#(a more negative reading)

[patzweigz]

really surprised i have of yet to see this reading of laios' and toshiro's relationship before tbh

[idontmindifuforgetme]

One thing I’ve noticed about people in or entering their 30s is they don’t make as many compromises anymore. If someone doesn’t meet them halfway, is not up to standard, is just not where they’re needed to be, they’re just like “ok cool” and they move on from the person. Which is not to say they’re less empathetic or understanding, but more that they have learned that time is their most prized possession and they’re not willing to make massive compromises on it. They are not obsessed w the idea of fixing someone (bc the concept of fixing a person doesn’t really exist). They simply move on to someone who is up to par. I want that. I want to always move w the awareness that time is my most priceless belonging and I can never buy it back. Ever. So I have to use it wisely

[ruporas]

vw sketches (id in alt)

[arcanegifs]

rewatch the show yall. it gets even better if you do.

[le-fruit-de-la-passion]

The Prophet spoke, and the faithful knelt

Summary : You would never be a hero for Zaun, a revolutionary, a leader. But you would care for your prophet with every single breath your body would allow.

Pairing : Viktor x Reader

Word count : 3.2K

Warning : Explicit

You couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at you with something other than disgust.

The bumps on your skin were large and deformed, like warts on a toad's back. Dark, unnatural purple spots had consumed most of your body, your veins glowing faintly inside your flesh. Staring at them, pulsating like worms making their way through your organs, still gave you unparalleled nausea. You were the kind of monster little children of Piltover feared in the shadowy corners of their bedroom, and you couldn't remember a time when it had been otherwise

The others like you all lived in small, crummy camps, where the warmth of a teared-up blanket was something worth killing your neighbour for. If the value of human life was close to none in Zaun, here, it was worth absolutely nothing.

A wasteland inside a wasteland.

Most lived off scraps left by bars; there were few other ways to get food. The familiar feeling of hunger digging its sharp claws into your stomach had never lessened. For water, there were only the thick metal pipes, going above to supply the golden city, which sometimes leaked drinkable but rusty liquid.

The best days, the only bearable days, were those where you found half-used needles of shimmer in the trash. For a few blissful hours, you were someone else, somewhere else, and nothing in the world could hurt you. Then it was back to being cold, hungry, and alone.

You had tried to live a semblance of a life, once, when the craving for shimmer hadn't been so all-consuming. But addicts were bad for business: customers didn't like seeing them, with their empty eyes and malformed bodies, and they were a very poor investment for an employer. How many months, or days, before they would abandon their job in favour of chasing their never-ending high?

Then there were the whore houses. One could get a few pieces of copper, if their body wasn't too ravaged by the drug. Damaged goods still sell, but for a fraction of the price. And yet there it was no better either: patrons would come in, use you, and leave, without ever looking you in the eye. Like you were less than human.

But not him.

He looked at you without ever flinching, without ever shying away. There was no sign of disgust or pity in those strange eyes of his, but an endless compassion, something that went beyond your comprehension. As if a simple glance at you had allowed him to read every corner of your soul.

You could have sworn time had stopped the second he locked eyes with you. In the warm amber of his pupils swayed a reflection of pale blue, like sunset on the ocean.

You had fallen to your knees without ever willing your body to do so, pressing your forehead against the cold gravel. It feels natural, almost instinctive, to bow in the presence of a god. For what other word could describe him, his presence, his aura?

Did someone like you, ugly, broken, filthy, deserve to see beauty like this?

A gentle hand brought your face back up towards the sky, lithe fingers tucked under your chin. Soft, so soft.

His eyes were back into yours, the sunset having morphed into a pool of liquid gold. Tears had begun to fall from your eyes, rolling down your scarred cheeks and onto his delicate hands. He shushed you before you attempted to speak, like he already knew whatever words you would tell him.

“It's alright. I will take care of you.”

The digits slid slowly across your face, impossibly smooth, and you couldn't help but nuzzle into the touch, revelling in the feeling of a sensation you had all but forgotten. He softly pushed the dirty hood off your face, hand settling on top of your matted hair. You closed your eyes; whatever this man was willing to give you, be it salvation or judgement, you simply knew you were ready to accept it.

And then, everything became light.

—

You saw him perform miracle after miracle following that day. He brought people back from the depths of hell, which they'd lived in for so long, with the simple touch of a hand. He brought back the smiles, the joy, and the hope all of you had given up on.

To your community, he was everything.

The familiar presence of his voice called for you inside your mind. It was so comforting, having him there, feeling him as a part of you. Knowing he would never leave you, that he would never let you be alone again.

He looked like a statue when you found him, seated in his cave, still and ethereal beyond your mortal comprehension. The gods had crafted his face from porcelain; his body from the world's most precious metals; his eyes from the sun and the sea; and his smile with the very essence of magic.

“Here you are. I was beginning to worry.”

That was not true; both of you knew very well you had heard his voice and were rushing to come to his side. Yet, the idea that a being such as him would worry about someone like you made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“Herald?”

“Mm?”

He blinked, calmly, peacefully, as his eyes met yours once more. No other feeling compared. His pupils glowed inside the barely lit cave, a gentle and divine light emanating from his face.

The words were hard to get out, and you found yourself fidgeting with your hands, looking away from his perfect gaze.

Get a hold of yourself, you admonished your brain. You had practiced this moment more than once.

You were certain he knew exactly what you were about to ask him; he knew every thought going through your mind, after all. Which meant he knew of the nights you spent dreaming of him, of his body, and of the hundreds of ways you craved the touch of your messiah.

But he simply looked at you, calm and composed, the hint of a smile barely on his lips.

Briefly, you wondered if he was teasing you by letting you stew in your anxiety.

“I have come to realize,” you began unsurely, voice almost breaking, “that you always take care of others, Herald. Always take care of people like me.”

He observed you with that indecipherable gaze, still not moving an inch. You gathered all your courage to stare back at him as you pronounced your next words decidedly:

“But does nobody take care of you, Herald?”

He smiled, properly this time, yet still calm and moderate. It was beyond beautiful, his delicate features marked by soft dimples, the hint of a mole over his lips. You would have given your life in a heartbeat if it meant he would have smiled at you like this once more.

“I don't require such things anymore,” he explained serenely, fingers absentmindedly tracing the complex patterns of his arm. “This body doesn't feel cold, or hunger, or want. It is pure of all the desires the man I once was might have had.”

You swallowed with difficulty; was he rejecting your advances? You could not bear living without knowing you had done everything for him, given him every inch of your being.

“But that man,” you tried once more, moving a timid step forward, “he is still part of you, isn't he? Wouldn't it only be fair to take care of him too?’

There was not a hint of confusion in his expression; he understood exactly what you meant. Yet one of his eyebrows had slightly risen, perhaps of amusement or appreciation for your boldness.

“If you have something in mind,” he simply replied, his thick accent hypnotic, “you should show me.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You would show him what his gift had meant to you.

Gradually, reverently, you approached the frugal throne where he sat, a simple rock formation at the back of the cave. You kneeled at his feet and gazed up, unsure if you were allowed to touch him. He gave you a light nod, a glim of endearment in his eyes.

With deference, you slid the fabric of his tunic to the side, parting his knees to give you access. You felt your cheeks heat at the realization he had no underwear, trepidation bubbling in your lower stomach. Then you stopped right in your tracks.

Where there should have been… something, there was nothing.

Your mouth opened in surprise, but no words managed to find their way out. You spluttered, confused, gaping at the being above you.

A low, small chuckle.

His luminous eyes were teasing, barely enough so that someone else would not have recognized it; but you did.

“I could not resist to watch your reaction,” he admitted, “My apologies.”

His delicate hand covered the area of his groan, and a faint light shone between the cracks of his fingers. The sound of metal forming, pieces sliding with one another, echoed inside the empty cave. When he removed his hand, it was as if the member had always been there.

As you had always pictured in your dreams, the Herald was well endowed, even in a softened state. It was without question like a regular human’s, but devoid of any veins, marks, and bumps. Not a single hair adorned the base. It was all perfectly smooth, the head only distinct from the rest of the length with its thickness.

He was art, in the most primordial sense of the term, and you could do nothing but admire him.

“This body shapes to my will,” the Herald explained at your look of awe, “It had no need for genitalia, so it did not have any. At least… before now.”

Your fingertips slid timidly on the indigo skin, feeling the polished texture. The contact felt pleasantly electric, like his body brimmed with untapped energy. The first small lick was somehow nostalgic, the feel of popping candies bursting pleasantly on your tongue.

When you wrapped your lips around him, you could immediately tell his taste was unlike anything you'd ever had before. The coppery flavour of metal mixed with something so enticingly sweet it could not be anything other than the taste of the arcane itself. An encouraging hand petted your head softly, fingers threading through strands of your hair. You moaned with your mouth still full of him; a single touch from him was enough to have your core burnt with want. You sped up your pace, taking as much of him in your mouth as you possibly could. The energy pulsated against your tongue, his cock hardening to your rhythmic pace. The thickness of his tip kept hitting the back of your throat, cutting oxygen for a few blissful milliseconds at a time and making you see stars.

It was perfect.

And yet, after a few minutes, you realized something was wrong.

You'd been with your fair share of men and women before. The twitching, the moaning, the cramping of the thighs from the building pleasure and the coming release- it was all absent.

You pulled back with a soft ‘pop’, looking up at your prophet once more for guidance. The same all-knowing visage stared back at you, that boundless compassion he had for all mankind. You understood what was happening, now.

“Herald,” you said slowly, voice horse from taking him, “why have you called me today?”

Silence. It looked as though he was thinking over his next words, choosing how best to explain things to you.

“I could sense you needed guidance,” he finally answered, “Support. I merely wanted to help in the way you needed me.”

Helping you. He was helping you once again. Even now, when you begged him to let you help him, he was still only thinking of others.

“You're not satisfied,” the Herald deduced from your crestfallen expression, “Why?”

Tears of frustrated devotion prickled the corner of your eyes, and you felt like a pathetically pouting child:

“My goal was not to satisfy myself. It was to please you.”

Perhaps you had dreamed it, but a glimmer of surprise flashed in his sunset gaze, gone too soon for you to ever be certain.

“Allow me to try once again, please. I will do better,” you requested, resting your head against his inner thigh, his cock still perfectly hard against your cheek. Looking up at him from under your eyelashes, you whispered your next words like a prayer, hoping it would reach him: “It is all I want to do from the deepest part of my heart.”

The smile again, so slight and yet so luminous. Perhaps he hadn't cured your addiction to shimmer, and had simply replaced it with the profound need of him. A drug you never wanted to be freed from.

“Very well,” he acquiesced, voice low, “you may do it again.”

This time, you could tell there was a genuine look of surprise in his neutral expression when you stood. ‘So he can't tell my thoughts immediately as I have them,’ you reflected silently. ‘I can use that.’

It was without asking that you made your way onto his lap, legs bent on both sides of his thighs. The position wasn't very comfortable, rocks digging into your knees; but he was so close to you that you felt the warmth of the arcane emanating from every pore of his body. The pleased look he gave you at your initiative made you feel emboldened, and you guided his cock to your entrance, lining yourself to slowly slide down on his length.

“I do not wish to interrupt,” the Herald made you pause, thick eyebrows furrowed in slight worry, “or to appear to stroke my ego, either. But I believe it would be wise to… prepare yourself, prior to taking me.”

You looked away in embarrassment, confidence fading, not wanting to reply directly. To explain how you had prepared yourself for him in your tent, in the slim hopes this moment might happen, would certainly be the death of you.

His eyebrows rose back up, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. He understood.

“I almost forgot how prepared you always are. Clever girl.”

You felt yourself tighten at the compliment. You committed the words to memory, engraving them in your mind forever. You would never forget when your Herald had praised you.

You patiently lowered yourself onto him, inch by inch, getting accustomed to him. A little shamefully, there was an undeniable selfishness of wanting this moment to last as long as possible.

When you took him whole, it was almost too overwhelming to bear.

His size was an undeniable component, both in length and girth. You had to wonder: had he been so big when he was but a regular man?

‘Yes’, a familiar voice supplied in your head. Had you not known better, you could have sworn his tone was slightly cocky.

But it wasn't just his dick, either. The flow of energy running through you from the point of your connection was dizzyingly intense, coherent thoughts barely stringing together. It felt like the high of shimmer but unbelievably more potent, simultaneously cutting you open and putting your body back together. This was being alive.

“Breathe,” he reminded you, a guiding hand sliding to the small of your back. Even now, he still took such good care of you. Overwhelmed tears had begun to fall down your eyes without you sensing their presence, and you tried to regain some semblance of your senses.

For a while, minutes, maybe hours, only the sound of your panting resonated through the cave. You gripped the Herald's shoulders tightly, scrunching the fabric of his tunic in your fists. His impartial expression never changed, but neither did the way his hand held you in place and comforted you. Once it felt as though your lungs were getting air again, you began moving.

All of it seemed like a dream; the feeling of fullness between your legs, the slow drag of his cock inside you, the warm wetness of your juices slipping out with each trust. If there was no heaven for sinners, then you had found your own right here. You picked up the pace, settling into a fast and wild rhythm. You scanned his features for any sign of disturbance; the slightest hint of red coloured his pale cheeks, the faintest laboured breath coming from his lips.

So he was still a bit human, after all.

You kept moving with renewed vigour, not able to contain wanton moans of pleasure.

“May I try something?” he asked, voice low, deeper than you had ever heard him speak.

You let out a sound of approval that dissolved into nonsense when the tip of his cock hit the spot you had carefully been avoiding. This time, he moved, ramming over and over against your cervix, too deep for comfort, shaping you to him and only him. You were so close, right on the edge, begging him for release with gibberish.

He had undeniably felt your incoming demise, and with one last push inside your core, he leaned his head forward, bringing both of your foreheads together.

In that moment, you were him as much as he was you, a single mind in perfect balance. You saw everything he saw, felt everything he felt. The weight and lightness of the cosmos, the thousands of strings connecting him to his followers, the understanding of the final step for humanity.

The Glorious Evolution.

And with that, you came, body spasming uncontrollably against his. You fell into the crook of his neck in exhaustion, sobbing, wondering if you had just died in your prophet's arms. Far away, as if he was in another room, you heard his comforting voice shushing your whines, his long fingers caressing your cheek. He looked at you as if you were the one to be admired. Too much, it was all too much.

Perhaps an eternity had passed as you came back to your senses. Things felt tangible once more, corporal, the now cold feeling of your wetness drying on your inner thighs. There was a feeling of awkwardness, of embarrassment, and you hesitated between staying still or pulling him out of you. Were there proper steps to follow after something like this, or any steps at all?

“You didn't…” you commented, unsure what proper term to use to not seem crass.

You didn't cum. You didn't fill me.

“I am not certain that would still be biologically possible for me,” he answered with little emotion, seemingly neither bothered nor frustrated by that fact.

Even if he hadn't been linked to your mind, your disappointment would have been palpable. You had wanted him to experience some of the relief he had given you, to release all that could have troubled him inside you. You wanted to care for him.

Selfishly, perhaps, there had also been the want to carry your prophet's seed so no one would ever question who you belonged to.

“However, to the extent this body can still feel pleasure…” he continued, not missing a beat, otherworldly gaze deep in yours, “you took great care of me. Thank you.”

This time, you smiled.

You would never be a hero for Zaun, a revolutionary, a leader. But you would care for your prophet with every single breath your body would allow.

And there was nothing more important to you than that.

[formulanni]

Yuki Tsunoda as The Moon Tarot:

The Moon is a card of illusion and deception, and therefore often suggests a time when something is not as it appears to be. Perhaps a misunderstanding on your part, or a truth you cannot admit to yourself. Night is the time when dreams and fantasies rule.

The moon also represents instincts that we have buried in our own unconscious - they come out to play in the moonlight. But the reflections that we see springing forth can also be illusions, it is easy to lose your way in the dark.

Embracing the Moon tarot card meaning allows us to face our fears and uncertainties, trusting our instincts to guide us towards the right path.

Tag list: @st-leclerc @rubywingsracing @saviour-of-lord @three-days-time @the-wall-is-my-goal @albonoooo @ch3rubd0lls

[diceverses]

First entry for Stanuary and also a fanart for @detectivejigsawpines ‘s incredible fic Nothing More than Feelings with Hope, Fantasy, and Stubbornness celebrating being less depressed in the mindscape! Fantasy was not described but I imagined him as baby Stan in a pirate bandana. Hope I did your characters justice!

[sergle]

man, you know, nobody asked me, but I have such conflicting opinions on some of the fat falin art, where on one hand: it's always nice to see A Fat Body in fanart anywhere + it's being done in positive ways, for funsies and on the other hand, there is something so familiar about how you are automatically The Fat One if you are a woman simply standing next to a more petite woman, bc I've had a 0% hitrate in seeing people change Marcille's body type and keep Falin's, or change both of them. it's just Falin

[thesmokinpossum]

If My Body Could Speak, Blythe Baird | The Godfather, Mario Puzo | My Father's House, Sylvia Fraser | To The Daughter Who Secretly Longs For Her Mother’s Affection, Lynne Shako | Storms from Jupiter, Wanda Deglane | DO NOT REPLY, @filmnoirsbian

[llannasvsp]

Why do I keep finding fanfics where Cole is emotionally cheating on Geo with Kai. Can we let the Lava fanfics be Lava fanfics and the Geode fanfics be Geode fanfics? PLEAAASEEE?? (It's been months and Lava still floods the Geode tag).

[eemcintyre]

Oh my fucking word

Tell me the creators of this show fucking hate Mr. Miyagi and Daniel and everything their style of karate stands for w/o telling me they hate Mr. Miyagi and Daniel and everything their style of karate stands for

Also why in the name of fuck does Daniel, of all people, have to “look at himself in the mirror” when we have frickin everything about Johnny still?? Be so serious. Be so for real right now.

This show was written by high school bullies who completely missed the point of the original films

[mumblingsage]

Product Recommendation: Surviving the Respiratory Crud Edition

Various unpleasant viruses and stuff are going around, and I think I got the mild version - it's not COVID and in my case didn't even include a fever, just a ton of congestion and a nagging cough. It's been a week and I'm on the recovery upswing but still not there yet. The good news is I can forget, for hours at a time, that I'm ill, thanks to taking these products on the scheduled doses. And Robitussin wasn't lying when they said their raspberry is 'better tasting': it still tastes like cold medicine, but is strikingly palatable and minimally cloying (identical taste in both this and the longer-lasting nighttime formula). I can also attest it got me through my bought of COVID last year.

The Throat Coat sweet ginger fennel, meanwhile, is like candy. Naturally mentholated candy, which might feel a bit weird but in a very good way when it's simultaneous numbing your throat and cold-steaming open your sinuses (that's how it feels to me, anyway). Throat Coat does a tea that I'm enjoying, too, which doesn't taste like medicine at all but just a soothing, not-too-sweet but not-at-all-bitter herbal tea.

Anyway, this is a recommendation if you have the time and means to stock up before the crud gets you, and because it was a nice surprise to find cold medicine that's not only quickly effective but also tastes fine.

[necrotic-nephilim]

@profandomhopper i was going to reblog the original post this comment was left on but i felt it divorced itself from the original topic so much, you get your own post for giving me delightful permission to ramble about this. buckle in people this is long.

so, DC is a big fandom that expanses a lot of different types of content, and like anything, is subject to crossovers. the obvious ones like Marvel are for the reason of being a similar and equally popular superhero world, so it's easy to transpose the worlds onto each other and overlap the characters. both of these worlds deal with multiverses and endless, endless heroes. it makes sense and there's no real stretch to think Batman and Spider-Man could co-exist. i mean, there have been canon crossover comics. and even some more random crossovers like White Collar have pretty easy to trace origins, being an actor in WC was a popular Dick fancast back in the day so there was some bleeding over that led to a well-loved niche crossover space.

but Danny Phantom and Miraculous Ladybug are where it gets interesting. because at a surface, MLB sort of makes sense. it's a superhero world, you're following a teen girl superhero and sure the mechanics are pretty contained, but the crossover should make sense. but when you compare it to the crossover numbers of other superhero media like say My Hero Academia, Ladybug takes the *crown* with such a bizarre popularity. and of course, DP feels like it makes even less sense. sure, you *could* lump it into at the very least, superhero-adjacent media, but it's not a true hero world like MLB or DC is.

but, the thing to always understand about DC, *especially* the Batfamily (which is where the crossover content propagates the most) is this: a *very* good chunk of fans don't interact with the comics. i would venture to say even most Batfamily fans don't read the comics and actively talk about it. we've all read a very fandom big Batfam fanfic where the author's note mentions the writer has never touched a comic in their life. typically, these fans are either cobbling together their understanding from fandom content, or by frankensteining unrelated DC adaptations to understand each character. you take Bruce from Batman: TAS, you take Dick from the animated Young Justice, you take Jason from Batman: Under The Red Hood animated movie, you take Damian from the DCAMU Batman vs Robin, and you read some fandom metas to fill in the rest and well, you've got some sort of an understanding of these characters. read enough incorrect quotes, some genfic, a couple of character metas, and boom, you understand the Batfamily fandom enough to start creating your own content. and of course now. now you have Wayne Family Adventures so it's even *easier*. a pretty easy to pick up webtoon that's filling in all the gaps for you. but i've been in this fandom long enough to remember before we had WFA and even then, this was still a common, if not the most popular way, to ween yourself into the DC fandom space. you cherry-picked the canon you liked and then plunged into the depths of fanon.

i'm not here to make in depth commentary on if i think this is a good or bad thing. trust me i have that commentary in my head, but that would need it's own post. i'm very split on it and my feelings are complicated. my feelings on WFA are even *more* complicated. because oftentimes, the attitude expressed by these fans who are frankensteining this version of the Batfamily/DC world they have in their head is they don't *want* to read the comics. the comics don't contain the content they're after. and to an extent, i understand that. if you're looking for light-hearted vibes of the Batfamily all getting along and having the occasional hurt/comfort moments but in the end, they hug and make up, you're right. largely, you won't find that in canon. of course there are so many comics to recommend for Batfamily interactions, but you have to get specific. you'll find them interacting in small groups, Tim and Dick bonding here, Duke and Cass bonding there, but largely, the comics don't care to balance the ridiculously large cast they've given themselves. but fandom does. it's easy to toss them all in a blender and ignore the parts you don't like. the default argument to ignoring the comics or writing something OOC is always "well the comics are OOC and inconsistent too" which, while a flawed argument that massively misunderstand how comics work as a medium, isn't an entirely incorrect one. you could serve on a silver platter to these fans, an easy and accessible way to get into comics and they wouldn't be interested. it's not what they're here for. fandom is always character-driven above all else. it's driven by character relationships and dynamics. if someone wants to consume content where Tim idolized and stalked Jason as 'his Robin' and now is trying to help him rehabilitate and they're super complicated but have this long epic forgiveness arc, why *would* they read the comics? because they're sure as shit not going to find that dynamic in the comics. it's laughably OOC and not canon at all, but that doesn't matter. what matters is the sandbox. most Batfamily fans care *far* more about the sandbox canon gives them than the actual canon itself. feel how you feel about that, this really isn't being negative toward that attitude, but it is a common attitude.

so, you have Batfamily fans playing in the sandbox and building their own narrative. common fandom headcanons are so common, you could practically write a guide on how the fanon Batfamily works with how consistent people are about it. or you could just read WFA, which is practically the new manifesto of it. even now, with this sudden spike in people talking about canon accuracy and "actually this happening in the comics", they don't actually care about the comics, just what they can cherry-pick for fodder. (even if they rob it of so much context they're just as OOC as they were before. see specifically: the recent phenomena with Tim Drake going from the woobified weakest member of the Batfam who everyone needs to save constantly and he's the smart boy but he's also the one with a sad tragic neglectful past who gets overlooked being the way Batfamily fandom played with Tim for years. but recently, people seem to be pushing this idea of a ridiculously badass Tim, Tim who *totally* has a kill count because of his actions in RR (2009) if you take them completely out of context, Tim who bested Ra's and is even more badass than Jason and he's the 17 yr old CEO of Wayne Industries being cool and flawless it becoming the new fandom zeitgeist. neither of these versions of Tim are canon, and the second fundamentally misunderstands his arc in RR (2009) but the shift has undeniably happened and it's been fascinating to watch. the same thing happened with people suddenly deciding Jason isn't the "angry violent Robin", he was a sunshine sweet boy who was perfect as Robin. neither of these are true, but the second feels more transgressive and new to fandom from cherry-picked panels.) the point is largely, Batfamily fans would rather build their own canon than play with the actual canon.

and then, you have Danny Phantom. i'm not into DP and have no interest to get into it, but what i know about it via fandom osmosis is this: DP fans sort of also don't give a fuck about canon. once again, the canon of DP is a sandbox, not a rulebook. the concepts and the characters are the draw, not the plot itself. i've seen DP posts explaining characters who are essentially OCs, but have become so dominant in the fandom via fandom osmosis. there are concepts and ideas about how Danny's powers work and potential concepts with his ghost nature that either aren't in canon or only happened once in canon and fans decided to expand on that and doesn't care about it's own in-universe logic. i've seen a lot of DP fans also express they haven't seen the show and they don't have plans to see the show. because the show is just some children's cartoon with some inconsistencies and a simple plot, as you'd expect from CN. the show isn't the point. no one cares about it's plot, they care about it's characters. they care about pushing the concept of half ghost boy to a logical extreme and seeing what you can get out of that. can you make it weird and fucked up. how much can you highlight on his trauma and body horror. what identity crisis can you give him and how can you build his interactions with other characters in his world around that and also make those characters fun and unique on their own. sure, the skeleton of canon is there, but the meat lies all in the fanon.

Miraculous Ladybug also exists in this similar vein. the characters, the concepts, those hold intrigue. and not even mentioning the fact the original concept for this show was supposed to be aimed to an older audience, so you can see the bones of something a bit more mature and nuanced under this typical, villain of the week magical girl transformation show. the show itself is a bit shallow and that's not a *bad* thing, it's just the medium it exists within being aimed towards children. but the concepts of a teen girl who's basically a sort of chosen one, a boy who doesn't know his father is the big bad of the show, and their weird identity porn love... square thing. those dynamics are *so* complicated and such a fun sandbox to play in with character-driven fandom.

so, at the core, you have three fandoms that care more about the culturally accepted fanon than the canon, with a good chunk of people often not even consuming the original canon content. and well, DC is an *easy* world to transpose just about anything onto. a boy who's half ghost and fighting supernatural threats? that makes sense, DC has ghost heroes like Deadman already. a girl who has this magical item that gives her animal themed superpowers? i mean that's practically the same thing as Vixen's Totem so that one makes sense too. they fit in pretty easy, no needing to change the world to accommodate them. and of course, if you're a fan of *one* fandom where you don't care for the canon content and only like the fandom sandbox, chances are, you'll get drawn in pretty easily to another fandom with similar mechanics. if you can teach yourself the DP fandom rules/concepts, you can teach yourself the Batfamily fandom rules/concepts. and well, since there's so much crossover in fandom members, why not write the fanfiction? crossover fics will always exist, but with such a shared member base, you have a really big boom.

it's why the characters you see DP interact with in DC are *always* characters who are far more driven by fanon than canon. Danny and John Constantine is a *massive* concept. for people who don't read Hellblazer comics. my poor partner, @divine-dominion has lamented to me pretty often about finding DP content in the Hellblazer tag that is essentially turning Constantine into an OC. because whatever version of Constantine is being written about isn't one bit comics accurate, and really, isn't trying to be. and the same thing happens with Shazam. you watch Young Justice and understand him well enough, you get drawn in by the character concept that you just run with it. people put their favorite blorbos in the same place because hey, wouldn't ghost boy be pretty cool in a city like *Gotham*. how would Batman even react to him. and then, the shipping. because ages for the Batfamily can be easily hand-waved and moved around based on where you plop Danny into the timeline, you have your pick of the litter with him, and same with Ladybug. of course there are the most popular ships but largely, the world is your oyster.

i don't think this is the worst thing in the world for either fandom. it's not hard to filter out the crossover tags and scroll past content i don't like. and sure, i see the appeal of making your blorbos from two different places meet. i've got my drafts *full* of DC/MHA crossover ideas because well, i like them both and think that would be cool. i think my only gripe with it is when DP or MLB crossover content seeps it's way into the wrong tags. using the above example, if you're writing about Danny and Constantine but there's zero content of the actual Hellblazer comics, i don't think you need the Hellblazer tag, just the Constantine character tag. tbh i wish this extended onto Ao3 and people utilized fandom tags better. if you're writing Batfamily fanfiction that is very clearly and obviously WFA driven in characterization and concepts, i would far prefer those fics be tagged with the WFA fandom tag rather than the Batman (comics) fandom tag. because well, you're not writing about the Batman comics. and there's nothing wrong with that, but it helps if you don't confuse yourself for content striving to interact with canon more. (this especially extends to Young Justice, by the way. if you're writing for the Young Justice tv show please, please stop using the Young Justice (comics) fandom tag. i'm at my wit's end- /lh)

the whole thing is fascinating. i've got zero interest in entering DP or MLB as fandoms because that's not my speed, but witnessing it as an outsider is my favorite pastime. i see a *lot* of posts going around the DC x DP space that are helping explain to people who's who, what's what, and understanding the canon/fanon of both of these properties so others can better enter the space. which is not something you'd need in a fandom driven only by it's canon content, but it is sweet watching others try to help newbies enter the space. it's a very inviting fandom space, i think, whether you lament it's existence or not. they're just sitting in their corner with their blorbos, and i gotta respect that. the posts explaining the Batfamily to DP fans are always fun for me to read, even if i disagree with some of the characterizations in them because it helps shine a light on what the fans of this crossover regard as "important" enough about each fandom to be worth including those sorts of primers. very fascinating stuff.

[ratatatastic]

Panthers React to NICE Tweets 🥹

[mephoj]

late night chat

[aromanticduck]

🖤🩶I hope every asexual has a good day today🤍💜

💚🤍I hope every aromantic has a good day today🩶🖤

I hope anyone who comes into the notes to say something like 'why can't you just wish everyone a good day?' has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.