#REPLYING TO LEE'S TAGS

[harundraws]

may i offer a YJ doodle dump in these trying times?

[catacombbee]

writes a part 2 where they're married and they both have lots of tattoos /j

welcome home (i missed you dearly)

tyden tattoo shop au; crossposted on ao3:

INSPIRED BY A POST @the-killies MADE

just mentioning beforehand they are older in this bc they are adults bc tyler has a tattoo shop BUT the way tylers thinking abt aiden isnt meant to be sexy hes just thinking aiden is very very pretty boy okay this isnt supposed to be horny okay pls dont make it horny 🔫

sometimes theres just the desperation to touch someone to feel someone to be near someone. so im totally projecting

also i dont know exactly how tattoo shops work if anything is inaccurate SHHHH dangles gay in front of you to distract. does the distraction dance

It had been two years since Tyler had seen Aiden.

Sure, they kept in touch. The group chat was more alive than ever even after they all graduated. Life drew them in their own different directions, but they'd always be friends.

And yet it had been two years since all six of them met up in the same place. They had gotten together to celebrate most of their respective college graduations. Taylor had been working at a mechanic shop for over a year at this point, and her boss loved her friends so much that he ordered pizzas for them to celebrate. Of course they ended up back in the graveyard, sitting together in that bus as they ate and laughed and fell asleep on each other.

Tyler had made friends in art school that filled the gap that was left when he didn't see his five best friends every day. No, they'd never replace the others, but he felt less alone. By the time he graduated, he and two of his new friends really wanted to open their own tattoo shop together.

Taylor pointed out that the building beside her shop had been empty for sale for years. Tyler thought it was pretty funny that even into his career he couldn't get away from his sister. It was great, by all means. He got a discount on car maintenance, and they got a discount on their tattoos. It also meant he got the honors of giving Taylor her first tattoo himself. TH + AB inside a heart was pretty sappy, but he didn't tell her that when he did it. He was happy she was happy.

And he was happy. He was thriving. Ever since he gave up baseball, accepting that it wasn't making him happy like it used to, and let himself embrace his creativity, he felt so much more comfortable in himself. Who knew that art scholarships were a thing?? Why had no one told him??

But now he was living on his own and making enough money to not only support himself but pay for his mom's therapy. She was doing better, too; Taylor hadn't moved out when Tyler did, opting to stay living at home to take care of her. Now all three of them were moving uphill. Tyler was happy, he was secure, the tattoo shop was busier than ever. Everything was great.

And then Aiden Clark walked through the door.

Tyler wouldn't say he was disappointed to see him. No, far from it. In fact, he was far happier to see the blond than he would let himself admit. While most of the group was in college, Aiden had taken his parents money and gone who the hell knows where. Italy, France, Germany, Japan, other countries that Tyler couldn't remember, he saw it all. Along the way, he'd posted almost every bit of his journey online for people to live vicariously through him. At least, that's what Ashlyn called it. People loved watching him not only traverse beautiful landscapes, but also explore other cultures and share stories from people he'd met.

That meant that, as Aiden built an online following large enough to support himself without his parents' help (which in hindsight was probably his goal), Tyler got to watch through a screen as he did all sorts of impressive or death defying feats. Because of course he did. He's Aiden.

It's one thing to watch someone in full scuba gear get locked in a shark tank. It's another to watch him set up a camera and jump off of a cliff into water shirtless.

There were a lot of videos where he ended up shirtless, actually. A byproduct of his love for being in the water. Surfing, swimming, snorkeling- why did so many of those words start with an S anyway? Aiden did it all. And he did half of it wearing nothing from the waist up.

Seeing Aiden shirtless made Tyler's heart flutter every time-

"Tyler!" Aiden broke him from his thoughts. Fortunately. Instead of thinking about how nice he looked in his videos, Tyler could focus on how nice he looked standing right in front of him.

"Aiden," he responded, the second half of the name coming out like a bark as Aiden slammed into him with a bear hug. "It's so great to see you!" He said, squeezing Tyler not tightly enough to take his breath away as much as he did. "How have you been?"

He had been absolutely horrible before he saw Aiden. What the hell was he doing that would dare compare to this man wrapping himself around Tyler like he was never as overjoyed as he was now seeing him again?

"I've been great."

Aiden let go and stepped back. Unfortunately. He grinned up at Tyler, who was still proudly taller. "You look great. I mean, I saw you in some of the pictures posted on your place's Insta, but you look even better in person, yknow? Your tattoos are so cool woah-"

Tyler was much too distracted by the sound of his heart thudding in his ears to pay much mind to Aiden poking and prodding at his arms excitedly. He was blabbering something about how he couldn't wait to have a tattoo of his own- wait, what?

Shaking himself back to reality, Tyler pulled his arm back. It was the only way he'd focus: without Aiden's hands on his skin. "Are you here to get a tattoo?" He'd thought Aiden was just visiting. Why wouldn't he just visit? Ben came by to visit and didn't get a tattoo. Logan came by to visit and didn't get a tattoo. Ashlyn-

"Yeah! I already know kind what I want, too." Of course he did. "Oh, is it okay if I record some of it?" Of course it was. "I don't know if you follow my channel that much, I just wanted to show them the process." Of course. "Plus! I can say HEY here's this cool place! So if you're in the area and you want a tattoo, come see my buddy Tyler!" Of course.

And he wanted Tyler to give him the tattoo. And he wanted it on his back. Wings. Of course. Of course Aiden wanted a large tattoo on his back. Of course Aiden wanted Tyler to sit for hours and look down at his naked torso and have to focus on not screwing up the ink just because his client is pretty. He had tattooed pretty men before! This did NOT have to be any different.

But they weren't Aiden.

Aiden came with some reference photos. He and Tyler came up with a design Aiden liked. It wasn't that elaborate, but it was still going to be time consuming. Unfortunately.

Aiden was lying on his stomach, humming contentedly to himself as he scrolled through his phone, his arm dangling off of the table. Beside him stood Tyler, who was focusing so hard on his art.

Frankly, this was the longest he'd ever seen Aiden sit still. Even when he was asleep, he was such a wiggle worm. Sure, he remembered Taylor said once that she saw Aiden sleep completely still once, but he didn't want to think about that night.

On second thought, maybe that would be better. Maybe if he thought about the night Aiden died he wouldn't think about all the perfectly toned muscle that was right there. How many nights had he laid awake in bed, only his phone lighting the room, watching those videos of Aiden and imagining how it'd feel to wrap his arms around him? How many nights had he rolled over, his arms snug tightly around the middle of a pillow, so that when he closed his eyes he could imagine it was Aiden's waist instead?

How much longer could he deny that he wanted more than anything to be close to him?

After what felt like a year or maybe two minutes, they were halfway done. He'd told Aiden upfront that he'd need to come back again to finish it, which was fine. He had an opening the next day. Aiden was too eager to return. His smile was burned in Tyler's vision much like spots swimming in one's eyes after looking at a bright light.

Taylor came over to see him after work. Tyler was busy scrolling through his phone and definitely not thinking about a certain blond. "Aiden stopped by to say hi today."

"Mhm."

"He showed me his half-finished tattoo."

"Mm."

"You need to tell him you love him."

"Mhm."

Taylor punched him in the arm. Ow. She was fucking strong. "Tyler, c'mon." He finally made himself look up at her from where he was sitting. "We all knew it years ago, and here you are still acting like you don't care."

Tyler rolled his eyes. "Don't care what, that he's back? Of course I care that he's back, he's my friend."

She looked at him unamused. "You sure don't look at each other like you're friends," Taylor argued.

Well, what the hell did she know?

Tyler grumbled to himself the entire drive home. He sulked about it as he sat down to watch tv. He moped as he laid in bed, trying to sleep. He dreamed about it, Aiden's laugh echoing throughout his subconscious. He grumbled yet again as he trudged into into work the next day.

Aiden was back late that afternoon.

Surely he must have noticed the way Tyler was avoiding eye contact. The way he practically mumbled in response to Aiden trying to spark a conversation. The way his hand shook as it pressed against his back for the first time that day.

"Don't fuck up my tattoo, halfwit," Aiden grumbled playfully, turning his head to try and look up at Tyler.

He just smiled in response. "It's been a while since you called me that."

Aiden shrugged, earning a scolding from Tyler who was about to put the needle back to his skin. "Well, it's been a while since we've seen each other. I missed you."

Tyler's hands paused. Only for a second.

"I missed you too," he admitted. He really, really had. Far more than he would admit. He missed that manically brilliant grin, knowing something mischievous was soon to follow. He missed the way he laughed, the way he always knew what to say to get on everyone's last nerve, the way he masterfully turned the attention onto himself to distract from whatever was going on around them.

He missed how close they were when they saw each other every day; it gave him more chances to get close to Aiden.

"Why wings?" He blurted out, desperate to change the mental subject to something that did not include wishing he could wrap his arms around Aiden and ask him never to leave again, or worse, to beg him to let Tyler come too.

Aiden hummed, wiggling, despite however many times Tyler had told him off. He was either really lucky that he never made Tyler mess up or he was really good at moving only when he couldn't mess Tyler up. It was impossible to tell.

But of course, he stilled when Tyler leaned back in to continue his work. "Wings are a symbol of freedom, right?" He said, leaving it at that.

Tyler could feel the smile through his words, but he knew there were layers to this sort of symbolism. Freedom from the phantom dimension. Freedom from his parents, to whatever extent it hurt. Freedom from this little town. Freedom to explore the world to his heart's content.

Aiden wanted the world, and Tyler wanted to be his world. But he knew he'd never be enough to satisfy such a deep-rooted wanderlust.

Maybe Aiden was more like his parents than he'd like to admit. They, too, could never stay in one place for too long. They stayed in the house Aiden was living in through high school just long enough for him to leave the house, and then they were gone again. Ashlyn liked to tease that she preferred her new neighbors because they kept to themselves.

How deeply rooted was the Clarks' need to stay on the move? In fleeing the country to both satisfy his own desires and to escape association with his parents, how much was Aiden solidifying how alike they really were? How much did it bother him, or did it at all?

Tyler wondered so many things, and voiced none of them.

But perhaps he wasted too much time thinking and didn't spend enough of it actually talking. The tattoo was finally finished. It was late afternoon, and Tyler had no other appointments that day. Aiden was paying. He was leaving. He was about to leave, and Tyler was about to not see him again for another two years.

Tyler couldn't let that happen.

"Hey," he said suddenly, as Aiden was digging his wallet out of his pocket. "How much longer are you going to be in town?" Because if you aren't busy, we can meet up. Because if you're still here, we can go out somewhere together. Because if you're not leaving, I still have time.

Aiden shrugged. "I was gonna stay for a few more days originally, but my hotel didn't have any vacancy past tonight. I'm gonna sleep in my car and head out tomorrow morning."

Tyler's heart dropped into his stomach. Aiden was leaving tomorrow. Aiden was going to walk out that door and be gone and Tyler wouldn't know how long it would be until he saw him on the same side of the screen again.

That's why he blurted out: "Stay at my place."

Both men stared at each other, dumbfounded, neither really expecting Tyler to suggest such a thing. Aiden's eyes were wide, his tanned cheeks ever so slightly rosy. Tyler wondered if he was imagining it.

"Okay," Aiden said, his grin impossibly wider.

That's how Tyler ended up driving home with Aiden reclining in his passenger side seat. Did he insist that Aiden could just follow him home in his own car? Yes. Did Aiden somehow convince him to just let him throw all his stuff in his backseat and hitch a ride and leave his car parked outside the tattoo shop? Yes. Unfortunately.

The radio was on low; nothing that interesting was playing. Tyler could hear his own voice randomly stopping and starting from Aiden's phone. Sometimes while he was still working on the tattoo, Aiden would hold his phone up, video already rolling, saying "cheese!" and earning a glare from Tyler. Probably for the "I got a tattoo" video. A few times he even got Tyler to stop and take a quick shot of the progress, which was preferable as it kept Aiden from moving as much.

Why did Tyler suggest this. Why did Tyler suggest this. Tyler lived in a one bedroom home, all by himself, and the couch was probably fine but not comfortable enough to SLEEP on WHY did Tyler suggest this. Why did Tyler bring Aiden home. Why was Tyler helping Aiden bring his things inside and showing him around the place.

"So you live by yourself now?" Aiden asked cheerfully as he helped himself to a formerly unopened bag of chips. "That's cool. I thought you and Taylor would've still been living together but this is also cool. I guess since you work next door you need time apart, right? I wish I was still this close to Ben. He doesn't like moving around a lot, I'm happy he found a place he's comfortable." Aiden never stopped talking, and Tyler didn't want to stop him.

"Taylor's still living with Mom," Tyler said, shrugging. "We aren't really living apart cus we needed more space, I just..." How could he put into words that he couldn't stand the vacant look in his mother's eyes anymore? Even as she was doing better, how could he admit he couldn't handle the aching emptiness of that old home?

But Aiden nodded even despite the lack of an explanation, and Tyler understood that it wasn't actually needed.

That was another thing he loved-

That was another thing he enjoyed about Aiden. For all the nonstop chatter that came from him, he was actually a remarkable listener. Sometimes Tyler really struggled to put things into words, but Aiden didn't need him to. He was good at reading between the lines, and Tyler was grateful for that.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Aiden's stomach rumbling so loudly he wondered if he'd eaten at all that day. It was so stupid, he couldn't help but laugh.

The deer-in-headlights wide-eyed look on Aiden's face made Tyler laugh even harder. "I'm just going to cook some spaghetti. Think you can wait that long? And stop with the chips, you need real food."

Aiden threw the clip from the chips at Tyler; he caught it. "Shut up, I forgot lunch."

"That's not my fault," he shot back, gesturing at him with the box of spaghetti noodles. The now open box of spaghetti noodles. A small clump of uncooked noodles flew out, falling at Aiden's feet. "But that was!" He responded, picking them up and taking a bite of one. Tyler cringed.

Aiden was quiet as Tyler started cooking. Fortunately. He did chime in when Tyler was putting the pasta in the pot, shrieking until he agreed to not snap the spaghetti. Because what was he, a fucking barbarian? No, only heathens snap their spaghetti. Tyler was eager to point out to Aiden that he did the same until he visited Italy.

"It's a JOKE!" Aiden insisted through a mouthful of pasta, since Tyler had yet to drop the matter even now that they were eating. "It's a silly thing like, 'oh no! My Nonna is rolling over in her grave because you're breaking your pasta!' I don't think people actually care that much."

Tyler raised an eyebrow at him as he noisily slurped up yet another mouthful of spaghetti. He snickered, wiping his mouth. At least he had the decency to use a napkin. "Well, I like it long. It's more fun. So I guess I care."

Never again would Tyler Hernandez break pasta. At least not when he was cooking for Aiden.

Dinner wasn't very eventful, unless you counted the fact that Tyler was sitting across from Aiden Clark and talking to him and having dinner with him alone sitting in his house for the entire night. But no, no big deal. Just two guys being friends, hanging out. Two bros sitting at a table, five feet apart-

Aiden was right next to Tyler, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a quick side hug. "Thanks for dinner!" Tyler just stared at him, because oh, now he's very close and smiling down at him. And now he was walking away with his and Tyler's plates in hand. "I'll clean up since you cooked."

That brought Tyler back to reality. "You're my guest, you don't need to do that. And don't thank me for feeding you, that's literally the bare minimum."

He was ignored; the clinking of plates being washed began as the tap came on in the kitchen sink. Tyler just sighed and allowed it. If Aiden insisted on cleaning dinner up, Tyler could busy himself with finding something for them to do afterwards, at least. After all, it wasn't that late at night; they needed something to do.

There was a dusty box of video game cases. Tyler hadn't played Mario Kart in ages.

That turned out to be the best idea he'd had all day. He could barely begin suggesting the idea to Aiden before the controller was snatched from his hands and a certain blond planted himself on the sofa, staring intensely at the screen, waiting for Tyler to start the game.

There were too many characters to pick from; Tyler always tried a different one every time. This time he picked Rosalina, earning a curious glance from Aiden. On the complete other side of the character selection spectrum, Aiden IMMEDIATELY beelined for Waluigi. His entire cart was built and ready before Tyler even decided which character he wanted.

It'd been a long time since they played together, but Tyler knew how Aiden played. Normally selecting the Mii character to play as someone like Sans, but settling for Waluigi because he knew Tyler wouldn't have his weird characters saved. All speed, not great handling. As for Tyler, he preferred putting more into acceleration than speed. What's the use in being fast if it takes you too long to speed up when you crash into shit?

And his performance proved him right. Or it proved that Aiden's Mario Kart skills were rusty and he had circled right back to noob status. Tyler won time and time again, all his time playing with Taylor when she came over for sleepovers paying off.

He let Aiden end on a high note, though. There was no way he was going to go easy on him, of course; he figured Aiden must've finally got the hang of the game again when he won the last round. "YES!" He yelled, pointing a finger right in Tyler's face. "I finally got you!"

Tyler let him have it, considering how miserably he did in the very first races. "Alright, you got me."

Aiden giggled. He giggled. And he smiled right at Tyler. Unfortunately.

"It's late," Tyler said, looking away. They'd been playing for a couple of hours at this point. It felt like they'd just sat down. "I'm not letting you stay up all night before driving for hours."

Confusion growing on his face, Aiden watched as Tyler set up a pillow and blanket on the couch. "Am I sleeping out here?"

"No, of course not. You're sleeping in my room." Did Aiden really expect to be left on the couch??

Aiden just grinned at him. "You don't have to sleep on the sofa, Ty."

It was hard to ignore the way his heart fluttered. This man was going to be the death of him. He just had to survive one more night. Surely. "I'm sure as hell not making you sleep on the sofa. Especially with a healing tattoo, you need to rest on something comfortable, dude."

But Tyler had misunderstood exactly what Aiden was getting at. "Tyler, I don't care if we share the bed, yknow."

Oh. Tyler hoped that the way his face burned wasn't visible. He never would have expected Aiden to suggest such a thing. Why would Aiden suggest such a thing? Why wouldn't Aiden suggest such a thing, actually? Why did it matter? It shouldn't matter. They were friends. Friends could share a bed. Surely.

That's how Tyler found himself laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, as Aiden scrolled on his phone to his right. He had tucked a pillow securely under his chest to prop himself up, whatever app he was using casting a soft glow on his face. Tyler couldn't help but look a few times. Just a few.

This was all made worse by the fact that Aiden was laying there on his stomach shirtless. It took Tyler dragging him back to the bathroom after they both showered and forcing him to sit down for him to remember that, yes, his tattoo needed proper attention of its own. And now there he was, lying on his stomach so as to not irritate his back, and his phone was lighting up the sleepy grin on his face. Unfortunately.

"Go to sleep," Tyler grumbled, as if the light was bothering him. It wasn't the light itself keeping him up, though. How could he sleep with this man lying a foot away from him?

Aiden grumbled back, putting his phone on the nightstand. "You don't have enough pillows. I need, like... three."

"What the fuck do you need three pillows for." Tyler only had two! The only person that slept over was Taylor, and she brought a sleeping bag and pillows for herself; she, too, didn't want Tyler giving up his bed just for her.

The response was punctuated by a scoff, as if Aiden was offended that Tyler wouldn't know why Aiden needed three damn pillows. "I need something under my stomach and my head to be comfortable on my stomach."

Then he should have brought his own. "You can't have my pillow."

"Can I just lay on you instead?"

Once again, Aiden said something that left Tyler stunned and defenseless. The room went silent as he couldn't come up with an answer that didn't sound as desperate or excited as the thought made him feel inside.

Aiden took his silence for rejection. "I was, joking, uh-"

"Yes. Uh, yeah you can. If you want to."

Silence again. This time much less uncomfortable. Slowly, tentatively, Aiden shifted closer. Placed an arm on Tyler's other side, holding himself up. Lowered himself to settle against Tyler's chest, tucking into his shoulder.

They both let out a long breath as they fell into place together. It was as if whatever anxious walls they'd put up crumbled and vanished as their bodies moved on their own, suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to be closer. Aiden's leg looped under Tyler's. Tyler's arms settled around Aiden, Aiden's latched together under Tyler's back.

Aiden's head tilted back, his gaze meeting Tyler's. They were close, too close. Unfortunately.

Or maybe it wasn't a bad thing. Aiden was searching his face, a calm smile adorning his face. Tyler stared right back, unable to stop himself from glancing at that pretty smile, wondering what it'd feel like pressed against his own lips.

Aiden noticed; he smiled a little brighter. It suited him, that natural smile. That smile for Tyler. How could he deny any longer his own feelings when Aiden was smiling like that? Smiling like that just for him? How could he deny his own feelings when it was so clear suddenly that Aiden felt the same?

"Aiden?" He said softly, eyes unable to focus on just Aiden's eyes or just Aiden's lips, bouncing between the two. He just hummed in response, staring back with a level of focus that was surprising for him.

"I- I want to kiss you," Tyler blurted out.

Aiden giggled, his eyes nearly closing as laughter took over his body. Tyler's face burned, and he scowled even despite knowing that he was just being teased. "Aiden."

"Can I tell you a secret?" He responded, managing to cease his snickering. Tyler just stared, waiting.

Aiden leaned close, suddenly serious. Tyler couldn't keep up with the mad facade for much longer, given that he could feel Aiden's breath on his face. This was the closest they'd ever been, at least that Tyler could remember. He'd lean in and end his suffering if he weren't waiting on Aiden to go on with what he wanted to say.

"I lied about the hotel," Aiden whispered, "so you'd invite me over."

Then Aiden kissed him. And Tyler was too blissfully reduced to mush to even get mad at the realization that this entire situation only happened because Aiden was banking on Tyler suggesting he stay over instead of sleeping in his car.

Now Aiden was gripping Tyler's shirt like he'd disappear if he opened his eyes, Tyler was running his hand through Aiden's hair and pulling him ever closer, and neither of them wanted it to end. Finally, finally, Aiden was his.

Who cared what would happen tomorrow, or a week from now? Who cared what they'd do when Aiden had to leave again? Tyler was firmly rooted at home, and Aiden was endlessly roaming without a constant one. But that was tomorrow's problem.

Tonight Aiden was his. And he wasn't letting go.

[sir-ballister-boldheart]

Whewn Bal and Ambi had to fake enimity for the public (if that ever happened) (also mmmayybe this is how they found out they liked each other)

Rivals to lovers my beloved.

This is also Rambheem in their divorce era btw shhhhh

[lupins-hehim-pussy]

There was a joke in the Wriothesley Not-Birthday arc that didn't make the cut but it basically was someone being like "YOU WERE SKINNY??" when looking at Sigewinne's toddler pictures with her dad (Neuvillette is the one taking them, obviously). And Wriothesley is like "I was in the hospital for like a month. No shit."

[maxwell-grant]

Could I hear more of your thoughts on Doc Savage and the archetype he created? How does it relate to modern superheroes more specifically Reed Richards? (I know that you dislike Doc Savage, so sorry if this bothers you.)

Sorta like this, if we take a look at how Doc's archetype was formed and consolidated, and how that affected the Superheroes and Reed Richards specifically. (also please don't apologize, you all can ask me questions about whatever, seriously)

"Doc Savage" is recognizable in lots of other characters but there is a difference between specific pastiches or tributes or parodies of Doc (Doc Samson, Edison Rex, Jonas Venture), and characters who are evoking Doc Savage as his own archetype to draw initial inspiration from (Tom Strong, Bane, Clark Kent), and if we pull at Doc's roots we're gonna get to prior characters like Tarzan and Sherlock who were the ones to introduce or codify much of what are now commonplace superhero traits or the ones to introduce much of what Doc was originally pulling from.

I wanna draw some lines in the sand separating what is it that these characters brought to the table, in the road to get to Reed Richards and what exactly is it that Reed and Doc have in common vs things they have that are mainly taken from characters before them/grandfathered in their respective mediums. So let's go over the Archetypes here:

The Sci-Fi Superman: Coined by Peter Coogan. Through some strange birth or scientific intervention, these characters have superhuman powers and abilities that set them irrevocably apart from humanity, nearly forcing them to usually fall into the roles of saviors, rulers, destroyers, or ostracized/self-imposed hermits. Unless they find a purpose requiring said abilites, they cannot be permitted to exist and usually meet a tragic demise or is stripped of said power. Formative example is The Creature from Frankenstein (Mary Shelley), and others include Hugo Danner from Gladiator (Phillip Wylie) and Bill Dunn from The Reign of The Superman (Jerry Siegel). Coogan considers John Carter the first wholly positive and heroic SF superman, which is disputable, but more on Carter later.

Pulp Ubermensch: The Great Man turned do-gooding adventurer with a prosocial agenda. A human who is physically, mentally, and/or morally superior to those around him as a result of training/upbringing, skilled at everything the story requires him to, who applies his talents and abilities near-exclusively to fight evil. Formative example is Nick Carter (created by John R. Coryell and penned by Frederick Van Rensselaer Dey), who established much of what would eventually become pulp hero and superhero convention consequently.

The Great Adventurer: I'm naming these as a counterpoint to The Great Detective, the fantastical globetrotting adventurer/explorer hero who can go anywhere and do anything, who takes to the world as the detective takes to the city. The idea of a wealthy, offbeat, yet good-natured pulp hero who goes around righting wrongs with like-minded assistants. Formative example here is Rocambole (Ponson du Terrail), in most ways a definitive early Pulp Ubermensch, and arguably the first proto-superhero to assemble a gang of odd companions with a variety of talents and backgrounds to aid him, which is what both the Fabulous Five and the Fantastic Four can trace roots back to.

Pulp Supermen: Offshoots of the Sci-Fi Superman as adventure protagonists in serialized stories, where their superhuman natures and status are alleviated and redirected by the need of their capabilities somewhere or in service of something, and thus they get around the ruler/savior/destroyer fate by being heroes with a social calling akin to the Pulp Ubermensch, dedicated to use their powers near-exclusively to fight injustice without rocking the boat of society by their presence (or if necessary, assert dominion ONLY in a setting outside of human society, such as the jungle or Martian civilization). Distinguished from the Pulp Ubermensch by their greater larger-than-life explicitly superhuman abilities, that they don't need to be morally/mentally superior to the extent of a Pulp Ubermensch, and by the fantastical settings and tone of their adventures. Formative examples are John Carter of Mars and Tarzan of the Apes (both created by Edgar Rice Burroughs), with Tarzan quoted by Lester Dent as a specific influence on Doc (there are others but we're skipping most of those not relevant here)

The Science Adventurer: A frequently-used name to describe Doc Savage and Doc Savage-alikes. Doc Savage can be described, in archetype word salad terms, as a Pulp Superman who calls upon the Pulp Ubermensch's great man-ness and urban social calling, and who combines a Sci-Fi Superman origin and physical traits with The Great Adventurer's explorer disposition, righteousness and band of companions. The main thing that sets him apart from the characters listed prior is his focus on scientific prowess, technology, reasoning and polymathic skills, the importance of the "Doc" part of his name as it where.

The Superhero: you already know what these are and how they relate to the above. I've written a couple of things about the differences between pulp heroes and superheroes and it's a subject I'm of constantly mixed opinions on even regarding stuff I wrote, so I'm linking these two written a year apart if you want an idea of where those differences are.

And so we get to Reed, who I'm naming a Science-Adventurer Superhero as a merger of the last two. Both Stan Lee and Jack Kirby mentioned several times that they read Doc Savage aplenty during the Depression and it shows in elements such as the Baxter Building (an expansion of Doc's headquarters in the Empire State Building - instead of just the 86th floor, The Four get the entire skyscraper), the specialized aircraft and vehicles, the fights and antagonism between the cantankerous and anti-social Ben Grimm and the smart-mouthed Johnny Storm mirroring the bickering spats between the bestial Monk and the silver-tongued Ham, and of course Beast from X-Men being more closeled modeled on Monk's ape-ish traits and scientific expertise (there's a fairly large argument to be made, that I think accounts for some of why Beast is, like that, in recent comics, that Ben Grimm and Hank McCoy both divided Monk Mayfair's every trait between themselves and ultimately flipped the script in the long run before taking it to the farthest extremes possible as polarized opposites of each other, with Ben initially getting most of the bad parts and making them the best ones, and Hank initially getting all the good ones and making them into the worst ones)

As far as I know, Reed Richards was not consciously modeled after Doc Savage (although Jack Kirby and Joe Simon's Private Strong used the origin story of a professor raising his son in a lab to be perfect in total isolation of other humans, which Lester likely may have pulled from Phillip Wylie's The Savage Gentleman to begin with), although it's commonly said that the direct precursors of the Four, the Challengers of the Unknown, were modeled after Doc Savage and the Fabulous Five's make-up. The members of the Fantastic Four are all based on 50s sci-fi archetypes, with Reed as the quintessential scientist, the grey-templed pipe-smoking patriarch frontman of the expeditions, and some creators over the years seem to have drawn upon Doc Savage as a model Reed. I'm thinking specifically of Mark Waid here, who openly named Doc Savage in his pitch bible:

The eternal problem with Scientifically Inclined Genius Adventures, the reason they don't ring true, is because in real life scientists spend all their damn time in the lab. Not Reed.

F'r pete's sake, we know he undertook all sorts of Indiana Jones missions as a younger man, we've seen that he actively enlisted in a war, and oh yeah, he stole a rocketship and tried to take it to the moon."

Tommy B put his finger on it when he suggested I stop thinking of Reed as the Professor from Gilligan's Island and instead think of him more like Doc Savage. When Reed encounters mental or logistic obstacles in his quest for knowledge, he thinks through them.

Doc Savage, of course, isn't the perfect model - he's a little more blood-and-gristle than Reed, more invested in the search for justice than for knowledge, and a little more "in the moment" as a general rule. Reed's more like Peter Weller as Buckaroo Banzai, they have the same aloof, detached nature. Unless active danger is staring him right in the face, Reed often seems a bit distant and not completely here because his mind is ten minutes in the future.

That addresses the Science-Adventurer aspect, which leaves us with the Superhero side of the equation.

With Doc Savage you of course have one of the, if not the, main archetypal pulp heroes, a character that both Superman and Batman would take a great deal from, and "pulp hero" in itself is a term that exists to define these characters more so in relation to superheroes than what they were actually like in their own stories, time periods and mediums. The superhero as a concept is founded on Superman and Batman and their dychotomy. Costumed Avenger vs Ubermensch, mortal and immortal, light and dark, Dayman and Nightman (AHH-ahhh-AAHHHHH!), and that dynamic is specifically a result of Superman and Batman being direct descendants from Doc Savage and The Shadow respectively, who were Street & Smith's (and by extension the American pulps) Big Two, the top dogs of 1930s hero pulps, and direct opposites to each other.

Doc Savage was created in response to The Phantom Detective (who was the first successful Shadow imitator and thus defined it as the thing everyone was gonna have to do or respond to) and was in many ways a modernized revamp-almost-copy of Street & Smith's Nick Carter during his heyday, in origin and first case and super strength and omnicapable skills and general Great Man-ness and gadgetry and mission statement and so on. Doc was co-created by the editor of Nick Carter Magazine, John Nanovic, and the first response to the Phantom Detective that S&S planned was a reboot of Nick Carter as a generic hardboiled detective, published on March 1933, the same month as Doc's debut, and obviously Doc would go on to achieve much greater success and thus would popularize those traits again with himself as the figurehead archetype of them (not unlike what Superman and Batman would later do).

Unlike The Shadow, Doc Savage does not operate under a secret identity or mask. He is not the hidden master of the city and has no division between his alter egos, and because he performs in broad daylight as a celebrity, is theorically held to social scrutiny, and is fully sanctioned and approved by law enforcement and works with the authorities with public transparency (minus the crime college but let's just, not, for now), it greatly upends and affects the approach he takes to fighting crime. He only has one identity, the greatest man of all time as the stories will remind you at every turn, by his author's own words he "manifests Christliness", and while not much separates Doc Savage's skills from Nick Carter's, he is explicitly and textually framed as superhuman (even a "superman", that term was deployed a few times), and he operates in a contemporary, urban setting that most Pulp Supermen cannot touch without veering into Sci-Fi Superman territory.

Within the hero pulp format that S&S started with Nick Carter and renewed with The Shadow, with the scientific explorer angle, you could argue Doc Savage, in almost exactly the same way as he does in his stories, worked out the solution to an unfixable problem: Turns out you can be as over-the-top super as you want, so long as you have a procession of equivalent super menaces to fight, don't upset society (and if you do it, not where the public where can see, keep it a secret that you can be blackmailed over by crooks you will inevitably silence okay look I'll stop now), have whatever incredible miracle cures and achievements and charity you do work on take place off screen where you never have to deal with them too seriously, and know how to pick your fights.

His service to others resolves the ruler/savior/destroyer conundrum. Savage aids individuals who face problems beyond their control, does great work in advancing medicine and science, and alleviates suffering through charity work, but he leaves the institutions of society in place.

He faces a never-ending succession of villains threatening society, an eternal frontier of gangsters and super-scientific menaces who play the role that Indians take in frontier narratives. The unresolvable nature of crime makes this frontier eternal, so Savage can place his superiority in service to the community and never risk turning into a ruler, savior, or destroyer because he can find challenges sufficient to absorb his energies.

The Savage solution—the hero position would be adopted by the creators of other prosocial supermen to come, including Superman, although only the adventures of Superman would be set in contemporary America.

Thus instead of marking an end to the bourgeois domination of society, as Nietzsche foresaw, the superman serves to protect that domination through myth-narratives. - Superhero: The Secret Origin of a Genre, by Peter Coogan

Reed Richards, in turn, is defined (INCORRECTLY, I say, feeling a plasma crackle barely miss my skull) as the smartest man on the planet, a mental superhuman who operates on a level above and beyond that of everyone around him, and a freak accident during a space travel grants him physical superhumanity to match, with his body able to morph and bend under his will. He alleviates the ruler/savior/destroyer conundrum Coogan described in much of the exact same way described above, kept busy with an endless procession of strange dimensions and aliens and supervillain challenges, and Mark Waid's famous confession scene in Fantastic Four #489 addresses the fate that looms over the Sci-Fi Superman directly, with the "very arrogant man who did something very stupid" pointificating to his toddler child just how necessary it was to ensure that the world would not fear and destroy the people he'd irreversibly mutated as a result of hubris, what is even the point of his grandstanding title and colorful outfit and public adventures and all that.

The life of superpowered adventurer celebrities was a necessity, and his superhero persona, Mr Fantastic, is a tabloid-catching act of penitence to mask his ultimate shame and to compensate the people he loves most. He lives for science, he craves discovery above all, but as far back as the Lee/Kirby stories, he still drags the team into awful intrusive press conferences none of them want to go but must, he sits through meetings with hardass generals to buy his team more leeway and trust, he takes the time to stretch across the city to visit sick children in hospitals and say hello to passing helicopters, he has to be the stick-in-the-mud dad who stretches himself thin to keep Johnny and Ben from ditching the team or seriously hurting each other (those first Johnny and Ben spats get way more violent than you'd expect), and he has to make difficult and even manipulative and harsh decisions even then to save the most lives he can. He carries a responsability to his family and loved ones first and foremost, and fashioning himself and them into superheroes is how he lives up to that responsability. It's what allows them to exist and thrive in-universe as much as out of it.

(We're not gonna play catch-up to the "why doesn't Reed Richards cure cancer" conversation but even that, in itself, is an extension of a thread that we can trace back to Doc and the Sci-Fi Supermen before him, when seams in the fantasy start showing with the introduction of consequence, a trend that particularly catches up to these scientist superhero characters who followed in Doc Savage's wake, and obviously caught up to Doc himself several times by now, for reasons @artbyblastweave describes as "a consequence of contemporary writers being Allowed To Notice And Unpack Things" and elaborates on very neatly here)

As a superhero, Reed Richards exists in conversation with Superman and Batman, same as every other character within the superhero "genre", which means he also exists in conversation with those traits borrowed from Doc Savage, and The Shadow, and all these other guys listed who were crucial in their development and a lot of others I'm leaving out of the conversation for now. A crucial part of that conversation and where the Fantastic Four figure into it is the fact that they were designed to not be traditional superheroes but to flip most if not all the conventions established on it's head, a part of that being their initial lack of uniforms (and when they did get uniforms they were just that, uniforms, rather than costumes), the lack of a secret identity, and the fact that the Four are scientists and explorers first, and crimefighting superheroes a distant second they're forced to frequently make a close second or first priority. Marvel made it's big defining pop culture splash with the Fantastic Four by turning superhero convention on it's head and doing as much as they could to do the opposite of what Brand Echh was doing.

And that's kinda the main reason they end up inviting similarities with Doc Savage and other pulp heroes, because they're going out of their way to imitate and subvert traits and tropes that Superman and Batman were already imitating and subverting from those guys in the first place, that they in turn were imitating and subverting from guys that came before them, and etc.

Archetypes are breakthroughs, and no breakthrough happens in a vacuum. In the end, a lot of these strands and connections between these characters are less specifically the result of writers consciously following in the footsteps of Doc Savage and those that came before or alongside him, and more so with the fact that there's only so many left turns you can take before you just end up in a circle, or reinventing the wheel as it were.

[leejeann]

.......*sigh*

fine, soukoku enjoyers you got any ao3 fic recs? I'm new here lol

[jordanswitches]

finally got some feathersss so expect a photoshoot with them at some point and a vid of me using them between my toes rnfnjfjfjfj

[stevenssticks]

I STARTED A REVOLUTION SO THIS ONE’S FOR THE GWORLS‼️ FIRST TIME WITH STEVE VAI IM BEGGING WE ARE STARVING!! 🖤‼️

you asked and you shall receive bb<3

idk if you mean first time with steve or EVER so i’m going with first time ever to make it all sweet and loving

okay 1. he’s tall like 6’0 tall and ughh him w someone shorter than him is so💗💗💗💗

and like imagine him being older than reader by like maybe 10 years? not a crazy age gap compared to some other relationships but like it’s still significant. and he’s so much more experienced than you (aka you have none basically, besides getting fingered like once and giving head a couple times)

when you express this to him he’s so gentle and sweet about it. not childlike, you’re an adult and are definitely mature. not innocent. but he also makes sure to establish the fact that whatever you two do is at your pace. ohhh and the pet names!!!!! “honey” “sweetheart” UGHHH

anyway after some over the clothes touching, maybe a few times where he let you get off on his fingers, you finally feel ready to go all the way with him.

he gets you all laid out on the bed, naked while he’s stripped down to his boxers. he’s already so turned on, you can see how hard he is even through the fabric. you have a little wet spot on your panties from rubbing yourself on his thigh earlier, before panting out “wanna do it. wanna do it tonight.” in which steve ofc specified exactly what you mean. which led you to the position you’re in now.

steve being the gentleman he is makes sure to work you up before he properly fucks you. he gets down on his stomach in between your thighs, leaving kitten licks over your clothed cunt before pulling your underwear off and really going in. he sucks at your clit while he pushes a finger in you, then two, stretching you out for his cock. you’ve got your hands in his hair, grabbing and manipulating the strands. steve moans into you at this, and it makes you go absolutely wild. you can feel the bed move slightly and when you look down steve’s got his eyes closed, still sucking your clit while his hips push into the bed. fuck. he’s getting off on getting you off. what a fuckin dream.

once steve has you all loose on his fingers, he pushes back up into his knees, getting off the bed momentarily to shimmy out of his boxers. he’s long and pretty pink, you can tell he’s throbbing from where you lay on the bed waiting for him.

steve grabs a pillow that’s not cushioning your head to slide under your hips, making sure you’re as comfortable as possible before saying a little “okay, sweetheart?” in which you melt. answering with a quiet approval and then steve is pushing into you, and then you’re gone.

the stretch is so good, so delicious and perfect. he’s praising you, telling you how well you’re doing, how good you feel coupled with moans of his own. shimmying his hips to nudge deeper into you until he’s buried to the base. he leans over you, bringing you in for a kiss as he starts to move, lifting one of your legs to secure around his hip.

“fffuck you feel so good. oh shit..” steve murmurs into your skin. hips circling and pushing in and out of you so slowly before he picks up the pace. one of his hands is cradling your jaw, while the other roams up your torso. tweaking your nipples before skating down to press on your stomach so he can feel himself in you. “you feel that? that’s me. so deep in you honey. taking me so well.” (AAAAA)

he moves even further down to rub your clit, slow tight circles that make your brain feel like it’s seeping out through your ears. your eyes roll back and you’re suddenly hit with your orgasm, fast and hard. legs trembling and a couple tears falling from your eyes that steve kisses away as they fall.

“that’s it pretty.. did so well. just a little longer, you’re gonna make me cum. ohh fuck. fuck! m’ cumming-!”

and then steve is spilling inside you. you thank the lord you’re on birth control in that moment as you lay there with steve on top of you, breathing each other in and basking in the moment together<3

—

WOAH THATS A LOT MORE THAN I THOUGHT I’D WRITE. ENJOY!

[bloodyshadow1]

I think Brennan went too far in nerfing Fig being a bard this season.

I get Fig/Emily made a deal but to make nerf her entire class without explaining how, it's not really fair. Brennan is a great DM, but I don't think anyone should be free from criticism, Emily seemed to like it according to her interview, but it's still something bad DM's do. Brennan is a good DM and friend so I don't think he is being malicious, I think he's doing it to tell a better story that he knows Emily will enjoy in the end so it is okay for them, it doesn't change that it's an overreach of what a DM should be able to do in my eyes.

As a viewer, my opinion does not matter, because the game is not for me, but also as a viewer I am allowed to criticize what I watch. I get that Brennan is trying to do something cool for the story, but at the very least to me, he went too far. Right now, Fig/Emily are afraid of their bardic inspiration, it's poisoning her against the class. Bardic inspiration is a huge part of the bard class, one of it's staples. It's like if a barbarian lost their rages or monks lost their ki abilities, that alone is too far without talking to the player first and explaining how the mechanic has changed.

The mall fight in episode 5 was the most egregious example, I see people talking about how it was almost a TPK and the bad kids were only saved because of Brennan, but I disagree. They were only put into that situation because of DM overreach. Yes, Brennan let them live in the end, but they were only in that situation because of an unfair and insane Diabolus Ex Machina specifically targeted against Emily/Fig. a Fire elemental that did not exist before that turn, appeared out of nowhere with a tray of shrimp and it getting knocked away with one of the shrimp somehow landing in Cassandra's mouth, and being something that she a goddess is somehow allergic to and resulting in her getting knocked out, all because Fig gave her a bardic inspiration.

That's not fair, I don't care how cursed or unlucky Fig is because of the deal she made, that's a crazy amount of bad luck to correlate to a single bardic inspiration. That's like 2 nat 1's in a row bad, not a d8 or bardic inspiration bad. That's one of the worst rolls possible on the wild magic surge table twice bad.

This is not saying that Brennan is a bad person, a bad friend to the people at the table, it's not even saying he's a bad dm. But it is a criticism for that moment because it was unfair. I might be in the minority here, but I personally don' think a dm is above the table, I think they are another player with a different rulebook. They have their own rules that they cannot/should not break just as any other player at the table.

[finniigan]

Heyo tumblr stays!! ❣️

I was wondering if anyone would be interested in buying these Case 143 design keychains for like €10 a pop?

I just got the first batch of keychains as a test/for me and my friend to have, but if enough ppl are interested, ill get a whole batch for pre-orders :3

[teecupangel]

Heya! I wanted to say that I like reading what you post on your blog. ^^ Keep up the good work, and may the Great Father of Understanding guide us.

(Saying this cause I felt it was feeling. I'm an Assassin through and through, though. Lmao)

Aaawww, thank you so much! This good work is only possible because of the wonderful asks I get (and how understanding you guys are at how slow I can be at answering TTATT)

May the Father of Understanding guide us!

[2xcursekissed]

caring prompts | not accepting @cvrseduser

it takes a moment to change someone's life; that's a truth yuuta knows too well. a string of these moments had gotten yuuta to where he was today: shadowing his mentor—his savior—at the temple to free people of their stressors—cursed spirits, as geto-sama had called them.

for the first few people who had come in, yuuta attentively watched as the older curse user had kindly heard them out, noting the spirits idly hanging from the people in different places, in different ways. yuuta made a mental note that none of the people were even remotely aware of the clinging creatures. non-sorcerers only knew the pressure and the negative emotions they felt.

when a young woman walks in and states her own issues, geto-sama's welcoming hand gestures to the woman as he encourages yuuta to try it now that he's seen him exorcise a few of the small curses plaguing the lives of these harmless people. the teen is hesitant at first, never having dealt with such small targets, never having worried about another person when it comes to eliminating cursed spirits. he'd usually just fight curses under the supervision of another member of the organization and weaken the spirits enough for rika to bring back to his mentor for his consumption. it was better geto-sama stored them rather than let them roam japan unattended and risking civilian lives.

yuuta relents after his mentor reminds him of his great progress during training, his nonstop practicing, his new ability to release rika at will—his beautiful connection to his lost companion. yuuta feels silly for doubting his own abilities, sheepishly scratching his head with a smile.

"i guess you're right, " he says as he steps up to the lady, who they have learned is a freshman in university and stressed from the ongoing exams. she is also experiencing intense back pain that doctors were unable to treat or diagnose, attributing it to the nonstop studying. yuuta's eyes don't miss the serpent-like spirit wrapped around her waist, possibly flirting with the idea of crushing her entirely one day.

"rika," yuuta calls, his own curse appearing, ready to heed his orders as she always had. "let's help her out, alright?" he asks softly, nodding to the girl with a thumbs up. his smile from earlier finally reaching his eyes.

with this, rika slashes at the cursed spirit, ripping more than just the spirit from the girl. rika had stricken too strong; more than the curse is exorcised. a chunk of the young woman's midsection is gone; her body thuds as it hits the ground. however, with the threat eliminated, rika retires, leaving the scene in just a moment.

for a second, yuuta can't move. he watches as the blood begins to pool around his shoes, white sneakers sullied by red liquid. his breathing is even—silent almost—until it's not.

it dawns on him that the stains are a consequence of his own doing, another innocent life taken by him. the sight of red is his reminder of his crimes against his classmates—his reminder of rika, her lifeless body, her mangled corpse drowned in a puddle of blood. it's too much for him to bear.

silence is soon replaced with panic as his heart begins to pound against his ribcage, his eyes widening as he fixes his gaze beyond his shoes to the woman, now missing a chunk of her body. his arms raise to grip at his own hair, yanking a few strands out in his alarmed state as though bringing pain to him will pull him from some sort of dream—nightmare.

it doesn't.

oh god. this can't be happening—he'd been on such a roll with training. bringing out rika had gone so well over the past month. he'd been able to wield her without casualties among geto-sama and the other members of his organization.

geto-sama!—he'd spent much of his time trying to prove to him and the other curse users—jujutsu sorcerer, as geto called them—that he wasn't just some murderer, that he was someone whose gift would help change the world.

his eyes dart from the woman to his shoes, geto's feet visible in the corner of his eye, red soaking the fabric on his feet. his eyes briefly glance up to his mentor, before returning to the floor as guilt begins to consume him. he thinks he saw the remains of a smile on his teacher's face, but yuuta assumes it's from when he sweetly encouraged the teen to put what he'd learned in training into practice. that thought makes the 16-year-old all the more distraught. he was not making a good case for himself.

yuuta's knees hit the floor as he pushes his hands against the woman's open flesh, a futile attempt at stopping the outpour of blood from spilling any further.

"i—" yuuta begins, voice shakey, yet loud at the same time. tears begin to well in the corner of his eyes. "i didn't mean to—rika just—she missed. she didn't mean to—i didn't mean to kill her."

"i'm sorry; i'm sorry—"

his plead abruptly stops as he feels a gentle squeeze on his shoulder. he jerks up at the sudden contact, reflexively peering over his shoulder. his mentor's calm voice breaks through the turbulence.

❛  it's okay. i've got you. you're safe now.  ❜

this time, yuuta doesn't hesitate to look up at geto-sama. yuuta is not exactly calm, but he does feel relief that it seems as though his mentor understands that it was a mistake and isn't mad. although he is reassured, it doesn't stop yuuta from trembling as he presses against the open wound. "it's not. i just hurt her. she's bleeding—she's gone," he explains quickly, as though geto has the solution to this situation.

yet, at the back of yuuta's mind, he knows any advice doesn't change what happened at that moment.

[cinnamaelfwon]

My pal @miramizar tagged me and any others who wish to do so in a bias check~ a while back and I've finally gotten around to doing it ^^;

♥️♥️♥️

[alchemiclee]

you've heard of cat in the hat, now get ready for

[gxtzeizm]

Don't know if you've seen this already but in case you haven't....👀

OH MY GOD SCREAMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DK'S REPLYING TO BAYERN'S COMMENT WE'RE KEEP WINNING Y'ALL 🥳🥳🥳🥳

@thomas-mvller you better see this as well cloud

[spaceyflowerswriting]

Imagine if after the whole thing with seongjun pouring hot oil on hyunsoo he comes back home to his s/o in tears and s/o is like ‘did he sizzle your ass?’

HELP??????? I FEEL LIKE HE'D STARE AT HIS S/O IN SHOCK LIKE "you DO know i almost got boiled alive with oil right?" BEFORE JUST LAUGHING AT THE ABSURDITY 😭😭😭😭