback (E, 94k)

winter, 2002: Draco Malfoy is absolutely fine, thank you very much. summer, 2008: Harry Potter is, er- well, not good exactly, but definitely better. Yeah. Better than before. A love story told in two somewhat unreliable parts, over six years. Featuring secret shagging, to friends, to the 'how is it fair for someone to say your name like that' sort of friends, to, finally, someone you could call a home.

Never Mind the Bollocks by @the-sinking-ship (E, 118k)

If someone told Harry six months ago that by autumn he would be single, living on whisky and toast, and dancing the night away with Draco Malfoy, he would have told them to get their head checked. And yet, here he was.

Beholden by @faith2wood (E, 123k)

Draco Malfoy might not be a killer, but it turns out he's an effective painkiller. If stopping pain was all Draco's touch did, things might not be so complicated, but either way Harry can't afford to be choosy.

[lixel-5]

stanley parbale and emmet brickowski have a very similar “gimmick” (idk how to word it. also i’m sick this might be incomprehensible lol)

they’re both boring, basic, faux people. they have nothing going for them. Emmet’s coworkers barely recognize him because he’s conditioned by the government to do nothing but fit in. Stanley is literally an inhuman’s attempt to make the most normal person alive.

(more under read more. it’s not particularly long but i don’t want to bug ppl lol)

they also aren’t… particularly conscious. Emmet’s a literal lego piece, and Stanley’s a model in a video game. they’re both just vessels for a Real Person to pick up and play with. the players (i’m using “Players” to refer to the kid in the movie and people who play TSP for ease of writing lol) start to project onto the characters, giving them life from their pov.

i have a headcanon that Emmet moving when he’s in the real world is just a trick of the light but the kid (does he have a name??) takes the idea that Emmet grew the strength to move and ran with it. and for Stanley, he never really shows much to “prove” he’s gain some kind of consciousness. it’s all wishful thinking, projection, and The Power Of Fandom (mostly shipping).

back to the first point about them being boring, they’re “made” to follow instructions. Stanley is mind controlled, and Emmet is in a dystopia. they like following orders, they like being told what to do.

past this point, Stanley’s up to so much interpretation, it’s hard to point to specific parts of him and recognize that it’s 1) canon-ish and 2) akin to Emmet.

they also both have sequels that are jokes about sequels. “The Stanley Parable 2: The Second Part” and “The Lego Movie: Ultra Deluxe” when????

[olderthannetfic]

Opinion on the comments in some of the the @ao3topshipsbracket polls: a wildly popular ship is not the same as one that had an actual impact on fandom history. Most popular ships have little to no impact outside their own fandom. Which isn’t to say that ships can’t have impact on their own fandom history, just that they don’t have much impact on general fandom history as a whole.

I understand that the polls aren’t actually measuring fandom history but this got me thinking about what has actually and I think these are the ones:

Spirk - origin of slash fandom shipping and laid the groundwork for fandom/shipping in general

MSR - responsible for the term ‘shipping’ and was the driving force behind the beginning of fandom/shipping on the internet and the creation of fanfiction.net

BTVS - (unfortunately) gave rise to the idea of being ‘anti’ something and ship wars

Harry Potter - most affected fandom on livejournal by the censorship which led to the creation of ao3

Thoughts? I couldn’t think of another fandom/ship that has huge impacts outside of their own fandom.

--

Strikethrough made people more eager for AO3, but the original inspiration was a for-profit fic archive made by venture capitalists.

The X-Files' big archive was Gossamer. Was MSR really influential in the creation of FFN? I don't remember that.

What ships have a big impact really depends on era and how you're looking at things. K/S and MSR are the obvious ones from long after the fact, yes.

Starsky/Hutch was what really split Media Fandom from literary SF fandom. Star Trek started the split, but it was people getting into a buddy cop show that made it clear that fanfic zine types weren't just about science fiction anymore, not even "mass media" SF in place of book SF.

Bodie/Doyle was the moment people stopped being media fans and started being Slash Fandom specifically. The US fandom had barely even seen the show: they were there for the slash zines.

Jim/Blair fandom gave us sentinel/guide AUs. The Sentinel as a canon sure as fuck didn't.

Ranma fandom set the pattern for every dumb "which girl will he end up with?" fight in anime fandom forever after.

IDK if we can blame 1x2 as opposed to Gundam Wing fandom for inspiring people to many other incomprehensible math equation ships in every anime fandom with dumb number names.

Popslash popped a bunch of prudes' RPF cherries, then LOTRiPS did, then J2 did, then hockey did, then BTS did.

Free! and then Yuri on Ice started the long slide from anime fandoms mostly refusing to leave FFN to newer anime fandoms being on AO3. YOI also lured a lot of people into anime for the first time.

Wangxian got a bunch of "Ewww, no anime ever! Western fandoms 5eva!" people into Asian fandoms at long last. (Whether this was a good thing is a matter of opinion. Hahaha.)

--

I really think it depends on frame of reference.

[wizard-beast]

the sheer amount of grief the red dwarf characters must be feeling off screen all the time astounds me, like even setting aside the incomprehensible reality of being 3 million years away from all of humanity they've all felt such extreme losses over the course of the show im surprised any of them can keep up the whole space adventures shindig

like in the series 2 to 3 timeskip lister had to give up his sons just after 3 days or risk their lives- had to watch them age at such an expedited rate if he blinked he would miss every major milestone, their first steps their first words all of it. and then to have to leave them to save them??? id be bloody inconsolable and then they just kinda move on from it

and rimmer? hes died multiple times, experienced the void and end of existence and been pulled back - and those years as a soft light hologram not being able to touch anything and needing to ask holly to simulate everything for him? never getting much of an actual choice over clothes, his body, what he can actually interact with (this concept was more prevalent in series 1 and 2 but nonetheless) sure he could ask for it but its not the same as getting the free will or real control over anything. AND THE 557 YEARS ON RIMMERWORLD ALSO like ??? they left you in that room, there alone, for five hundred and fifty seven years, thats 28,964 weeks, or 203,305 days thats INSANE. he doesnt even remember the names of his shipmates properly after all that. THATS ONLY AFTER THE BEGINNING OF THE SHOW, MIND. before that he'd spent years being belittled and abused by his parents (so much so that a court emancipated him at only 14) his classmates, everyone in his life only tolerated and made snide remarks at him at Best.

cat too, his entire civilisation wiped themselves out, hes the only survivor of a 3 million year long race of people (granted it took them a while to get to humanoid but i rest my case)

even kryten and holly arent excluded from this overwhelming loss that pervades every aspect of the show, kryten spent possibly hundreds of years ignorant to the fact that the crew of his ship had died, i wonder if he ever wondered why they stopped speaking to him? stopped giving him laundry to fold, refusing to eat any food he made for him? and as for Holly, 3,000,000 years alone on a ship in the cold black vastness of space surrounded only by the ashes of the crew you once tended for, guiding them to safety, who were reliant on you, needing you for every part of their lives it would seem. really could make a computer go mad, that sort of thing

[starcanwrecked-confessions]

I also miss when ship names were comprehensible. Y'all free associate characters, then make things up, and THEN assume other people should know what they are from the drop. Can't you guys just use character names like we always used to if you try to convince us, at least at first? Do we really need code for everyone?

The coffee orders for the CCRP clique was cute at first. It was simple, you guys made your case for it, it could be justified. There was an A to B that could be followed for like 4 people it needed to include. When we got such an expanded cast of characters, you started free associating random shit without telling anyone how you got there and it became an incomprehensibly hard game of guess who, especially with poly ships.

~~~

[pyjamaart]

Breaking Bot (read more for some rambling about mega man fully charged)

Mega Man Fully Charged has been on my mind again lately, which made me realize that there's literally a robot named Chemistryman who worked as a chemistry teacher. Not using him as a Walter White stand-in would be a criminal offense.

I'll have to admit I started getting back into Fully Charged again after seeing some asshole on twitter complain about the character design for the hundredth time. I just can't stand that kind of negativity. I swear to god, Fully Charged is like the Sonic Boom of the Mega Man franchise. Personally, I really enjoy the FC designs. I've probably said this before, but I feel like the redesigns give some of the more forgettable robot masters way more character. Like, do I care for Classic Drillman from Mega Man 4? I mean, yeah, I do, but I wouldn't care as much if it wasn't for his Fully Charged incarnation.

I also really enjoy most of the original robot masters. I already talked plenty about Blastowoman and why I love her so much, but I want to talk about the others this time.

Take for example Chemistryman. Comparisons to Walter White out of the way, I feel like his character was a really fun idea. God knows I had teachers who put me to sleep back in the day. For me, it wasn't chemistry though, it was my economics teacher. I always compared her to a story teller at a Christmas market who would read children stories out of her big fairy tale book. Only that in reality, it was stuff like the minimization/maximization principle. Most of my notes for that class were incomprehensible chicken scratch, because I just couldn't keep my eyes open. In the end, I slept through like half her classes, lol. But I gotta say that I still always got a B or higher in the end. Somehow. I thank god every day that I never have to step foot in a school again.

I really wish Chemistryman got a little more time to shine though. Two episodes is just way too little. I would gladly take three more episodes with him over those gross Gutsman episodes. I know I love talking about wasted potential with this show, but I wish there was an episode that focused on Chemistryman outside of the school setting. I get that his whole character is "boring, bitter teacher", but I'd really like to see what he gets up to when he's not trying to force children to listen to his chemistry lectures. Like having Aki try to talk him into going into retirement for good. And then he tries to find hobbies for him so that he doesn't bore himself to death. I can see him getting into building model ships or something like that, lol.

Now that I'm already writing up a storm again, I might as well talk about some other headcanons I have about the FC bots. Since Woodman was in sleep mode for 30 years after the war ended (I don't know where I got that number from. I rewatched his debut episode, but the exact number doesn't appear anywhere. Oh well, let's just pretend this is canon, even if it isn't.) we got kind of a Shadow the Hedgehog type situation on our hands. All of his friends and family got to live their lives in this new, peaceful world of harmony between robots and humans, while Woodman spent 30 years powered down in a bush or something. Completely forgotten about. Like, why didn't they go look for him after the war ended? I don't think Aki and Suna wandered that far into the forest for their school assignment. If you really think about Woodmans back story for a moment, you realize how fucked up it actually is. 

Now my explanation for this goes into heavy heavy headcanon territory. When Suna calls the principal about Woodman, he warns her that Woodman is dangerous and to get away from him immediately. Now why would he say that? The principal also calls him "ruthless" in that same explanation. What I think happened back then was that Woodman actually planned to assassinate the human armies leader. (Possibly Sgt. Night?) The leader of the robots caught wind of his plan and put him into sleep mode himself, since he and Dr. Light were on the brink of finding a way to end the war peacefully. In my mind, this leader is the FC version of Swordman. Don't ask me why, he was just the first guy I thought of. And then it just stuck.

I know this makes Woodmans back story even more fucked up, but I just love putting my favorite blorbos through hardship. Don't even ask me about my headcanons for Drillman. They'd actually put me in prison.

Now all this culminates after Woodman is reactivated by Suna and Aki. Finding himself alienated from all his former friends and comrades (Maybe the other Mega Man 2 robot masters?), what was he supposed to do? He couldn't spend the rest of his life isolated (and homeless) in the forest, could he? And this is where season 2 could have delivered. But I'm done whining about that. If Capcom doesn't deliver, I gotta write my own season 2. Simple as that.

Anyway, getting back to Chemistryman, since he's pretty old, I imagine that he was already working as a teacher when Woodman was still around. Maybe he even was his teacher at some point.

And since I love having my favorite characters interact, I also thought of a scenario where Drillman wanders into the forest out of frustration over his miserable life, only to meet Woodman by coincidence. In the end, Woodman helps him work through his daddy issues and his body dysmorphia, while Drillman helps Woodman reintegrate and manage this (for him) completely new world of peace. Another great headcanon of mine is that Chemistryman is actually Acidmans father. Just because I think it would be funny. And as Fully Charged has confirmed: robots in that universe do indeed have parents. (Flashback to the time I drew Dr. Light beating the shit out of Drillman's father)

Speaking of Drillman.... For being one of my favorite Mega Man characters of all time, I haven't drawn him nearly enough. That will probably be my next project.

This might also be a great time to tell you that I've never watched Breaking Bad before, lol. Everything I know about it comes from RTGame's Stardew Valley playthrough and the RTVS Half Life parody.

Sorry for all the yapping. But if I don't talk about robots at least once a day, I might die. This is a serious condition.

[downbadperture]

Hello my good sir, to whom which I have never interacted before in my entire life. I would simply like to request from your wares, perhaps some Space core X reader headcanons, specifically maybe either android or human design space core x reader headcanons. Perhaps even maybe some Corrupted core in general(Rick, Fact and Space) X reader hcs ...... If you choose to answer this ask I will be humbly grateful and possibly in your debt.

Hello good anon, and yes I will get to these! We need more people who have your fine tastes. Goodbye good shar- I mean everyday human with gills and sharp teeth. I'm making these guys androids cuz that's funner.

Android!Corrupted Cores x GN!Reader Headcanons!

Space Core!

~ No-one knows why you went for him.

~ Very physically affectionate! Like he'll ramble incomprehensibly for hours at a time about space while cuddled in your arms and laying his head on your shoulder. Not many people actually listen to him as much as you do, so he finds a lot of comfort in being around you.

~ This includes hugs. Lots and lots of hugs. Since he's made of metal it can sometimes be painful when he runs up and hugs you from behind while pressing his face up against your back. But you bare for his sake.

~ If you actually mention something about space, showing that you actually retained what he's said to you about the wonders of space, he'll actually start overheating and steam starts spewing out of him.

~ He constantly about talks about you two going to space together. He even drew you guys in a rocket ship in space on a whiteboard with sharpie once.

~ His petnames about you are space related, always, no exceptions. He even just straight up calls you Space sometimes despite that being his name as well, he just loves you so much that space feels like the only proper petname for you. Sometimes he'll just default to calling you sun because you're the center of his solar system.

~ He giggles hysterically whenever you kiss him

~ If you fall asleep on him, he'll just hum or talk to himself while holding you until you wake up.

~ Makes up space songs for you two to sing together, mostly preexisting love songs that he just parodies to be about space. You sing so loud that it echoes around the facility

~ You're the only one who really understands what he's trying to say all the time, sometimes acting as the translator for him when Space can't help but add space related words into a none-space conversation

Rick!

~ Constantly has an arm around you or is holding your hand

~ Flirts with you CONSTANTLY. Like he'll work a pick-up line or compliment into every damn conversation you have with this guy. As long as it gets some sort of reaction out of you, he'll keep doing it.

~ Though if you give him the same energy back, he'll try to brush it off like "I know that darlin, mighty sweet coming from you though," and hopes you don't notice the steam spewing out.

~ Constantly tells you stories from his 'adventures', while you just sit back and humor him for a bit. He genuinely thinks you believe the stories about him beating up 100 ninjas with nothing but his bare fists or when he tells you the story about how he single-handedly blew up Black Mesa.

~ Protects you from danger to try and impress you even if it's just a turret on the other side of the room and facing the opposite way.

~ Speaking of which, he is constantly trying to impress you. If not stories, it's him throwing himself into meaningless danger like a Turret shooting range and you being forced to repair him.

~ If he has a hat (and of course he does), he'll put his hat on your head and say "Well ain't that cute,".

~ The ultimate hype-man. He has actually does think very highly of you and respects you in his own way. So if you're doing something, especially if it revolves around fighting, he is CHEERING for you if he was forced on the sidelines. Constantly yelling to check for pressure points, to kick whatever's ass, trash talking the opponent, telling you to hit harder because he knows you can do it.

~ Though if it's something outside of fighting and action, something he doesn't really understand the appeal of, it'll sound like he's being passive aggressive at first but it's just because he doesn't really have a filter and does genuinely think you're good at whatever you do but doesn't know how to word it. But after some time passes, he'll just word the compliment like "You're kicking ass, sweetheart!" even if it's something super chill.

~ He picks you up bridal style and carries you whenever he can

~ He asks for kisses a lot too if he thinks he did something badass. Y'know that one meme where it's like "Has never kissed anyone before vs expecting tongue". His kisses are a combination of those two things because his only real references are from action movies.

Fact!

~ Unlike Space and Rick, he is not as physically affectionate. It would take him a while to actually initiate physical contact, which is probably like the most awkward hug in the world or him just pressing his mouth to your cheek. Not even kissing, just pressing his straight lips to your cheek and dryly going "mwah". He's trying is all I'm saying

~ But most often he just pats your shoulder or head, he makes sure to be careful since human skulls are allergic to metal.

~ His form of compliments would come in the form of facts. Like he would say your eye color means you would be inherently better then other people or that humans with your face are statistically more good looking then other humans.

~ When Fact says that "Fact: The Fact Sphere is the most handsome sphere" and you confirm it in some way, he just stays silent for second and process. Suddenly you start hearing fans.

~ Whenever he would go on his Fact rambles, no matter how correct or incorrect the information is, if you ask questions about it you might actually hear a hint of enthusiasm because you were actually listening to him.

~ He tries to memorize every single aspect and trait about you. To your favorite color, favorite food, your hobbies, your habits. But then the corruption kinda jumbles the information up a bit, and kinda gets those traits skewed. Like he'll give you something that he thinks is your favorite color, but in actuality it's the color that's opposite of your favorite color. But he is convinced that he's getting all the information right.

~ You're the only person who he'll ask questions for if he's interested in the topic you're talking about. He likes gathering information from you because he deems you a reliable source of information. Because outside of himself, you're the most intelligent being he knows.

~ Despite believing he is the sphere best suited to be a romantic partner, he reviews his data base every once in a while to see if he's "meeting quota to being a good partner"

~ He tries to give you petnames but there always kinda wonked up like instead of baby he called you "Infant", and instead of sweetheart he called you "Salty Esophagus".

[00127am]

signed with love and forever yours, chenle

postage. zhong chenle & gn! reader, cursing, mentions of kissing, very brief mention of sex (only in name, no details) cost to ship. 625 words

i can't seem to get you out of my mind.

you stick to my skin like glue that i just cannot seem to wash off. it's annoying, really. having to exist in each and every moment with the preconceived fantasy of you playing in my head with every word and every breath and every movement (all dedicated to one more second spent with the vision of you in my head). i hate how much i think of you, nearly as much as i hate being away from you (though the latter proves to be much worse).

i haven't been able to stop thinking about you since before any kisses of ours. and before the first time we fucked (does the use of the word fucking ruin the letter for you? i can practically hear you nagging me to change it to "making love," or something equally as stupid). you've haunted my mind since i before felt your touch on my skin and before you flashed that strikingly pretty smile in my direction. i can't tell you when it began. when you made your permanent home in the forefront of my every waking moment. but i wouldn't be surprised if you were always there, from the moment we first met.

i know i say that i don't remember it. and i don't, not your version of our initial meeting. and maybe i avoid the topic to hold myself from the embarrassment of admitting that i've been aware of you for much longer than you've been aware of me. or perhaps because if we did talk about it, and you pried (like you always do) then i would be forced to admit that i've been utterly and incomprehensibly in love with you from the moment i first saw you. a memory which i revisit nearly as often as i fantasize about you.

it's not revisited enough. at least, not enough to burn off the remainder of your lingering presence in my mind. something i doubt i'll ever be able to truly remove, though i'm not sure i'd ever want too. but if i did, if i had to move on from you, i doubt that i would ever be able too. both a matter of lacking the courage and the simple fact that i'm afraid that i will not ever be able to love anyone as i have loved you. because you, in every essence of yourself, are love to me. more so than any textbook definition and scientific measurement.

i can't seem to get you out of my head. so do me a favor and come to me in person instead. please.

about chenle's love letters.

all of chenle's letters are never meant to see the light of day, much less your gaze. he writes them on whatever is in his reach in the moment, the spare napkin laying on his desk and the back of the cardboard box from his most recent purchase. his words are lovely and kind, filled with an adoration that he expresses to you in touch rather than prose, filing the letters away in the bottom drawer of his desk. they'll reach your eyes some day, just not now, not when he feels like his heart may burst at the mere thought of you.

he often writes his letters in an irritated daze, bottom lip caught between his teeth and eyes set, furrowed, upon the bridge of his nose. the grip of his pen is tight, ink pushing harsh into the paper. all of his letters are written with love, despite being tainted by the faint impression of vexation. an aggravation stemming from the fault of feeling too much. loving too much. something chenle finds easy to blame upon you for all intents and purposes.

your mailbox

taglist. @evilsailorsenshi @222brainrot thank you for supporting me! ♡

🧾 © 00127am 2024

[lyradiata]

~Intro~

Hello everyone! I will write a proper intro to this blog when I start writing, but for now I thought I'd type this out. The name is LyR, and this blog will mostly be used for writing ship content for my favorite cookies from this very silly silly cookie game that I adore. Content will be posted either normally on here or with a link to my Ao3 account (It's easier for me to post on Ao3). Content may or may not be pure. Some content I write may not be ship content! Depends on my mood. I am a multi-shipper! While I have my favorites above all others, I do not hate against others ships (unless they are illegal). I do not care if you believe the ship is toxic, you may keep scrolling. To me fictional characters like these are a way to explore ship dynamics including those that may be morally incomprehensible and/or toxic. (Yes I am referring to Beast X Ancient) If you have an issue with that, please feel free to enjoy what you will of my content or simply leave my page now. I will not tolerate any ship hate on my page. I will take requests though I make no promise that I will get around to writing them as I only write when inspiration really hits me. For those interested some of my favorite ships include: AffoCacao ShadowVanilla EternalBerry SmokedSpice Blackbell (SapphireBell) I will NOT write: Any ship content with the minors! Any 'x reader' or 'x oc' content (At least not for the moment. It just doesn't write easily for me)

[kiisaes]

tell us about vld 👁️

(only if u want to)

i'll spare you a truly unhinged ranting for perhaps another time (even though this is gonna be long anyway) but tldr: vld is a show that could have been really good if it just stuck to its direction from the first two seasons!!! and also if its crew didn't accidentally breed the worst possible fandom ever!!!

it had a really good identity at the start— its characters were entertaining, its art and animation were charming if anything, the VAs were genuinely excellent picks and in terms of story it was simple (considering it's a kids show) but effective. the first two seasons focused on one-off, character-driven episodes that gave room for a lot of character writing, team bonding, and tone establishment. i believe that the reason why vld shipping was already so aggressive since s1 — without crew interference — was because the character writing was like, actually good. good enough where people could take their starting characterizations + team dynamic and run wild with it

vld was never going to be an enlightening, mature, groundbreaking show about anything super deep; it's a Y7 show about robot lions in space. but i'm sure most ppl going into vld didn't expect a piece of art, they just wanted to have fun with an atla-adjacent show, or they watched previous voltron iterations. and for what it was, it was very successful at the start! and one of the more popular netflix originals at its time!

but then vld tried taking itself more seriously in s3, and changed its primary storytelling method. now the episodes weren't usually problem-of-the-week, but each episode's plot had to feed into the next episode in line. which would've been fine, if the crew planned ahead and kept track of its characters and plot

but since the lion switch was also conveniently during this season (which inevitably implied switches in character arcs), keeping track of everything suddenly got way harder. also, the lion switch was ass. breaking my silence: that shit made no sense. why didn't they make allura the black paladin??? why do all those mental gymnastics with moving keith from red to black and lance from blue to red just to give allura blue, which was a lion that didn't even really fit her??? (i know the reason was cuz dotf did this lion placement, but is vld dotf? are the characters archetypes the same? no? i didn't think so!!!)

anyway because of the new serialized storytelling format, vld had to follow this really serious, high-stakes, even occasionally dark narrative to keep viewers engaged, and it just .. wasn't the same? like not only are characters' arcs dropping like flies, we're introducing new characters with barely any development or even personality, and it's not even that fun to watch anymore. what happened to my silly guys. what happened to goofin off in the castle. what happened to episode-long missions. this is not avatar. if i wanted to watch avatar i would just watch avatar.

and! in later seasons i think the crew caught on to how fans loveddd the episodic narratives in s1 and 2, so they tried bringing back one-off lighthearted episodes (dnd episode, game show episode, clear day episode, etc.) in an attempt to relive the old glory— and they were fun to watch on their own, sure, but were completely detached from the rest of the story atp. literally the only reason why i even remember these episodes is because they weren't a part of the narrative's incomprehensible sludge

don't even get me started on how the crew hated its audience. don't get me started on the ship bait, the weird canon queerbait situation(s), the irresponsible encouragement of parasocial fan relationships with VAs, artists, creators, you name it. it's how we got one of The worst fandoms in recent history. it's how vld was one of the newer fandoms that started an whole new era of fandom etiquette — namely, disregarding all previous fandom norms in favor of the most childish, pearl-clutching, moral-panicky discourse you'd find daily, and consequently you wouldn't EVER dare bring up to a normal person who exists in the real world.

the crew hated its audience so much, it essentially punished its fans by shutting down all fan theories, purposefully writing AROUND plot twists THEY SET UP, leaving a really messy and plot-hole-filled final script. they especially hated the shippers so much that they shut down BOTH main camps — klance and sheith — for canon allurance, a truly horrible way to end both their character arcs since neither character gets all that satisfying of a conclusion (lance becomes a farmer, allura fucking dies)

this is already long enough but i hope this gives you a general idea :') i have so many emotions about vld. someday i'll make the retrospective video essay of my dreams. this was my nonstop fixation for two straight years. i wasted two years on this shit.

also this show's 8 seasons were released all in a span of 2 and a half years.

[dekusleftsock]

Hey, weird comparison might be a stretch

Okay angy-grrr (yes I’m name dropping you and I’m not sorry <3333) I think made a comment a while ago about how this whole thing between Afo and Yoichi felt incestual, and I’d be inclined to agree.

However, however however however, I do have a few bits of commentary on that sentiment. Specifically in relationships to this scene specifically.

And, alright, no this is not some bs like “pro incest” or whatever, you can talk about topics that are taboo and not necessarily agree with them. I understand that I’m a shipper but I’m inclined to follow my nose where it leads, and my nose says here. So.

We’ve established a lot that the kanji horikoshi used when Izuku says “Give him back!” Is very possessive. Like an ownership over an item.

Okay, because Izuku and afo share one very weird trait—possessiveness. And for literally a month I’ve written and rewritten a post about how I just can’t get behind the idea of Katsuki paralleling afo, because it just doesn’t fucking make sense.

What is it telling us? That Katsuki has become a better person? We already KNEW THAT. The Kudou parallel says something, it says that Katsuki rises ABOVE the fate of the OFA predecessor because he and Izuku accepted their hearts.

Not only that but what is it exactly that we’re paralleling? Afo is defined by ownership (an Izuku trait), an unreliable narrator (also an Izuku trait)—in my opinion, horikoshi isn’t that simply Willy Nilly about parallels. It’s not about shipping to me rn, I’m literally comparing him to Izuku and how Izuku obsesses over Katsuki, IT JUST DOESNT MAKE SENSE.

Besides, wouldn’t this parallel be made significantly earlier, when Katsuki was still acting like an asshole? The kudou parallel was made literally from the start of his introduction, just because he looked so much like him. We didn’t know why this was the case, theories were thrown, and we’re only being told NOW why this parallel exists. But it was built, very carefully, and served a purpose.

And, to add onto this parallel of at the very least afo and Izuku, the portal is very similar to the floating hand.

Especially with the reminder that Katsuki was taken away by dabis hand on his neck (hands always have symbolism in this series after all, it always has a purpose)

If someone, anyone really, could show me some genuine evidence of afo and Katsuki parallels that isn’t just “Katsuki was selfish about Izuku when they were younger” then by all means

But to me, along with the fact that Katsuki called himself IZUKUS NICKNAME, right before a chapter where afo talks about NAMING YOICHI, ummmmmmmm… I gotta say. Things ain’t looking so great in that evidence department. I guess you could argue that Katsuki did the same thing with deku, but deku hasn’t even been said these past few chapters and Kacchan has so????? Idk.

Anyway, this weird overly attached, incestual, codependent relationship is really fascinating to me. I’m not so inclined to say that Izuku and afo are the same since they very obviously aren’t, izuku is just toxic in his silly goofy ways, but I think it’s an interesting thing to point out.

It almost feels like a “fuck you” to people who have been saying Katsuki and Izuku act like brothers for years. Maybe like Horikoshi is saying, “well I guess if they’re brothers they’re incestual too :)”

And that’s gotta be the biggest power move I’ve ever seen. “Oh you wanna read this relationship in that light? How about I show you what that light would look like if it were true :)” AND LIKE. WOW.

I know anime is not new to incest, but I don’t think this is the “random incest for funsies” type of incest, I think this is the incest built off of actually talking about the taboo. The weird. The not so great things we’ve done as humanity, but that exist anyway. Because mha WANTS to talk about the taboo, things we find morally wrong and therefore don’t belong in our stories, but that just makes them all the more incomprehensible were it to be happen in the real world. Art is made to talk about the stories we wish remained unfinished.