#Righteous blood

[sunderwight]

Bingqiu roleswap where disciple Shen Yuan knows he's gay, and figures out that he has a big huge crush on his handsome Shizun, but also concludes nearly at once that he's not going to be drawing Luo Binghe's eye any time soon. Firstly, Luo Binghe is notoriously straight. Secondly, even if he weren't, he wouldn't go for his scrawny untalented nerd of a disciple! Shen Yuan's not bad looking, not before or after transmigrating, but he's neither a beautiful nor a hot manly man, and he assumes if Luo Binghe were into dudes he'd be into the same kinds of twunks that Shen Yuan likes. Guys on his own level, etc etc.

Plus Luo Binghe hated the original disciple Shen, and only started to warm up to the transmigrated version after Shen Yuan got injured in front of him trying to stop the other disciples on the peak from killing a small animal. For some reason, Luo Binghe brought Shen Yuan medicine. He got even nicer after Shen Yuan distracted the skinner demon by trying to convince it to take his skin instead of Luo Binghe's, and then again when Shen Yuan successfully fought off a demon invader -- though initially when Luo Binghe volunteered him for that job, he thought it was an assassination attempt. His heart was in his throat when Luo Binghe nearly took a poisoned blow for him, but luckily he reacted more quickly and got hit by the thorns instead. His heavenly demon blood took care of the poison, and he managed to convince everyone that he narrowly avoided getting cut at all.

Shen Yuan's careful not to read anything into it when Luo Binghe finds out about his, erm, uncomfortable dormitory situation and moves him into the side room, or when he completely messes up trying to make dinner and Luo Binghe takes over cooking and bans him from the kitchen (he swears he's not actually that bad at cooking, he just never had to use a kitchen without a microwave or an electric hot plate before...)

After all, it's not like Luo Binghe is cooking for him, he's just making food he likes and letting Shen Yuan eat it too! Because he's nice! He's way nicer than the book gave him credit for being, see, clearly Shen Yuan was correct in signing up for his defense squad, "top ten worst villains of all time" his ass that poll was nonsense...

Unfortunately, though, the plot's still gotta plot. Shen Yuan is heartbroken when the Immortal Alliance Conference rolls around and his shizun stabs him and throws him down into the Endless Abyss. Heartbroken, but not surprised. After all, it was always going to go this way, wasn't it?

But at least, now that it's done, he has some agency in how he reacts to it. He's changed the story enough that he doesn't need to go get revenge. Maybe Luo Binghe's still the villain of his story, maybe that was inevitable, but some heroes let the villains get away. Don't they? It's all part of that noble, breaking the cycle of abuse type stuff. He can be that kind of hero. He can let it go. As long as he avoids Luo Binghe altogether, it should be fine, right? It's not like he's obligated to turn people into human sticks. He asked the system, he's definitely not!

Technically he's not even required to conquer the demon realms. He just has to get out of the Abyss and the be sufficiently cool and/or tragic. Conquest is just one means of doing that, and not even Shen Yuan's preferred, since he doesn't exactly want to rule over anybody. Going around the demon realms beating up some jackasses and rescuing some damsels in distress and becoming sworn brothers with Shang Qinghua, one of the current demon kings, is suitable. He definitely doesn't want to marry any of the damsels he encounters (thank fuck the system lets him off the hook for that!)

But eventually he has to go back to the human world. Not only is it mandated by the system, but he also misses living there. The demonic realms are in many ways better than expected, plus a lot of the monsters are really cool, but he misses the weather and plants and the people he's more accustomed to being around.

He misses Qing Jing Peak, if he's being honest with himself. Shizun's cooking and the bamboo forest and the crisp mountain breezes, the comforts of home.

Not that he can actually go back there in specific. Of course not. If he did that, Luo Binghe would try to kill him, or else the system would try and make him kill Luo Binghe. Bad ideas all around. No, he can't go back to Qing Jing Peak, but he can go find someplace nicer than the demon realms at least. He just has to keep a low profile, which shouldn't be hard since the original goods did that even while actively scheming to kill his former master!

Except.

Everywhere he goes, suddenly Luo Binghe is also there?!

Good thing Shen Yuan thought to take a page out of the book of Luo Binghe's actual love interest, Liu Mingyan, and start wearing a veil. He just didn't want any randos who might have seen him at the Immortal Alliance Conference or on any of the other missions his shizun sent him on to recognize him. But one minute he's investigating a strange case in Jinlan City, and the next the streets are full of Huan Hua cultivators (Shen Yuan has no intention of joining them, that's the path the original took to getting revenge! He doesn't want revenge!), and then Luo Binghe and Sect Leader MBJ and Peak Lord SHL show up, and SY is ducking down alleys and hiding behind columns, just trying to stay out of the way until the lockdown on Jinlan lifts and he can leave.

Except...

Luo Binghe really isn't acting like himself?

He looks like he hasn't been eating or sleeping well. There are dark circles around his eyes, and something almost melancholy in his countenance. And he's dressed entirely in white, none of the usual Qing Jing greens and blues anywhere to be seen. Of even greater concern, he's being reckless. Shen Yuan can't stop himself from rushing out when he sees his former shizun get infected by a sower demon.

Luckily, it's been some years since the last time they saw one another. Shen Yuan's gained a few inches in height, so he's almost at eye-level with his old master now, and though he's still more slender than bulky he's picked up some totally new styles from training the demon realms. He doesn't move the same way he used to. With that, plus the veil, it's enough for him to quickly swallow back his words as he grabs Luo Binghe and quickly administers a cure for the sower infection.

Well, he has one of course. He wouldn't need it himself, heavenly demon blood and all, but his time running around playing hero in the demon realms meant he rescued a lot of humans from such fates. Which is hard to do if you don't have a cure to their afflictions, but between him and Shang Qinghua, sourcing such things was almost easy.

Luo Binghe looks at him like he's just seen a ghost. The other Cang Qiong sect members are alarmed by SY suddenly accosting one of their own and of course find him suspicious, so he runs away right after, and then he has to lose Sha Hualing's pursuit in the city.

But what else could he do? He manages to evade the system's attempts to railroad him into meeting Gongyi Xiao, avoids the rest of the Cang Qiong crowd, and drops some of the cure through the current Qian Cao peak lord's window to get the incident sorted out. Then he flees and puts a good amount of distance between himself, Jinlan City, and every righteous sect he can think of.

The only problem is that after this point, Luo Binghe is everywhere.

Any time Shen Yuan stays in one place for longer than a few days, Qing Jing disciples start turning up. Any time he takes a job hunting some cool-sounding monster or pursuing some interesting tome of knowledge, the better to satisfy the system, it seems like Luo Binghe has selected and gone after the exact same target! Which is especially annoying because back when SY was a disciple, Luo Binghe was always assigning him to do this stuff. Since when does his chronic homebody master have an interesting in six-tailed scorpion lemurs or ancient spiritual kilns?

What's weirder, though, are the rumors.

It seems like any time SY stops at some well-populated place and asks for the latest gossip, he has to hear about how the Qing Jing peak lord lost his beloved disciple during the Immortal Alliance Conference, and mourned like a widow, and now wanders the earth in search of solace for his grief. Seeking something, possibly even the ghost of his dear disciple.

What nonsense! Luo Binghe threw SY into the Abyss himself. He had to do it, it was the plot! And also his obligation as a righteous cultivator, confronted with a "dangerous" half-demon. Does it sting? Yes it stings! That's why SY wouldn't just forget it! Despite logically knowing it's pointless, is there some part of him that wishes his master would have chosen differently? That thinks he should have known that no matter what kind of power Shen Yuan had, he would never use it to hurt people recklessly, or harm innocents, or especially not harm... well. It's pointless, his blood condemned him, and if there is some part of Luo Binghe which regrets what happened, it's doubtless just that he unwittingly harbored a monster for so long.

Which is fine and Shen Yuan would leave it at that, if the guy would just let him!

But no. Instead he has to deal with Luo Binghe turning up and asking him questions, trying to get him to talk (SY has no hope of disguising his voice, if he says anything he's not even sure it won't crack as he comes perilously close to tears instead, so he just stays silent), and then asking for his name, asking if he's mute, asking about his background, his sect, his kin. Is his a righteous cultivator? Where did he get that sword? (NOT Xin Mo, thanks, he used that thing once and then tossed it back into the Abyss before the portal finished closing behind him -- he knows a poisoned chalice when he sees one, although knowing the plot twist about that sword from the novel sure helped.) Where did he learn those forms? Is he... does he have a safe place to go home to? Someone to tend his injuries? Make sure he eats his meals?

SY, of course, stays silent. But it's difficult. Not only because Luo Binghe asks, but because he still looks... bad. Sunken, sorrowful, desperate almost. Shen Yuan can't figure out if he knows or not. Maybe he's unsure, maybe he's looking for SY to give him a sign, so that he can figure him out and then flip a switch and try to finish the job he started.

That can't happen. If they fight, SY will win, and he doesn't want to hurt Luo Binghe.

But even if Luo Binghe's not a heavenly demon, he is a highly accomplished cultivator, and it seems he's got his own breaking points to reach. Eventually he corners SY and gets a hand on his veil, and for a moment SY is sure he's going to rip it off, see his face, and confront him all "I knew it was you, you twisted evil demon, you won't escape justice a second time" and he feels a deep, icy terror close around his lungs--

Luo Binghe lets go of the veil before he can lift it.

But then something even worse happens. Because Shen Yuan's handsome, peerless, noble master breaks down. He falls to his knees, begging forgiveness, sobbing, clutching at his head like he's being driven to madness.

It all spills out of him, then. How he pushed his own dearest disciple into the Abyss, which obviously SY already knew, but also how he was apparently qi-deviating the whole time, and his senses could not differentiate between one kind of demonic "threat" and another. How he realized what he'd done only after he regained his senses hours later, and rushed back to the place where the tear to the Abyss had opened, but could not find a way in after the one he lost. How he had betrayed and thrown away the only person who cared about him, and couldn't even explain that he hadn't intended to. How he would accept anything, any punishment, hatred, penance, or revenge, if only he could see his disciple's face once more.

SY is stunned.

Apparently, Luo Binghe hadn't rejected him for his demon blood?

Not only that, but beforehand, he seemed to have valued Shen Yuan a lot more than Shen Yuan would have credited.

Is it a trick? Is he lying? SY would have guessed so, would have assumed that Luo Binghe's plan was to lull him into complacency only to turn on him once he finally had confirmation. But somehow, he just... doesn't think this is an insincere display. His old master is too cool for this stuff! He has too much dignity to just throw it away on a scheme! There are other ways to get what he wants.

Even if it is a lie, Shen Yuan is tired of running. He's the hero. He won't actually lose, and if it comes to it, it's still in his hands to decide if he wants to spare Luo Binghe or not (he does, of course he does, even if this whole spiel is an act). Plus he's got a backup plant body in one of Shang Qinghua's greenhouses if all goes to shit.

He takes the veil off himself.

Luo Binghe, teary-eyed, stares at him as if his face is the most beautiful he's ever seen.

Shen Yuan nearly puts the veil back on. His cheeks heat up. Dear Shizun, aren't you an immortal master? A noble peak lord? Isn't it your calling to vanquish demons? Get up off the dirty ground right this minute! Where did your dignity go? Shen Yuan did not spend all those nights doing the laundry to watch his teacher dirty his knees for no good reason!

There's a quaver in Luo Binghe's voice as he points out that Shen Yuan was terrible at doing laundry. Luo Binghe had to redo it the day after, all the time.

Shen Yuan chides at him that he should have made one of the other disciples do it then.

Luo Binghe just laughs, and stays on the ground, until finally Shen Yuan has to physically pull him up. Muttering about how he's being ridiculous, what's he crying for, why's he been moping so much, doesn't he know that handsome face should never look so bereft? Then he realizes what he's saying and shuts his mouth, but Luo Binghe just looks happy for the first time in years. Since the Abyss. How is it possible that SY, who actually had to slog through that awful place, can still smile more than Luo Binghe, who didn't?

They're standing so close. Holding on to one another. Almost as if... as if the scene's tone is... well...

Oh what the hell!

Shen Yuan closes the last little bit of distance between them, and kisses Luo Binghe.

[klyukvav]

[daenerysies]

“i, criston cole, a grown man in my early twenties (when the show starts), met the princess when she was 14 (in hotd) and 8 (in f&b), groomed her, and then had sex with her while she was intoxicated (and still a teenager) but my stans seem to believe that i, A GROWN MAN, was the one taken advantage of and raped.”

even though she was a child in f&b and these were unsubstantiated rumors. even though he’s been an adult since the show started and she was still a kid. even though he’s been her closest confidant for years and watched her grow up. even though the writers and producers and show runners and actors ALL AGREE that it was meant to be consensual in the show. CRISTON is the one who was taken advantage of? CRISTON is the one who was raped? either get real or get slapped because i have no time for that type of bullshit.

[ayilings]

anthy himemiya scribbling

[liesmyth]

Another cool trick of Tamsyn Muir’s POV wizardy is that we all read Nona’s POV of Crown “gives great hugs wears pants with pockets has lovely hair!” and completely forgot that Crown is actually fucking terrifying.

Babygirl went from being the prisoner of a terrorist group to holding rank within said terrorist group, ordering people around, fronting crucial missions, being trusted with explosive intelligence — all in less than a year and a half. She has Done Some Shit.

Remember when Pyrrha tells Palamedes she’d need five years to prepare him to resist Blood of Eden torture methods? These are the people Corona joined. They love her, they embraced her, she’s thriving. She has fully crossed the moral event horizon and I love that for her.

[likeyua]

Pathfinder: Wrath of the Righteous [4/∞]

Shield Maze

[fat-rolls-frictions]

insane, wailing, feral. @blood-choke

[roorenart]

My wife

Commissions | Etsy

[kittenfangirl20]

Just when I think that Team Green can’t get any dumber, they go an prove me wrong.

[aquapede]

your instruments of fear, your throne of blood

[lich-loved]

knight commander of the fifth crusade

[wormthing]

From the wrong road, miles from no place From the road I call and call This whole world is no place, This whole world is no place at all

[ - "No Place" by Ezra Furman ]

[kataraavatara]

Daeron Targaryen watching his men follow his lead and slaughter innocent civilians right after he slaughtered thousands of innocent civilians:

[silversiren1101]

[Because I'm going through stuff, time to make my blorbos too. A flash of a scene: the immediate aftermath of Minovae using the aeon the restore the bulk of her memories in Act 3...]

Her mind burned.

She couldn't feel the stone beneath her knees. Couldn't hear the concerned voices around her. Couldn't see through the white flash gradually turning red. Couldn't feel the wet heat of the blood soaking her clothing from the mysterious chest wound that'd reopened, of the crimson streaming down her face from her nose and eyes and ears as the Aeon had torn off whatever magic had been suppressing her memories without gentleness or care.

All that existed to her then was that burning, of which two versions of her screamed in unison. The barrier keeping them separated gone, both suddenly occupied the same cramped, burning, bleeding mind. Both were the truth. Both made up her whole.

They should've blended, congealing into a solid singular her. Water meeting more water. Blood into blood.

But only one had stayed conscious through the agony, for agony was the only thing she knew.

All she, this Minovae, knew, was demons.

Distantly, she heard screaming. Distantly, she felt she was clothed. Distantly, she felt no pressure about her wrists and ankles.

No gag. No humiliation. No bindings.

Consciously, none of that mattered with the pain.

Her hands clutched at her head, trying to swat at the agony protected by the bone of her skull. Break it. Shatter it. Get it OUT! Panic and terror choked her from within at the feeling, all so sudden and new and familiar all at once. What was this?! What had they done to her now? Hadn't the demons found every way to have their fun with her by now?! Except—No. No. This pain like a smoldering briar had been dragged through her mind time and time again, like a poker left to turn white-hot in the fire had been driven into every crevice—she knew this pain.

"...Commander...?"

This was that pain. Memories flashed, each agonizing, of her chained in that dungeon in Egorian, of those false Hellknights, those pretenders calling themselves the Glyph...! Their clawed hands raked through her thoughts to find what she'd seen! To find her weaknesses, to find—! NO! They'd already found it: Him. And he was... was... The memories fractured and spiraled. Cold stone pressed against her brow as in reality she crumpled to her hands and knees but she wasn't in reality anymore. Two separate images overlapped in her mind's eye: skin warm as amber yet also grey as stone; molten gold irises turned pale as citrine in a single blink; all so much color and life bleeding out to lifeless grey and white.

"Arangeir! Can you hear me?"

She heard his voice then, too. She recognized it and didn't, because it was wrong. Too much gravel. Too much concern. He didn't feel for her like that to sound that way. She'd given up everything to keep him safe but he didn't know that. He'd never sound like that.

All of this was a trick, she realized. This was yet another cruelty from the demons in the only way they could know amusement and joy. It had to be.

"She's bleeding out! We need to—"

"Careful! Something is wrong. She's not... that's not her."

Different voices. Names welled in her subconscious like a plea to stay away as much as it is a plea for help. 'Seelah... Seelah don't let me hurt anyone... Keep Sosiel away... keep... everyone...'

But the half of her in control didn't know those voices. The half of her in control only heard around her the scheming of demons, watching eagerly to see how this new torment they've devised will play out.

"Minnow! It's okay! It must be so scary but you're not alone! We're here!"

Her heart squeezed in a vise at that high and bright voice. So encouraging. 'Ember, please, run—I can't—'. So clear through the pain, somehow, like...

"Focus, Arangeir! Pull yourself together. I know you can. You're better than this."

But then it was his again. The liar. The scheme. The trick. The torture—

She bolted upright in an instant. She needed to see what horrible creature awaited her in the direction of that voice, so wrong as much as something in her wept that it was the truth. The white flashing of agony had given way to smeared crimson—blood! Had they torn her eyes out and restored them yet again just before death claimed her? How they loved that one—and through them did she see the trick they'd planned for her.

How laughable. He didn't look like that: aged like decades had passed!? Bleached like he'd succumbed to despair?! Staring at her with that mote of concern in those wrongly pale eyes? Not him. Never. She realized the demons had found a way to read through her mind just like House Thrune had, but demons were clumsy and brutish beasts.

The illusion before her was not Regill Derenge. She knew it wasn't.

She knew it was.

Only then did the pain dull then, giving way to a rage she'd never thought herself capable of feeling ever again. All so much torture, everything she'd suffering from devil's hands to those of the Abyss had stolen from her such passion, she'd thought. But these horrid fiends had thought to wield against her the one being she'd never suffer dishonored in such a way. All that she'd given of herself to keep him safe, securing his safety with that infernal brand Thrune pressed upon her...

Her nails dragged across the stone so sharply she may have looked down to see they were still there had she been her other self. Blood filled her mouth from the clenching of her teeth into her snarl, and she realized the demons had also restored her fangs this time with her eyes. How long had she been without them? It didn't matter; time was meaningless in the dungeons beneath Drezen and she wasn't about to let their mistake go to waste.

She would remind them again why they'd torn them from her mouth in the first place.

Every muscle coiled as she pounced, far stronger than she should've been capable of. This body wasn't starved, wasn't weak from torture and despair and nothingness. But the rage kept her from seeing through that veil to the truth, so thin as to be nearly transparent. The rage only drove her forward, flaring even hotter as that face that was not his and yet so very much was briefly flashed in alarm before she made contact with him.

"Arange—!" His voice cut off with a grunt as she tackled him to the ground, as she knocked the wind out of him. He had yet barely breathed in more, barely shouted for her to "—what are you d—!"

Before it all choked into wet, gurgled, gasping.

And it struck her that the wet, crimson heat flowing around her fangs, now buried in his throat, didn't taste as it did the last time she'd wielded them against a demon. It tasted like the one and only other mortal they'd torn through before—of the Thrune whose throat she'd left a hollow ragged gape upon finding out what had become of her stolen Foundlings...

This wasn't demon blood. This wasn't demon flesh.

"Oh, gods! Get her off of him!" Someone yelled, coming to her in her haze as if through water.

She reared back. Everything was shaking. The blood filled her mouth. The blood was everywhere. Splattered across his face that was and wasn't—no, was. Something inside of her screamed, just screamed at her that it was. Arterial red gushed from the ragged gash she'd torn beneath him, covered now by his gauntleted hand applying pressure best he could. Even as blood spluttered from his lips, then streaming, his gaze never faltered. Pale, so wrongfully pale, those yellow irises glared up at her.

She could only shake, paralyzed by them.

"Y-you... fool..."

She wanted to scream. Wanted to disappear. Wanted to... to...

'Go to sleep, Minnow. It's okay. You're scared. You did something bad. But it's okay. Go to sleep and it will all be okay when you wake up.'

Sleep.

She wanted to sleep.

Ember's hex washed over her like a warm bath, taking his blood from her mouth along with it.

[luthienne]

hey lovely hi! I wanted to ask you something about writing. First of all i love love love the way you write matt and Frank! So on point and detailed and so well observed. I wanted to know how do you understand them i mean what are your ways to study a character?

I hope I'm making sense and im sorry for being a bother 😭 love you.

hi first of all i love you sm for this oh my god?? you're not a bother at all, i could talk about matt forever. writing him true to character is the highest compliment i could ask for 🥹

several thoughts come to mind — first i think of the characters as they are individually, then as they are tied to one another; once tied together through the threads of the story, there is no separating them. just as there is no separating the choices they make now from all the choices in the past that led up to this moment. where do the boundaries of the character as laid out in the source material brush up against the boundaries of the character as i understand them & what archetypal role are they fulfilling (if relevant).

also the mutability of the boundary between archetypes: i.e. matt descends into 'hell' to bring frank out, orpheus role; matt hears & carries everything, god-like role; matt accepts this as a call to action, hero; matt takes it upon himself to punish these 'evildoers', devil; matt takes these sins upon himself, christ figure; matt is wounded in his noble pursuit, martyr figure. & how do his roles change in relation to the characters he shares a scene with — fisk (god-like in seemingly limitless influence) / matt (hero/martyr).

what life is there for a hero outside of their duty in a story like this? what room is there for him to be human? that's what i want to know. so i take what we know from what we've been given:

matt is the son of a boxer -> he grows up with the inherent understanding that two things can be true at once: hands capable of love can also be capable of violence

matt, as a child, saves an old man and loses his sight -> he accepts at a very young age the concept of heroic acts & their consequences (inevitability)

matt’s father chooses to die a 'hero' rather than live as a flawed but present father -> better to be a hero, to live and die by those familiar consequences than to be a flawed but present person (2nd ex. of heroes and their consequences, inevitability)

matt’s next father figure is violent but it is through that violence he learns to navigate an overwhelming world -> violence = love

stick leaves, like his father left, like his mother left -> to love is to lose (inevitability)

matt is only human, after all, it's what's most compelling about him as a character. and the show really did let us sit in those long moments of quiet witness to matt's undeniable humanity. he is flawed, he stumbles in fights, he can’t catch his breath, his faith buckles under the weight of his grief; he doesn't understand how to be human, how to maintain relationships, how to reconcile the darkest parts of the world and of himself with his faith in humanity and belief in redemption. the world is overwhelming to him on every sensory level. every touch is a modified blow? he lives that. he looks outside of himself for light (foggy, faith). when he reaches his breaking point, he breaks rather than turn to the people he loves because of the lessons he internalized as a child. stick left because matt loved, despite everything. despite everything, his love > his rage (bc his rage is his grief & his grief is another face of his love).

even after foggy finds out matt's secret life of physical violence, he still refers to him as "my soft-hearted partner" because it's true, matt cannot help but love & recognize humanity in others. it's because of this that he feels called to balance two unsustainably contradictory lives: using his voice to fight for redemption in court; taking it into his own hands when the law fails. taking their blood onto himself, by himself.

and that is the only touch he allows himself to experience—violence. blood on his knuckles, in his mouth, in his throat. and when his body is torn open and his secrets bared through his wounds, we get another glimpse into the reality of heroes and their consequences. foggy is not treated as an audience stand-in to giddily marvel at matt's abilities and how cool they are, he's heartbroken. he’s fucking devastated. his best friend is bleeding out on his apartment floor. he doesn't want matt to die. he doesn't want matt to be daredevil, he doesn’t want matt to be a hero — because foggy, more than anyone, understands matt's humanity and mortality. and foggy, more than anyone, selfishly wants matt to be his friend first. let hell’s kitchen take care of itself. why should matt die for a community that doesn’t love him like foggy loves him? that doesn’t know him like foggy knows him? he knew matt before he became a story. their time at columbia grounds their friendship & grounds matt to a life that is as close to normal as any comicbook story. they stay up late studying, they drink a little too much, they live together and achieve a kind of domesticity that comes easy to foggy but utterly incomprehensible to everything matt knew before foggy. we see a glimpse at a life with foggy that represents a gentle kind of safety and happiness — everything matt has been denied in his life until then. everything that the momentum of the story demands matt cannot keep (as hero).

and then there's frank. composed of rigid codes and immovable beliefs, just as much as matt, but on the other side of the line matt has drawn in the sand. that line represents matt’s faith in humanity and belief in redemption. despite living the worst of it, despite bearing the brunt of it. matt can't lose frank because matt never had frank; and yet matt and frank hold an inherent understanding of one another that no one else can. two sides of the same coin: unwavering & fatal sense of duty that walks them in a winding but inevitable line toward their respective fates; acceptance of the roles life has given them in what life has taken from them. it's not that they want to die, it's just that they’ve lived so long in the depths of their own private grief that they can’t see living outside of them.

so of course foggy doesn't want to matt to be a hero because there is no story where the hero comes home unscathed, there is no story where the hero is not brought to his knees. to love matt is to accept he could lose matt. either through death or through his inevitable transformation into something foggy may not recognize.

(now matt's unwritten rules by which he lives are bleeding into other characters' lives, consequences spiraling outward & outward)

a perilous thing began with wanting to explore this idea: a story that revolves around the moment when the hero is brought to their knees (figuratively & literally) that marks the separation of who they were before and who they must become after (transformation), if there is to be an after -> internal vs external consequences; forced passivity; how does the hero come back from that & who is he if/when he comes back from that. is he recognizable? i also wanted to look at the hero & the story through someone else's eyes, someone who could be more objective than me, more objective than foggy (whose love for matt clouds his observations, as it did in light perception). and who could objectively understand matt's actions & motivations better than frank? the anti-hero and matt's foil.

so i first look at the character through the lens of the story that’s been told and then the story i want to tell, i look at him through the lens of other characters and i assemble a picture from there. i look at matt through the events of his life, through his relationship with violence & his relationship with his very mortal body. unlike other superheroes he is not invincible, he is not bulletproof, he is not capable of flying, or softening a long fall; he is not capable of throwing his adversaries across a room, he is barely capable of saving himself from his own self-destructive choices. he has a damaged & unbearably human body. everything he can do he has fought tooth and nail for. he doesn't have superpowers like telekinesis or lasers that come out of his eyes; he has loss, he has grief, he has rage. we can all relate to that. he has a voice that is capable of giving a second chance to others (in court) but he lives and dies a thousand deaths inside of the silence at his core he can't find his way out of. his inability to communicate his grief or desires in a bearable way.

perhaps he finds redemption through saving others because he doesn't believe he, himself, is otherwise worthy of redemption. if he did, he would relinquish his duty as hero, he would live a quiet & happy life of domesticity with foggy. perhaps in another world he does. he lays down his mantle, or he lives in a world where he never had to take it up. he's just matt, foggy's soft-hearted partner.

[hannibalismos-jaaneman]

dev patel gave me the desi will graham aesthetic that i have been crying for my entire life and i could never be more thankful to anyone