#it’s the rigid moral code that makes it easier not to think

[shallowrambles]

anon i agree with you and don’t have much to add to it except the latter paragraph is mostly what i mean sans my own hyperbole… i have a dialogue breakdown of it somewhere for andrea that gets into the nuances of how (regardless of how sympathetic i feel and how understandable i find it), that interaction for me personally comes off as: “i beat my devastating and difficult addiction and now you have two seconds to beat your own and if you don’t make the right decision and i am not enough for you to decide to try to change now (as i use somewhat antagonistic/dehumanizing/rigid language) hasta la vista bby!” 🫡❤️

i certainly agree no one was in a good place post-purgatory and everyone who battled there was prone to giving into that sense of hopelessness!

[palant1r]

There are so many fascinating interpretations of light's cannonball into immorality but i have no friends to talk about it with 😭 so why do u think light went so evil so quick? one of my fave interpretations is that, even tho light spoke a bit on how he thought the world was rotten, his ideology was a retroactive justification for killing ppl using the notebook and that his first two kills were actually just him being "bored" and everything grew from there

Man, okay. I have a confession to make: one of the reasons I find Light so fascinating is that I really see myself in him — we just went down uh. VERY different paths. So maybe I'm projecting a bit, but I find his cannonball both understandable and deeply sad, while simultaneously inexcusable and thoughtless. Here goes:

I think that Light has always been someone who is extremely concerned with being Good. His greatest fear is being Bad. Not to personality type him, but he is the quintessential enneagram type one. He holds a deep amount of anger at perceived injustice, and because he needs to be Good, that anger becomes righteous. The thing is, when people are terrified of being anything but Good, that doesn't actually make them do good things. It makes them justify anything they do as good, and makes them completely unwilling to question their own worldviews because the idea of accidentally discovering they've been Bad is too painful to bear. (Like how, when Ryuk says Light would be the only bad person left, Light pulls out some non sequitur and refuses to even engage with that possibility). Another thing is, Light Yagami finds the Death Note when he's in high school. Maybe if he'd found the Death Note later, he wouldn't have gone full Kira mode. But he found the Death Note at a time in his life when he was starting to come up with his own rigid and righteous moral code without the experience to incorporate nuance. Another thing: his dad is a cop, and as I've discussed, he clearly gets his moral code from his dad but with even MORE anxiety about Doing a Bad.

So he finds the Death Note. And he kills the dude who took those hostages. I think he was just being a stupid teenager here, acting impulsively but convincing himself he was being Big Brained. Remember, cop dad: he believes that Crime is a thing that must be Punished, and that Punishment is a Moral Good. It has to be, otherwise his dad and him by extension are Bad, and that is simply unacceptable. After that, I don't think Light was thinking beyond immediate practicalities — the weight of what he'd done hadn't set in yet. He had to confirm the Death Note's power, because Light is ALSO someone who really needs certainty and control. So he kills that one attempted rapist.

And THEN what he's done sets in. We see Light have a mental breakdown, stare the slippery slope in the face, and then immediately decide to grab a sled.

Here's what I think happened. When he realized what he'd done, Light was left with two possibilities. The first was to admit to himself that he was a murderer — that he had done a Bad Thing, and for Light, doing a Bad Thing is totally indistinguishable from being intrinsically, ontologically Bad. This was obviously too painful. So he went with option two: in order to preserve his own self-image as a Good Person, he retroactively justified his actions as Good. This was made easier by the cop morality poison, since under that framework, punishing evil makes people good. After all, there was no doubt a riot team ready to move in on that daycare who might have killed that guy anyway.

Of course, once he'd done that, he couldn't stop there. Light is also a responsible, dutiful person. Because he'd mentally framed his killings as a heroic and necessary act for the sake of self-preservation, continuing his "cleansing" became not just morally neutral but a moral duty. One that he had to continue in order to preserve his self-image of a Good Person. It's a self deluding feedback loop where his actions are good because he is good, and he is good because his actions are good. Light has absolutely no moral self-awareness because that would force him to confront the most painful truth he could possibly acknowledge. His view of ethics is mind-numbingly, braindead-ly simple (baby's first deterrence theory) (someone get Hobbes on the line, this bitch is trying to be the Leviathan) because it's never meant to be a coherent philosophy in the first place — it's a self-justifying defense mechanism.

It's like...so sad to me. Because I see in Light Yagami the potential for an actual well-adjusted person — he wasn't doomed to turn out like this. As much as we clown, without the Death Note I don't think he'd become the Unabomber. He clearly wants to be a good person! But the Death Note didn't "control" or "corrupt" him, either. It just gave him absolute power to carry out an extreme ideology driven by his police upbringing and moral anxiety at a time when he did not have the experience to pump the brakes.

[telltaleangelina]

Soooo.....The Charioteer? What did you think of it?

I thought it was great! I loved the use of subtext and the non-straightforward way it was written. I know from other Renault books I’ve read that she has a kind of writing style that isn’t always simple or easy, but I don’t ever remember it being this tricky. I had to go back and reread so many scenes in this one but it never bothered me. I thought it was so cool, especially the second chapter!

In terms of the characters, I loved Laurie although I didn't quite understand his relationship with his mother. But I did understand his love for both Ralph and Andrew, because I loved them both too. I think showcasing Andrew’s morals and also his moral-rigidity was an interesting angle and I really saw in him what Laurie did: a sweet young man whose whole life was devoted to notions of love, kindness and sacrifice. I understand why hitting Bunny would’ve driven him to London: he spent his whole life adhering to a very specific code of conduct, which is based on certain principles, and in a moment he betrayed them all. And through that betrayal, he discovered something about himself which drove him further away still... I don’t think Andrew will have a very easy road ahead for the foreseeable future, even if he outlives the war. I’m really happy Laurie gave him the Phaedrus and I can’t get the quote 'even the most exalted paganism is paganism nonetheless’ out of my head. I didn't dislike Dave at all, but now that I think about some of the conversation he had with Laurie and his own history, it makes me more worried about Andrew :( I loved Ralph! — he was someone Laurie could be open with completely, with whom he never had to hide. He was also just generally more suited to him. I remember when Charlot was dying, and Laurie thought ‘Ralph would understand’ after Andrew refuses to impersonate a priest: because he would! Ralph doesn’t see the world like Andrew does, he doesn’t think there is only ever wrong or right and nothing else whatever. He was a soldier, like Laurie and understands necessity. It’s true, he can be a little unkind in some places (like his annoyance with Sandy when he’s hurt himself) and also very snappish, but I think Laurie balances him out well by the end of the book. I think it's easier for him to be more vulnerable and openly kind when he's around Laurie. It was very sweet of him to come to the wedding, simply because Laurie mentioned being uncomfortable at giving his mother away. All in all, I can honestly say I was heartbroken when Laurie rejected Ralph and just as heartbroken when he accepts he will never see Andrew again. The ending made me happy though, and even though I know there’s still some years of the war left and some wrinkles in their dynamic, I envision an ultimate happy ending for Ralph and Laurie.

I'm sorry if this is a lot more than what you were asking for, but I'm so excited about this book and haven't stopped thinking about it! Honestly, I think I need to read it again to better take it in and understand it! There are lots of other elements and themes I want to revisit so I can more clearly get a grasp on their place in the story. But anyway, thanks for the question!

[midnightwinterhawk]

Xenk murmured, “I love you, Ed.”

That got under his ribs. If they cut Edgin open one day they’d find Xenk’s fingerprints all over his heart. He sighed. “I love you, too. D’you think this is ever gonna get easier?”

When I tell you the way my heart melted..

Ill-Gotten Booty by @stele3

28k | Explicit | Xedgin

They broke up about six months back. Gave it a go and for a while it was good — really good, surprisingly good. Edgin hadn’t been with anyone seriously since Zia died and Xenk’s last husband had died of old age about twenty years back, so they’d both been rusty at the whole relationship thing, but they’d made it work for about a year before they called it quits. No big blowout fight, just a gradual pileup of problems: Edgin liked the coast while Xenk preferred the mountains, Edgin communicated love through gifts — frequently stolen — whereas Xenk needed heartfelt words of affirmation, Edgin was a thief and a liar and Xenk was a paladin with a rigid moral code and a stick up his ass.

It was better this way. They’d agreed on that. They were just too different as people to make a relationship work between them. Better to stay vaguely friends and occasional allies than make each other miserable by trying to make it work. Perfectly amicable.

They should probably stop having sex.

[ladytauria]

There’s something so ahfjdvhd about rh!Tim being so so gentle with his replacement. It’s the difference in their priorities, in their expression of anger. Reverse robins is also the reversal of Bruce. From Tim’s perspective, B did learn. Jason rarely goes out alone. He is kept safe. Tim doesn’t need to be as angry as rh!Jason. Doesn’t need to prove a point. So he’s gentle

y e s

you get it nonny

okay. sorry nonny, but i just. reverse robins is a Thing for me & i have so many thoughts so ->

that’s one of my favorite things to play with. like—obviously for us the escalation of comic book darkness has to do with real world trends BUT. imo. it’s so fascinating to take that & apply that to reverse robins

so you have bruce starting out a lot more emotionally unavailable & harsh until tim’s death is the catalyst for him to—change. especially once he gets jason. which, i played with a different jason origin in script: flipped, but in the fic i just wrote, i think it still would have been the tires.

but. yeah. so bruce has learned to be better, though he’s still definitely not perfect. and there’s a part of tim (and damian) that resents that, BUT, at the same time, he always interpreted his relationship with bruce as more like co-workers. he wasn’t looking for emotional availability from bruce, never expected it in the first place, so. the resentment is fairly small. bruce changed—he learned his lesson, & tim is happy with that because. i mean. isn’t that what he set out to do? fix bruce? so as far as he’s concerned his time as robin served it’s purpose.

and then the anger!!! yes. bc to jason bruce was a FATHER. he expected something totally different—he wanted proof that bruce loved him. and instead… bruce boxed him away, like he never existed. he focuses on the joker still being alive bc i think it’s easier for him to take bruce to task about joker still being out there, hurting other people; but that’s just one issue among a hundred.

tim meanwhile. didn’t expect that at all. like, he figured his death would be mourned, but. he wasn’t bruce’s son; he’s not going to break his rigid moral code for tim.

now he is upset that like… arkham doesn’t seem to have improved at all, and they’re still letting another child go out BUT. jason didn’t patrol much outside of weekends in his original run (iirc) & i kept that bc, i mean. it works with the sliding scale of improvement??? & as far as i know he wasn’t involved in any major crises, so. yeah. he got a little sheltered!

so tim is just like. sigh. yeah. that’s about as much improvement as i would have expected from bruce.

and then he goes and handles things himself~ by which i mean he didn’t bother with a dramatic showdown with bruce; he just killed joker. and THEN set himself back up in gotham. bc that’s his city too dammit, & if it needs something a little worse than batman to make sure it’s safe, then. well. tim will do it~

ANYWAY.

i’m going to stop here bc. i have rambled long enough. thank you for the lovely comment nonny <3333

[erabundus]

thinking  about  how  ren  has  a  tendency  to  adjust  his  moral  code  in  accordance  with  whoever  he's  seeking  the  APPROVAL  of  —  or  whatever  he  assumes  their  moral  code  might  be.  i  like  to  use  his  relationship  with  kazuha  as  a  prime  example  because  there  are  a  lot  of  things  they're  so  DRAMATICALLY  opposed  on  —  and  it's  not  as  though  ren  is  some kind of doormat  for  him  (  not  in  the  slightest  )  but  he  will  occasionally  stop  and  take  what  he  would  probably  want  into  consideration  before  he  acts.  kazuha  wouldn't  like  it  if  i  stole;  i  won't  steal.  kazuha  would  want  me  to  help  this  person,  so  i  will  —  and  make  sure  he  knows  so  i  can  be  compensated  for  it  later.  it  doesn't  even  necessarily  have  to  be  accurate  to  their  actual  beliefs  —  but  rather,  how  ren  personally  interprets  them.

notably,  this  isn't  exclusive  to  romantic  relationships,  either.  anyone  ren  is  close  to  will  receive  the  same  treatment  —  though  the  degree  to  which  he  tries  to  adjust  is  largely  dependent  on  a  mix  of  respect  and  general  dynamic.  nahida  is  another  very  good  example;  ren  will  often  make  decisions  based  off  of  what  he  assumes  she  would  want  —  or  take  the  fact  his  actions  may  reflect  on  her  into  consideration  before  doing  something  potentially  cruel  or  reckless. it's for the best.

that  doesn't  mean  he's  incapable  of  making  decisions  for  himself;  ren  does have his  own  set  of  personal  morals,  but  they  aren't  particularly  complex  or  rigid.  he's  generally  content  to  leave  others  alone,  unless  they  go  out  of  their  way  to  provoke  him  —  he  REACTS.  if  someone  tries  to  hurt  him,  he  will  hurt  them  back.  if  someone  tries  to  take  something  from  him,  he  will  take  everything  they  have.  in  a  sense,  it's  an  offshoot  of  his  beliefs  regarding  debts;  genuinely  (  to  put  it  in  the  simplest  way  possible  )  fuck  around  and  find  out  logic.  yet  it's  because  his  own  moral  code  is  so  simplified  in  comparison  that  it  easier  for  ren  to  mold  it  to  fit  what  others  might  want.  he's  impressionable.

[hoursofreading]

A number of my blog readers have been asking me to lay out my broad moral framework. Usually I resist this impulse. As David Hume wrote, humans decide on right and wrong based on a confusing and often mutually contradictory jumble of moral instincts, and attempts to fit those instincts into a rigid, internally consistent moral code are generally an exercise in futility. But if I do have one consistent, bedrock principle about the way the world ought to work, it’s this — the strong should protect and uplift the weak. Nature endows some people with strength — sharp claws, size and musculature, resistance to disease. Human society endows us with other forms of strength that are often far more potent — guns, money, social status, police forces and armies at our backs. Everywhere there is the temptation for those with power to crush those without it, to enslave them, to extract labor and fealty and fawning flattery. “The strong do what they can, and the weak suffer what they must,” wrote Thucydides; this is as concise a statement as you’ll ever find of the law of the jungle, both the real jungle and the artificial jungles humans create for ourselves. A hierarchy of power and brutality is a high-entropy state, an easy equilibrium toward which social interactions naturally flow. I believe that it is incumbent upon us as thinking, feeling beings — it is our moral purpose and our mission in this world — to resist this natural flow, to stand against it, to reverse it where possible. In addition to our natural endowments of power, we must gather to ourselves what additional power we can, and use it to protect and uplift those who have less of it. To some, that means helping the poor; to others, fighting for democracy or civil rights; to others, it simply means taking good care of their kids, or of a pet rabbit. But always, it means rolling the stone uphill, opposing the natural hierarchies of the world, fighting to reify an imaginary world where the strong exercise no dominion over the weak. We will never fully realize that world, of course. And my morality is easier to declare than to put into practice; on the way we will make many missteps. We will make mistakes about who is strong and who is weak, punching down when we self-righteously tell ourselves we’re punching up. Like the communists of the 20th century, we will sometimes invert one unjust hierarchy only to put another in its place. And we will be corrupted by the power we gather, mouthing high principle while exploiting some of those we claim to protect; we will tell ourselves that we’re knights while acting like barbarians (just as actually existing knights often did). All these things will happen, and yet it is incumbent upon us to do the best we can, to keep fighting the good fight for a gentler, more equal world. This basic principle obviously informs most of the political views you’ve seen me express on this blog. It’s why I support using American power to help Ukraine defend itself from Russian conquest (and if anyone typified the exact opposite of my moral philosophy, the elevation of pure domineering bully-ism to the level of national guiding principle, it’s Putin’s Russia). It’s why I thought the Iraq War was a crime. It’s why I’ll always support trying to uplift the poor and working class — with welfare benefits, of course, but also with education, jobs, job training, better working conditions, and other policies that give them the power to support themselves and their families. It’s why I believe a just society is one where there is no outgroup. Now, I don’t deceive myself about my ability to produce any of these outcomes. I’m just some guy who writes a blog and hangs out with rabbits. I’m not very powerful by myself, but maybe to some tiny degree I can inspire you to use whatever power you happen to have to protect and uplift the weak. If so, then maybe I’ve done a tiny little smidgen of good with my minuscule allocation of time on this planet. There are so many tiny lives out there. Look out your window at the city around you — there are so many little rabbits living in those little apartments and houses, and so many people living there too. You will never know more than the barest fraction of them. But somewhere in that wild, infinite jungle, there is someone who needs your help. Somewhere there is a princess that someone else thinks is just a hamburger. It’s on you to find them and do what you can.

Why rabbits? - by Noah Smith - Noahpinion

[tiberius-delvaux]

A secret. Alecta was good at keeping those -- the kind that came from sneaking out windows, from being someone different than who she was during the day. Not secrets to end a life, but secrets that fed one. That kept someone separate and alive. Someone that went against the rigid values and strict moral codes, against the expectation of purity that demanded she be warrior, and perfect woman, and something all-together divine. Yes, Alecta thought. She could keep this secret. But then -- she already had someone who kept hers. What was she doing here? And who was this but some outer district no one? Canon fodder? An errant attraction, a fleeting moment of foolish bliss? Alecta was better than this, better than leaning forward, than deepening this kiss. She should reach for the knife. Sever this.

But Cordelia withdrew before any of this surfaced, before she could make good on the urgent fear, and Alecta was left to linger above. Red with shame. Red with blood. She slid back, onto her knees, knelt on the mat as she wrapped an arm around her own waist. Reaching up, applying pressure to the wound -- focused, finding it easier to think about the physical pain than whatever this was. Nodding across the room, to the trainer's station, Alecta cleared her throat, "I'll keep your secret, if you'll get me a bandage."

Cordelia let out a short laugh, airy, uncertain whether or not she should commit to her offering. It wasn't as soul-bearing but perhaps it was. An errant attraction; something that was embarrassing, childish, most people left it unspoken. Dying people didn't have the luxury of waiting though, to figure out if something was more than an passing curiosity, so she thought she'd indulge it, either she'd die or Alecta would. Why not trade this? Her fingers tightened around her side, sliding down Alecta's hip and then she leaned up, almost hesitating for a second and then committed to pressing her lips to Alecta's and then pulled away and gave a murmur, "A secret."

[dearinglovebot]

things about claire dearing that give me major autism vibes, as an autistic

- has a close relative with confirmed autism (gray). autistics are very likely to have other autistic family members

- super expressive with her hands, not as much with her face. in contrast, has a tendency to excessively nod as a signal to show she’s listening when talking with people such as masrani or eli, but not to owen who she’s more comfortable with, which can be seen as trying to mask

- repeats words and phrases (various instances) sometimes out of nerves (dominion, waiting for the elevator) and sometimes for understanding (jurassic world, introduction scene)

- jumps when excited (jurassic world, reuniting with her nephews). notably a stim gray also does in the movie

- difficulty connecting with others. as seen with her nephews, karen, owen, and maisie. her bonding attempts often come off as clumsy, awkward, and out of touch to them

- struggles with social cues. doesn’t always immediately recognize how others are feeling or think about their reactions, but will grasp it once it’s explained to her. her phone call with karen in jurassic world and conversation with franklin in doninion being two good examples. she doesn’t expect for karen or franklin to be that upset with what she does or fully understand what she did wrong initially, but when given the proper tools, understands what she did was bad

- made an itinerary for a date. a love for rules and structure is a core part of autism spectrum characterization, even when it comes to things meant to be fun. actually, especially when it comes to things that seem “weird” to plan

- rigid and strong moral code. even the government can’t come between what she feels is right for the dinosaurs. she’ll go to any length to ensure their safety and well-being. even when it would be easier to and no one would notice she stopped, she can’t

- easier time connecting with animals than other humans. claire’s turning point is when she comes across a dying dinosaur, not person. peaceful animals being harmed is one of her biggest issues going forward and she has no problems feeling bonds with them or their cause

- reoccurring stress-triggered rubbing stim (rubs the steering wheel of her car on the call to karen, instances of rubbing her hands together when in distress in every movie, links her hands together often, etc)

- initially characterized as rule oriented, strict, and cold. autistics may often be mistaken as unfeeling which claire experiences (lowery and owen both question if she sees these animals as real). this comes from various autistic traits such as our structure loving tendencies (which claire has), difficulty connecting with others (which claire has), and how expressive we are of both face and feelings (claire leans towards not always openly expressive)

- on a diet and refuses tequila. food sensitivity and picky eating habits are common in autistics. the ability to structure eating through a diet is also appealing and helpful for some of us

- has ptsd and is bad at regulating it. while ptsd is for everyone, autistics are actually more likely to develop it and our emotional regulation issues makes coping even harder. claire noticeably has a worse time coping than owen or maisie, outwardly participating in dangerous habits like her attempt to rescue a dinosaur from a breeding mill at the cost of her own well being

- doesn’t reciprocate gray’s hug. she awkwardly pats him, but doesn’t return the gesture. claire is okay with hugs if she at least partially initiates them such as with karen or barry, but freezes up when it’s unexpected. owen, a trusted person, seems to be the only person she’s okay with touching her without her initiation. touch sensitivity, like food, is extremely common in all autistics

- doesn’t get metaphors and likes solid facts instead. she is visibly confused when masrani says you can “measure an animals happiness in their eyes” rather than numbers. success is not a subjective thing to her and she bases the park’s status on the guest satisfaction number rather than something like reviews. she also mentions having a hard time comprehending dinosaurs until she can see them physically

this is all to say, shout out to jurassic world for accidentally autistic coding their main character

[clonewarswritings]

Hm... I dunno how well you know Obi-Wan's character, but what do you think it would take for him to be willing to break the code?

Luckily, we've seen a couple of canonical/legends examples of him actively considering such a thing, so there's quite a lot we can extrapolate from those scenes.

But first, lets consider Obi-Wan as a character. Though we often see him as a very proud proponent for the Jedi Order and it's corresponding code, he is far from the most traditional and quite often tries to combine what the code says and what it means to follow the intent. His master had been Qui-Gon Jinn after all, and Qui-Gon tried to pass on his view of the Jedi as being more fluid and flexible rather than rigid and immovable to his then-padawan--and I think that influence shaped how Obi-Wan would later view the order and its code himself (whether he realizes it or not).

For example, here is a wonderful quote from Qui-Gon Jinn from the canonical novel ‘Master & Apprentice’ by Claudia Gray:

“Not every disagreement with Jedi orthodoxy turns you into a Sith lord overnight.”

Especially as an adult (and probably due to the fact that there's a lot of resources, canon and legends, about Obi-Wan now), it's easier to see that Obi-Wan is far from the cool, collected, and cold individual that one might think a stereotypical Jedi would be. He is still very much attuned to his emotions and clearly has experience in dealing with them, and there are several very great examples of where these emotions come at odds with his wavering loyalty and belief in the Jedi code.

First, in the Clone Wars animated series (S2E13), in regards to Duchess Satine, he says,

"Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order."

This is a wonderful quote that, even if only a fraction of which is true, shows that he is not without the ability to fall in love and feel a sense of devotion to someone. A lot of people agree that it seems Obi-Wan seems to be speaking this line from the heart, which really showcases that he's a far more complex individual than one may perceive him at a surface level.

At the end of Charles Soule's Obi-Wan & Anakin comic series, when confronted with a choice for his loyalty to the Jedi Order or to training Anakin Skywalker (and keeping his promise to Qui-Gon), he says,

"If Anakin leaves the Order...then I must leave it as well."

Obi-Wan's relationships, in this quote, are shown to have a higher loyalty than the Jedi Order. This is not inherently a bad thing especially in this case, since it shows that, when he believes the Jedi Order are pushing him in a direction that is wrong, he will instead choose what he believes is right. In this case, it's for his old master and new padawan.

I wonder even if this is a point where Obi-Wan actively considered the strange dichotomy of what current Jedi Code had become: Anakin can leave the order, but he will succumb to the dark side, and nobody is allowed to teach skills of the force outside the Jedi Order, so Obi-Wan cannot help Anakin. This rigid sense of code seems to be a breaking point for Obi-Wan, which really helps us get a solid look at where his personal lines fall in terms of loyalty and sense of moral code overall.

In the end, what seems to push Obi-Wan into the most odds with the code and trying to follow it generally come down to his sense of love and loyalty--both romantic as much as platonic. This makes an incredible amount of sense, given most Jedi only tend to form very close bonds with others in the Order. In turn, those who form bonds outside the Order, especially during the prequel era where the Code has become very rigid and convoluted, would have the most issue with following them, such as Obi-Wan and his relationships to Qui-Gon, Satine, and even Anakin.

So in turn for any reader-insert content, there would be so much glorious emotional tension.

You would much less force him to leave the Jedi Order as to convince him that he doesn't believe in it enough to continue following it.

[ac3id]

resilience [18+]

pairings: shigaraki tomura x female! reader 

summary: if you’re updated w/ the manga u prolly know shigaraki is now all beefed up phew. shigaraki stans stay winning. so here’s a fic where our struggling pro hero y/n wants to become stronger but working hard iisn’t working so she runs to shigaraki, the king of the underworld, to give her a quirk. shigaraki takes this as the perfect opportunity to teach a scum hero hero her place. 

warnings: dubcon-ish, shiggy is really mean, dumbification, size kink nasty nasty 

word count: 4k+ 

masterlist

From a young age, everyone around you had high hopes for you. Your parents wanted you to make them proud, your teachers wanted you to give your hundred percent always. Your friends admired you, they dreamed of being you. You were the golden child. Loved by everyone so, when you developed your quirk no one was shocked to learn that it was one of the strongest quirks out there.

Your parent’s dreams for you soared even higher and soon everyone was complimenting you and deeming how amazing you’d do as a Pro-Hero and you listened to them. You trained your entire childhood in hopes of becoming the No. 1 Hero, even got into a known Hero school, and graduated on top of your class. You thought you were invincible until you started your career as a Pro. 

It was hard. It was so much harder than you had expected. Apparently, your will to save citizens wasn’t enough to make you a legitimate Hero to the eyes of the public. Even if you worked your ass off it wasn’t enough. Weaker and useless Heroes whose only specialty was steering drama with others would sweep in at the last minute and take your victory as theirs’. 

You wanted to speak up about this but your agent had said you’d go nowhere; those Heroes had been in the business longer. No one would have taken your side, you were just a rookie. If you wanted to be admired, you had to also use cheap tricks and form connections with names. 

At first, you refused. It went against your moral code but soon after you started receiving angry phone calls from your peers; them explaining how embarrassing it was that no one even knew who you were, your mind quickly changed. Next thing, you are just like the others using cheap tricks working on your public image rather than actual Hero work. You thought finally it’d work and it did! After a few months, you were under the Top 30 Heroes list. The “hard” work had paid off now, it was only way upwards to the No.1 but you found yourself not rising the ladder. You were stuck in the Top 30. Nothing upwards but other Heroes were beating your position, it was all falling over again. You needed to do something to save yourself.

That’s when you heard about him. A man who granted people power, the King of the Underground. He acted like the Devil himself. Granting your desire for a price. People talked about him in hushed whispers, they acted if he did not exist but he did. He was very much there. His men had been terrorizing the country for so long; his men were hardest to fight. 

You thought about it. You could reach him and ask him for power, after all, you could do anything to be the No. 1 Hero. You couldn’t afford to disappoint the people who had supported you, your entire lives even deep down you knew the only reason everyone- anyone talked to you was for their own selfish reasons but that was okay. They were the only people you had.

So you rolled the dice and made up your mind to meet the Mad King. Shigaraki Tomura.

The hallway was run down and dimly lit; you watched your step as you moved forward not wanting to step over a dead rat or lizard. You were told that you’d see Shigaraki if you walked through it. Your heart beats faster with each step you take; the hallway is awfully quiet excluding the sounds of rats chattering away in the distance. 

Meeting him was not easy, getting this far had been hell. You had to make many calls and sit through many sleepless nights just to confirm the rumor all while making it look like you weren’t investigating Shigaraki Tomura behind their backs. You had gone through a great deal of trouble to make sure your identity was kept hidden from the Government. 

As you took the last turn you were met with a shut door. You latched on the handle, twisting it and pushing the door open. It was a meeting room. A long table stood in the room chairs all empty beside the very center. 

A man sat there, his legs propped up on the table resting over papers and pens dressed in an expensive suit, his long white hair scanned his face. A severed hand rested on his face red, angry eyes gleaming from the gaps of the fingers. Upon seeing to enter the room he crossed his hands over his chest, muscles bulging- almost ripping the sleeves open. He looks at you finally acknowledging your presence; glaring from behind the hand his gaze sends a shiver down your spine. You stand completely captivated and amazed yet scared under the presence of Shigaraki Tomura. 

You stand there frozen unable to move. You never thought you’d ever meet the most wanted man in japan like this: dressed in nothing but a t- shirt and jeans, unarmed and vulnerable 

 His harsh voice cuts through the air as he glares at you. 

“Well?” he asks and you walk inside the room. You stand there awkwardly, wondering whether you should take a seat or not, “Am I supposed to sit down too? Might as well ask if I can kiss your feet?” He snarls, the sarcastic comment leaving his tongue without any hesitance. 

He’s quite mean.

You mumble a quiet apology as you sit yourself a few chairs away from him- you’d like to keep your distance from this dangerous man, biting your lip you think of how you should start the conversation but Shigaraki is impatient. He groans in amusement and slams his feet on the table, flying the papers 

“What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Want. Why. Are. You. Here.”  His tone was harsh, filled with irritation. “I am here for the quirk.” Shigaraki’s brow twitches, he stares at you with confusion basking in his eyes. 

“Quirk?” he pauses tilting his head up facing the ceiling, his hand goes to scratch at his neck; breaking the skin. While he thinks to himself about what you could possibly mean, your mind starts thinking about in all the ways this scenario could work out. Maybe he’d give you the quirk and let you like you were promised, only come back when he needed your assistance in some task. To be honest, you weren’t quite ready to face that day yet. Second, he could kill you right here, right now for just thinking about something so obnoxious. And that’s about it. Those were the only two scenarios you could think of. You also thought of catching him off guard and bringing him back to the Hero Commission but you also knew he was way stronger than you. You silently prayed that you’d get out of this alive and well. 

For a second, you thought Shigaraki had fallen asleep. He was too quiet and the hand on his face did not help in distinguishing whether he was sleeping or not. 

“Shigaraki,” you called and he turns his face back to you, “You’re that fucking Hero.” he spits with disgust. “You want a fucking quirk right? I was told I’ve got an appointment with some scum Hero who wants to get stronger.” You did not pay attention to his belittling. You had gone through much worse hate and had survived. 

“Yes, now, would you please tell me how I can get one.” you added the ‘please’ mockingly, it seemed to affect the villain.

“I don’t help pigs like you.” 

You almost rolled your eyes, there was more convincing to do and you did not want to talk- hell- breathe the same air as this man but you couldn’t return home alone. You had to endure it. You took a deep breath and calmed yourself down, getting ready for a long night. 

“I couldn’t care less what you think about me. I was promised a deal and I expect you to keep your end of the bargain up.” you sighed, “Just for walking through that door and sitting here I had to pay a lot out of my pocket. I’m not leaving until you give it to me.” Your voice was sturdy and rigid. Exerting confidence, for a moment you felt strong. Talking back to a wanted villain like him gave you a false sense power. He sat silently, lost in thought again. 

“You’re gonna be here a while? That’s bothersome. But….you do know that I can just kill you and leave? Make it easier for both of us.” he finished. Anger surged through your veins as you decided against choking him to death. “Shigaraki. Please.” you begged, Godamnit. As much as you wanted to rival his hate towards you, you were smart and knew that you couldn’t afford to make any rash decision now because a single touch from him could mean game over for you. “You’re begging now?” He scoffed, “Okay, tell me why you want it so bad.” You bite your lip deciding whether you should go along with his idle chit-chat. 

“Listen. I really need it. I’m stuck in a useless rank and the walls keep closing in. I don’t disappoint the people around me. It’s really important to me. I don’t expect you to understand but- shit if you want me to beg I will. For that power, I’d do anything.” 

An eerie silence filled the room, Shigaraki remained quiet. He thought about what he could want from you. There was nothing, you were useless to him- a waste of time really. He should just decay you and leave. That would be the right thing to do but then again, the way you looked at him with desperation in your eyes stirred something in him. Maybe it was the unconscious acceptance you held knowing that he is in charge. The power imbalance was starting to get him going. He could imagine you wrapping your pretty, plump lips around his fat cock while he used your throat as he pleased. He was a little tired after all. Maybe he’d even give you a weak quirk and let you off to do your worthless heroics. 

“So you’d really do anything?” He was intrigued. You didn’t want to say yes because you knew he’d make you do something horrible, something you could never really recover from. You could see it in his eyes but in the end, you knew. 

“Yes. Anything,”

He quickly lifted the severed hand from his face and placed it gently on the table, you genuinely wanted to cry. His lips curled at the corner, his lips split into a menacing smile. It was evil, it was dangerous yet it was the calm before the storm. The crazed smile only made you aware about how much you were going to regret this decision. It made you sick.

“Sexual favors. If you want this power, make me cum.”

Your eyes widen in shock, your mouth agape as you process his words. What? 

“You can’t be serious.” your voice was low, your heartbeat quickened and you felt your hands grow cold. Anger and confusion masked your consciousness. 

“I’m waiting.” he sang, his shrill voice sending shivers down your spine. He was joking, right? No way was he was actually expecting you to do it. Right?  He did not say another word instead pulled his feet off the table and slammed them to the floor. He spread his legs and patted his right thigh, looking directly at you with a smile, 

“you’re joking.” you commented. Shigaraki stopped smiling, his head lowered, bangs falling over his eyes; you could not see the face he was making. He clicked his tongue and the ‘tch’ sound resonating in the room, “You think I’m joking?” he asked, his voice now filled with annoyance. You did not answer; you did not what to say. You were beginning to think he was not messing with you, and that he actually wanted you to perform that horrendous act. 

His head turned back to you, his eyes spiraled into angry slits, vermilion orbs gleaming under the well-lit room displaying grim intentions. You knew he was serious. 

You took a deep breath, you knew the price of your dreams was high; the sacrifices you had to make: colossal. But right now, you were given a chance to obtain power- grow stronger to get a step closer to your goal but at what cost? If you, right now, gave yourself up to this notorious villain, what would you lose? Dignity? Pride? You had lost all of that the second you had entered the room. 

Nothing was left to lose. From all the horrendous things he coils have asked you to do, you should be glad all he wanted was some pussy.

You swallowed nervously as you got up from the chair moving towards him in brief, calculated steps. You stood in front of him, his knee at level with your crotch; he looks up at you and smirks. His knee jerks forward, pushing through your thighs and grinding up against your clothed cunt. You gasp in surprise, almost walking away from him. Your fists clench by your side and try to surpass any sounds from passing; the movement of your panties rubbing on your clit sends jolts of pleasure throughout your body. You bite your lower lip, glaring down at him as he continues to aggressively grind his knee on your cunt, your mouth falling agape as the sensations get too overwhelming and your climax starts building. A whine falls from your lips when it stops. Shigaraki abruptly withdraws his knee from your thighs, a wet spot forming on the expensive fabric of his pants. He looks at you and smirks, 

“Hero Slut.” he comments, making your blood boil, you try to retort but his fingers inch towards your hips, fingers pulling at the waistband of your jeans. 

“Take it off.” you hesitate for a moment, “take it off or I’ll dust It.” he threatens, you did not want to walk out the room half naked. You quickly tugged your jeans down, it pooled around your ankles. Shigaraki’s eyes never left your lower body, his eyes stayed glued to your pussy, almost drooling at the sight black and white striped panties. Feeling embarrassed under his predatory gaze, you push your hands forward, covering yourself making Shigaraki frown. He pushes your hands away and replaces them with his own. His fingers rub at your clit through your panties making you writhe in pleasure, you feel yourself get wet, a dark spot starting to form on your panties. Shigaraki glides his finger till your hole and drives them to your hips pulling at the waistband of the fabric and letting it hit your skin with a snap, you gasp. “You like that?” he asks, smirking and repeating the action, “Take this off too.” he finishes. 

He leans back in his seat spreading his legs while he watches you strip out of your panties, his eyes a shade darker clouded with lust. 

“You look better now.” his voice is low and condescending as he pulls you down to straddle his lap. His hands carefully moving up and down your torso, under your shirt, fingers touching the underside of your bra. He guides one of his hands to your hip, and claps around it pressing hard enough for a flash of pain to spark along the bone as he keeps you firmly pinned on his thigh. Gripping one of your thighs firmly, he restrains you from pressing them together. He runs a palm along the inside of your thighs in fascination, you feel yourself get worked up embarrassingly fast, “Look at you,” he barks, a crazed smile blooming on his face. 

“You’re all neglected. How often do you loosen up, whore?” His slender fingers trail downwards to your cunt, he runs a slender finger painfully slowly over your folds, buries it inside your hole moving it around and curling the digit inside you before withdrawing. His eyes scan your face as his thumb strokes down on your clit. Your eyes shut close as you bit your lower lip- trying your best to surpass moans which might further entice him. Your body jerks up with need as you gasp out, your hands balling into fists, choked mewls flow from the back of your throat, “I’m gonna fuck you stupid.” he growls 

“N-no.” 

Shigaraki chooses to ignore you as his hand grips the back of your head, pulling you closer towards him before pushing his lips against yours’ while the other hand reaches behind you, wandering across your ass, grabbing a firm hold of the soft flesh. He pulls away from the kiss and both you regain your breath, taking in as much as you can. Shigaraki leans in, you think he’s going to kiss you but instead, his lips hover over your ear. You feel his warm breath tickling your ear as he whispers in a raspy, broken voice. 

“If you want this power so bad,—" your breath hitched as he pushes another finger in your small cunt, “—grind that worthless cunt on my thigh.” 

You look down at him with half-lidded eyes zooming on his cock straining through his pants. He catches you staring. His eyes light up with amusement, “You want that too, huh? You’re just a cock hungry whore after all. Its fine, you all are,” He pulls his fingers out of your dripping hole and presses them against your lips. 

“Open up,” he commands. You hesitate for a moment but eventually, you obey. You open your mouth, only slightly yet he aggressively shoves his middle and pointer finger into your mouth. “I don’t wanna feel any teeth.” you pucker your lips around his finger, sucking his digits into your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his fingers, tasting yourself around him. Shigaraki sighs, “Laughable isn’t it?” he begins, “Do your Hero friends know how much of a pathetic slut you are? I bet they’d love you see you like: half-naked, sitting on Japan’s most wanted criminals lap, begging to be fucked?” He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, a ‘pop’ sound reverberating in the room. He pats your thigh, “Come on. If you please me good enough I might even give you my dick.” 

The realization hits you. Shigaraki wasn’t doing this entirely for his pleasure. He just wants to humiliate you, see you cry, call you names- anything to make you leave this place broken. A fair price.

A smug smirk reaches his face yet again as he watches you shift around his lap, straddling his left thigh. You put your arms cautiously around his shoulders for support, grounding your sensitive bundle of nerves down against his thigh, exhaling as the muscle rubbed against your clit in the best possible way. A tight coil forms in your lower abdomen as you frantically grind down, pleasurable sensations fogging your mind. His hands are still on your hips as you roll your hips in brisk circles against his thigh as you chase your climax, your mouth falls open at the sharp pleasure shooting through your body as you grind down faster, your mind grows hazy. Thoughts jumbled- and non-existent, only focusing on the rocking of your hips back and forth against his thigh. He occasionally flexes the muscle to intensify the feeling of your approaching orgasm, you’ve barely even had any stimulation and you’re already so close. You tug on your lower lip between your teeth, eyes skewered shut as you feel your orgasm building up, seconds away from erupting, and washing over your entire body. “Is the whore close?” Shigaraki speaks, “Looks like you I didn’t even have to fuck you stupid. You’re humping my leg like a bitch in heat. You’re already stupid. This is the real you. You just pretend- act as a functional member of this rotten society but deep down, you’re just a slut begging for a big cock to stuff her holes. Am I right?”  

“Shigaraki Tomura. Fuck you.” you manage to call out in between your moans. 

A blush creeps onto his face and his cock strains in his pants, the print now louder, and his cock begging to be freed. One of his hands leaves your hips and starts palming his cock through the fabric, he lets out a breathy moan as he examines your face: twisted in pleasure yet the look of hate and disgust still linger. Your displease from this entire scenario riles him up, what a disgusting man he is. 

He shifts his gaze from your face to your tits bouncing along the rhythm every thrust ; his hands roam underneath your shirt stroking your soft stomach and move to grope your tits through your bra. He kneads your breast through your bra before capturing it with all five of his fingers and changing it into specks of dust. Your shirt receives the same treatment and you whine. You sit there naked, grinding on his thigh while he is still dressed, calm and collected save for the bright pink blush on his cheeks. Sweat drips down from your forehead and a pink hue rests on your cheek. You look like a mess. 

“You look pathetic right now, you know?” he speaks. You know, you can imagine and you hate it very much. 

A moan escapes his lips; breathing heavily into your ear- he leaves tainted comments. Groaning occasionally as his lips find its way to kiss and suck bruises at your neckline, sinking his teeth and biting down, nipping on your skin leaving marks on your smooth skin all the while his hands violate your breast, greedily groping and kneading the sensitive mounds, rolling your nipples between his fingers, and harshly tweaking and tugging at them- your eyes roll back into the back of your skull, relishing in the pain.

His cock was straining in his pants; you could feel it poking against your thigh. He moves a hand to hastily unbutton and unzip the confinements of his pants, his dick hard against the fabric of his boxers. A wet stop forming at the tip.

He doesn't hesitate to shove his hands into his boxers, groaning and bucking his hips into his hand as he pulls his cock out. His cock springs upwards. It stands tall and hard yearning with need. Pre-cum spills out his leaking tip, red and angry,demanding relief. You stare at it, marveling the size of his girthy cock. You can tell by looking- he’s too big. It was going to be a tight fit. 

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?” 

“It’s too big.” 

“So?” he asks, annoyance filling his voice as he feels himself get more riled up, “More prep-” you’re still grinding your pussy on his thigh, you try telling him how much you needed him to stretch you out before burying his ridiculously big cock in your tiny, pathetic, little cunt.  “Uh h pleaseee……....It will hurt otherwise.” His ears perk up at your shameless little confession. “It will hurt?” The obscene smile made its way back to his face and you regretted saying so. 

“It better hurt.” 

Shigaraki stands up to his full height, towering over you. You stumble and your hips hit the table behind you. You seriously looked like nothing compared to him. His shoulders broader and rigid, his arms buff and robust. Any hopes you even had in defeating him vanishes away into the air as he turns you around and bends you over the table. 

Papers scatter and fall to the ground, your breasts press against the cold wood and he captures both your hands holding them behind your back in one hand. His other smack your ass making you squirm, “Consider yourself lucky.” he groans, his cock lining up with your cunt, “I don’t fuck every common whore I see.”  His words sting and he pushes past your little hole, tearing it up, tears start to prick at the corner of your eyes. You sniff, “It hurts.” Shigaraki ignores you, lost in the way your small pussy gobbles up his fat cock inch by inch. “Shut up. It'll get better soon enough.” he speaks when he gets annoyed by your little grunts of discomfort. He doesn’t give you time to adjust as he bottoms out, stretching your pussy open. “There. It’s all in,” he spanks your ass making you wail out. 

The stretch burns but you soon feel yourself get wetter adjusting to his size. He starts thrusting his cock into you, using your pussy as his personal cocksleeve. He’s mean with it. He goes rough and fast, pushing his cock all the way till your hilt until his tip kisses your cervix. He laughs at how pathetically you whine, you plead for him to slow down but he doesn’t listen. He pulls you up to his chest by your hair, biting aggressively on your neck, whispering perverted remarks in your ear. He plays with you tits, rolling, pinching and tugging on your nipples. His hands are all over you, except where you need it the most- your clit. The hardened nub begs for attention, burning in need to be touched and played with yet he pays no mind to it choosing to watch you suffer in agony instead. 

“Pheweaze.” you beg, your tongue lolling out of your mouth. He catches the pink flesh between his fingers, petting it making it impossible for you to talk. “What’s that? What did you say? I couldn’t catch it.” He teases, pretending he doesn’t know what you need. He finally pulls his finger out of your mouth, still thrusting his cock into your cunt, “Pheleaseeee e touch my clliit. I need it.”  Finally, you manage to say a complete sentence. You embrace yourself in hopes of Shigaraki finally touching you but instead he chuckles, “Is that so? Is that what you need? I thought you wanted a quirk?” You cry out in frustration. Shigaraki laughs, his shrill laugh masking the lewd sounds of skin slapping against each other. He thinks for a while, looking at you de-flowered, broken to the point where you couldn’t even form sentences properly, he smirks to himself. He’s won.

His fingers snake down to your clit rubbing it avidly. You sigh as you finally feel proper stimulation. Soon enough your loud moans of pleasure fill the empty room and you feel yourself tighten around Shigaraki, “I feel that, your slutty little cunt is squeezing me. You are close, aren’t you?” 

Your moans quickly turn into pants as you let out a silent scream while you cream around Shgaraki’s cock, “You came, bitch?” he asks but you just whimper, your body still writhing with the intensity of the orgasm, “Ugh. Hero Slut.” His thrust gets sloppier, you can feel he’s close by the way his cock twitches inside of you. Next you know- you feel- is hot spurts of cum shooting inside of you, painting your insides white. 

You plop down on the table beneath you, your body exhausted. He pulls out of you and you quickly turn your head back to him, “The quirk..” you meekly ask. “Messy little slut,” he murmurs, ignoring you. “Makes me wanna mess you up even more.”

“Tomura Shigaraki. The quirk.” 

He hummed. “So you plan to go back and pretend you are something more than a worthless slut?-” 

“Tomura. The fucking Quirk.” you weren’t in the mood for any of his shit now, “Jeez fine. If you want the quirk so bad, here, have it. Clean it up well.” He’s motioning to his half-erect cock covered with his cum and your juices. “What the fuck.” You ask, getting up standing to your full height. Even though you were much shorter to him ( and very much naked ) you still wanted to show him that you could put up a fight. 

“I give the quirks. If you want it, you’ll need to ingest my DNA. And also, didn’t I say I’m gonna come on your pretty face?” Your eyes dart up to focus on Shigaraki's face – and shame washes over you as you witness his sinister look. He pushes you down on his knees and you come in level with his cock. 

 “Fuck you,” you stutter out, still trying to seem like you have any power, like you’re the one in charge.

He laughs, “Oh, I just did, sweetheart.”

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[tiptapricot]

I’ve been having a lot of Evil Robo BnT thoughts recently, so here’s a bunch of them! This ended up pretty long just as a forwarning djjdjd

Post DeNomolos, Evil BnT are forced to do a lot of self exploration and discovery

They’re two robots from the far future, stuck in the past with each other and the two humongously important historical figures they were not only sent back to kill, but also physically made to look and sound exactly like, with no way back to their own time and no further reason to carry out the mission they were created for

It’s a lot to adjust to

(Three uses of the f-slur near the end in a canon compliant/reclaimed usage context, and implied sexual content, but extremely mild)

It still doesn’t have much of an impact on them at first though, besides some anger and annoyance. They don’t feel emotions in the same way or to the same depth that humans do, so they kind of fall back on: this sucks and that guy was a dick, guess we have to live in the stupid past now, and that’s the extent of it

But they’re also AIs, and AIs learn and grow

They hide out in a cheap apartment for the first few months or so back, going out to steal money to pay for rent and to pick up movies and stuff, but it’s exposure to the world, it’s living. And the more they interact with people, the more media they consume, the more the rigid walls of their programming break down and expand

And that’s when things start getting complicated

Because that’s when things like morals, sense of self, purpose in life, and, to their horror, real emotions start coming into play

Their evil edges start corroding, things stop being as straightforward, and they start developing into their own complex people

Being Bill and Ted with a few glorified descriptors stuck on the front starts feeling… weird, especially when they inevitably end up running into them again and being around them more

Because they’re supposed to be Bill and Ted, but they aren’t, and yet they can’t completely deny the parts of themselves that are….. it’s frustrating

As a first step in both asserting and exploring their individuality, they choose their own names

Evil Bill chooses Willis, or Will for short, and Evil Ted goes with Theoneous, Theo for short

It’s different enough to feel like their own thing, while still appeasing the ingrained itch to take BnT’s place

There are gaps like that, a disconnect/mental dissonance between their consciousnesses and the knowledge that they’re robots, circuitboards and wires and code, like a separation between what they feel is them and what they feel is the robot

That’s an experience that continues as they grow, especially as they try and figure out what to do with their lives. It’s tough sometimes, to figure out where the programming ends and where their own wants and drives begin

They’re the only ones familiar enough with future tech to help each other when they experience technical issues or need repairs, and the only ones they feel comfortable being that physically vulnerable with

It leads to them being kind of codependent, but it’s warranted in a lot of ways

They also naturally stick closer to each other, because even though they grow to have emotions and are able to care about people, they aren’t totally mushy

They don’t get as upset about things, or as excited, and while they form their own kind of love for the people they end up caring about (without admitting it), they’re still never able to connect with humans in the same way they connect with each other

It’s this inherent wall, a difference in how they experience the world

Their forms of affection are machine based, just like how humans are human based. They’ll give each other cold packs when it’s hot or they’ve been moving a lot, they’ll do evening maintenance on each other, chatting while one of them has their hand in the other’s chest cavity, and they jump on each other or bang their shoulders together super hard, because they can’t feel a thing and they’re durable enough for it, and that’s fun to them

That doesn’t really carry over to human interaction though, and a lot of times they end up coming across as cold or mean

They generally have a rougher seeming relationship than most humans. There’s a lot of teasing and insults and slapping, which turns most people off from them, but that’s how they show they’re comfortable (it’s also how they show they don’t like people, but there’s a subtle and meaningful difference there, AKA that they won’t purposefully try to harm the former party)

Robots process sound differently too, for them it’s more of a physical experience than just listening

Will’s guilty pleasure is that he likes to listen to piano (secretly), especially Debussy and other classical that sounds similar. Something about it makes his circuitry feel good and fuzzy and calms him down

He doesn’t feel comfortable telling Theo about it, it still feels like a dumb pussweed thing to be into (plus it continues to make him have some most non metal thoughts about kissing and That’s DEFINITELY not something he can share)

They also both really like death metal. Though they were loosely programmed with the knowledge of BnT’s music taste, it’s not quite their style, and they lean towards the more intense stuff

They do that in most fields though, since it usually takes higher energy stuff to get them going/excited/into something

That’s why they roughhouse a lot, and mess things up, and drive recklessly, it forces their mechanics to process more things more quickly, and as a result gives them their own form of dopamine/adrenaline

Sometimes things backfire, they’ve fucked themselves up accidentally on more then one occasion when stuff goes too far or isn’t what they expect, but they’re always there to patch each other up

When their synth skin gets ripped or torn they don’t always bother to repair it, and underneath there’s a layer of see through hard plastic and their bodies look like those clear case electronics that were popular in the 90s (idea cred to @juiceboxfrog !)

They also have inspector gadget-like telescoping stretch arms at their wrist and ankle joints, but they don’t use those much because they’re unsettling to most humans. Definitely a leg up when they want to climb places the shouldn’t, though (idea cred to @showbiz-za !)

Theo is more prone to needing fix ups than Will, since the extra wiring that was installed for the time and space spanning camera DeNomolos gave him made him more susceptible to short circuiting, over heating, and other glitches

After awhile he just takes his left eye out and leaves it like that, keeping his hair in his face to cover it. It doesn’t do anything for the internal parts of it he still has, but it’s not like it’s a loss. The connection port kept sparking, and it was uncomfortable and kept fucking with his vision, so it wasn’t worth it

Plus he didn’t really like that it used to be a camera… or still could be

One of the things Will and Theo both have to get used to is actually valuing their own privacy and autonomy

When DeNomolos was around they were just his tools, tools that he didn’t even like

They honestly grow to resent him pretty fast, both with his treatment of them, and, when their emotions are especially out of control, his creation of them

They don’t talk about it much, or when they do it’s mainly anger, not addressing or showing the more raw parts they do feel, because that’s still foreign to them, and their circuits weren’t designed to process or understand more complex stuff

Complex stuff like how being around Ted more makes Theo develop a certain… insecurity

It’s not like the connections are hard to make: he looks like Ted, he sounds like Ted, he was meant to be Ted, Ted has a dickweed of a dad, and Theo had a dickweed of a creator, Ted has Bill and Theo has Will

But Theo doesn’t have Deacon

And while he doesn’t want to be exactly like Ted, part of him also does (it was made to). Part of him wants to be human, to have those natural connections and someone to watch over

But he doesn’t and it’s weird*

He tries to ignore it, chalks it up to his drive still attempting to put him on his original track of replacing Ted, and therefore making him more aware of the family roles Ted has

For all he knows that is what it is, he’s just a robot after all

Even though they aren’t really ones for mushy love, Will and Theo do love each other

You can’t not when you know the other person inside and out, literally

They joke a lot about that when they’re doing repairs (“Dude you’re holding my heart, pretty faggy of you.”), and though they laugh, there’s an unspoken intimacy to it, something that sits warm in their wires and goes beyond platonic; something (though they would never describe it as such) loving about getting to take care of each other, and getting to get taken care of

The jokes also stop being jokes after awhile and take on a charge, morphing into unofficial flirting

Eventually that charge sparks, and their relationship becomes a different kind of physical. That’s new, too, a type of exploration neither of them are familiar with, but it’s nice, it’s good, and it’s easier to write off as casual and not meaningful than anything else (for the record I do think this works/plays out different for them than it does for humans, but I will nOt get into that here or anywhere lmao)

That arrangement doesn’t last forever, though, because one night Theo has a bad malfunction that cause him to completely power down, and it sends Will into a panic

It takes him almost an hour to fix the problem and for Theo to reboot, and when he comes back Will can’t stop touching him and checking in and it’s weird

“Why are you so worked up dude, this’s happened plenty of times.”

“Yeah I know you just… you fritzed out and went limp and it freaked me out dude.”

“So? You know this is nothing to worry about. I don’t get why you’re kinda acting like such a pussweed dude.”

“I didn’t know what was wrong! That’s plenty of reason to be fucking worried!”

“Not for you! Not for us! Why the hell do you care so much this time?”

“Because I love you, asshole!”

And then there’s silence, and staring, and then Theo cracks a smile

“Heh, fag.”

Kissing after a confession, as it turns out, makes both of them short circuit, and they wake up three days later still tangled up on top of each other, half falling off the apartment couch

“Y’know… I think we’re both fags now dude,” Will whispers, and they chuckle in the space between their mouths. “I did it first though.”

*he does get this later with Billie and Thea, but that’s a whole separate post

(As one last thing wanted to add that Love Came Along by Pansy Division perfectly encapsulates the vibes of Will n Theo’s relationship to me, AKA something casual and almost humorous while still being super intimate and emotional, so def check it out if you’re ok with suuuuper explicitly sexual lyrics bfgjgfdfg)

Headcanons masterpost

[tearlessrain]

Follower meme: Jial-ro Lhir

I wasn’t tagged this time I just wanted to do another one.

Class: Jedi Sage

Weapons: Lightsaber (gold). Also the ground, I guess.

Recruitable by: Smuggler, Nar Shaddaa. All classes after stopping Saresh’s attempted coup in KotFE.

Likes: Compassion, idealism, standing up for the oppressed,  questioning authority, unorthodox solutions

Dislikes: Rigid adherence to rules/tradition, cruelty, anti-alien sentiment, supporting the Empire

Selection lines:

“Oh, good, I was getting restless on the ship.”

“Where are we going this time?”

“I’m ready!”

“Great! Let’s go do something exciting.”

“Miss me?”

[Smuggler PC] “Which crimes are we doing today?”

Dismissal lines:

“I’ll go explore on my own for a while.”

“Bye.”

“Have fun!”

“I wouldn’t mind a nap.”

“I guess I'll... go meditate, or something.”

[Smuggler PC] “Don’t get arrested without me!”

Battle lines:

“I didn’t want to hurt you!”

“The Force is with me.”

“You can’t beat us!”

“Just surrender!”

“I am not feeling serene right now!!”

“Too slow!”

[screm]

Exiting battle:

“Are you all right?”

“That was exciting.”

“This is fine, right? They basically attacked us first.”

“Jedi aren’t supposed to be prideful, but we were awesome.”

“Why do people keep looking at us and thinking they’ll win?”

Low health:

“I don’t want to die.”

“Everything’s... going numb...”

“There is no death... there is no death...”

“Not doing well right now!”

“Help.”

Resurrected:

“Let’s not do that again.”

“Oh, I’m not dead. Nice.”

“I’ve heard near-death experiences can bring Jedi closer to the Force. I think this is just a concussion, though.”

“...Ow.”

“I guess I really am too pretty to die.”

“Okay, so now I know another way not to fight.”

Misc. click lines:

“What do you need?”

“Mhm?”

“Still here!”

“Right behind you.”

“What? Is my outfit crooked?”

“Does my mane still look okay?”

“Not that I don’t like talking with you, but shouldn’t we get going?”

“I always learn a lot watching you.”

“Huh? Sorry, I was watching that bug.”

[Smuggler PC] “Captain!”

[rare] “Jedi are never supposed to abuse our power, but I really want to know if I could use the Force to make someone think they’re a monkey lizard. I won’t, but I want to.”

[rare] “I'm not saying I agree with the Sith philosophically, but we should just admit they're better at fashion than us.”

[rare, Smuggler PC] “We’re taught how to talk to politicians and diplomats at the academy, but not... people. You make it look so easy.”

Situational:

[Nar Shaddaa promenade] “It’s so... shiny here. I LOVE it!”

[Coruscant] “I never got to see this place before the attack, but it’s still impressive, isn’t it? I could live here.”

[Tattooine] “Do you know how long it takes to get sand out of fur? Don’t expect me to leave you any hot water when we get back to the ship.”

[Hoth] “Why would you bring me here? My ears are going to freeze and fall off. Maybe my nose. Nobody should ever come here.”

[Quesh] “Hey, that toxic cloud kind of looks like your face! There... no, never mind, it’s gone.”

[Voss, non-Force user PC] It’s peaceful here, but... something isn’t right, can you feel it? Oh, no, I guess you wouldn’t. Uh, sorry.”

[Voss, Jedi/Sith PC] It feels strange here, right? It’s not just me?”

[Voss, Shrine of Healing] “I don’t know why the Council are so afraid of the Mystics. This place isn’t really Dark, it’s just... the Force. There must be things we could learn from them.”

[Corellia] “How could Corellia’s leaders let this happen? These people were just living their lives, they didn’t ask to be dragged into a war.”

[Corellia zoo] “You know, we could just take a sleen right now and I bet nobody would notice. It would... probably fit on the ship, right? I think that one likes me.”

[Axial Park] “It used to be beautiful here. Do you think it will ever be the same?”

[Odessen base, ambient conversation if Khatte is recruited] Jial-ro: “You know you can talk to me, don’t you?” Khatte: “Fine, if letting you interrogate me is the fastest way to get back to my job.” Jial-ro: “Don’t think of it as an interrogation! Just, you know, an open and honest discussion about your emotions.” Khatte: “Get away from me.” Jial-ro: “Or, alternatively, you could think of it as an interrogation if that’s... easier. For some reason.”

Gifts:

Courting | Cultural | Delicacies | Imperial | Luxury | Maintenance | Military | Republic | Technology | Trophy | Underworld | Weapon

Love:

“This is perfect! How did you know?”

Like:

“Oh, this is nice!”

Everything else:

“Thanks!” it’s an avocado

Story:

Smugglers will first encounter him on Drooga’s barge trying, ineffectively, to talk his way out of being fed to a rancor. After witnessing the Smuggler’s audience he will enthusiastically (and somewhat desperately) volunteer himself to help recover the stolen shanjaru in order to escape Drooga. He will meet up intermittently with the Smuggler throughout (subsequently revealing that he was also trying to track down and stop Lazae, but got caught up trying to free Bowdar when the trail led him to the barge) and eventually join the confrontation with Lazhae. Before the Smuggler leaves the planet, Jial-ro will express his admiration for them as well as his frustration with the Jedi’s detachment from the galaxy at large and how badly being raised by them prepared him to actually navigate life beyond the academy. He’ll ask to travel with you for a while to broaden his own horizons and learn how to avoid being fed to any more rancors, and assures you that in exchange having a Jedi along will open some doors and help you avoid suspicion. For a DS Smuggler he will also suggest, somewhat obnoxiously but with good intentions, that you could use the moral guidance.

He’ll have a conversation early on where he second guesses his decision to travel with you and worries that he’s falling to the Dark side. The Smuggler can either reassure him that he can still keep his core values even if he isn’t following every tenant to the letter (for LS points), suggest that he embrace it and give up the Jedi code entirely (for DS points), or tell him to figure it out himself (neutral), but regardless he’ll come to the conclusion that he doesn’t want to abandon the basic values of the Jedi even if he’s interpreting some of them loosely.

When he’s recruited or reunites with the PC after the time skip, he’s far less conflicted (and less intermittently preachy) and has settled comfortably into seeing himself as more of a Grey Jedi. He’s also much more disillusioned with the Republic and has an uneasy relationship with the Jedi Council, but still considers himself basically on their side and will disapprove of supporting the Empire.

Romance:

Romanceable by male PCs only; a romance can be started either in the base story (for Smugglers) or after he joins the Alliance (all classes). If a romance is started in the base game he will happily flirt back and forth from the start, but will never take initiative himself to move beyond that. After a while you have the option to clarify that you’re genuinely interested in a relationship, at which he will immediately panic and leave the conversation. The next time you speak to him he’ll apologize for his reaction and ask if you meant what you said. If the player says yes, he’ll express that he’s also interested but will need to talk through his conflict with the Jedi code. He’ll be very open and affectionate in private but it will take him a while to feel comfortable about anyone else knowing. With some prompting he’ll admit that he’s gotten in serious trouble for this kind of thing before, while he was still a Padawan.

Post time skip, again, he’s much more chill and forward about it. For Smuggler PCs he’ll make it clear that he no longer cares about the Council’s opinion of his personal life and either ask to pick up where you left off (if previously romanced) or confess that he was attracted to you before and was afraid of taking initiative (if not). The player can either have a one night stand with him or start/rekindle a more committed relationship, but if turned down he will back off and want to remain friends. He will not initiate with non-Smuggler PCs but will still be very receptive if approached about it.

[problems-turn-fics]

I have a lot of feelings about Caleb and his self worth even before he was captured by Simcoe. Please enjoy Sackett telling Caleb he’s a good man and that loving Ben isnt a bad thing.

Caleb was a practical man. He had hopes and dreams and fantasies just like anyone else, but he’d accepted that that was where they would stay. The reality he lived in would never allow him to have the things he truly wanted so he settled and accepted and moved on. 

He shouldn’t have even wanted the things he did. They weren't good or moral, they weren’t what Good Men wanted. They weren’t the kinds of things men like Ben or Washington wanted. 

Sometimes he wondered if that’s where his trouble with conventional morality had begun or if it was the natural conclusion of being a menace to society. Because he always had been a menace. Every adult who’d spent more than a few minutes with him when he was a kid had told him so. He didn’t remember caring what they thought then and he certainly didn’t care what they thought now. 

Having that loose set of morals came in handy when there was dirty work to be doing. He didn’t have a problem with stealing from those who could spare it even if it broke Washington’s precious rules of war. He didn’t have a problem with roughing up a captured officer just a little. He didn’t see the glory in those rules who had just been made up one day and everyone had agreed to follow them, not when they didn’t make sense. 

So Caleb accepted that when dirty work needed doing it fell to him and he didn’t resent it for even a second.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll go. I’m the expendable one with the loose morals.”

Ben laughed a little and rolled his eyes, shaking his head but smiling. Caleb watched him go for just a second before he turned to Sackett who had not laughed. Which wasn’t in itself odd, but usually the man at least cracked a smile at Caleb’s jokes. He was one of the few people in camp who actually appreciated Caleb’s humor. 

Instead he was frowning at Caleb.

“What?” Caleb asked with a shrug. Maybe Sackett was worried about the mission. They seemed to be the only things that Sackett cared about. “I can handle it.”

“I am aware.” Sackett turned away and back to the sheets of paper in front of him. “It is your other assessment that I disagree with.”

Caleb tried to remember what else he might have said that Sackett would have a problem with. 

“Though I find it interesting that you think you have loose morals when you are one of the few men who I would say has a handle of his own moral code,” Sackett said, having obviously sensed the question in the air. 

“Yeah, handle on that they’re barely there,” Caleb said with a laugh. 

Sackett frowned. “Just because you don’t see the reasoning in every facet of what is considered standard morality in our society does not mean you lack for your own. I would daresay that you have a more rigid moral compass than most, because you built it to point towards your own values.”

“That doesn’t make them the right ones, jus’ means I’m stubborn,” Caleb said with a shrug. 

Sackett nodded at him in conceit but the pinched look on his face made it clear that he wasn’t done arguing yet. “I hardly think that loyalty and empathy are bad traits to strive towards.”

Sackett was watching him, waiting for something to crack and Caleb thought he might just be the thing to break. It was a little too much like when his uncle used to ask him if he’d actually started the trouble he was in or if he’d just accepted the blame for one of the other kids again. Too much like acceptance, too much like being known. It made his chest hurt. He missed his uncle. “Careful, Sackett, you almost sounded like you liked me there for a second.” 

With a wink he started towards the door but Sackett’s voice stopped him again. 

“You underestimate yourself, Mr. Brewster, and I am not one prone to making that statement,” Sackett said, taking a moment and leaning back in his chair as he watched for Caleb’s reaction. Though it felt more like he was flexing some invisible power over Caleb to force him to listen. Caleb knew Sackett well enough that he barely had to be in the same room as someone else to be able to feel their reactions. The man was practically psychic. 

“Oh yeah?” Caleb asked, as he turned around to lean up against a table and picked up the drill he’d used to practice on the bust of Georgie’s. Caleb knew it probably made him look nervous to Sackett even if it was the same tactic Caleb had used on Ben for years to distract from tense conversations he didn’t want to have. He just had to pick something up, fiddle with it for a while, and then Ben would get annoyed and grab it from his hands and whatever they’d been talking about would be forgotten.

“You’re far from expendable. Your intelligence comes from something much more important than Yale. Your skills are beyond most of this camp. And as previously stated your moral code is as sound as anyone’s.” Sackett shrugged one shoulder. “You are, in fact, the type of man other men lie to themselves about being. Which is why it is fascinating, though incorrect, for you to think that you are not to the same standard.”

Caleb’s eyes burned and he looked down at the drill as he continued to flip it just so he didn’t have to look at Sackett anymore. “No man wants to be like me and I’m a mother’s nightmare,” Caleb forced himself to say. It was true. There were days he was relieved that his mother had been gone too long to ever see her son as the man he’d grown to be. 

“A mother’s nightmare maybe, but I have seen more than enough to know that you possess one skill and trait that all men pretend to have but few do.”

Caleb didn’t want to hear it anymore. He was tired and it hurt and he kept listening he might trick himself into believing it. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

“Men like to pretend that they are above it but love makes fools of us all. You keep your head despite it,” Sackett said with a grin. “That is a trait I would say most men would envy; a trait many men pretend to have.”

Caleb laughed and it was almost genuine that time. He was a bigger fool for love than anyone knew. Though no one knew he was in love to start with which he supposed was the key. “I’m not in love so I would say your assessment is a little off there, Sackett.” 

Sackket smirked, cocked his head towards the door that Ben had walked out of not ten minutes before, and said “Aren’t you?”

Caleb forced himself to keep flipping the drill even as his fingers went numb and his blood went cold. “I don’t know what you think you kn-”

“What I know is that you joined this army for the same reason many men did. Love of one’s country, love of freedom, love of another person, they are all love. I see no problem with that.” Sackett took a deep breath and gave a small smile, the one for when he’d said something he thought was particularly clever. “Especially not when, as I said, you seem to keep your head despite it.”

Caleb still couldn’t breath. He trusted Sackett to a certain extent but he’d never trusted anyone he had to look in the face again with his secret. And he’d certainly never let anyone on about why he’d actually joined up. 

“Now, you have a lot of work to do before you ride out, I suggest you get back to it,” Sackett said before he turned back to his own papers. 

Once Sackett turned away it was a little easier and Caleb pulled himself together and decided to ignore it. As long as he didn’t piss Sackett off he would probably be fine. He’d have to trust that. 

[vikingpoteto]

we don’t have to dance (to the beat of their songs)

Chapter 1 on AO3

______________________

Relationships:  (Gen) Tim Drake & Jason Todd

Tags: Battle for the Cowl, Alternate Canon, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Mental Health Issues, Past Child Neglect, Domestic Fluff, Canon is not valid I am, and I want them to be friends goddamnit

Summary: In the middle of their battle, Jason asks Tim to leave the nest and be his Robin. Tim decides it's not a bad idea, after all. ________________________

Jason is already having one hell of a bad night when he notices someone broke into his hideout.

He makes sure he isn’t noticed at the cave entrance even if he can hear two voices clear as day. He recognizes them, but that doesn’t mean his stomach doesn’t do a full somersault when he sees the Bat uniform. For a terrifying moment, he thinks the whole death thing was all a ruse and Bruce is back from a grave he’s never really been in. How fucked up is it that it makes perfect sense? That it’s not out of character for Bruce to just pretend that he’s dead for the sake of whatever ridiculous plan he’s following at the moment?

Jason takes a step back and closes his eyes, inhaling slowly.

“I owe you one, Catwoman,” says the man in the Bat costume somewhere down in the cave.

That’s right. That isn’t his voice. Jason forces himself to glance down again and he finally takes note of the things he should have noticed in the first place: the person in the Bat costume is shorter than Bruce, more slender and even his stance is less rigid. Less like a stoic soldier and more like a trained gymnast. Not the gymnast, though. That one must be tending to Damian’s ouchie back at the manor. As he listens to him exchange a few quips with Selina, Jason knows.

That’s Tim Drake.

His last meeting with Tim was far more pleasant than any interaction he had with the other bats, and that’s saying something considering he was in custody at the time. Still, Jason must do what he has to do. He doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t think he has many options. He didn’t expect to face Tim so soon, but maybe it’s better this way. After his confrontation with Dick and what he did to Damian, he might as well burn all the bridges. Like ripping off a band-aid.

Jason’s replacement is good, but he still has a lot to learn. He doesn’t hear it when Jason dashes towards Selina and knocks her out. He can only react by jumping out of Jason’s reach.

“Well, there goes diplomacy,” Tim grunts. “What do you think you’re doing, Jason?”

Of course he knows. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.

“You look stupid in that get up,” Jason tells him.

“Pot, meet kettle.”

And that’s when he attacks.

Those few stupid words they exchanged make big difference and Jason hates it. He hates how confident Tim is that Jason won’t shoot him — confident to the point that he’ll exchange pleasantries with Jason instead of attacking outright, before Jason even has the chance to take a shot at him. If this were anyone else, Jason would call it a stupid mistake and end the fight, but he’s learned enough about his replacement. Tim doesn’t do stupid, not in battle. Everything he does once he’s fighting is calculated and Jason hated him for it for too long. He knows Tim was the Robin that Jason could never be.

The fact that he’s ready for it doesn’t mean he manages to dodge the kick Tim aims at his chin. The kid is simply faster.

Not that it matters.

Tim tries to kick his jaw again. Jason grabs him by the ankle. Expecting that, Tim tries to flip backwards. He isn’t heavy enough. Jason throws him at the wall as if he’s nothing but a ragdoll. Robin reflexes kick in and Tim rolls on the floor, using the cape to avoid bigger damage. He grunts as he gets back to his feet.

“I’m going to end your little masquerade tonight, Jason.”

“Oh, but I’m only getting started, Boy Wonder.”

There is a loud thud. Jason’s knuckles connect with his jaw hard enough to bruise, and a lesser man would have been knocked out. Tim flips away almost gracefully, as if they’re dancing. Jason expects him to back off. Tim lands and runs into his space. Jason crosses his arms, bracing for a punch. Tim ducks down on the last second and hooks his leg behind Jason’s knees. He doesn’t fall, but he loses his balance. Tim lands the next punch. Jason hears something crack and he isn’t sure if it’s his armor or himself. He backflips away from the kid, because he better gather himself.

“Don’t hurt yourself now,” Tim taunts, even if he’s breathless.

Jason rolls his eyes and grabs a handful of dirt from the ground. He almost takes pleasure in Tim’s indignant sputter when he gets dust tossed at his face.

By the time he opens his eyes, Jason is no longer in his field of vision, concealed by one of the many deceiving nooks along the cave walls. That’s the problem with them. They always forget Jason can be just as annoyingly stealthy as they can.

“Come on, Jason! Come out and play! So I can tear that cowl off your gigantic stupid head.”

He sounds annoyed. Jason smirks, despite himself. He presses a button on the side of his cowl and speaks into the comm.

“I don’t see that ruthless side of yours very often, Tim. I like it.”

Tim doesn’t move towards the sound of his voice.

“This place is rigged with speakers to throw me off, huh? I’ll still find you.”

The kid can stand his ground, Jason will give him that. He has brains and skills that make him a terrifying enemy. Too bad Bruce brainwashed him into being a freaking hypocrite. Too bad he’s still trying to figure out where Jason’s hiding, unaware that his enemy is right behind him. Jason gets a batarang from his belt.

Jason remembers a young face, his only visitor in prison. A boy that gave him what he needed to escape.

Instead of throwing the blade, he surges forward and grabs Tim’s arm. The kid gasps, but can’t react before Jason twists his arm into a lock and presses the batarang to his throat. The guard around his neck is resistant, sure, but still malleable enough to allow head movement and it’s certainly not strong enough to stop the sharp edge. Tim knows that. He stays very quiet and Jason can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he comes up with a plan.

“You have one chance to save yourself,” Jason says. He feels the stillness beneath his hands gain a new tension.

“What, you’re going to fight me without any dirty tricks?” he hisses.

“Come on, Tim. You know damn well there’s no such thing when your survival is on the line. I know you do. You’re better than this. Join me. Be my Robin.”

Apparently forgetting there is a sharp object pressed to his throat, Tim tries to look back at Jason. “ Join you? A psychopathic killer? Sure, why not?”

Jason twists his arm a little further, his grip tightening. He doesn’t like to hear him spewing the same meaningless bullshit Bruce preached. He forces himself to remember what he’s doing.

“I’m serious, Tim. You know you… we can do better. Why else would you help me break out of prison?”

“That’s right,” he grunts. “I let you escape. Now the lives you took after that are on me!”

He throws his head back hard enough to knock off Jason’s mouth guard and almost makes him bite his tongue.

It seems like Tim regained his will to fight. He moves fast and hits hard, barely giving Jason enough time to react. Their battle turns vicious, both charging into fast attacks and refusing to defend. Jason’s mouth is dry and it tastes like bitter copper for more than one reason, the clatter of kevlar cracking under fists and heavy boots makes for a nauseating cacophony. It was a mistake to think one of them — any of them  — could see things his way.

Burn those bridges down. If there is no way back, it hurts less that he can’t go home.

They clash in the middle in a battle of strengths. Tim’s first real mistake.

“I shot Damian,” Jason spits. “He got between Dick and I so I shot him.”

A step back. “No, you didn’t.”

“Why do you care? I heard the brat wants you dead. I got rid of him for you.”

“I’m more worried about you wanting me dead now .”

Except Jason doesn’t. He did shoot Damian and the kid was reckless enough that Jason could easily have made it lethal, but he aimed for the shoulder instead. It would’ve been better, it would’ve made his mission easier. If he truly could stoop low enough to be a villain like Bruce treated him, all of this would be so much less painful. He couldn’t. Still can’t. Bruce was right, after all. He’s nothing but a failure.

Burn it down. It’s too late to turn back now.

He roars wordlessly and springs forward. Thud . There he is in front of him, the man that did everything right when Jason did wrong. Crack . It literally doesn’t matter, though. Thud. Crack.   And all  — thud   — because  — thud   — he’s held back  — thud   —  by a risible moral code  — CRACK! Why are they too stubborn to see their way does not work?

Tim finally falls, drawing an arc that is almost graceful when his feet leave the ground and his limp body hits the stony floor with a bleak noise.

Now that he’s not moving, Jason can tell he’s grown enough that the suit fits him, but it’s still a little loose around the waist and the shoulders. He’s shorter than Bruce used to be, so Jason bets he had to roll up the pants before putting on the boots.

End this. They think you’re a villain. Show them what a villain is like. It’s only fair since they keep protecting the real bad guys.

Jason crouches down by his side. Despite everything they might think, he doesn’t enjoy violence. He does what must be done, what he needs to survive and to serve justice, but he doesn’t enjoy it. That’s why he prefers guns. Guns get the job done from afar and you don’t have to dwell on it. You can make those that deserve it feel pain, but it’s better than the alternative.

He came here wearing that suit to fuck with you. He’s smart enough to know how it affects you. He’ll stand in the way and grow more dangerous.

Jason can’t see behind the cowl, but he remembers Tim’s eyes are really blue. Not grey-blue like Bruce’s, but a bright blue like the sky in spring. The last time he saw those eyes they had a determined spark behind them. The eyes of someone that was taking a risk for something they truly believed. Dick had said before that Jason had been Tim’s Robin. That Tim used to admire him.

Burn it down. Jason raises the old batarang.

There is a whack so sudden and brutal that for a second Jason doesn’t know where it came from. Only when he falls painfully on his shoulder does he realize that someone hit his head with a freaking rock.

No. Not someone. Little Timmy, innocent and not that unconscious, managed to grab a heavy rock and knock Jason with it.

“No dirty tricks when your survival is on the line,” the kid says, his voice wobbly. His mouth is probably full of blood.

Jason laughs. That’s right. Tim is not a kid. None of them are, never had been. They’re soldiers first and foremost fighting a war that they can’t win, only death waiting at the end. How does that Fitzgerald quote go? Show me a hero and I’ll write you a tragedy.  

Except real life doesn’t need heroes, it needs realistic solutions.  Jason stands. Tim’s knees buckle under his weight and he coughs out something that looks like a tooth. Or at least a piece of one. The latest Boy Wonder falls on his face, his body finally giving in after the extraneous scuffle. That’s a hero's destiny, after all.

Jason stares at him, but doesn’t try to check his pulse or verify if he’s really out. Tim is not the biggest problem he has to solve now   — and yes, he sees the irony in making that decision, but he pretends he doesn't because he’s beaten in more than one way. Besides, there is still one person to confront. He should be coming soon when he notices he’s missing a sidekick.

He carefully removes the cowl from Tim and the kid doesn’t spring into action again. As Jason walks away from him, he decides he’ll offer Dick the same truce he offered Tim. Unlike with the younger boy, there is not a single part of him that thinks Dick might take him up on that. He just wants to make sure to cover all the bases. Tonight, Tim’s childhood hero let him down one more time. It’s only fitting that later Jason’s hero is the one that will reject him for the last time.

Heroes always die either way. He’s been there, done that. It isn’t fun. Jason doesn’t want to be a hero. Not anymore.

[demonoftheunderground]

What are your tips for doing really good worldbuilding like you've done in DotU?

I’m so sorry it took me so long to answer this question!  I’ve been offline for most of this week taking care of some life junk I’d been neglecting.

First of all, thank you!

Everyone has different approaches to worldbuilding, and different approaches can get equally good results.  So your mileage may vary, of course.

I’m not the type to sit down with lists of worldbuilding questions or boxes to check off.  I build my world around the plot and characters.  If something isn’t relevant to the plot, isn’t interesting, and doesn’t impact any characters’ on-page lives or behavior, I don’t spend time developing it. It can be very easy to fall into a trap of over-developing, and I try to focus first and foremost on the elements of worldbuilding that shape the lives of the characters.

For example, in most stories I wouldn’t bother to develop any worldbuilding around the subtle differences in water quality from one region to the next - but BECAUSE we have this dweeb

I ended up going there.  Water quality in the underground only matters because Merritt is a frickin nerd who loves water. XD  Sometimes worldbuilding IS character development, and vice versa.  (Asking, “what’s your main character’s favorite food?” leads to questions like “how often can they eat it,” “is it readily available,” “is it affordable,” “is it healthy,” etc. - which are all worldbuilding opportunities.)

You don’t have to have every worldbuilding detail fleshed out before you start writing.  I like to let the plot, characters, and world grow together.  It makes the writing process more fun because I get to discover new things along the way.  I also find it easier to avoid info-dumping early in the story by limiting just how deep I develop the world in the beginning stages.  I can always go back to my draft/script and edit in the details that will make the world feel richer without overwhelming the reader.

I read/listen to a LOT of non-fiction.  Much more non-fiction than fiction.  I listen to it to get a better understanding of subjects that are related to DOTU that I don’t have a thorough understanding on, or to understand the mentality of a person who’s gone through experiences I feel relate to DOTU.  The better I understand my own world, the better I can create others.

A couple examples: around the time I was working on the chapters of Merritt’s Story involving his poison immunizations with Archer, I read The Demon in the Freezer, which is about the history of eradicating smallpox.  After that, I read A Higher Loyalty because it got me into the mind of someone who’s driven by an internal moral code that’s as rigid and imperfect as Merritt’s (though in different ways and for different reasons).  I have a lot of books, documentaries, and interviews by and about notable hackers on my list.  I seek out perspectives from the types of people I don’t always get to spend time with in real life.

I spend ~20 minutes or so a day reading news articles on a variety of subjects - whatever interesting headlines catch my attention - which helps me rack up my collection of random useless knowledge. XD  I even occasionally watch some of the toxic political stuff because propaganda and misinformation are a part of DOTU’s world too, and observing the way information is given and received tells you a lot about how a society works - or doesn’t work.

I go to physical locations.  I’ve taken many Chicago trips for both visual and worldbuilding inspiration - which includes observing and interacting with other people there.  I do this for my other stories too. Reins of Death (Lychgate: Book 3) takes place in Willow Springs, IL, so I took a few field trips there.  It made a HUGE difference for me.

I also try to seek out new experiences that are relevant to the world I’m creating.  (Yes, I’ve been to some places that are VERY West Sphere. XD)  Psst, depending on the type of location/experience and the level of safety, it’s often better to go with friends.

Overall, I think the main thing about my method of worldbuilding is just that I spend a lot of time, mentally, “living in” DOTU’s world.  It occupies a lot of space in my head.  I think about it while driving, while I’m in the shower, while I’m cleaning.  Idle time is great for brainstorming in a way that doesn’t put a lot of pressure on you.