#I’ll never be a shipper (of angthing) but this can be interpreted as platonic

[sodapopper]

I don’t ship them, but I have to say, the dallypop dynamic is kind of fascinating.

Dallas, all teeth and sharp angles, spitting vengeance against the world. Soda, tough as a rawhide whip but twice as gentle. Dally, sneering in the dark, and Soda, smiling in the sun. Dally, fierce and proud and loyal to a fault, beaten by life until the blood runs down his chin, grinning with red teeth, the smile of the damned. Soda, the most beautiful little thing the world’s ever seen, with soft hair and gentle eyes, drunk on life, drunk on happiness, fireworks and electricity and a voice that sucks the poison from your soul and leaves only goodness. Dally, cruel, violent, desperate. Soda, kind, sensitive, achingly hopeful.

They say opposites attract. I say that Soda is a candle, and Dally the moth; sightless in the dark and desperate for warmth, careening toward the blinding light until he’s too close and his wings catch fire.

They say opposites attract. I say that Dally is dynamite and Soda the fuse; a spark drawn inevitably towards a weapon he’ll enable and an explosion that will destroy him.

They say opposites attract.

I say opposites consume.

Either way—a candle, an explosion, the sun on your face or the heat of a gun—they’re fire, and they burn so bright, the world burns with them.