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#i'm a villain not an abuser
theminecraftbee · 5 months
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hermit horror week day 4: season 7 or taken over
Xisuma slowly blinks at the console logs for the server again. He's very tired; he's been collecting blackstone again, and it's very tiring, collecting blackstone. He's been building a lot of pretty houses, and stocking a lot of shops, and he hasn't had time to look at the console much recently. He probably shouldn't be now, because he's tired, and tired people make mistakes.
He makes a lot of mistakes; he's silly like that. A big derp. It's why he has to be careful, since he's been tired so much lately. He definitely shouldn't have the console open.
It's just, earlier Impulse had a question, since his moss farm kept lagging, and Xisuma thought it would be easy enough to try to find the root cause of. And he did find the root cause of it--Impulse's farm is too fast and his storage simply doesn't keep up with the amount of moss--but there's... some other things...
He blinks again at the dates on the server files. The last edited dates. Slowly, he clicks again on his own player data, and tries to make sense of what he's reading. Files like this, they aren't really meant to be that human-readable. It's--well, it is mostly json, so it's mostly human-readable, actually, but a lot of it is still encrypted, for player safety, which would. Maybe explain what he's looking at? He thinks? He's--well, he does have root access, is the thing, because he's the admin, but he still shouldn't be able to look at any player willy-nilly.
He's a little too much of a derp to be trusted with that. He probably shouldn't even be looking at his data! It's just. That last edited date. Xisuma doesn't edit his own player data. That way lies madness. He's, uh, pretty sure he knows some people who went a little mad doing that. So the fact of the matter is--well, it's not the only file that's been edited recently, he tells himself. Just because it's a lot of memory files that seem to have been edited, as well as access permissions--that's... normal enough for a new season, right?
He's...
He doesn't notice his other self walk up behind him.
"Oh, hey Xisuma. You finished gathering materials for our next build, then?" Evil Xisuma says. All of Xisuma's hairs stand on end.
"I mean, I've gathered enough to get started," Xisuma says.
"Pity. I was really hoping you'd manage to get everything. I thought maybe we'd finish today, but I guess we can't now."
"I--you're right. I'm really sorry."
"No, no, don't worry, don't worry, my friend," Evil Xisuma says. "We probably couldn't have finished today anyway, even if you said you'd try for it."
Xisuma's heart is in his throat. "Sorry, my head's just been. You know how I am. Silly me, forgetting things."
Evil Xisuma shakes his head. "It's awfully lucky I came back this season. Think of all the important things you'd be forgetting without reminders!"
Xisuma looks down and away.
"Gosh, and now you're... playing around in the admin console?"
"Oh!" Xisuma says. "It's, er, nothing really big..."
"Can I see it?"
He barely resists the urge to close out of his player data and hide that's what he'd been looking at. He doesn't know why he wants to hide it. It's not like--well, if Evil Xisuma got mad about it, it would be... right, wouldn't it? Because, well, Xisuma knows full well he shouldn't be looking at or editing his own player data. Editing your own data is the way to madness, and Xisuma, well, he's been so tired lately. He could easily accidentally hit a button. He could easily accidentally hit delete. He has root access, after all.
His heart is in his throat again. He shuffles his feet. "Sure," he says, finally. "I, er, I promise, I wasn't doing anything. I just noticed the last edited date on, uh, files that aren't automatically created by the system? And I thought, gosh, that's weird. I'd only been in there to check on Impulse, really, after he'd had some lag issues. I was just finishing up. It's nothing--the date's weird, though, right? That's all I was noticing."
He watches Evil Xisuma's fingers scroll through all of Xisuma's data. It's not quite fast enough that Xisuma isn't sure he's reading it, and suddenly, Xisuma feels very small.
Finally, Evil Xisuma hands Xisuma's tablet with the admin console open back to him. Xisuma looks down, and Evil Xisuma has closed out of the player data again.
"You just forgot the last maintenance date," Evil Xisuma says.
"Really?" Xisuma says.
"Oh, yeah, for sure. You're so tired lately. You silly derp. You've just been forgetting things easily. You should really get more rest!"
"Oh, but then we won't finish our projects," Xisuma says.
"I guess we wouldn't," Evil Xisuma says back.
"It's just--it's. Most of the time, access permission for player memories isn't edited during maintenance, and I just--I don't remember putting your name down?"
"Why wouldn't you?"
Xisuma tries to think.
"I don't know," he says finally, small, unable to meaningfully articulate anything about what's wrong with it. "I guess it only makes sense, if I'm forgetting things so easily."
"Exactly! Gosh, we make a good team," Evil Xisuma says, and he smiles at Xisuma. Xisuma crookedly smiles back.
"Yeah, we do," Xisuma agrees.
"Don't pull that out again unless I say so, okay?"
"Okay," Xisuma agrees automatically, and then he knows he will not. It makes sense. If he was upsetting himself over nothing like this, why, imagine what he'd do if he could open it whenever? He'd just constantly be upsetting himself!
"Now, my friend, let's return to building the Evil Empire."
"Let's!" agrees Xisuma, and just like that, the entire encounter slips from his mind.
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mikkeneko · 4 months
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watching Jiang antis go, as a Scum Villain reader, never ceases to be kind of wild
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oliversrarebooks · 4 months
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fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace part 2: you can't be fucking serious
Masterlist > Next
TW: abuse, injuries, concussion, sedation, medical whump
Morgan awoke slowly, the sting of antiseptic in his nose. The only thing he could hear past the painful ringing in his ears was the soft beep of medical equipment. His body ached, especially his knee and upper back, and his head was pounding. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He knew exactly where he must be -- in the medbay at his boss's lair -- and the longer they thought he was unconscious, the longer he could relax and heal before the punishments began.
His memories were vague. Lights overhead. Voices. The beeping of medical equipment. A rubber mask on his face.
He lay there, drifting in and out. The pain felt so fuzzy and indistinct. Painkillers? That was new. Salcedo never gave him painkillers. He loved to watch Morgan suffer way too much for that. You wouldn't make it far among the crime lords of the city if you didn't enjoy your work, after all. 
Maybe there was some trick to the fact that he was being allowed this pleasant buzz. Let him relax and let his guard down so it'd hurt more later. He could figure that out when his head felt better.
"...awake..."
Fuck. It was starting. Morgan tried not to react.
"Morgan, are you awake? We just need you to respond to make sure you've woken up from the anesthetics, and then you can go back to sleep, promise."
Morgan couldn't help his face twitching as he recognized that absolutely infuriating voice. Arthur. His blasted nemesis.
Oh, that's right, he had been captured. Lucky fucking him. He got to be completely at the mercy of the hero he'd been tormenting for years. And at the end of it, he might get the wonderful experience of his boss busting him out of captivity only to punish him for his failures.
"Morgan, please, wake up."
Begrudgingly, Morgan opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't. Even the dim light of the room was like an icepick to the brain. He looked over to see the smug fucking face of Arthur, and that was even worse.
"I'm awake. What do you want?" he said, his voice weak and slurred. He was definitely drugged, he could tell, because he could barely even muster up the strength to be scared of what was going to happen to him.
"Good. That's very good," said Arthur. He sounded kind. No, he sounded like he pitied Morgan. Oh, fuck that. "You gave us all quite a scare. It was a little touch-and-go for a bit there, but the surgery went well, and you should make a full recovery, as long as you get lots of rest."
Morgan swallowed hard, trying to comprehend this. He'd been given surgery? What the fuck had they done to him? He was in pain all over, but he certainly didn't feel like he'd been turned into a mantis-man hybrid or anything like that. Or been lobotomized.
...Had they seriously just patched him up? After everything he'd done? If there was anyone naive and soft-hearted enough to do that, it was his fucking nemesis.
"How are you feeling?" said Arthur, his voice too gentle.
"Like your whole team shoved me into a woodchipper and danced on the mulch."
"Yes... Julie went a little too hard with the energy blasts. She's still learning how to control it," said Arthur. "But you know, you were..."
"None of this would've happened if I weren't trying to install a zombification device inside city hall? Yeah, got it, lesson learned, next time I install it in your stupid fucking hero lair."
Arthur scowled. "Was the plan your idea or your boss's?"
"As though my boss could build something like that. Did you even notice the craftsmanship, or were you too busy punching it apart?"
Arthur sat back in his chair, looking as if something was on his mind.
The room was filled with medical equipment, the kind Morgan could control with his technomancy. He reached out slowly, feeling like he was fighting through a wall of cotton, and got no response. The familiar, tell-tale feel of power suppressors. They were probably in the restraints. 
"You know, Morgan," Arthur said after a long moment, "when we had you under for surgery, our medic, Laurel, performed an examination."
Morgan turned away. He could tell where this was going.
"There were a lot of injuries there. Injuries that didn't seem like ones you got while fighting us."
"Training."
"It looked like you'd been kicked in the ribs repeatedly without proper healing," Arthur said. "And there were marks that looked like they'd been left by a taser, and a lot of electrical burns."
"Heavy training."
"That's not training, Morgan!" Arthur actually sounded angry, now, and it took all of Morgan's willpower not to flinch away. "I'm not even discussing the massive amount of nasty bruises or that infected cut on your shoulder. Those could've been sustained while fighting heroes. But not all of that. And even if they were, everything looked like it had healed wrong or been left to scar. There's no way that's normal. I know your usual activities. I see the reports of all of your fights. No hero did those things to you. Certainly not my team."
Ugh. What was the point of all this? To humiliate him? Now his nemesis probably knew all about his poor condition, his chronic pain and his trick elbow and the scars littering his back. And it wasn't like it was going to get any better when his boss got him back. Fucking wonderful.
But Arthur didn't sound humiliating or mocking. He sounded concerned, which was almost even worse. "Morgan, did your boss do those things to you?"
Morgan rolled his eyes and turned away. Or he would've turned away if he weren't so heavily restrained he couldn't roll over.
"Morgan, I'm serious. Did your boss --"
"No, of course not," said Morgan, packing his voice with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "You know how Salcedo is. Every time you defeat me, he gives me a nice pat on the head and a participation trophy, and he tells me that it's okay I failed, because I tried and had fun."
Arthur sighed. "He's abusing you."
"He's giving me my quarterly performance reviews. You're abusing my patience."
"While you were sedated, you kept fighting us off, saying you weren't allowed to sleep. Does he prevent you from sleeping?"
Fucking drugs. Morgan barely remembered what had happened, much less what he'd said. He remembered hitting the wall, pain, pain, pain, and then the most beautiful and relaxing feeling in the world, and finally oblivion. 
"...It's been obvious to me for a long time that your health is deteriorating."
"Shut the fuck up," said Morgan, his sarcasm dissolving with his frustration. "You don't understand a goddamn thing about my life, so don't pretend like you do."
"I understand that you're being abused!"
"I'm being trained to fight your team," said Morgan through gritted teeth. "Rich of you to go on about being abused when it was Julie who gave me a sixty mile per hour impact with a concrete fucking wall."
"That was an accident and you know it. And there's a huge difference between thwarting your plans and casually abusing you."
Morgan looked down at his hands. Like he hadn't noticed how the hero team always pulled their punches to avoid injuring him too much, even when he was scheming something really nasty. Like he wasn't so much more afraid of his boss than his nemesis. Like he really needed his nemesis's smug pity.
Why couldn't Arthur just fucking take revenge or whatever? It wouldn't even be that bad while he was hopped up on drugs. Hell, Arthur was probably too soft a heart to pull half the shit Salcedo liked to, even though he had far more reason. Just get it the fuck over with.
"Could you spare me your fucking after school special bullshit and just tell me what you're going to do with me?" With any luck, they would throw him in ordinary jail and not that awful psychiatric hospital. Either way, it wouldn't stop his boss from finding him and pulling him out again whenever he decided Morgan was needed. Or needed to be punished.
"Well, we can't let you go free, obviously," said Arthur. "But if we put you in jail, you're just going to get captured by Salcedo again."
Oh, Morgan hated the way he phrased that. Captured. Like he was a civilian being taken hostage and not Salcedo's right hand man and a terrifying villain in his own right.
Arthur was leaning in closer. "You don't have to work for Salcedo, you know."
Morgan's eyes went wide with shock as he realized the turn this conversation was taking. He laughed sharply, a little maniacally. "Are you serious? Are you fucking serious, Arthur?" he said. "Did you also hit your head on a wall? Did you forget who you're talking to?"
"I think I know you quite well by now, yes."
"And you're seriously trying to get me to go straight? Join your merry little band of idiot heroes?"
"...it would take a lot of work, and a lot of trust, but yes, eventually. It's something I've thought about on more than one occasion," said Nemesis, who, against all odds, seemed to be completely serious. "Look, let's cut the bullshit. Salcedo is abusing you. Don't even try to deny it, because I've seen more than enough evidence. He's beating you, burning you, god knows what else. He's working you to the bone on ridiculous plans that will never work, and makes you the fall guy for them while he escapes unscathed."
Every word of that was true, and hearing it from Arthur made him want to punch him in the face.
"You're a smart guy. Ridiculously smart. And despite what you claim, you have ethical standards. Remember the time the two of us teamed up to get those kids out of the burning school?"
"They were kindergartners, c'mon --"
"You have ethical standards, no matter how shaky they can be. And you have courage and talent," said Arthur. 
"You think I can be won over with cheap flattery, seriously, Arthur?"
"How about cheap flattery and a cool costume?" he said. "But seriously consider what I'm telling you. You're a smart guy. We pay well, maybe not as well as Salcedo, but enough, and you'd get overtime when you have to work late. We have health insurance. Most importantly, nobody is going to beat you to within an inch of your life if you screw up."
"Oh, yeah, sure thing, I'll just do that," said Morgan. "And I'm sure that, after everything I've done to you, you're all just going to protect me when Salcedo shows up to get me back."
"Yes. I will. I absolutely will," he said. "...Because he's going to kill you. We both know that. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday. And you don't deserve that."
Fuck. He sounded so serious. He was using his superhero voice. The one he used to tell terrified hostages that he was going to save them and that nobody was getting hurt. The one that was usually directed at the civilians Morgan was menacing.
 "I don't expect you to make this decision overnight," said Arthur, standing up. "You've got a lot of healing to do. A lot of time to think over where your life is headed."
"And you're just gonna let me heal?" said Morgan skeptically. "You've got me totally at your mercy in what I assume is your underground secret lair, and you're just going to let me lay here and heal up my injuries?"
"Yes. I mean it. I know you don't believe me, but it's true. As long as you don't try to cause harm to any of us, no harm will come to you while you're here. I swear it." Arthur turned as he was about to walk out the door. "All I'm asking is that you think about what I said to you. We'll talk again. The nurse is here to see you."
And he was gone, and Morgan felt utterly exhausted.
An older woman wearing scrubs with pride-flag-colored fish on them entered the room. She looked tired and a little scared. "Well, uh, Arthur tells me you're awake and lucid, Mr.... uh... Mr. Morgan," she said. "That's good. You were in pretty bad shape."
"Hmph."
"Can I look in your eyes with this penlight, please? You had a really nasty concussion, so you're probably going to be very tired and disoriented for a while as you recover."
Great. It was super great to be concussed and useless in the hero's lair. Still, he submitted to Laurel's eye exam without a fuss. It was one thing to sass his nemesis -- putting up a fuss for the medic was pointless when she was just trying to do her job.
"The only thing you can really do right now is get some rest," she said. "I can give you some painkillers, and some sedation if you think you'll have trouble sleeping. Would that be okay?"
Morgan let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, sure, yeah, I really want to be drugged up and helpless in the hero's lair."
"Well, you're not going anywhere," she pointed out. "You'll heal a lot faster if you get some rest."
Morgan scowled. He couldn't afford to be lounging on a bed in a drugged haze. He had to work on finding a way to escape, preferably with some valuable information or a hostage, in the hopes he could catch Salcedo in a good mood. 
But no matter how he looked at it, he was already exhausted, concussed, power-repressed, and in restraints. He wasn't successfully escaping a team of heroes in this condition, sedated or not. And if they wanted him at their mercy, they could come knock him out whenever they felt like it. 
So what difference would it make if he were drugged again? God knows his life was going to fucking suck enough once Salcedo came to drag him back. Might as well feel artificially good for a few hours.
"Yeah, I'll take it. Give me the good shit," said Morgan. 
"Right away," she said with a laugh. She pulled a few bottles of clear liquid from her pocket, and, consulting a chart attached to his bed, began to measure out doses. "You know, it's really interesting to finally get to meet you, Mr. Morgan."
"Scared?" he said, attempting his most menacing grin.
"...well, I haven't forgotten the things you've done," she said, which really wasn't what you wanted to hear when someone was preparing a syringe for you. "But the team thinks you deserve a chance, and it's a medical professional's responsibility to provide care for anyone, no matter their past. So I'll treat you like I would any innocent person. You have my word." The look in her eyes was distant. "You're not so frightening now, anyway."
Morgan tried to push down his unease. "Fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace."
"Of course you are," she said, injecting the drugs into Morgan's IV line. "This should kick in in a few minutes. It's going to make you very drowsy. I suggest actually getting some sleep and not fighting it. We'll be monitoring you, but if you have any complications, hit this button."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Morgan, smarting from the fact that he couldn't even intimidate the medic. He was at her mercy. He didn't like being at anyone else's mercy. He knew how he treated people he had at his mercy. How his boss treated people.
He hated being on the receiving end, when he was normally such a fearsome and threatening...
Fearsome and threatening...
Ohhh.
Whatever Laurel had injected hit him like a truck, because suddenly he was feeling real fucking good. It was like all of his anxiety melted away, his tight muscles loosening, the pounding in his head finally lightening up. He felt like he were being wrapped up into a wool blanket and carried off on a soft cloud to slumberland. 
Any thoughts of trying to scheme his way out of the hero's stronghold evaporated from his mind. He didn't even bother fighting as his eyelids grew heavy and threatened to close. He was so tired and felt so good. Sleep would feel amazing.
You're a smart guy. Just think about it. Arthur's words echoed in his mind as he began to drift.
Fuck you, Arthur. Like it was all so fucking simple.
Arthur probably knew him better than just about anyone. He must know that it would never work. Why even bother?
Morgan couldn't help but picture himself laughing and joking with Toshiro and Satomi and Julie, dressed in one of their ridiculous bright uniforms, working on gadgetry to help people instead of constantly getting his beautiful machines smashed to bits. 
Ridiculous. The fact that he was even thinking about it was the drugs talking. And now, the drugs were whispering to him that he should really just get some sleep. When would he ever get to sleep this well? Certainly not when his boss came to pick him up.
Part 1 >> Masterlist > Next
@cardboardarsonist @zeiniszein @crystallizedme @mistythedritten @pigeonwhumps @whumpshaped @sparrowsage
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fans: omg our innocent little meow meow! she's such a baby 🥺🥺 poor traumatized kitten protect her at all costs!! 😭😭
the character in question:
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spinji · 4 months
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Imma be honest, I have no idea where people are coming from sympathizing with All For One.
I get the simps, you guys are gonna twist things for your meow meow all you want. More power to you.
But the narrative wastes no time showing us that AFO's greed and desire to control is INSTINCTUAL. He stole nutrients from Yoichi in the womb, stole his mother's quirk, and (arguably) stole her life. This was long before he'd be developed enough to make a conscious choice.
"But AFO is the one telling us this so of course he might lie" No???? We don't have any characters that could relay this information to us so the narration is just neutral omniscient dialog to explain what's happening, referring to AFO in the third person. This isn't diagetic narration.
Do you honestly think AFO, losing his goddamn mind in the middle of a fight, would turn to Bakugou like "so my mother was a prostitute-". The last page is the only one explicitly from AFO's point of view and that has a very obvious change in perspective. So no, I don't think All For One is telling us the story of how he was almost eaten by rats. We can absolutely take this at face value.
There are more complicated implications about the world building in this chapter, like how the actually recorded first quirk was flashy but harmless to set up a nice and happy origin of meta abilities despite that not being true. It puts AFO in a tight position as well because well he grew up in a hellscape with no parents and learned how to survive on his own right? So it's okay that he killed all those anti-quirk people right?
What about Yoichi?
Yoichi grew up in identical conditions to AFO, just as starved, just as unloved, just as alone. But Yoichi also grew up kind. He had empathy and hope, not wanting innocent people to get hurt. You can't inherently blame their circumstances when AFO has been a dickhead since birth and yet his twin, in the same scenario, did not. The difference? AFO had power and a compulsive need to control.
Yoichi would not have felt the need to run away, willingly, with Kudou if this was meant to be AFO's tragedy. Tenko's family ran to him, Touya's family thought they lost him, AFO's ran away from him.
AFO is blinded by ego and an all consuming sense of control. He is very much meant to be the embodiment of these things, monolithic as a threat. And his pursuit after One for All has been both a power grab and a desire to have complete control over his brother again in the form of suppressing his vestige.
Remember how Himiko actively chose not to live by a villain name? Because she didn't see herself as a criminal?
This is All For One's origin story and we still only know his villain name.
Do you really think that's not intentional?
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vvo1d1ing · 1 month
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...I really need to stop fixating on horrible, disgusting men that make ME FUCKING CHANGE MY ARTSTYLE BECAUSE I'M NOT GONNA DRAW THIS FRUITCAKE WITHOUT GLITTERS AND SHINE..
Anyways, now excuse me, my autism is making me wanna sketch him in silly little outfits to see just how much i still remember from being a fashion design student and because honestly,,, Idk, Val is kinda cunty, He deserves a cute little outfit that distract ya from his baldness and no-ass-ness
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anti-spop · 3 months
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It's very strange to me as an actual autistic adult that c//a and SPOP stans will justify Catra's actions for being disabled (BPD or autistic mostly), despite her not actually being confirmed as such, but they'll find jokes related to an actual autistic adult being put on a leash
Like??? This is telling me that they're ableist without realizing it tbh
Yeah, like, I totally respect people who headcanon her as autistic and/or having BPD, especially if they personally relate to her... but it's also so hypocritical the way stans treat not only Entrapta but any other neurodivergent coded character. I've seen people headcanon Adora having ADHD (which I support!) but she's always seen as stupid and oblivious. Kyle is clearly not neurotypical IMO but he's never taken seriously either. Wrong Hordak then is a walking joke even though he's a victim of a cult.
Not to mention I've seen stans being ableist towards psychosis, even though that is a BPD symptom (and it's present in many other diagnoses!). Like sometimes I genuinely think some people who preach BPD Catra out there don't even have BPD. And something tells me they wouldn't even like real people with BPD lmao.
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y-rhywbeth2 · 2 months
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Honestly there's a missed opportunity in Act 3 - it is mandatory for a member of the clergy to explain their faith to nonbelievers whenever they get an opportunity, with emphasis on the benefits and rewards; how about Durge trying to convince their friends to become Bhaalist? Can't have a conflict of loyalties if your friends also serve your father! Who wouldn't be swayed by promises of violence and murder, the end of all life on earth, and also the ecstasy of Father's love? (No, listen, these are good things.)
Thankfully none of them would go for it, and rather than convincing the party to side with Bhaal it'll probably just convince them to drag Durge as far away from him as possible at best, but it would be funny in a fucked up tragic way.
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serialreblogger · 1 year
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the thing about the joker
is that - well, even canonically, he’s not actually “insane.” in the most canonical version of his backstory (bc there are many conflicting incarnations, but this one is the touchstone for a lot of later canon), he was part of a street gang before falling into a vat of Nondescript Toxic Waste that damaged his melanin production and That’s It. he supposedly “lost his mind” after seeing his reflection, which is absurd on many levels. no. he’s not “insane.” what he is, is an angry white boy.
the thing about the joker is that he exults in his own uncontainability. He laughs, because all of gotham - all the world - is built to be his playground. the only lunatic thing about him is the lunacy of ~Society~, to borrow from the joker’s own playbook; the lunacy of the joker lies in the world that grants him power: in the inheritance of loss: in white privilege, and what it means for everyone else.
“to prove a point.” those were the joker’s exact words, when he shot and paralyzed Barbara Gordon. she asked why: he laughed. “to prove a point.”
because that’s all he ever does. he hurts people because he can. and because all the power in the world can’t save him from getting hurt - and isn’t that just peachy?
because the thing about the joker is that he can get hurt. he has been hurt. but he has so much more capacity to harm than to be harmed. he is immortal. he and he alone will never have to face the consequences of the hurt that he inflicts on other people.
so then: why not hurt them? misery loves company, after all.
the joker is the embodiment and end result of our own social system: the madness of the exception: the laughter of the white man: the imprecation to smile, as he kills you.
(no one ever says it, i find, but it’s still true: barbara deserves to kill him.)
and who, then, is the batman? if the joker is the yin to his yang? if they’re two sides of one irredeemable coin, if they represent the “balance” of an unjustifiable system - who is he if not another white man?
because he is. Bruce Wayne is a white boy born into unspeakable privilege and forced to endure suffering anyway; who copes with his suffering by taking it out on others; who copes with his suffering, not by taking advantage of the world as it is, but by attempting to reshape it. to make it in his own image - as if it isn’t already his, as if claiming it further will crush out the pain.
the batman is the benevolent oppressor to the joker’s malevolent one. he changes nothing, in the end. two privileged white boys with their own respective navel-gazing grudges - where, after all, lies the difference between benevolence and malevolence?
because they are not “chaos” and “order.” not really. They are laissez-faire laughter and law. Joker exults in the disease of the system, Batman seeks to treat its symptoms, but neither of them will ever change anything about the root cause. because they may have suffered the faults of this system, but they still benefit so much more from it as it exists. Uphold it or break it, neither of them wants to change the law.
but the law is only as good as the people it’s made to protect. and who does that law protect, really?
waylon jones is, in one issue, explicitly depicted as Black. between that and his skin disorder, there has never once been room for his character to be any more than a monster: king croc is, always, a character to be violated and brutalized, over and over and over and still - always - written as the villain. (he tried so hard to scrape out a place for himself, so many times, in so many incarnations, and each and every time he finds himself relegated once more to the sewers. he will never be anyone’s king. there is no place under the sun for people like him.)
victor fries only ever wanted to save his wife, and a capitalist mogul decided a few extra numbers on his eight-digit paycheck were more important than the people whose lives depended on that money. fries’ body was damaged to disability by that choice, left without the resources to find a cure for his wife, and he robbed banks because there was no other option available to him. we seem to have forgotten, or maybe never really understood, why that matters. why a desperate man trying to save his life and that of his loved ones under the crushing gears of capitalism is a villain, and the one who stops him is our hero. why, under the law batman upholds, a bank vault and a CEO’s hoard is worth more than a life.
poison ivy just wants to live, too. wants a life not defined by the devastation of her body, of the beings that exist as extensions of her, a life where green and growing things are not commodities to be plowed up and poisoned and destroyed for the sake of another man’s profit. these are villains; they are written as such. these are their motives.
who does batman fight for, really? who is our hero, this emblem of our law?
is he our hero? ours, the broken and bleeding members of the world he claims to protect?
who does the law protect, except him - him, and the joker?
#i'm having another Moment over batman friends#this is not a bruce wayne hate post#for the record. there is so much to be said in a bruce wayne hate post about child abuse and authorship and diversity of canon#but this isn't about bruce wayne. it isn't even really about the joker#i'm stuck on batman. batman as a story. batman as a myth#because the myths we tell and the threads that run consistently through them despite the multitude of tellers and times -#those say so much more than people give them credit for#who batman is - who his villains are - what those heroes and rogues represent? that *matters.* on a level wholly distinct from comic fandom#because one of the few things that remains true of batman across his many incarnations and authors and settings and media#is that: he stands for the law. (except for all the ways in which he breaks it.) his only role is to catch the criminals#when he loses control and begins dispensing Punishment he must be drawn back from the edge. because that is not Batman#Batman is Jim Gordon's only deputy. Batman is the myth of the Good Cop#and the joker? the joker is batman without the law#this too is one of the few strains that carry through nearly all tellings. the joker is never his opposite:#the joker is him without a direction. without restraint. without limits. without control#and these things say a lot about the world beyond batman. about the storytellers behind him. who - to them - is a hero? who is human?#and who is a monster? the joker is a monster because he is lawless. because he is ''mad.'' because he looks Wrong#bruce wayne is a hero because he is lawful. a dark hero because he walks very close to the line of that law - but lawful still#and what is that law? what law do these storytellers see fit to uphold? for which characters does that law do any good?#which characters explicitly harmed by that law are disposable? which are villains by birth?#the fact that someone made the creative decision to depict king croc as Black in a 2008 graphic novel wherein he went cannibal -#the fact that the issue where babs was assaulted and paralyzed was also the issue in which batman sat down and sympathized with the joker -#that all of these villains are neurodivergent or queer-coded or intersex or disabled or Disfigured or just plain not white -#it says a lot. not just about the comics; about the world in which so many writers have crafted this consistent narrative of heroic cruelty#the world that accepts these as our villains. these as our heroes. it says a lot. and it *matters.*#batman#dc comics#linden writes an essay#linden's originals#linden in the tags
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20001541 · 1 month
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I had a dream that AFO had an Other twin, I don't remember much other than the fact that he had the Mother's Quirk
man I wish afo was in my dreams, you think with how much he occupies my thoughts he would be in at least one but alas 😞
also this ask reminds me that I used to headcanon that afo and yoichi had an older sibling who was killed along with their parents during a riot that broke out. I mainly just wanted to imagine afo having familial relationships outside of yoichi, and liked playing with the idea of afo being the middle child and such. of course canon is turned out to be very different than I imagined it would be but I am fine with that! I use canon mom shigaraki now to play with when thinking about afo having familial relationships outside of yoichi, she fascinates me.
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ryal-is-reading · 6 months
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Listen, I've been a Steadyhands (and all permutations of that trio) shipper since season 1, but jfc I'm struggling with the Ed part right now.
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henrysglock · 1 year
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Every day I'm driven more insane by The First Shadow because it confirms so much just by existing, let alone the actual content of the show.
The team really went "No, no. You don't have all the information about Henry yet. We intentionally kept that from you. Also, all the adult characters? Yeah. They knew him. They all fucking knew him, which is why we couldn't have any of them be present in ST4. Kept that one from you too."
Just by making the play they confirm that there's at least another hour's worth of content at least tangentially related to Henry's story. We're missing so much about him if we just go off what we see in ST4.
Just by the synopsis, they tell us that Henry is already running from something, a Shadow that predates Hawkins and the Creel house. They also confirm that Henry might even have had friends. That some of those friends may have been the main adult crew. There are people who ought to remember him.
Like be serious. Be so so incredibly serious. Mindblowing.
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crystalkleure · 2 years
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Characters who are intentionally written to be horrible little bastard goblins: ✔️ Hilarious
Characters who are supposed to be viewed as being A Good Person in spite of them continuously doing horrible asshole things that would make any reasonable person fucking punch them IRL: ❌ Infuriating
#.It speaks#About me yo#I HATE THAT SECOND THING SO MUCH#INTENTIONAL ASSHOLES MY BELOVED. UNINTENTIONAL ASSHOLES MY BELOATHED.#The Goody Two Shoes Good Guy Protag @ their sad friend: ''Hey buddy! I am going to shame you for Not Being Happy!''#''Don't you understand that that's rude to all of your friends? You're killing all of our vibes! It Is Morally Bad To Be Visibly Sad!''#All of the other characters: ''Yeah!! What protag said!! We love you and forgive you @ Sad Guy but you need to stop being sad Right Now!''#And Everybody Claps#Literal worst thing in the world.#Like it is DRAMATICALLY DIFFERENT if the protag doing something like this has ACTUAL ACCURATE CONSEQUENCES#Like. Say. Sad Guy bottling too much up for too long and then eventually finally exploding in protag's face.#[And NOT being portrayed as Evil for doing so. Might be SEEN as evil by the protag but Is Not Narratively The Bad Guy For It.]#THAT does not bother me. Fuck yeah Sad Guy tell the emotionally abusive fuck and all their flying monkeys to eat shit.#BUT IF THE LITERAL ABUSED CHARACTER TRYING TO STAND UP FOR THEMSELF MAKES THEM THE VILLAIN OF THE WEEK/SEASON I'M MAD#You know?#Protag who THINKS they are Morally Infallible but is actually perfectly human and wrong/does bad shit sometimes: ✔️✔️✔️#Protag who is a total penis and their dickheadery WINS every time it causes conflict; the /conflict/ is portrayed as unreasonable: ❌❌❌#If you know me really well you can probably guess which specific two characters I am talking about#I hate both of those little bastards so much
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oliversrarebooks · 1 month
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fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace: the truth is...
Prev > Masterlist
This came about as a result of the Choose Your Own Whump poll! The winners were:
secret underground facility
whumpee who is traumatized and hiding it badly
creepily intimate whumper
the corruption was infecting their thoughts, turning them against their allies
tw: restraints, beatings, physical and emotional abuse, drugging, needles, poison, truth serum, mind control
One year after the city's second-most notorious villain, the technomancer Morgan, was taken in by the hero team for medical treatment...
Morgan cracked his eyes open and immediately had to shut them again, blinded by obnoxiously bright lights.
He was woozy, barely awake, and his entire body hurt -- especially his right hand, which was throbbing with pain. It almost felt like some of his fingers had been broken, but he knew from experience that that would hurt far worse than this, unless...
The dreamlike haze slowing down his mind confirmed it. He was on some pretty strong painkillers. It was the sort of thing that would have sent him into a blind panic before, terrified of being incapacitated, but lately he'd been getting used to it. When he'd worked for Salcedo, the city's nastiest supervillain, he never received any form of painkillers, his boss far preferring to use his painful, torturous healing ability to re-injure Morgan and heal him back wrong again and again. A punishment for meeting his defeat at the hands of heroes, or looking at Salcedo wrong, or anything else the boss dreamed up.
That had all changed since he'd officially switched sides. No matter how badly he screwed up, no matter how much he irritated the shit out of the heroes, they always provided him with proper medical care, complete with ample medication. The feel of a hospital bed underneath him confirmed it: he must be in the heroes' infirmary, and that meant he could actually relax. 
He'd have to deal with Arthur, the team leader, and his unwanted concern and pity later, of course. That was absolutely a thorn in his side. He was definitely not looking forward to it.
Morgan shifted slightly, his wrists sore, and realized that he couldn't. He was restrained? And not with soft, comfortable restraints either, but hard metal ones. 
That couldn't be right. The hero team hadn't seen fit to restrain him in almost a year. He'd somehow managed to establish trust with them -- an uneasy, fragile trust, but trust nonetheless -- and he couldn't remember what he'd done to break that trust. The last thing he remembered was fighting his former boss at the city power plant, Arthur shouting his name... and then it all got blurry. He'd been injured, somehow, and he had a vague memory of collapsing into a dirty puddle with the sounds of the fight still raging around him.
He'd been fighting alongside the hero team, on a mission with them, taking out Salcedo's communications equipment and drones left and right. Why would they restrain him now, when he'd been helping them? He used his technomancy to feel out any nearby machines, and found it unresponsive. They'd used power suppressors, too.
The realization forced his eyelids to fly open, and as he adjusted to the painful light, an all-too-familiar ceiling swam into view. Harsh, bare, buzzing fluorescent lighting flickered too close to his face.
He wasn't in the heroes' infirmary at all. He wasn't even in a civilian hospital or a jail infirmary or a psychiatric ward. No, he was in Salcedo's lair, drugged and restrained. The first time he'd been captured since he'd betrayed his boss and started fighting by Arthur's side to stop his plans.
Oh, fuck.
The surge of adrenaline cleared his mind enough to think. Salcedo was going to torture him, that much was certain. Salcedo punished Morgan with beatings, starvation, and torture even for small mistakes -- one of the primary reasons Morgan had finally defected -- so he didn't even want to think about what his punishment for open betrayal would be. The fact that he was still alive at all could only mean that Salcedo was plotting something truly nasty.
Why was he drugged, though? The restraints and power suppressants had him entirely at Salcedo's mercy, and drugs were never a technique he had favored, since he didn't want Morgan's mind dulled to the pain and stress. Since he was already physically restrained, the only answer Morgan could come up with was that the drugs were necessary to compromise his mind. And that wasn't a comforting thought in the slightest.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He would be rescued, wouldn't he? The hero team would definitely notice he was missing. They'd figure out what happened to him. He'd have to deal with Arthur's smug fucking face over rescuing his stupid ass again, but even that embarrassment was a vast improvement over whatever Salcedo had planned. There was no way Arthur would pass up the opportunity to preen and gloat over his heroism. He'd definitely go out of his way to rescue Morgan for that reason alone.
Unless he didn't.
Unless the hero team decided a half-reformed villain barely in control of his own powers wasn't worth it. Unless they were only putting up with him because it stopped him from being a nuisance. Unless they thought back on the things he'd done as a villain and decided he deserved whatever Salcedo had cooked up for him.
God fucking damn it.
He hated them sometimes. Hated their easy laughter and their camaraderie. Hated the way they awkwardly tried to include him in the group like a weird kid at recess. Hated Arthur's flawless smile, and his sickening dedication to doing the right thing, and how quick he was with a reassuring word, and how he worked so hard he had to practically be forced to rest --
Yeah, he hated them all, and they probably hated him too, and they'd be glad if Salcedo lobotomized him. He never should have defected in the first place. 
Morgan heard footsteps approaching the door, and shut his eyes again just as it opened. The sound of Salcedo's heavy combat boots approaching him was enough to send panic spiking through his heart, but he tried not to show it on his face, stubbornly pretending to be out still.
"I know you're awake, Morgan," said his former boss's deceptively smooth voice. "Don't embarrass yourself."
Morgan didn't twitch a muscle.
"You're a smart man. Or at least, I thought you were before you went and pulled this little stunt. The point is that you know very well where you stand right now."
So do whatever torture you came here to do and spare me your self-important monologuing, he thought. I'd rather have my fingernails pulled out than listen to you.
"You betrayed me, Morgan."
Here it comes.
"I gave everything to you. An unhappy teenager from an unhappy home, like so many others, but you were different from them, weren't you? You had potential. You had brains. And most of all, you had that wonderful little gift of a power. And I gave you everything. I trained you, I funded your lab and your inventions, I gave you food and a roof over your head. I forgave you for all of your many mistakes with only... sensible punishments." 
Morgan tried not to flinch as Salcedo got even closer.
"And yet, you betrayed me."
Morgan tensed for Salcedo's fist a moment before it connected with his cheek, pain blossoming from his shattered cheekbone. The pain was chased by a warm stinging feeling, Salcedo's healing power, before he was cracked across the face again. Breaking faces only to heal them and break them again was one of Salcedo's signature moves, and Morgan could almost tune out the familiar beating, especially since the painkillers dampened the sensation. His ears were ringing, and he knew he'd be severely concussed with his face swollen beyond recognition if it weren't for Salcedo healing him after each punch, allowing him to prolong the beating as long as he liked.
It was only when Salcedo slowed down and gave Morgan's mind enough time to recover from the assault that he finally decided to crack his eyes open. "Is that all?" he said, knowing that his fate was sealed whether or not he provoked the supervillain.
"That was just your punishment for the time you broke into headquarters and damaged some of my henchmen and equipment," he said. "Your punishment for betrayal hasn't even started yet."
"Hm, let me guess what it will be. Is it punching me in the face? Or maybe you want to mix it up a bit and punch me in the kidneys. Or get spicy and kick me in the --"
With no change in expression, Salcedo grabbed Morgan's injured hand and twisted, the bones audibly cracking. Morgan couldn't retain his straight face, and a sad little whimper escaped from his lips.
"Now that I have your undivided attention, allow me to explain exactly what is going to happen to you. Anticipation is half the fun, you know," he said, the sickening green light from his fingertips mending Morgan's bones back into place, a process almost as painful as the initial injury. He pulled a capped syringe full of a clear liquid from his pocket.
"If you're banking on me being scared of needles..." Morgan bluffed while internally screaming. He'd rather have the beating. At least those were predictable.
"Of course not. I'm banking on you being scared of what Marcy in the chemistry department has been cooking up since you've been gone." He tapped the side of the syringe. "It's not quite a mind control drug, but it's a good start -- a combination of potent truth serum that dulls your mind, and a sedative that makes you highly suggestible. The tests we've conducted on henchmen have been most amusing."
"...So what? A truth serum? You think the hero team trusts me with some secret information? They don't. And they have official protocol to change out the passcodes when anyone's captured, so you're not going to get anything useful."
"Oh, Morgan, don't worry your pretty little head. I'm not expecting you to be useful for your information. I have much better plans than that." 
Morgan's struggles were futile as Salcedo pushed the syringe into his arm and pushed the plunger. He didn't know what the fuck Salcedo thought he was going to accomplish with this and didn't want to find out, and he especially didn't want his mind put out of commission for any length of time. 
Salcedo's smug face was both infuriating and unreadable. What was his game? Morgan knew he had better figure it out before -- before --
-- before whatever was in that syringe shifted his mind out of gear. He pulled against the restraints again, shaking his head, as though it would somehow stop or slow the deep fog settling in over his mind. His eyelids grew heavy and lidded as he blinked slowly up at his wretched former boss, the intense sense of dread muffled as it became more difficult to think clearly.
"That looks to be kicking in nicely. I'm guessing you're ready to tell the truth now. Just let it all out," said Salcedo, grabbing his chin and looking into his eyes. "How are you feeling?"
Morgan wanted to spit in his fucking face, but instead... "Groggy. Out of it. What the fuck is in that stuff?"
"It's a miracle drug, isn't it? That's why Marcy is a star employee and you're an also-ran. I only wish I could use this on Arthur. See what the city's shining hope really has buried deep down inside."
"There isn't anything buried," said Morgan before he can think twice. "He really is just that fucking heroic. Makes me sick. ...And jealous." He shook his head again, trying to could do anything to clear that uncomfortable fog. He had the dim feeling that he hadn't meant to say all of that, that the drug was working, but he didn't seem able to resist. The words came out before he could measure them.
"Is that so?" Salcedo chuckled. "Is that why you betrayed me?"
"No, I betrayed you because you're a fucking miserable sack of dicks who beats me for fun," said Morgan, fire cutting through the fog. "You think consequences will never apply to you, that there will never be any repercussions for treating your henchmen like shit smeared on your shoe. I can't wait until they all turn on you. I hope they kick your fucking teeth in."
"How charming," said Salcedo in a strained voice. "Now, I realize you can't help expressing your true feelings while you're high off that drug I gave you, so it would be unfair of me to punish you." 
Then he smashed his fist across Morgan's mouth, allowing Morgan to cough up a mouthful of blood before healing him.
"Listen to me, Morgan," said Salcedo, this time grabbing his face with more force and purpose. "You will listen to me, and you will absorb everything I have to say."
"No, no --" Morgan tried to pull himself free, but he'd always been physically much weaker than his boss, and the drug cocktail wasn't helping.
"You've always been a villain, haven't you? I found you and I molded you int a villain, one capable of terrorizing the city on so many occasions. Have you forgotten that?"
"No..."
"And you enjoyed yourself. You loved making your gadgets, you loved watching the civilians scream and cower. You loved the feeling of power and control. And you still love it."
"I... I do..." he said. He'd been fighting so hard to suppress all of that lately, to show the hero team he could be more than just a villain, that he could do something helpful for a change... but deep down inside, a part of him missed laughing maniacally while riding some mechanical monstrosity through the city.
The truth was, heroics was fucking hard. Civilians were unpredictable and frequently ungrateful, and with the hero team, he was no longer allowed to blow them off and make them someone else's problem. He had to work had. He had to care.
"That's right, Morgan, you miss being a villain." Salcedo's voice was like a snake tightening around its prey. "It's all you were ever good for. It's all you'll ever be good for."
That was exactly what Morgan often felt late at night, in his bunk in the heroes' headquarters, wondering what the fuck he was doing there and how long it could last. "I'm..."
"It's all you'll ever be good for," said Salcedo with more force, letting it sink into Morgan's compromised brain.
"It's all I'll ever be good for," he repeated in a dull voice, resistance crumbling. 
"You hate trying to be a hero. It's too hard. You're awful at it. You're tired, and you want to give up. You want to give in."
He really was so, so tired. "I want... I want to give up..."
"You hate working with the hero team," Salcedo hissed in his ear. "You're jealous of them, aren't you? How they're praised and fawned over while you rot in the shadows, fighting for the smallest scraps of recognition. How they don't trust you."
"I..." A memory flashed through his mind. Arthur convincing him to join in on the team's horror movie night. Julie, the youngest, screaming, while Toshiro criticized the effects. Laughing, eating popcorn, forgetting for a moment who and what he was.
He couldn't forget for long. He could see it in their eyes, in their hesitance, how fragile the trust was.
"You'll never be one of them. They'll never trust you. You're a villain, and that's all you'll ever be."
It was true, wasn't it? They would never trust him. He'd escaped Salcedo, only to spend his time scraping and clawing to get the hero team's trust. Fighting to be something he wasn't, when he knew, he knew, he'd never be good enough for them.
And this was the proof, wasn't it? They weren't coming to rescue him. No one was coming to rescue him.
"You hate them, Morgan. I know you do. You hate them more than anything."
"I... I hate..." The corrupting voice was twisting his thoughts, making it hard to think anything but what he was told.
"That's right," he coaxed. "You hate them. And you hate Arthur most of all."
Arthur. That's right, he hated Arthur. Arthur with his perfect smile. Arthur with his words of encouragement. Arthur telling Morgan that he believed in him, believed he could be something better, as though he had any right. 
Arthur, who probably knew by now that he was wrong, that Morgan was no better than any other villain, who wouldn't be lifting a finger to rescue him from the trap he'd inevitably found himself in.
"You hate Arthur," Salcedo insisted.
"I..."
It should be so easy. It was the truth: he did hate Arthur. And he hadn't been able to resist the serum up until now. Why was he choking on these words?
"You. Hate. Arthur."
"Of course I don't hate you," said Arthur, once, on a quiet, moonlit night, sitting on top of a building, guarding a museum from an impending heist. "You're a clever guy and a hard worker, and you can do the right thing when it really matters. And the villainy? I'm not saying it's okay, because it definitely wasn't, but I get where it comes from. I do. Any of us powered people could've gone down the same path."
"I don't," said Morgan under his breath.
"What was that?"
Morgan's voice caught again. He did hate Arthur. Hated how much he wished he could see Arthur's dumb fucking face as he kicked down the door. Hated how much he wanted to be in the heroes' infirmary, with Arthur checking up on him and delivering a snack or book of puzzles, instead of here.
He hated how Arthur made him want to be something more than just a villain, and how fucking hard it was, all the time.
"I don't hate Arthur," Morgan said more clearly, unable to stop it. "I want to hate him, because it'd make everything so much easier, but I don't. I can't."
Salcedo recoiled in disbelief, a look of shock and disgust on his face. "Oh, for fuck's sake. You can't be fucking serious. He hates you, you know. He's foiled your plans so many times --"
"He doesn't hate me," said Morgan with more confidence. "He said it himself, every time I asked him. And he doesn't fuck around with that kind of thing. If he says it, he means it. It's infuriating."
"Fucking hell. I suspected, but --" Salcedo grabbed Morgan by the front of his flimsy medical gown, pulling him close enough that he could feel hot breath on his face. "Are you in love with him?!"
Morgan froze.
No. Fuck no. That's what he wanted to say. No, obviously not.
But he couldn't.
His head pounded.
"I don't know."
"You. Don't. Know?" Salcedo screamed in his face.
"I don't know!" The fog in his head was so thick, making it impossible for him to think through his words. "I don't know how I feel about him -- or about anything -- or if I'm even capable of --"
Salcedo grabbed his head and slammed it against the medical bed, sending his ears ringing. "Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck! The one fucking thing I wanted you for, the one fucking thing you were going to be good at and you can't even do that right -- what kind of useless, idiot villain can't even hate the man who beats him into the ground once a week --" His laugh was harsh and bitter. "Oh hell, maybe you actually like that. I bet you do. Fucking little freak."
Morgan ignored the insult, trying to push aside the insinuations that he really, really didn't want to think about in this state. Salcedo had wanted him for something. There was a point to all of this apart from psychological torment. He tried to grasp that thought with his slippery mind, recognizing its importance. "What were you going to have me do?"
"Be a sleeper agent. Stoke the fires of hatred within you. Let the hero team rescue you, pretend everything was normal, and then when their guards were down, kill them all."
His chest tightened. "No -- I don't want to -- I won't!"
"Oh, it's beyond obvious you won't. I can see that now. You're not only useless, you're fucking delusional. So it's on to plan B."
"Plan B?"
"Remember these?" Salcedo held up a glass vial. Tiny, iridescent insects were flitting around inside, crawling up the glass and bumping against the lid.
Morgan surged forward in the restraints. "My babies!" he said, in the tone of someone reuniting with a long lost pet. He certainly did remember them -- his mechanical mosquitoes, one of his favorite inventions, which he'd had to leave behind during his semi-involuntary heroic turn. These small drones were easy for Morgan to control with his technological powers. They could be used for surveillance or distraction, equipped with tiny tools, or used to inject small amounts of potent drugs, incapacitating enemies and guards with sedatives or hallucinogens. On one memorable occasion, he'd laced them with the common cold, ensuring that the heroes would stay home while he raided the semiconductor factory. Good memories.
"They're my 'babies' now, I'm afraid," said Salcedo, pulling the vial further out of reach. "It took a while to override your protocols and reprogram them, but I think the effect will be worth it. You always used them for disgustingly non-lethal purposes. I've always wanted to change that."
He shrank back, not liking where this was going. 
"They're fitted with a potent and especially painful neurotoxin, but they won't sting you immediately. No, they're programmed to hide in your clothing until disturbed. When Arthur comes to save you, that's when you'll get the privilege of watching his excruciating death, knowing he died in agony trying to save you."
"No, no, there's no way. He's not even going to come save me, you know, he's --"
"Oh, you fool. He's already on his way." Salcedo shoved a gag into Morgan's mouth, clasping it firmly shut. "Don't want you warning him. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important business." He opened the vial, and the little mosquito drones flew out and nestled in Morgan's medical gown, in the restraints, even in his hair. With his power suppressed, he was helpless to control them. He could only watch as Salcedo left the room.
Morgan screamed through the gag, accomplishing nothing but straining his throat. He had to come up with some sort of plan, but his head was swimming from stress and drugs and he couldn't hold on to any one thought long enough to formulate a strategy. 
It didn't matter. Salcedo was wrong. No one was coming to rescue him.
...He must be imagining the sounds of a fight, drawing closer...
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@cardboardarsonist @zeiniszein @crystallizedmidnight @mistythedritten @pigeonwhumps @sowhumpshaped @sparrowsage @sunshiline-writes @dont-look-me-in-the-eye @i-eat-worlds @a-formless-entity
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anarcho-masochist · 7 months
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When your friend is talking about a kid's behavioral issues and starts listing issues that could contribute and then says, "...or worse, sociopathy or psychopathy." In That tone, you know the one. Okay, cool, the mask stays on.
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So. Like. Izzy doesn’t have the social or emotional power over Ed to be his abuser. He’s not good at manipulating people, let alone a ‘tactical genius’ like Ed. It speaks volumes on some of yall’s opinions on Ed that you think he can’t just get rid of someone trying to hurt him like that.
It’s easy to reach a conclusion when you’re starting from the conclusion and working backwards to an explanation. I could just as easily go through a list of ‘signs of abuse’ and call Ed Izzy’s abuser but I’m not going to do that because, while those signs might be there, it’s more complicated than that. There’s nuance that’s being ignored by labeling either one of them as the sole ‘bad guy’ in their relationship (however you interpret the word ‘relationship’).
I’m not going to argue the specific points because there’s no point, I’m going to block and you’re not going to see this unless someone shows you or you block evade (which I can’t see why you would so I doubt you will). I will say though, the toe thing was not ‘striking back’ at abuse. It was premeditated assault. It was done with intent to control. To put Izzy back ‘in his place’.
If Izzy brings it up as a negative that’s because it IS. Genuinely, I don’t know how many times we have to say it but disabling someone is not a punishment.
You say you’re not an expert on abuse and it shows. Reading a single text on ‘things a perpetrator might do’ does not give you authority to ascertain anything about their relationship, especially when you’re only looking at one side of the relationship. You are certainly allowed to interpret their relationship that way but you HAVE to understand that it’s just YOUR interpretation and that not everybody is going to see things the same way you do. If you don’t like seeing interpretations you disagree with then, by all means: block those people. Ultimately these are two fictional characters we’re talking about and it does no inherent harm for people to have these differing interpretations. Remember: discomfort is not harm, and can be easily avoided by the block button.
(Also? Hiding replies that disagree with you really doesn’t reflect well on your argument, just saying.)
Anyway, bye. May we never cross paths.
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