#pragmatic hero

[qiu-yan]

Serious Bitch Opinion: lan wangji...would be a terrible chief cultivator. yes, he is righteous and honorable and has a stalwart moral backbone. however, when you are given the responsibility of leading others, the impeccability of your own moral character must come second to what tangible results you can actually achieve for your people. and if you want to actually achieve any tangible results, instead of getting deadlocked forever or getting done in by your political enemies, you have to learn to compromise on some of your ideals. instead of freezing out the people you find morally despicable, you must learn to cooperate with them; otherwise, you will not achieve anything. and in order to achieve your goals, you must learn that not all of your goals are achievable--that, in order to get the more important of your desired measures passed, you must give up on some others.

now, this is almost the polar opposite of what MDZS as a text champions. arguably one of the central thematic thrusts of MDZS is the importance of not compromising on your ideals, even when it would be far more pragmatic to do so. thus, if lan wangji wanted to become a leader who could actually achieve things, he would have to directly contradict one of the most important messages of the very text that valorizes him.

the moral framework employed by MDZS to evaluate its characters and convey its themes is much more focused on ideals than on results. what matters to MDZS as a narrative is ultimately not the results of one's actions, whether one's righteousness led to joy or to ruin, but rather that one attempted to be righteous even in the face of almost inevitable failure. attempt the impossible, after all. the text of MDZS does not follow utilitarian ideas; it does not condemn wei wuxian for ultimately failing to save almost anyone. rather, wei wuxian's stalwart moral character is celebrated in spite of his failures because he, unlike everyone else, tried.

unfortunately--while someone who is only responsible for their own life can attempt the impossible, someone who is responsible for the lives of millions must instead achieve the achievable.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Blind Luck

cw: corrupt institution, alcohol

previous // Wildefire Masterlist // Bas Chapter //

•°•°•

Hanging out at the coffee shop, hoping she just so happened to see someone who looked like they quite literally knew everything, was probably the dumbest plan Sarah had ever decided to stick to.

But what other option did she have? Even Hugo hadn't been able to dig up more info, and she didn't have another hopeful lead. So she'd printed out the forum post Hugo had come across, murder request and all, ordered a coffee, and hunched in a corner, ears sharpened.

It was her fourth morning on this wild goose chase. If you could even call it a chase. Wild goose stakeout?

The first day she'd wasted nearly six hours listening to customers order their lattes. After that, she decided to limit herself to an hour a day, at random times. There was no indication how often the enigma known as Big Brother visited this shop, or when, so it really was just left up to blind luck.

But sometimes, blind luck was all you needed.

Today's random time was five in the morning, right when the place opened, and even a double shot of espresso couldn't fix how badly Sarah wished she'd stayed in bed.

It's important, she reminded herself. It's our best chance.

She could take a nap later. 

She was zoning out, doodling on a napkin and listening to the background noise when she heard it.

“Black coffee for Bas?”

Bas. Sarah sat up straight, a sudden and unwelcome flush of anxiety coursing through her.

Fuck. This was it. She looked up just in time to see a man turn away from the counter, coffee in hand. He was a lanky guy, maybe in his late thirties, with flecks of gray in his brown hair and reading glasses clipped into his practical button-up shirt.

He definitely didn't look like a Neath criminal, much less the kind of guy who'd have a hit out on him. He looked like a college professor for something nerdy and slightly boring, like Greek literature or the history of pottery.

But if this was her chance, she wasn't gonna let it slip away.

She got to her feet, intending to… she didn't know, ask him for the time or something? Find some discreet way to get his attention. But when she glanced up, he was already staring at her.

Sarah stared back, unsure exactly what the next step was, and Bas’s face took on a resigned look. He inclined his head slightly, a follow me, and proceeded out the door.

Sarah supposed she should be glad he wasn't running for the hills, and walked after the man. Bas didn't slow down, or even look at her, as she caught up to him on the street.

“I'm telling you this as a courtesy and to stop you from pursuing me further,” he said as soon as they were level, with a tone like she'd been stalking him for months. “Go away. There's nothing I can do for you.”

Just like that? Okay, fair. Guy probably got approached by a dozen hopefuls a day who could actually pay for his services. Must be nice, being able to run a background check just by glancing at someone.

“You know I know who you are,” she said, “so you must know—”

“You're here to warn me about something, yes. I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm afraid it's not enough to bribe me.”

Sarah sighed. “Call it a favor then. You know why I'm here, you know how I found you.” She grabbed Hugo’s sheet, folded neatly. “Here's the webpage. I'm sure you can find out who's after you from it.”

Bas raised an eyebrow, taking the paper from her. “Very courteous of you.”

“Wish I could say I didn't have any ulterior motives…” She let herself trail off as he tucked the page into his pocket.

“But I already know you do.” His mouth tightened at the corners, eyes clouding for a moment. “You realize I've already seen your predicament. I already know what you want. And I've already made up my mind.” Bas made an abrupt turn at a bus stop, planting himself on the bench. Sarah took a seat beside him.

“Maybe, but you don't know exactly what I'd tell you if you give me a chance.”

He raised an eyebrow, drawing a brick of a cell phone out of his pocket and checking the time. Honestly, Sarah was surprised he didn't have an old-timey pocketwatch for that.

“Five minutes,” he said.

Good enough.

“I know you like to keep to the shadows,” she began. “And I don't blame you. I'm not going to ask for much.”

“You want to go against the hero corporations,” Bas replied wearily, like he'd already watched this conversation happen. Maybe he had. “Any way you try to spin it, I'd still call it much.”

Sarah tried not to allow any frustration to rise inside her. She got it, she did. If she didn't have any family or friends—if she’d been a secret kept from corp, allowed to live a normal life—she wouldn't want to risk losing it either. That didn't mean she was giving up on convincing Bas.

“I won't ask you to target Corp then, just one guy.”

“Uriah Fox.”

“Yes.”

“I'm afraid that won't be possible.”

Sarah bit down on the inside of her cheek. The guy was basically omniscient. It was definitely fucking possible, he was just being a coward. “Why not?”

“For my own safety,” Bas replied in a measured tone. “There are empowered capable of detecting the use of a power like mine. Empowered able to trace psychic signals and mental imprints. Even I can't say who all is under Corporate employ. It's not a risk I'm willing to take.”

“What if I got that information for you?” Sarah said, deciding to match his posture, staring straight ahead as if each of them were making conversation with the sidewalk in front of them. “I worked for Fox.”

“I'm aware.”

Right.

“I don't touch Corp officials. It's one of my rules. They do their business and I do mine.”

Oh, he was rigid, wasn't he? Like concrete set long ago, satisfied in his own safety. Bas checked the time again.

“The bus will be here soon. You should get going. I truly wish you luck, but you understand I can't—”

Luck.

“That's what it is,” Sarah said.

“Pardon?”

“I think you're lucky.”

“Lucky?”

“Somehow, you've been able to hide yourself all these years. You avoided Corp. Avoided the people who would imprison and exploit you.” She swallowed. “You're lucky enough to 'do your business' and ignore the Corporate world. One of a few who've gone unscathed.”

Bas’s brow furrowed. “It isn't luck that granted me my freedoms. It's precaution. I—”

“No.” Sarah was standing now, thoughts a little too fast, almost making her stumble over her words. “No, it's not that. I’m lucky too, in a way. Society doesn't see my powers as dangerous. As far as Corp is concerned, I'm just a tool, not a threat. I… I'm someone who can blend in, like you. Someone who was never flashy enough to grab attention, to have people pointing me out on the street.”

Bas looked like he had something to say, but she didn't give him a chance to speak.

“But so many people can't say that. It's not about your precautions, it's about what you're born with. You have a power that makes you a target, but it also gives you the ability to protect yourself. And at some point, you were lucky enough to have someone hide you, lie for you, shield you from the Corp world.”

Bas’s expression twitched, eyes flickering downwards. “The city is full of unlucky souls,” he said, quieter now but still insistent. “I see them every time I look up. But I am aware of my own limits. I know there's nothing I can do.”

This time, Sarah couldn't keep the shocked look off her face. “Nothing you can do? You have more power than any single person in this city to stand against Corp. You can get information—”

Bas’s gaze snapped back up to hers. “Do you believe there's one special file that will solve all your problems?”

“I know it's not that easy, but—”

“And what happens if they find out who leaked their big secrets? If they track me down?”

His heartbeat was picking up, whatever fear or anger or sheer indignation spurred it on echoing in her head. She wanted to call him paranoid. What are the odds? But if there was even the smallest chance he was right, she really was asking a lot. Stranger for stranger, offering nothing but a good turn and a moral quandary.

“We'll protect you,” she said, and Bas laughed dryly.

“If they find me, there's nothing in the world that can protect me.”

Whether the threat was real or not, his concern for it was. Would she be willing to risk herself in his place? She wanted to have her own dry laugh at the thought. Hadn’t she already?

“I’m sorry,” Sarah said, letting her posture soften. “I'm sorry I'm asking so much, but… You have the power to change the world, and you're using it to hide in the dark and make a few bucks.” She crossed her arms, slouching against the post that announced the bus schedule. “How many people could you save?”

“I don't interfere—”

“I interfere. Interference needs to happen, or this is never going to end. Please.”

Bas glanced away, silent for a moment. Both of them silent. He did care, she could see that he cared, but was it enough?

This city is full of unlucky souls. I see them every time I look up.

“You could've had a normal life, you know,” Bas said. “Your contract with Corp wasn't a permanent one. It would've wrapped up this year.”

Sarah grit her teeth. “I’m not here for me. This is for everyone who never had a choice. This is for Rosie. It's for Akeela. For Cinder.”

His brow furrowed as she said their names, and Sarah hoped to God he was seeing them. Seeing that Akeela didn't have a childhood, seeing every time Rosie had to die for a mission, seeing everything Cinder had suffered.

“Please,” she said again, after a moment. “I don't need you to interfere, I just need you to see. I need a place to start. I want to protect them, to save everyone.”

Bas’s eyes seemed to clear. “And here I thought optimism was dead,” he said, letting out a sigh. “I won't promise you anything. But I'll consider what you said.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, feeling something inside her untwist.  “Seriously, it means a lot. And if you decide to help—”

“I know where to find you,” Bas said.

Not knowing what else to say, Sarah gave him a small nod and a hopeful smile, then turned to go.

It was a start. A chance. If Big Brother would give them even the smallest nudge, it could make a world of difference. Allies were difficult. Plans were difficult. It was hard to know who to trust. But she had her little family, and they would make it work.

Feeling more than a little socially exhausted, Sarah felt her shoulders sag in relief as the safehouse came into view. Only… something wasn't right.

She frowned, honing her vision on the front porch, jaw clenching as the figure there came into focus.

Cinder?

Sarah broke into a run. What the hell was he doing here? Was he okay? Was he hurt?

The assassin was curled up beside the door, eyes closed, and as she got closer, she saw the bottle in his curled fist. He was drunk then. There were fresh bruises on his face, but it was hard to tell if there were any injuries beyond those.

“Hey,” she whispered, keeping a few steps back. The last thing she wanted was to startle him into burning the house down. “Hey. Cinder?”

He stirred, blinking awake, eyes meeting hers. A hundred questions sat ready in her head, each fighting to be the first out of her mouth. She held them back as Cinder struggled to his feet, maintaining her distance even if instinct drove her to offer a hand.

Not yet. He's still dangerous.

Before she could ask her first question, Cinder spoke, one hand planted on the wall to keep him steady, his eyes deadly serious. Sarah could hear his heart racing.

“I need you to help me kill Uriah Fox.”

•°•°•

@whumpacabra  @enteredin2eternity  @kixngiggles  @whumpsday  @kiichu 

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump  @shywhumpauthor  @distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes , @fleur-alise ,

@whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow , @honeycollectswhump ,  @snakebites-and-ink ,

[iamdeltas]

It has been years and yet it still tickles me that Glimmer from SPOP counts as an Unscrupulous Hero. I mean I agree, she definitely does count as one, but it's just funny considering the usual characters that get to be this trope.

For minor context, Unscrupulous Heroes are on the Edgier(TM) side of the Anti-Hero scale. It's not the Absolute Edgiest(TM) end of the scale (that honor goes to Nominal Heroes, which... kinda self-explanatory IMO) but it's only one notch less Edgy(TM) than that.

The typical go-to example of an Unscrupulous Hero is your "ends justify the (very violent and morally dubious) means" types of guys, like the Punisher. The Punisher imo is kind of the best example of this, though some depictions can make him swerve into Nominal Hero territory. Huntress and Jason Todd are pretty good examples too, though I don't read a lot of DC so I could be off-base there.

So the concept of the examples of Unscrupulous Heroes being angsty, violent vigilantes in grimdark comic books, cynical characters who do What Has To Be Done in gritty crime dramas, troubled hardboiled detectives in the film noir genre... and a pastel pink glittery princess from a reboot of a 80s toyetic cartoon? It's fucking incredible.

[angie-starz]

The chonozawa timline in my Au is a decade long affair:

In Canon Aizawa is 31(30 at the beginner of the series) and Chrono doesn't have a Canonical age so I put him as the same age a Chisaki, 28 (27 during the SH raid); so that gives them a 3 year age gap.

The Neolithic age

First meeting: Hari 18 & Shouta 21

Aizawa is just beginning his hero career, still very scarred by the death of his friend and his relationship with Mic on the rocks(⚠️apologies in advance, this will be the death of erasermic⚠️) they decide to take a break and not see eachother for a while. He gets offered to go on a mission in Esuha yakuza territory, he agrees, he goes, he settles in a hotel, they get started on the case. (I will not talk too much on the case no spoilers for the fic). Essentially, Aizawa is approached by Kurono who offers to help him with the case since he doesn't know jackshit about the yakuza, Aizawa asks why he'd help and Kurono tells him he's just a local keeping a look out for his people since no outsiders will. They obviously dislike eachother at first, both of them tolerating the other to achieve their goals with Aizawa planning to arrest him after all this is over. Aizawa eventually pieces together Kurono is yakuza after a series of misadventures and investigation, they started as reluctant allies and ended as unlikely friends going their separate ways.

Interlude I...

Aizawa goes back to Tokyo, to mic after the mission and they try again but Aizawa keeps thinking about the time he spent in Esuha and just can't shake off the feeling of wanting to go back. Months pass and eventually mic breaks it off with him himself because he realises things really won't work. Meanwhile back in Esuha, Kurono Is getting reprimanded by the old boss for his reckless actions through the investigation but he insists he only did it to protect the SH. He talks to kai about it to which he ensures hari he did the right thing by preventing the police from coming snooping in their territory(Yes. Tragic one-sided chronohaul)

Meeting again: Hari 19 & Shouta 22

It's been a year, and Aizawa is still pondering why he doesn't feel a thing for the breakup but longs to go back to esuha. He's watching the news one day and finds that investigations are being held for the figure who was held responsible for threatening the authorities in The first meeting this gives him the push/excuse to finally go back to esuha to check on Kurono. When gets there he finds kurono, he's staying in an abandoned building across the city and he's freaking out because he's practically endangered the SH and now he's realising that the boss was right. Aizawa snaps him out of it and tells him that he's here to help, kurono doesn't believe him and ask why he would even try to and Aizawa replies that he's just an outsider looking out for the locals. The rest of it is spent with them on kind of on the run, aizawa offers his car amd pays a motel for Kurono until his name is cleared even if he did actually have ALOT to do with the accusations. They spend alot of time bonding and opening up, surprisingly by the times all the ruckus has died down another year has passed, Hari is 20 and Shouta is 23

The middle ages

Frequent interactions: Hari is 21-24 and Shouta is 24-27 during this period

After everything that happened, they're seeing eachother alot more often, exchanged numbers And Aizawa has an apartment in Esuha that Kurono break in to stays at whenever he's not busy with SH work. Through the years they're essentially dancing around eachother, they could be dating but they never put a label on what they are. Aizawa is willing to make them official but Kurono hold off from it because he feels guilty because he feels he's betraying Chisaki. It's almost like he's cheating but can it really count as infidelity if him and kai are not even really together? He leaves the apartment early every morning before Aizawa can wake up but he always comes back even when Aizawa is all the way in Tokyo. This is also around the time Aizawa takes in Shinsou, so just throw that in there.

The ice age

Ghosting: Hari is 25-27 and Shouta is 28-30

Eri gets dumped on the doorstep of the DH at the age of 3 in December right before she tirns 4 and everything in the compound falls into chaos. Kurono gets sidetracked with everything going on, helping chisaki in the lab to figure out what her quirk is, reassuring him that she isn't a replacement for him in the old man's eye. He's doesn't visit Aizawa as often, practically at all but they are still texting. Until he changes his number and goes radio silence for 2-3 years. Aizawa on his end is confused because he got no explanation and not even a goodbye. He goes around Esuha, to places they'd frequent together but there's no trace of him at all. He doesn't believe Kurono would skip town, he's too loyal to his organisation to do so. Kurono now has fully embraced chronostasis alongside overhaul continuing the experiments for the quirk eraser drug. They go on about their lives but still ruminate about eachother deeply. That is until the raid. When Aizawa finds out that its based on the SH, he tries to reach out to Kurono again but still nothing. The first time they meet again is when he's captured by chronostasis underground.

The extinction or revival age

Where we left off: Hari is 27-28 and Shouta is 30-31

They have a one-sided conversation with Aizawa not being able to move. Kurono is pissed that he's here, he shouldn't be here, they were never meant to see each other again. Kurono grapples with his loyalty to the SH and what he wants but will never admit. He Considers killing Aizawa to put an end to this entire affair but as he raises his dagger and prepares to plunge it into his back, he stops and just can't. With the dagger in hovering above, he sighs and tells Aizawa that he'll let him go but to never expect to see him again as he prepares to take the last of the drug and research and run. But then Suneater bursts through the door, stabs Chronostasis's hand with the swordfish and he has reinforcements with him. The rest of the raid goes on as is. Kurono is taken to a Villains hospital for his hand and Aizawa after a while goes to see him.

From here, anything goes. That's why call it death or revival because it can go either way depending on how I'm feeling. They could work thing out for the better or they could stay just accept that the stage of questioning is permanent.

-

I'm always anxious to post any long writing/character pair analysis because I just feel that I'm not smart enough to analyse them and or they just make sense in my head that when I try to form words or explain them it doesn't make sense so it really tried to get the idea of them here!

[nightshademyn]

Hope this reaches the right audience but to the people in the very small overlap in the Venn diagram of “people who are invested in the story of fe heroes” and “people who have listened to epic: the musical”, how horrible of an idea do you think it’d be to make Lif listen to the underworld saga?

[scarletspider2the2ndpower]

Chasm: Curse of Kaine (Vol. 1/2024), #1.

Writer: Steve Foxe; Penciler and Inker: Andrea Broccardo; Colorist: Brian Reber; Letterer: Joe Caramagna

[eclipsecrowned]

me playing this game like 'do i even like dr*gon age anymore--'

[nobully]

bruh canon just changed Wang Yi’s POV completely so im like “hmm do i update canon point or wait until this story arc ends”

then again he’s so happy right now it prolly gets awful later he’s dropping flags all over the place and going to fight zombies in the frontlines im sweating for him 😰

i am the sao ling scolding Wang Yi for assuming too hecking much

[cherrymagik]

kei as a main character is so refreshing to see too. after too much wsj it really is necessary to reset your brain with a good manga series

[lolottes]

I don't think Booster Gold would do that, after all, with Plastic Man, he is a hero who became one after being made responsible for theft. They are also both still subject to impulses that are not compatible with the role of hero and the public is not always kind to them.

On the other hand, we would be interested if in the original report at the heart of the problem never mentions the age (or apparent age) of Phantom

Despite Danny's best efforts, no matter how much time past, Amity Park refused to see Phantom as a hero.

Sure, there were pockets of support, particularly among teens, but most of the town blames Phantom for the property damage, saying if he didn't fight the ghosts then it wouldn't be so bad, to that time he got mind controlled by Freakshow and "attacked" the mayor. It wears him down. It wears Tucker and Sam down. Jazz can only try to support them all.

Then one day, a member of the Justice League visits. Someone minor, and kinda a jerk... maybe a Wonder Twin? Zan? Whatever. They don't investigate; they don't look deeper. They listen to the town folks and declare the ghost hunters, Red Huntress and the Fentons, to be the official heroes of the town.

Worse? Danny Phantom is officially considered a villain to the Justice League. Tuck hacks into the Watchtower and confirms that they have a file (a heavily inaccurate file) about how to defeat Phantom.

Danny doesn't think he can do this anymore.

A few weeks later, a young villain escapes into Amity and demands (begs) that Danny help them escape from the hero after them. No idea who, I can't find a lot of info on teen villains in DC, so let's fudge some ages and make it Kyd Wyckyd from the Teen Titans cartoon. Danny agrees, because to hell with the Justice Losers, and they defeat the hero, becoming friends in the process. Kyd confesses that they became a villain after being ostracized bc of how they look, and they've been trying to avoid villain organizations because HIVE was abusive, but it's really hard to be a villain alone bc of all the heroes.

Sam gets an idea. Tucker agrees with the idea. Jazz is just happy they'll end up making friends.

The next day, the Teen Villain Alliance is formed, ready to assist with any teenage illegal shenanigans their allies might get into.

Some notes:

It's created to be a healthier option for teen "villains" to connect with others and support each other.

It's more important that this is for Teens rather than Villains. They're tired of adult villains taking advantage of them. The TVA would rather ally with a teen vigilante than with an adult villain.

Again, no idea who the teen villains are, but Klarion is definitely here. He leaves the Light for the chaos of the TVA. Maybe Ember is there too?

Timeline wise, this is around when Tim is still Robin, but Damien has arrived at Wayne Manor.

This is because, when it comes time to try to infiltrate the TVA, they'll have a convenient child-assassin who has none of the monitors of a teen hero that Phantom immediately picks up on.

Damien, who at this point has been abandoned by his mother, dismissed and scolded by his father, and has had no success at carving his own place in the family, jumps at the chance. He is then surrounded by peers who don't insult him or try to change his behavior (too much; jazz is trying to help him find healthier methods of expressing himself). He... might not want to continue being a spy.

Danny, Sam, Tuck, and Jazz are the founding members.

Danny reinvents himself as the High Prince of the Infinite, Prince Phantom Dark. He got kingship from fighting Pariah Dark, but since he's still alive, he's only a prince. He steals the last name Dark as an intimidation tatic against those in the know; only Danny would have the balls to claim family with Pariah.

Sam works as a powerless villain, but she might no be powerless? Either way, Danny gives her a bunch of repurposed Fenton tech, and she buys the rest with her parents credit card. She does NOT care if that's traced back to the Mansons. She would choose something goth, maybe something spider related or even bat?

I love Pharaoh Tucker, so I think he should get magic powers? Since pharaohs of old were considered the balance between the real and the divine. He's still a tech guy, now he's a tech and magic guy.

Jazz isn't really a villain, more of a team mom who's planning on using everyone's psyche's as her thesis paper. You know what, that's her callsign, she's Psyche. Sometimes she flirts with Nightwing.

[dottyistired]

The missing Journal 3 pages in TBOB are so interesting to me in further contextualizing Ford's mindset of shame regarding Bill. We'd gotten a snippet of it in the original J3 release:

But Bill shows us the less pragmatic motivations behind his actions, the mushy feely stuff he was too embarrassed to properly journal, putting certain series events into new context. Particularly this scene where after a whole episode of dancing around it, he finally opens up to Dipper about the nature of their relationship:

"Bill wasn't always my enemy, Dipper. I used to think he was my friend, long long ago..."

But does he really tell the full truth here? The cat's out of the bag, Dipper knows they had a deal, there's no reason not to tell everything. But Ford proceeds to explain his reasoning for summoning Bill as a purely practical, scientifically-driven one.

"I had hit a roadblock on my investigation of Gravity Falls. Until I found some mysterious writing in a cave. Ancient incantations about a being with answers. It warned me not to read them, but I was desperate."

Desperate...for what? Ford would have us believe it was for the sake of knowledge. Yet TBOB shows us that this is the entry immediately preceding his and Bill's first meeting.

Ford isn't some unfeeling robot powered solely by knowledge, he has human needs. He was lonely, lonely enough to summon a demon for companionship. A companionship so intimate, he describes his meeting Bill as the best day of his life, and laments the periods of absence from him.

That desire for intimacy is ultimately what drove him, and even with all his dirty laundry laid out he can't admit that part to Dipper. Maybe he doesn't even realize it himself, at least not until the post-Weirdmaggedon sections of TBOB:

Under the shame of unleashing Bill Cipher's destruction on the world, there's a much deeper shame: that Stanford Pines is not a lone-wolf, unfeeling sci-fi hero, but a fallible human being, capable of illogical sentimentality and longing for approval and (in)human connection. The exact nature of this sentimentality and longing is left to interpretation, but the efforts he goes to to conceal it make me lean towards something beyond platonic. Alex Hirsch's own words might support this:

"I think he is deeply, deeply hiding from his real feelings about things, because at some point early on, he decided that he could run from hurt by achievement and by creation, and has dug that hole so deep that he has no relationships. He doesn't have friendships, he doesn't have romantic relationships, he is someone trapped in a tower of his own mind and estranged. Ford shows none of that. He has sublimated himself romantically so, so deeply. (…) I really thought of Ford kind of like Tesla in that realm.”

TL;DR Ford is up in his feelings about Bill and repressing hard. This is also eerily reminiscent of the self-blame abuse survivors engage in, the hesitance to tell others, and shame over persisting feelings for their abuser.

[cacaitos]

like this is the long version of saying that it isnt so much about what it means in the moral sense but rather how it’s used. ie that’s more important to question why you feel differently between both situations over why they’re bad individually. 

[dearest-nell]

charmed

e. munson x reader, 3k

summary: eddie comes home from a long day at work to discover wayne has a pretty surprise for him includes: established!eddie x reader, wayne being the sweetest paternal figure, mumblings of a found family, wayne manifesting a daughter in law by years end warnings: afab reader, non descript

a/n: writing from the boys perspective is always way more fun. i have so many thoughts about wayne and eddie's relationship.

Eddie had intended to be home earlier, a far cry earlier than the 9:30 that blinked hazily on his vans dashboard as he pulled in before the trailer. He was meant to be home hours ago, hoping to enjoy a Friday night the way that a young person ought to – out with the people he loved. Instead he sat in his driver's seat, covered in oil and grime and god knows what else from under the hood of some deadbeat richman from the other side of town. The apprentice had fucked the repair of a rather pricey car, one that was to be picked up first thing monday, and Eddie didn’t have it in him to let the little guy drown under the barrage of abuse from an intimidating customer. 

So he stayed back, and now he was paying the price. Dinner would have been long over by now, and it was unlikely that Wayne was still home at such an hour. He usually had the night shift on this pay cycle, but Eddie couldn’t tell one from another these days. The lights were still on, his indication that he’d gotten his weeks wrong. 

Worn leather boots beat against the gravel as he trekked towards the door, hand running through the curls that hung low on his forehead; wild, in desperate need of a trim. He was spent, body weary and limp from the extra strain. He wanted to call his friends, to call you, to ask for good company, but he knew even now he was too tired to go anywhere. 

The door was unlocked, so he slipped into the warmth of the trailer with an involuntary shiver, eyes blinking tiredly to spot the figure propped up on the couch. Wayne. Beer in hand, chin shadowed with stubble; Eddie’s hero, if anyone were to ever ask. The old man was his favourite person, whether he knew it or not. 

Wayne gave a gruff smile, tilting his chin up at his nephew. “Long day, boy?” 

“Yeah.” Eddie breathed, voice more gravelly than he’d realised. “Got stuck back, sorry I didn’t call.” 

Wayne shrugged. “I figured, though there’s a surprise in your room f’you.” 

A surprise? Eddie couldn’t possibly guess what. “You’re joking.” 

Wayne simply smiled in response, shaking his head. “You go have a look ‘n tell me if I’m joking. Just be quiet about it.” 

Eddie gave a quizzical sort of look, boots resounding against the floorboards as he moved towards the room, a quick mumble from Wayne catching his attention again. 

“Quieter than that.” 

Eddie scoffed, his demeanour still playful despite his disbelief. He took more careful steps this time, readjusting the band wrapped clumsily around his bound tresses, trying to alleviate the steadily subsiding headache from two hours ago. Wayne had never been much of a secret keeper, nor was he one for dramatics. He was a pragmatic, realistic, nonfrivolous sort of man, which made that excitable little sparkle in his uncle’s eyes all the more amusing. Wayne didn’t play tricks, but Eddie couldn’t help but feel he was walking into one. 

With a slow turn of his door handle, Eddie eased the gap open, his eyes scanning the silent dark until his gaze settled upon the mountain of blankets upon his bed. There, buried under three blankets of comfort, was you. It might have been hard to tell under any other circumstances, but even half asleep and exhausted out of his mind, Eddie knew he could recognise your silhouette anywhere. He softened instantaneously, body slackening slightly under the slow wave of adoration that overcame him. You were here to see him. Talk about a surprise, he hadn’t expected to see you today, and now he felt his ribs pressing in tightly together, chest constricting with a glad sort of giddiness. 

He was gentle in closing the door again, his smile bemused at his now grinning uncle. “And how’d my girl end up in there, hm?” 

He toed off his boots, movements suddenly precise and careful under the presence of your company. Even through the closed door, he had no desire to rouse you just yet. Not until he was ready, clean and showered and shed of all other obligations, able to dedicate himself to your company. 

“She came by at 5,” Wayne explained, turning down the quiet shout of the television set with a well worn remote, “thought you’d be home soon, wanted to surprise you. I told her she was welcome t’wait, thinkin’ you’d be round earlier. But y’weren’t, so we had some dinner.” 

Wayne paused, nudging his chin towards the fridge, which Eddie took to mean there was leftovers waiting for him inside. He began rustling through, finding what was left of a roast and vegetables wrapped up neatly in foil. It was a little more extravagant than he had expected, and Eddie chalked that up to your aid in the kitchen. He could see the container of biscuits on the counter, too, with little hearts and flowers piped onto the tops. Pinks and blues and reds and whites, this wasn’t a house for sweets and softness, though Eddie welcomed your charms in any way he could get them. He sat at the table to feast, unbothered to even reheat the feast. 

Wayne continued on. “Thought she might go lookin’ for y’, but we got a’talking. She’s a real sweet thing, y’know, made a real effort to chat. Even offered to sit down ‘n watch a game with me, thought I didn’t have the heart t’put her through it. Ended up watchin’ some Antiques Roadshow thinkin’ she’d like it better; you ever seen me watchin’ that before? I ain’t never had much care, but we had good fun.”

“No shit!” Eddie piped up, astounded by the softened edges of his Uncle. You’d charmed him, he thought, with your curious questions and kind smiles. For Wayne to sit down and talk to anyone was a miracle, one that only an angel could perform. His Angel. 

“We got guessin’ and everythin’.” Wayne added, wiping roughly at his smile. “Seemed tired, though, so I told her to crash in your room. She’s been out maybe half an hour.” 

Astounded was an understatement. Eddie had brought girls home before he met you, though none had bothered to exchange more than polite pleasantries with his Uncle. He’d never been serious about them, so he’d never thought much of it, and then came you. Three months into this new connection, a relationship born of spring flowers and whisky nights and loud music and soft touches. Eddie had never been serious until now, until you, and now he couldn’t picture being anything else but. 

He was glowing, beaming from ear to ear. “So you like her, then?” He was so hopeful in his question, a sincerity Wayne only ever saw reserved for the most heartfelt of Eddie’s dreamings. 

“I do.” Wayne announced, washing down his contentment with another swig of his beer. “I hope y’re serious ‘bout her, she’s real soft on you, and I think she’s a good one. Seems to make you happy enough, you ain’t mopin’ nearly so much these days.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes, groaning with faux annoyance, rolling foil into a tiny ball to toss across the room, missing Wayne by a good foot of space. “I don’t mope.” 

“I don’t mope my ass, kid, you mope plenty. Just not anymore.” He was laughing now, worn lines creasing at the corners of his eyes. “I said she should come back f’dinner another night, we can all eat together. She was tellin’ me ‘bout this story she was readin’, and I’ll be damned if I don’t know how it ends.” 

Eddie knew how this story ended; it ended with you. It began with you, too. It was all you, he couldn’t see any other ending for him. 

“Yeah, that sounds good, old man.” He was doing his best to stomach the meal, but his words were caught around hastily eaten mouthfuls half chewed and uneasy to swallow. He’d give himself heartburn if he wasn’t careful, and it would have been worth it. 

Eddie took a moment to pause, swallowing thickly, belching unceremoniously in a way he was glad you weren't there to witness. “I am serious, y’know, about her. Real serious. I got a good feeling.” 

“Yeah?” Wayne questioned, sinking back into the sofa. 

“Yeah. She could be the one; ain’t that somethin’? I always thought it was bull when people said you just know, but…” he laughed with astonishment, “I think I just know.” 

“Well shit,” Wayne exclaimed, clearing his throat, “that’s real good, Ed’s. You just be good and treat her nice. Be a gentleman.” 

Eddie wasn’t too sure he knew how to be a gentleman, but somehow, he knew you liked him all the same. He didn’t need to be anything but himself around you, and that was a one in a billion kind of feeling,

He was quick in his cleaning, fumbling around the kitchen to pack away a still soaking plate, his mind skating over the plastic drying rack by the sink entirely. “I’m bein’ good, I swear.” 

“Bullshit.” Wayne teased, shaking his head. He braced himself on his knees, slowly rising to his feet with a groan. “I’m goin’ to bed. Tell her she’s welcome to stay whenever she likes, okay? Show her where the spare key is.” 

“I will.” Eddie nodded, barely able to fight his slow building excitement. He could feel himself getting restless, hands flexing just at the thought of holding you. “G’night, Wayne.” 

“G’night son.” He echoed back, disappearing into the quiet of his own room. 

Eddie made sure to lock up on his way, switching off the tv and lights as his own sort of wind down ritual. They’d be on all night if he wasn’t careful, and he’d spied the last bill long enough to have a mind for the electricity now. Besides, he needed to be calm when he woke you. He’d half frightened you to death last time he came barrelling in. 

Once again, he retreated towards his room, slipping into the dark like a shadow of the night, slowly shucking his way out of his overalls to kick to the side of the room. He didn’t mind staining his sheets with oil, but not you; you were something worth caring for. He knew he should have showered, but the sweat on his skin could hardly deter him from the need he had to be close to you, to ease away the troubles of his way with the balm of your skin against his, your whispers ringing in his head. 

He fumbled his way to the edge of the mattress, your sleeping body facing away from him to the back wall of the room. He peered a little closer into the darkness, a sliver of moonlight cascading across the bare curve of your shoulder, arm wrapped around something small, something fuzzy…

“Well shit, Ted, what’re you doing in here?” Eddie hadn’t thought to consider where the ragdoll cat had scampered off to. Teddy had been adopted only a few weeks after Eddie came to live with Wayne, his Uncle’s way of easing the boy into this entirely new world together. Teddy had been his childhood companion, and by the way he was burrowed into the pudge of your stomach, purring louder than a car engine, Eddie could see you’d won him over too. 

The cat barely stirred, rather giving him a grumbled sort of chirp at being disturbed, before wriggling his way further under the blankets. You, however, made the softest of whining noises that left Eddie’s heart near strangling in his chest. He lifted a ring clad hand to that moonlight shoulder, brushing callouses across the line of freckles that dusted your skin, watching as your eyes began to flutter open, head turning slightly to face him. 

“Eddie!” No one in the world had ever been so enthusiastic to see him before, not one. His name wasn’t the kind to roll off the tongue, to be begged for or shouted out or held tenderly on someone's lips. Never before, but the way your mouth wrapped around the letters seemed to change the word entirely. Nothing had ever sounded so tender, so wanting, so pleased. You were always pleased to see him, a feeling he never had to doubt when he could see it so plainly reflected in your irises. 

“Honey.” He cooed back, tugging up the corner of the bedsheets to slip beneath them, curving his body to fit the shape of your own, nudging his knee between your two just to feel your skin pressed against his own in every possible way. The hair on his body was just as wild as the hair on his head, but nothing felt like home to him more than the brush of your skin to the mess of his. “Fancy seeing you here.” 

You exhaled a lengthy yawn, muffling the sound into his pillow with a hum. Your hair, once styled, now seemed mussed and flattened under the weight of your head. His bed linens were already tattooing precious creases into sleep warmed skin. You were too beautiful for him to even comprehend. 

You turned in his arms, careful not to disrupt the grumbling cat beside you despite your eagerness. He felt arms press their way around him, your nose nuzzling at his chin. “Wayne let me in. I hope that’s okay.” 

Literally nothing else could have been more okay in his mind. It was perfect. This was perfect; coming home to you. “Come by anytime, baby. I’m just sorry I wasn’t back sooner. I made you wait.” 

You shook your head. “I didn’t mind. Wayne’s really cool. He kept me company.”

“So I heard.” His voice was edged with an air of amusement, his hand lifting to brush back the strands of hair falling across your face, leaving his palm to cup at the plush of your cheek, his eyes admiring even in the dark. “Antiques Roadshow?”

You let out a giggle. “We panicked! I was trying to make a good impression, and he suggested it so I thought why not. Honestly it was pretty fun, I could totally watch another episode.” 

“Mm.” His lips met the button of your nose dotingly, his voice slackening to a syrupy smoothness. “He’s impressed, I’m impressed; you’ve got us Munson men wrapped around your pretty little finger. Even Teddy’s on your side.” 

“I do not!” You chided, helpless against his onslaught of affection. He left you preening and giddy, a little lightheaded when he loved on you like this, and Eddie never had any intention of stopping. “Teddy just wanted a cuddle.”

“Him and me both.” Eddie asserted, snaking his other arm beneath the arch of your waist, wrapping around the small of your back to tug you in further, his smile resoundingly bright at the way you hummed happily. “We’re not too young to be asleep by 10, are we?” 

The way you eased into the very fabric of him, your bodies so close and so connected, wrapped tightly in the warmth of his room, was enough assurance to him that you were just as content here as he was. “No. I’m not leaving this spot. You just got home, and I’m all sleepy, and Ted’s gonna get mad if we move.” 

Ted chirped an affirmative sound, leaving Eddie to rasp a laugh. “Well we can’t make Teddy mad, can we. Gotta stay here all night with my girl.” 

You chuckled softly in turn, your voice quieting under the weight of exhaustion. “I was meant to keep you company, but I’m so sleepy.” Another yawn parted your plush lips, leaving Eddie with no choice but to press his own to the corner once they came back together again. 

“You are keepin’ me company. Think I’ll sleep a bunch better with you keepin’ me warm. I’ll take you on a date tomorrow, hm? After a big sleep in?” 

“You’re so sexy when you talk like that.” You mumbled, your lashes fluttering shut to rest against your cheeks. “I’d kiss you stupid if I could move.” 

Besotted was not a strong enough word for what Eddie felt in that moment, but he was overwhelmed with the urge to litter a smattering of kisses from the edge of your cheekbone to the corners of your forehead, each one softer than the last, lulling you into that sweet place of slumber you were already drifting towards. 

“Kiss me stupid tomorrow. Sleep, sweetheart.” You didn’t need to be told twice. Within moments, Eddie watched the light in your flicker to a dim, pale glow, your breathing evening out to something unhurried. Peaceful. It didn’t matter to him that he had only had those brief moments with you tonight. Five minutes with you was enough to chase away all the strife of a day otherwise written off in his mind. And that was what his life had been missing, after all. Someone who made going to sleep at 10pm look like the greatest moment of his life. He wanted to keep you to himself, a greedy kind of possessiveness stirring in his gut, for as long as he was able, knowing full well that less than twelve hours from now, Wayne would without a doubt be waiting to make you both breakfast on his morning off. 

Like he said, you had all the Munson boys charmed.

[tourmelion]

:)

Did you ever draw martins superhero(?) origin story? I'd love to see that c:

[image ID: a digital comic featuring Martin Blackwood and Peter Lukas from the Magnus archives. Comic depicts martin entering a room with a coffee in his hand, calling out "mr.lukas?". He peeks his head around the door and says "Mr. Lukas?" Again. He begins saying "I have your coffee-" but trails off as he turns to see peter. He's overlooking a control panel and a large device that looks like a lighthouse with a ring in the centre. Inside the ring, a person is screaming and dissolving into fog until they disappear. Peter turns around and says "Ah! Martin". Martin yells at him "what the hell did I just watch?! I know this place is shady but-but you just killed a man! He's dead!". Peter says "look martin, I don't expect you to understand our work here, you're only an intern after all, but-". Martin cuts him off "BUT WHAT, PETER?!"

martin pauses, looks at the coffee in his hand and goes "actually what if I just-" before pouring it over the control panel as peter yells "NO!". The ring on the device begins to break apart with white lightning coming from it as peter yells "martin you bleeding idiot!". Martin says "uhh...peter, what did I do?". We then see the two men dissolving into fog as they're hit with a white beam. There's text in between them that reads: "Martin blackwood never considered himself a significant man. A lowly intern for peter Lukas at the Lukas co. Lab who had lied on his CV to get there, martin knew what it was like to be treated with indignity. And so, when he saw the Lukas family conducting their immoral experiments to harness the power of a pocket dimension they called "Forsaken", he used that spark of spite and his long neglected desire for justice, and made one small act of rebellion, sabotaging the Lukas' experiments- but at the cost of him becoming...the Forsaken man! With his powers of telepathy, invisibility, and using the Forsaken to travel, he defends the world from those who wish fear upon it!". End ID]

Sorry this is a bit late, but this ask finally motivated me to outline Martin's origin clearly so I wanted to do the best I could with it! I straight up forgot to draw a panel here but you can still follow along lmao. Anyways, hope you enjoy!

[nina-ya]

A/N: i was a little sappy writing this one ngl idk I just love law so much LMAO Pairing: Law x reader CW: none, mild backstory spoilers if you squint WC: ~800 Other versions: Luffy Zoro Sanji Law Ace • masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Loving Law is not easy. It’s not supposed to be. He’s all sharp edges haphazardly taped and glued together, just waiting to fall apart at a moments notice. Every glance feels calculated, like he’s already three steps ahead in some mental game of chess that only he knows the rules to. But once you become a part of his life, once you’ve proven that you deserve his trust and care, you’re under his protection in ways that you may never fully understand.

Loving Law is falling in love with the ocean at night. It’s unpredictable, dark, but there’s a certain beauty in the unknown that is him. He won’t admit it, but he will always catch you before you fall. Not because he’s trying to be a hero, but because losing anyone else is something he cannot quite handle. His love comes in the forms of subtle checks such as a quiet “don’t overexert yourself,” a lingering glance that asks if you are okay, or a warm coat tossed your wat in the middle of a cold night. He’s practical, pragmatic, but never indifferent. 

Loving Law is accepting that he doesn’t need to be saved, but sometimes he will let you stand beside him as the waves crash over him. He will let you in just enough to feel the weight that is constantly pushing down on him, but never so much that you think he’s burdening you. But you’re there to remind him that being strong doesn’t mean carrying everything on his own. 

Loving Law is loving someone who sees the world through a lens of strategy and survival. His love doesn’t come with flowery speeches or romantic gestures- it comes with an almost obsessive need to keep you alive. He ensures you have what you need and he never asks for thanks. He doesn’t need it. 

But then when you break through those hard walls he had built around his heart from loss after loss, you get to explore a much more vulnerable side to him. You get to learn about the despair that he has been put through, all of the rough battles he has fought to get to this point, everything that makes Law, well, Law. It’s not easy for him to do, and you can see this in the way he chooses each word carefully as if they may betray him. But when this does happen, you realize that there is a strength among the vulnerability, a wordless trust that comes from knowing that you wont use it against him.

And when he opens up, even if its just for a moment, you realize that he is not just giving you his trust, but he is giving you everything. Every piece of himself he thought was lost, every part of him that he thought was too broken to be loved, it’s all there, in the space between his words and the look in his eyes. And you couldn’t be more grateful to be the one he shares it with.

Loving Law is knowing that it may take some time to get through to him, but when you do, its more than perfect. There is a heightened intensity in the simplest of gestures such as the way his fingers graze over yours, the warmth of his hand resting at the small of your back, or the way that he presses his forehead against you staring into your eyes with a look that screams ‘i cherish you’ without having to utter a single word.

When his lips finally meet yours, its as if the whole world screeches to a halt. There is no rush, no frantic urgency, just a slow deliberate tenderness as if he is memorizing every inch of your mouth, the softness of your lips. The way he tilts your chin up, deepening the kiss with an inhale as if he needs to breathe you in. His hands are firm, one cupping your face while the other rests on your waist, keeping you close to him. His hands, calloused from years of battle, move with a surprising softness when he’s with you, as if he’s afraid of breaking something precious.

Loving Law is finding safety in vulnerability. It’s the knowledge that while he may keep the world at arms length, he lets you in piece by piece until he allows himself to be fragile in your presence. It’s the softness that only you see in him, the way his hands tremble slightly when they brush over your skin, the way his lips can express so much in the soft presses against yours, the promise that despite all the loss he has endured, he will never let you go.