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notthecutesttrash · 3 months ago

Text

No Love Lost

Satoru Gojo x sister! reader

This is PLATONIC

Content: Gojo is your big brother that you hate so much. You'd do anything to get him out of your life, but he's overbearing and simply won't allow that.

Warnings: ANGST, Gojo is protective and annoying, but he's Gojo.

Word count: 7.2k

With every fiber of your being, you hate Satoru Gojo. When you wake up, you hate him, in your dreams you hate him, when you eat you despise him, and when you lock eyes with him you want to punch him.

Reading is a nice activity, your brain quiets, and at times the words come to life and vacuum yourself inside its world. Satoru was there, and you hated that he was. He's bored, and you know he is, for he has so few friends that his main time was bothering his kid sister who didn't even like him.

He's talking, and you're ignoring him, or at least trying to. He already went on a tangent about how reading was boring and how you're a nerd, but when it didn't get through he began talking about his missions. His special grade, super fun, and classified missions that he couldn't tell you about, yet you hear about every detail anyway.

"So then I went up, and this dude tried to pick a fight with me almost right away, I mean seriously, it was pathetic. He didn't even last more than a second. I mean, why go on this whole supervillain monologue if you can't even handle a punch? Of course, the punch was by me, if you punched him that'd be different. He probably would've lasted a minute."

You turned the page of your book and swung your legs over the other. Right now the main character, Elaine was brushing up against her crush, you couldn't miss this for a second.

"I can't imagine what it's like being you, a grade three? If I couldn't go on these missions, I'd probably be depressed, what's the point of being a sorcerer if you can't have any use of it in the real world?" Satoru shakes his head to himself and brushes his fringe from his eyes.

Your heart is in your throat at the scene, surely they were about to kiss. They're near each other, and she's blushing, tucking a hair behind her ear. You breathe heavily, intently reading until suddenly you're staring at your hands.

Satoru reads a blurb and gags. "I can't believe you read this stuff, god that is sad, don't you think it's time for a boyfriend?" His throw lands the book gently back in your hands, and you slightly furrow.

"There's only so much protecting I can do anyways.

You get up from your chair and begin walking. "Oh come on, don't be so lame, I'm just joking...You really do need a boyfriend though. But I'd feel sorry for whoever the poor sucker is." Satoru is following a little ways behind, his arms stretching behind him with a yawn.

Words fall from your lips, wrapped in a harsh tone. "I don't like annoying people. Go away."

"Speak for yourself, you and Utahime are practically besties." Satoru reaches your pace, walking beside you.

Your eyes roll. "Well, Utahime doesn't piss me off. And she has respect, for that matter."

"Why all the hate, lil sis? I'm just trying to help you." Satoru grins wide, giggling like a jerk. He wasn't, he never was, he just wanted to make you mad.

In fact, as kids, it was even worse. Your mother surely favored him since he was so special, he had one amazing ability, let alone 2. His glowing eyes always reminded you of that when you sat and ate dinner across another.

Then whenever you wanted to play, and he would repeatedly say no and to play with your stupid dolls, you'd have to go crying to mom just to get a little bit of fun. Then when you'd be stuck with Satoru during ball, he'd throw your way so hard, if you didn't dodge it would've wiped your head clean off. When it'd disappear, like always, he'd shrug and go "Looks like we can't play."

When you were readying yourself to go on a stroll one day, he walked out and asked what you were doing. You were tying your shoe laces and you paid him no mind until done. Letting yourself hit the floor, you smiled and said "Going for a walk."

Before you could even make two steps, he flat-out said "No." You turned to him, narrowing your eyes.

"What do you mean, no?" You emphasized, annoyed.

"As in, no, you're not going for a walk, because you can't." Satoru was stoic, and his eyes simply glowed at you.

You crossed your arms. "And why can't I?"

"Because I forbid it." He said matter of factly.

You laughed dryly at that. "Oh pardon me, I didn't know you were dad. Yeah, I don't think so, I'm going for a walk. I know it hurts to see me have fun, but suck it up and deal with it, just like I do every day."

He stayed quiet for a moment, and you met his gaze bravely, both unwavering. The level of anger rising in your chest was surreal, who did he think he was? Then he turned and went back inside and you scoffed and said "Didn't think so."

It was only a few moments that had passed before your mother and father dragged you back, exclaiming in worry that you were unfit to do these things. You saw Satoru on their side, staring at you when you tried to reason with them.

"It's just a walk! Are you serious? You let Satoru go on walks almost every day!" You were gesturing angrily with your words at this point, and your mom sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"That's because Satoru is strong, (Y/n), he inherited the limitless and six eyes, what if something happened while you were on your own? We'd have no way of knowing, and you wouldn't be able to handle it." She smiled a little as if hoping you'd just understand suddenly, that realization would hit your mind and you'd go "Ah okay." But instead, you were glaring at your brother, a fury gnawing at your clenched jaw.

"I hate you." You said before walking off, and you remember your parents gasping and saying how rude that was, and to come back and apologize at once. Satoru didn't say anything, he didn't follow your steps or track you.

You ignored them. The two people who were supposed to advocate for you, the two people who could really say something and let you do whatever you wanted. But they never did, he always said something about how "dangerous" anything was and swayed them instantaneously.

That was the first time you said it.

As a kid, you would even throw out, "I'm never going to speak to you again!" over and over until it never meant anything. But it does now.

You slammed your door as hard as a child can muster and repeated to yourself until then that you would hate him forever.

The next memory that you thought of so vaguely, was when you were on a date with a man you really liked. Maybe it wouldn't have worked, but you didn't know that then.

You sat across him, having several good conversations after another, and a few times he made you genuinely laugh. Whenever he spoke, you absorbed into his words like you were reading. Whenever he laughed, you laughed, whenever he smiled, you smiled. It was infectious.

Your concentration broke soon enough as you heard a chair screeching against the floor of the restaurant. Others stared in disdain, annoyed at the sudden intrusion to their ears. You didn't even want to look. Somehow, you had a feeling, you didn't know how, but you just did.

When you turned, Satoru was there, pressing his chair uncomfortably close to the table, and turning it towards him, so he could sit and lean his arms against the back of it. His jaw rested against the top and he watched you two with a sudden grin.

The heat of shame enveloped your cheeks and soon made your hands stammer with discomfort. Your date blinked awkwardly at him, and you held your forehead in your hands, scared of what he was going to say.

"Hey lil sis," he grinned, eyeing the man across you. Eyeing was an understatement, he was flat out making him uncomfortable, and your date shifted in his chair as gently as he could without arousing suspicion.

You wanted to argue right then and there if not for that man, you wished so bad you did.

"So tell me, what brings you here?" Satoru flat out asked, his face inching uncomfortably close to your date. The man scooted a little away, clearing his throat. Safe to say, he didn't know how to respond, naturally you wouldn't have either, especially not in front of your crush and their sibling.

Before he could even get a full response, Satoru started weirdly quizzing him. From "Gotta job?" to "Top 3 favorite movies, go!"

Your hand was gripping your fork tight, and the rage had you shaking in your seat as you watched him try to familiarize himself. Your food was becoming chopped liver, and he barely cared that this was breaking your boundaries by a long shot. He couldn't have just done this at any other moment, or simply have had the decency to ask.

"Let's say someone held a gun to your head, just figuratively speaking of course," Satoru leaned in albeit an obvious discomfort in your date "Would you hide? Run? Beg? Or would you fight?" When there was no answer he continued.

"Or you think you'd throw her in the crossfire to get some protection and cower behind her like a little girl?" Satoru's tone was a little less playful, and he lifted his shades. The blue of his eyes shone and sparkled.

"Um.." Again it was silent, and Satoru opened his mouth for another question, maybe even a rude comment for all you knew.

"Satoru." You made eye contact with him, your furrowed brows knitting tight, the flush in your cheeks burning. He returned your expression with a grin.

"What? These are important questions," he leans in close to the man again, narrowing his lids just a little, as if threatening. "I'm just trying to get to know you better." He pushes on the back of the chair, his cheek pressing at the intricate design.

Silence spread at the table, and your brother stared at the man intently, watching every little move and probably determining his entire future in one go. Eventually, it proved to be enough, and your date coughed a little and gently placed his napkin down. He was staring at you like a meek little prey, begging for your help, but you just ignored him, stabbing at your food in an upset, and managing to take a few bites while ignoring the scene completely.

"I think... I should go.." He stood and hesitated, pondering if he should say anything else, perhaps an "I'll call you later," or "It's okay," but instead he just nervously nodded at Satoru and walked off. You knew it was going to happen, and finally, you stopped eating, feeling a sickness in your stomach.

Satoru observed him until the moment he ultimately walked out of that door and was gone completely. "What a letdown, the guy didn't even have a decent movie to pick when I asked, how lame-" he kept talking, and talking, and talking, and you sat there, silent, glaring holes into your meal, your sweaty hands just shaking.

You whispered to yourself, "Unbelievable."

"I know right? Dude is definitely the type to run for his life if anything happened, and worse he can't even see curses, how do you expect him to do anything then? I can't be with you all the time you know, what if a grade 1, or worse a special grade appears, what do you do with a loser like that?"

You politely leave your fork at the side, and with all the fury coursing through your veins, somehow in a split second, your food is thrown at Satoru. It didn't hit him, but that wasn't the point, and he finally stopped.

You rummaged through your bag furiously and threw cash on the table before getting up to leave.

"You're unbelievable."

These thoughts always played in your mind as he walked in front of you, walking backward nonchalantly and smiling like a dork. You stopped and stared at him for a while, annoyed, and he refused to gather a hint. Eventually, through his words, you spoke, forcing him to stop.

"I hate you." Those words left your lips, and Satoru stood still allowing you to walk past him.

The more you walked, the less he followed, and finally you found yourself being completely alone and in a peaceful silence. You entered your dorm, curled yourself into a ball on your bed, and continued reading for the rest of the day.

The next morning you'd have a mission all to yourself, and you'd prove to him that you didn't need his help.

You were forming a veil over an old graveyard. The wilted grass crunched beneath your feet, and you paced quietly past dated tombstones. A gust of wind brushed against your warm skin. Naturally, your weapon tilted in response, and you held it tight with a clammy grip. Grade 4 curse or not, a tightness in your chest prevented you from feeling fearless.

A flicker of blue appeared and vanished at your side, and instinctively you whirled your head to an empty space. It was quiet save for your small breaths, and your fingers trailed against one of the icy tombstones. A groveling noise alerted you. Harsh jarring cries and your head was whipping around to find its location.

"Mom, why'd you have to die.." A sad slurred voice mumbled, and when you turned to your right, you found it. A mass amalgamation sitting at a grave and cradling its oversized puffy legs to its giant irregular head.

"Oh Mom," it trailed again, its voice tuning in and out. You got into a readied stance, and it wasn't even paying attention to you. Blood lurched from its eyes, peeling from its lips as giant fingernails ripped its skin down.

Reaching into your bag, you pulled out a small knife and pitched the blade towards the curse, hoping it would get its attention.

The creature made a drawled-out long moan when It poked its skin and fell to the ground with a thud. The head rotated to you with a sickening twist, and your eyes met for a long beat.

Suddenly a sharp jab smacked you in the side and sent you flying. Your back fell to the floor and with a grunt, you instinctively touched your ribs that squealed in pain. Weapon still in hand, you forced yourself to stand and ready yourself.

The curse moved like goo, jiggling with every movement it made, and leading a path of slime in its wake. Rushing towards it, you swung your blade and carved a deep cut inside its abdomen. Dodging an attack, you did the same towards its back and jabbed your foot into its spine.

The creature tripped and caught its balance in time to turn around and swing at your cheek. Again you bounced on your back and slammed into the ground. Its heavy steps stomped and slushed against crinkled grass. Exhaling a grunt, you pressed your hand into your ribs and forced yourself to stand. You weren't going to go down that easily.

Its large fist aimed at your chest, and you rushed away just in time to press your shoe hard against the back of its knee, making it moan and falter. Your other hand sliced at its skin just barely before it spun and it attempted to land you square in the jaw.

You moved, and it repeated into a trade of jabs and cuts until eventually it found an opening and swung its knee into yours, making you reactively grab it. You were swept off your feet, this time slamming your side against a tombstone.

Groaning, you tried to get up while the curse strolled to you. Blood seeped and poured down its leg, and it seemed a bit slower. It didn't seem right, all of your hits and deep stabs should've killed it by now.

"Oh, mom.." Its drawn-out words made their way to your ears once more, blood cascading down its mismatched eyes. Exhaling a sigh, you pulled your weapon closer, waiting for it to be near.

Slicing your blade into its eye, it cried out, screeching and flailing like a child. It held its damaged eye like a human and wept, repeating its earlier phrases. Growling, you punched it while it was distracted, and although you knew not to test the unpredictability of its limbs, you got greedy. All it took was for one of its hands to beat into you and your body met with a tree.

With all you've done to it, it was too focused on weeping its tears while walking to you so casually, it was insulting. Your hands pressed against the ground, and your ribs ached at the movement. It was coming closer and closer, and you were doing everything you could to stand up.

Just one last time body, one last time and you'd handle it. Mustering all your strength into your legs, you forced them to stand. You were going to do this.

Your eyes met up with the curse again, and it dripped while walking towards you. You found a plan this time. The liquid poured into the grass, its skin peeling like a fruit. You knew what to do. You got into position and held your breath, waiting.

It got a few steps closer.

Waiting.. waiting... waiting... now!

Your muscles were about to break into a sprint, and before they could do that, it stopped.

White hair. Satoru appeared in front of you like some twisted guardian angel, and before you could respond, the curse was blasted away instantaneously. Just like that, all of your work to nothing.

The silence was loud, and what felt like a minute passed before Satoru muttered an annoyed, "What a stupid mistake."

A rage rushed to your head, and your skin was already beginning to burn. Satoru rotated to you and began checking a small bleeding gash on your forehead. You didn't even know what to say, you were dumbfounded and blinded with emotion.

"Man I'm gonna kill those old geezers," he sighed exasperatedly.

"Are you serious?" You asked quietly, more to yourself than anything.

Satoru pulled back to get a read on you, "huh?" He seemed confused.

"Are... you serious?" You emphasized one more time, this time to him. Your eyes were wide, peering into his own.

"I sure as hell am, what were they thinking? Putting you on a grade 2 mission? I think the age is getting to their head—"

"It was a grade four." You reasoned as calmly as you could muster.

His expression gave you a past image of you as children. The way he'd look at you when you were annoyed and just didn't care.

"Grade 2," He stated.

You grumbled, "What are you talking about?"

"Those idiots thought it was a grade 4 and put you on the mission, they could've gotten you killed." He seemed genuinely irritated, as if saving you was so annoying.

"I was handling it just fine," you reasoned. Grade 2 or not, you were going to get it.

He scoffed at that and fell into a more relaxed position. His demeanor turned half playful, but you knew him well enough that he was hiding his anger. "Like hell you were, look at you. What was your big plan there, run him around just out of touch and wait until he trips on his own slime and finish him off there?"

When you didn't answer, he laughed, his hand pressing against his forehead, pondering the idiocy. "You're not serious are you?" He snickered dryly, shaking his head. His blue spheres were blown out as he thought of what he was going to do to those guys back at Jujustu.

You turned to the side, a mix of shame and anger hitting you admitting that it was close to your plan. "I didn't need your help okay, grade 2 or not, I'm a grade 3, I can handle-"

"No, you can't." This time Satoru was serious, and he was scowling. "You should barely even be a grade three, the only reason you are is because I felt pity and spoke up about it. I know you can't handle it, and I should've never expected you to."

The way your lips spread in a gasp had your comeback quieting. "What..?" You just barely whispered, and when you continued, your words croaked out like it was the hardest thing to say. "But I am a grade three, I worked for that, I practiced.. every day."

You inhaled a deep shaky breath at the thought, but at remembering that this was just Satoru, who never believed your accomplishments anyway. You seethed, "I am, you just don't think I am, you always think I'm weak." Your voice was starting to rise, and you were losing yourself in a fit of anger and nearly stomping like a kid in a tantrum and jabbing your finger at his chest.

"That's because you are lil sis, do you think without my help all these years you'd really be alive right now?"

That sentence made you growl, and he thinking that the conversation was done, started casually walking away like nothing. He was not going to get away, not this easily, not without any repercussions just like every single time.

"What is your fucking problem?!" Your shout made him briefly pause.

"My problem?" He asked like you were crazy. Satoru makes his way back to you, watching how you wince at the throb in your bones, yet still somehow find a way to gesture at him.

"My problem? My problem is that I can't walk away for 10 fucking minutes and leave you alone to get some peace, instead, I'm stuck babysitting for the rest of my life."

"And you think I want you to babysit me? You think I don't want some freedom? You know what... if I die... I die, that's it, end of the story, and better yet, if I die and you had the power to stop it, don't ever feel bad," you laugh sharply, not even thinking before your words at all.

"Because when I'm about to die, I don't want to see you, and even when I'm dead, I don't want you 10 feet near my fucking grave."

It became quiet for a still moment, and the air felt tense. There was a lump in your throat, but you were so filled with resentment you couldn't stop.

"Mom and Dad aren't here right now, it's just you and me, and you think that because of that, I'm grateful to have you here? That because you're a special grade and I'm the weak little sister that you feel like I'm a civilian under your wing? Just.. fuck you, I'm tired of you. I'm tired of you in my goddamn face acting like we'll ever be friends, not with how you treated me as a kid. Not how you treat me now." By the end of your rant, you were practically panting in a fit of rage, your face beet red, and your index still pressing into his chest.

Satoru was quiet, unreadable, and again, just like when you were kids, he had that face that looked as if he didn't care, or as if he knew he was right. You inhaled sharply in an attempt to relax.

"You.." you started again, and already knowing where this was going to end up, tears were forming, and the tightening of your throat made it impossible to speak without a sob leaving.

"You're supposed to love me.." You barely managed to utter, a few cracks in your sentence. His form visibly slumped, and his jaw clenched. You turned your back to him and crossed your arms, a heavy pout turning your lips. You made a move to walk away, and Satoru's hand tugged at your shirt.

He pulled you over his shoulder effortlessly and held you there tightly. It wasn't like you to not flail around and smack him flat in the shoulder, but you stilled. Your rib hurt anyway, and the last thing you wanted to do was break it. That wasn't really the reason why. You gave up, but you couldn't let anyone know that.

He started walking, and because he wasn't able to see, a few tears fell, and you wiped them away before it became a storm.

The walk was silent, and Satoru hardly ever is. But you knew he must've been mad, and admittedly that felt worse. This is just how it was. It's like nothing ever changed in this moment.

In an effort to get yourself comfortable, as much as could be, your body seared with discomfort, and you limped with a sigh. You're tired. You think a nap after all this would do you good.

Your lids gently closed, the swarming headache stinging a little less.

Satoru could feel you sleep, and his hand pressed tighter against your legs in fear you might fall. He knew he wouldn't drop you, he wouldn't drop anyone, not with his strength alone, but he worried and told himself, just in case.

When you woke up the next day, your injuries were all wrapped up. Bandages stretched from your back to your front, and when you tried to get up, it hurt your sides like hell. Laying back down, you sighed, studying your ceiling fan that very lightly circled.

Upon notice, you saw that at your side above the nightstand, there was a stack of books. Not many that you haven't read, and plenty your type. Gently reaching out so as not to strain, you very slowly pulled one into your lap. It was a red hardcover with light pages that had a maximum of a few hundred.

After reading the first few in your boredom, your teeth were already dragging your bottom lip in anticipation. And when you placed it down for a break, you surveyed your room. The blinds were shut tight as if someone was afraid that light might force you from your slumber.

Again, you forced yourself to get up, ignoring how your sides ached. Your legs were shaking once your feet hit the floor, and they were so sore it felt like stone. An incoherent grumble left you once you got off the bed. Pressing your hand into your ribs, you found yourself shouting when you attempted to make a step.

In an instant, your door slammed open, and Satoru stood for a few seconds, watching how you leaned your hand against the nightstand to balance yourself.

"Are you stupid or something?!" He shouted, and before you could even answer he had you sitting down forcefully and his hand held you there when you tried to push your weight to stand again.

Groaning, you smacked his hand away, "Leave me alone Satoru, I can do just fine." Usually with that, he would drop it, but it remained, and you shot him a dirty look.

"You're not moving until they say you can move, so lay back down." Your scowl persisted, and you were mentally jabbing holes into him.

Satoru gave you a look he had never given you before. He glared so darkly that you wavered. His hand pressed your shoulder down and he gently lowered your upper half so you wouldn't feel pain.

"And what am I supposed to do? Sit here for 3 months staring at the ceiling?" Huffing, you complied and laid down in a decent position.

"That's why I got you books." Satoru tapped at them. "All the gooey, mushy, trashy romantic books you can want," he went back to joking, but you didn't respond. You surveyed him while he fluffed your pillow, and folded sheets over your body.

His eyes crinkled just a little bit more, the blue of his eyes was unsettled, and his lips pouted just slightly. "Did you sleep?" You asked. He raised a brow as if it was a dumb question.

"Obviously, why?"

You hummed. "Nothing." Then added, "So when can I get up?" You made sure to add some spite to that sentence.

"Until I say so." He responded, and just because of that little authority he always managed to pull out, you scoffed, unable to hide the irritation. You left it at that, and it was quiet for a few minutes as he still kept organizing your sheets.

Neither of you met each other's glance, and it was a swift match on who could advert the fastest when found. Eventually, the tense silence was broken, and he spoke.

"I know you hate me, you're annoyed, but I don't care." You peeked up at him, then glared at your wall.

You grumbled under your breath, "You never did."

Satoru didn't respond this time, and when he was finally done fixing your sheets, he made his way to your door, then as he was about to close it after him, he declared, "I always did," then left.

Rolling your eyes, you spun to your good side and faced the wall, all your thoughts about your past rushing to you.

Your mother politely dragged a knife through her steak and with each portion, she lifted it to her lips so calmly and ate, dabbing her handkerchief to her lips after. Why couldn't you do that? She looked so graceful, and you just wanted to copy her, but when you tried the knife kept bouncing off the meat and dragging loudly against the plate.

Grumbling, you tried again, and your steak nearly flew out. The anger overtook your small little hands that pounded at the table in respite. Again you tried, and when it didn't work you frowned.

Satoru let out a small sigh and removed himself from his seat. His hand grabbed at the knife and he pulled your plate to his angle and began slicing perfectly little thin pieces. The meat was tender, red, and juicy beneath its skin, and when he even offered you a portion, you opened your lips and chewed it with a pout. You were mad, so mad, but the steak was delicious, and you couldn't erase the shame of not being able to just do this one thing for yourself.

"Do you like it?" He asked, and you mumbled a yes as he fed you another slice. If you didn't, he'd have someone instantly prepare it again after all. Eventually, he sat, and you glared at your plate, glancing between him and your parents who so nonchalantly ate. His face was stoic, and you were sure he was annoyed.

After a while of contemplating if you should eat the rest, you did, all with disdain.

You practically finished a book within 3 days. You laid it at your side and studied the ceiling. There wasn't anything interesting about it, nothing new, no curves, grooves, or chips. Your eyes were drooping, falling ever so slightly at every circle the fan revolved in.

On your bookshelf, there was a small activity book, one of those that you write in and play little games like word searches and whatnot. You kept it there for a while, probably had it since you were 12, but you needed to do something besides just laying here and only occupying your mind.

Satoru isn't here, and he won't be for a while doubtfully. It's been 3 days, that's still better than day 1, so surely you can just get up and pluck it from its bond. Or, you could just wait until he was back, and ask for it. But then he might be offended that you didn't care to read the books he brought for you, and besides, you didn't want to harm your pride by even showing you needed the slightest bit of help.

Were you that petty? Yeah.

Lifting your upper half, a throb rang in your side, and despite this, you planted your feet firmly on the ground. You bit back the grunts and mumbles and made your way to the shelf. Once you were there, you heaved a few breaths, already feeling winded. Your heart was stammering, but you just had to grab it.

It was on the tallest shelf, of course, it was, and you stood on your toes. Your calves were hard and tightened to stone, leaving you anchored to the floor. Cussing, you pulled all your weight and attempted to touch just the top before your finger slid off and fell.

Your teeth were gritting, and you again tried, fingers shaking at the attempt. A hand touches your arm, gently guiding yours down before it reaches out and grabs the book for you, just effortlessly. Your feet drop, and the wince that follows is inevitable.

"You're really doing this again?" Satoru asked, his voice holding a familiar irritation.

You swat his hand away and turn to walk back on your own. "I don’t need you to play nurse. I’m fine, okay?"

Satoru raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he watches you. “You’re not fine. You’re barely standing.”

"It was just to get a book Satoru, relax. Did you think I was going to go outside and start jogging?" Your sarcasm always rose with the frustration, rooting you in place. He wasn't going to allow you to stand with your injuries for the sake of mindless arguing, so first he shut you up and swept you off your feet like some bride.

Huffing, you flicked at his chest with your index and thumb, rolling your eyes. "Can you stop treating me like I'm a porcelain doll? The bed is right there, I did fine getting up by myself." Satoru laid you down gingerly, even did so much as flipping your pillow so you could feel cool. Still refusing to answer, he checks your bandages and when he confirms they're still fine, he pushes your legs down and forces your body to relax whether you want to or not.

“I’m not treating you like anything. But you're not getting up, and I’m not watching you hurt yourself over some stupid pride,” he retorted.

There's a minute of silence, and you're adverting your gaze out of pure pettiness. Satoru sat beside you, the weight easing the mattress down.

“You can be mad all you want, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re stuck here for a while,” he said, a small lingering softness in his tone. He places the book you wanted by your side, and you open your mouth just partially.

You glance at him from the corner of her eye and a wave of irritation hits you. You aim to voice something sharp but don't. Instead, you lay back against the pillow and cross your arms.

"I don't want your help.." you mumbled. The thought of stupid scenes like him cutting your steak, or intervening on your date rushes back. You want to hate him so much, you really do.

He never stops hovering and making everything about him, pushing his help on you when you never needed it. You hate the idea of him thinking you can’t handle things on your own. You're not helpless.

But no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you want to shake him off, he’s always there. Always trying to protect you, and always being there before you could even let yourself fall.

"I'm still here though, whether you want it or not," he declared, and a heavy pout formed.

You mumbled, "Yeah.. whatever.." A moment passes, and you flicker your glance more to the side, holding your arms tight against you. "Can you get me a pencil..?" Satoru laughs, genuinely.

"Gonna draw out all your frustrations?" He asks smugly.

"I'm going to draw me stabbing you." You joke, biting back a laugh that makes you grin wide. You still weren't meeting his gaze, but his grin was returning, and he knew it was a joke.

"Show me when you're done, I'll give you a gold star and put it on my fridge." Satoru chuckles, and the laugh you are holding escapes.

"Shut up." You shake your head, rolling your eyes. "Go away, I want to read now."

Satoru nods, and the weight disappears at your side.

By the fourth week, Satoru was giving you your space. It didn’t mean he wasn’t eyeing you carefully whenever you stood or walked around, but he didn’t fuss over every little thing as he did at first.

You sat by the window, your arms draped over your knees. The frown on your face deepened, the weight of it pressing into your forehead as you gazed longingly at the outside world.

"You could at least try reading some of the books I got you," Satoru teased, a playful edge in his voice, though the tension between you two lingered. "I had to stand there for over an hour, hearing women gush about them."

You stared at a pretty blue jay that landed atop a branch, a tiny bit of envy stirring in you.

"I already read two and a half," you huffed, pressing your palm to your cheek. But really, your thoughts were elsewhere, on the world outside. The need to be out there gnawed at you, like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

Satoru grinned yet he made sure to keep his distance, knowing your patience had a limit. “Well, that’s a good start. Could be three soon enough.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you studied the window, your thoughts swirling like a storm. His words barely registered. Satoru noticed how your gaze followed the blue jay as it flew away, the disappointment turned your features.

After a moment, he stood from the chair, his gaze softening as he studied you, quiet for a second longer than usual. Then, he gestured toward you. “Come on, let’s go.”

You blinked, raising an eyebrow. “To where exactly? The wall?”

Satoru just chuckled, but his eyes were serious. “Outside. Smart ass, come on.”

You froze, before rushing to your feet with a gasp, excitement mixing with a usual rush of nerves. His hand found your shoulder just as you moved, his touch warm but firm, and he forced you to sit down. “Relax, not like that. If I see you running, I’m dragging you right back inside.”

You huffed, a sudden irk clenching your jaw, "why are you always like this?" You grumbled, shooting him an exasperated look.

"Because if I wasn't, you'd be so stubborn that you'd end up recovering in 12 weeks instead of 8." A pout befell you. That was true, but you didn't need him to say it.

Satoru flicked you, "Don't be a brat, if you're gonna drill holes at the floor, do it outside and sulk there."

"I'm not sulking," you bit your cheek, "and I'm not being a brat."

Satoru laughed, patting your shoulder. "Right, that's hilarious, now go before I change my mind." Despite his playful tone, his grasp was a little reassuring.

"Well, I still don't need you hovering over me," you pointed out.

He took a step back, tightened his grip only momentarily, and spoke firmly, "Well I'm not asking for permission."

Scoffing, you got up and forced yourself to walk to the door. Your hand stretched out, fingertips touching the knob and lingering at the cold that hit you. It took a while before you could really place your hand over it fully and use force to turn it. Upon opening, you felt happy, a realization hit you, and it was like your feet were anchored in nerves.

Satoru waited patiently, and you glanced back at him, unsure. Was he going to close it or lead you around like you were a scared puppy? When you blinked at him, he smiled warmly, and you bit your lip. It almost felt like a test.

You stepped out quietly, pausing for a few seconds. The breeze hit you once you crossed the threshold, and you hadn’t realized how much you missed the plush green grass and the pretty flowers at Jujutsu. Tears brimmed at your eyes, and you wiped them quickly away.

Satoru followed, stopping a few feet away and leaning against the wall as he watched you. You wanted to run, to rush out and scream, to release every frustration you had buried. But instead, you stood there, taking in the moment. It was so peaceful.

You sat at the edge of the porch, your feet hanging off the steps as you watched the grass sway in the wind. The purple flowers pressed together, moving in unison as the breeze swept through. The sun’s gentle rays warmed your skin.

Satoru took a seat beside you, giving you just enough space to not disturb the quiet. You turned to him, smiling, and at that moment, you knew it would be okay. He returned your smile softly as if he understood too.

It was quiet for many minutes, maybe even an hour, as you sat there and stared at the sky. You watched as lazy clouds transitioned slowly, drifting across the blue. Your chest felt warm, and you let your feet dangle freely.

Satoru’s eyes flickered to the sky for a moment, but they didn’t linger. He was tired—too tired. The dull ache behind his eyes told him everything. The weight of the silence pressed against his shoulders, and a noticeable slump in his posture gave away the fatigue that settled in like a heavy blanket.

He could feel your gaze on him, and for once, he didn’t want you to see him like this. He would never admit it, but his breaths grew shallow. He was starting to droop.

You touched his shoulder lightly, and he blinked up at you. "You should sleep. I'll be fine."

His expression softened for just a second, a hint of gratitude breaking through the usual guise. A small sigh escaped him, but he quickly masked it with a forced grin.

"What makes you think I’m falling asleep?" he scoffed, trying to convince both you and himself.

You softly sighed, a frown tugging at your lips. "Just go to sleep. You've earned it."

A wave of guilt washed over you, and you tried to mask it with a quick smile. He caught it, and a warm, unguarded grin spread across his face.

There was a quiet understanding between you both. The calmness of it was new, and you didn’t realize until now just how much it meant.

You turned back to the scene, watching as the sun slowly settled, the warmth leaving your skin in the waning light. You could hear Satoru press back against the wall and release a gentle, tired breath. His eyes closed, and when you turned to look at him again, you saw the peaceful rise and fall of his chest.

You sat close, leaning against the wall beside him and closing your eyes to sleep. For once, you felt an unwavering peace beside him, and you wanted nothing more.

#gojo satoru #anime x reader #x reader #fanfic #angst #fanfiction #anime #satoru gojo x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #x sister reader #jujustu gojo

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traincat · 2 months ago

Note

Your Spideytorch fics are handsdown my favourite in the fandom and I re-read them more than I'm brave enough to admit but the one where Johnny was a virgin made me absolutely OBSESSED! And anything with Peter being protective/possessive is S-Tier and I started wondering if you have any thoughts on how Peter could've been protective of him after the Lyja nonsense since comics never really handled that the way they should've [and still don't]

Thank you so much! I'm so glad you like my fic enough to reread it at all, let alone multiple times.

I also love Peter being protective/possessive (two sides of the same coin with him?) and just like, slowly cluing into all the terrible things that have happened to Johnny beyond just superhero stuff as they begin a relationship. And then being absolutely ready to snap something or someone in half.

An interesting thing is that Peter is more aware than most about what went down with Lyja. He's witness to some of it, even.

(Fantastic Four #299) "You're getting married? You?!?" Okay big talk from the man who would also be married within like five months. (Their weddings happen extremely close to each other.) So Johnny and "Alicia's" wedding was supposed to be a small, private affair which is, you know -- it's interesting. On the one hand, I can see Johnny wanting a small, intimate wedding because he is, at heart, a romantic. On the other hand, looking at the big picture, it does feel a little suspicious that he just didn't want to hype up his marriage at all or announce it anywhere or talk about it. Peter, Wyatt, and Jen are basically the only people in his life who know, and while that is basically the grand total of his personal social circle, it's easy to single Peter out here because Jen was on the FF at the time and Wyatt was dating her.

Anyway, to fast forward through Johnny's incredibly boring marriage and get to the point where it stops being boring but starts being actively terrible, Peter also reaches out to Johnny when he finds out he's "getting divorced." (He and the real Alicia are filing papers to dissolve the marriage Johnny had with Lyja, who at this point of time was thought to be dead.)

(FF #362)

And by "reaches out" I mean "annoys into a chase through New York City." But it's fine because he did it to make Johnny feel better, actually.

(FF #362) They're normal.

It should be noted at this time that Johnny was trying to attend college for the third time. (The first time being State U, where he dropped out because he was clearly trying to get his M.R.S. degree instead, and the second time being the Evil Supervillain College Peter rescued him.) He's attending ESU, which is Peter's alma mater.

Anyway, uh, Johnny's College Try Number Three isn't going to work out either, for different reasons than him kicking his feet and twirling his hair and thinking he's going to get married at nineteen or because he's actually being kidnapped by an evil hypnotist.

Because Lyja's not dead!

(FF #370) There she is. In her Revenge Assless Chaps.

Anyway, she tries to kill him and essentially forces him to go nova to save his own life, and in the process he burns down ESU. (No one dies in the fire, which is comic book logic, considering when he goes nova he explodes, but whatever.)

Johnny is arrested for the fire but, while being led through an angry crowd, he sees Lyja in the crowd, understandably freaks out, and flies away. Peter, who had been photographing Johnny's arrest for the Bugle, reacts.

(FF #372) "Oh, Johnny... what have you done to yourself? Can anyone save you now?" To be fair, Peter does protest coming down hard on Johnny in the Bugle, but it's also, you know, his job.

To Peter's credit, he does try. He spends hours swinging around in the rain, looking for Johnny, who is currently huddled among a bunch of garbage bags because he could not possibly be a sadder or wetter sad wet kitten.

(FF #372) "Even he's turned against me!" Johnny, though, traumatized and terrified, thinks everyone is out to get him.

Once Johnny is actually booked, Peter is there to take the picture, too. Rough.

(FF #376)

And then in the Spider-Man 1995 Christmas Special, Johnny and Peter discuss The Fake Egg Baby Drama, although not in great detail.

So Peter is about as aware of the situation as anyone who wasn't along for the ride the entire time. I'd say Wyatt probably knows more, but Peter's more in the know than most.

Peter's got a lot of his own stuff going on during this time period. (When doesn't he.) Very notably, at the same time Johnny was getting arrested, the Android Parents plot was happening over in Amazing Spider-Man and The Death of Vermin was happening in Spectacular Spider-Man, so Peter kind of had other things on his mind, and while it hadn't quite arrived yet, the Clone Saga was looming on the horizon. So yeah, a lot going on.

One thing that always interests me as a little experiment is to imagine what canon looks like if you get Johnny and Peter together at like -- any point in it. So what does it look like if, after Lyja's initial death, Peter and Johnny start a relationship? (You do have to discount the Spider-Marriage for this, but hey! Marvel already did that so there are no rules. She and Gwen are living in a luxury condo in Los Angeles.) Peter is very protective, and I can see him taking the Lyja situation very, very badly. He would definitely be suspicious about the egg baby and I can see it causing drama, because he'd want to support Johnny but he'd want to be rational about things, which is not Johnny's strong suit.

I do also like the idea of Peter finding Johnny while he's looking for him while Johnny's on the run and hiding him from the authorities while Peter tries to unravel exactly what happened and exonerate Johnny. Like a less fun roommates issue! Although Johnny could still cook in his underwear.

I think, no matter what, in a Spideytorch post-Lyja setting, once Peter and Johnny do get together, Peter will start slowly putting together the pieces that the Lyja situation was much, much worse than he initially believed, and that's going to cause drama, especially since Johnny tends to downplay his drama. I could see Peter getting into a fight with Sue over the fact that she invited Lyja to stay after Johnny told her he never wanted to see her again and just generally being very angry, and I think Johnny would have complicated feelings about that. On the one hand, Peter being protective over him is nice, and it's not something he's really had before, but on the other hand, he does downplay that trauma, and he's convinced himself things weren't that bad. It's fun to think about the different scenarios!

#*replies #traincat talks comics #spideytorch

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such-expensive-mistakes · 2 years ago

Text

Superpham AU (part 6)

Masterpost

Lois prides herself at being good at rolling with the unexpected. Unfortunately, all of her experience with aliens and supervillains and magic has not prepared her for Danny.

Danny has a disconcerting habit of dropping disturbing or traumatizing information in an off-hand way, seeming to not even realize the implications of his own words. It started with what he said about the dimension he'd grown up in discriminating against people with powers, then with what he'd said about the red son and the lack of superheroes, but it just keeps happening.

Lois tries not to call attention to it, because she prefers it to the alternative, which is Danny shutting himself up in his room and refusing to talk to any of them.

Lex Luthor is on the nightly news-- as he so often is-- and Lois has to explain the man's many crimes to Danny. (No, Jon, it is not a rant.)

"Oh," Danny says. "He sounds like Vlad."

"Vlad?" Lois asks.

"Yeah, Vlad Masters. He's my godfather. He's a total fruitloop who wanted to marry my mom and make me his son."

Lois carefully does not react. She wants Danny to tell her things. She wants to know what his life was like when she wasn't in it. "That sounds..."

"Yeah, he tried to clone me. Well, I guess he succeeded, but none of them were stable except for Ellie, and she wasn't really that stable to begin with."

"Ellie?"

"Yeah, short for Danielle. She went by Dani-with-an-I for a while, but she decided she wanted her own name."

That is not the part Lois was looking for clarification on. She goes with it anyway. "Tell me about her," Lois says, and tries not to be concerned about Danny’s descriptions of a teenage girl who apparently lives and travels on her own because she doesn't like to be stuck in one place. Ellie doesn't even get the full benefit of being quarter Kryptonian, living in a world with a red sun.

The four of them are sitting down to dinner-- pizza again; one of them should probably cook sometime this week, but Lois and Clark are both on deadlines-- when Clark asks Danny more about his adoptive family, the ones he grew up with.

He looks sad, the way he always does whenever his adoptive parents come up. Lois can hardly blame him, when he lost them in such a sudden and traumatic way.

"They're scientists," Danny says. "Or they were. They studied, um, the Ghost Zone and the things that live there. They didn't really understand it at first-- they thought all the-- um, everything from there was evil and needed to be killed, but they learned they were wrong eventually."

Lois meets Clark's eyes and knows he is as concerned about what happened before that 'eventually' as she is. Still, neither of them comment, not wanting Danny to clam up again..

Jon, however, has no such reservations. "That's really messed up."

Danny shrugs. "Yeah, kind of. They came around, though. And I think they blamed themselves for how bad the GIW got because they were the ones who designed the weapons."

"The GIW?" Lois asks, instead of what she really wants to know, which is: Your adoptive parents designed weapons to be used against beings from another dimension??? Did they know what you were?

"Guys in White," Danny says. "I don't think that was their real name, but they were from the government."

"Your parents built weapons for them?" Clark asks, his tone deceptively light. "I thought they were scientists."

"They dabbled in a lot of things. But they were fantastic engineers." Danny segues into a story about some of the modifications his adoptive parents made to their car, which is a topic only slightly better for Lois's heart.

Later that night, Lois is sitting in bed, checking her emails on her phone, when Clark sits down next to her and turns on the white noise machine they keep on the nightstand. (It's the only way to have private conversations when your child-- children-- have super-hearing.)

"I'm concerned about Danny," he says.

"No shit." The more Danny tells them about the dimension he grew up in, the more Lois hates it. "But there's nothing we can do now except be there for him."

"I know people who have traveled across dimensions, you know," Clark says. "I could always ask for a favor."

"You won't," Lois says. "Because if you do, I'm going to end up committing felonies in another dimension."

Clark smiles humorlessly. "What makes you think I wouldn't be there with you?"

"Because you're a better person than I am." Clark never believes her when she says that, but it's true. Clark is a fundamentally good person. Lois tries to be a good person, but there's a reason she's not a superhero.

-----

Kon intended to stop by Metropolis several days ago. Or at least call Clark back. But he’d gotten sidetracked by an earthquake in Southeast Asia, and then by Dr Light causing problems in California.

He gets a few hours of sleep back in Smallville, then remembers that he’d planned on dropping by Metropolis and meeting Danny days before. He walks the last few blocks to Lois and Clark’s house— flying would be way too noticeable in their neighborhood— and lets himself in. He walks up to the living room and spots Lois there, furiously typing on her laptop.

Kon is man enough to admit, at least within his own head, that Lois kind of intimidates him. Sure, Clark is physically stronger, but there’s an intensity to Lois that Clark lacks. She glances up at Kon, and even though she’s smiling, he still feels pinned under her gaze.

Kon shifts uncomfortably, reminds himself that unless he turns into a corrupt businessman or something, he’s not actually in danger from Lois Lane.

“You here to see Danny?” she asks.

“Yeah.” Kon shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “I figured I should probably meet him.”

“He’s in his room,” Lois says. “He’s not… It’s not a good day, but maybe he’ll talk to you. He hasn’t exactly gotten the chance to be around anyone his own age since he showed up.”

Kon knocks on the door to Danny’s room.

“Come in,” a voice calls from inside.

Kon’s first thought is that he looks more like Clark than Danny does. Stupid; of course he does. He’s Clark’s clone. But then, Jon resembles Clark almost as strongly as Kon does, so maybe it wasn’t a completely stupid thought.

Danny is sprawled on his stomach across his bed, phone in his hand. There’s a video playing on it— someone talking about the history of the Justice League— but he’s ignoring it, watching Kon with a wary expression. The room is still as bland as it ever was; other than the clothes tossed haphazardly on the floor, there’s no sign a teenage boy lives here.

“I’m guessing you’re Kon?”

“That’s me.” They stare at each other awkwardly for a moment.

“Have you actually seen any of Metropolis, or have you just been hanging out in here?” Kon asks.

“Lois took me shopping for some stuff,” Danny says.

“Okay, no,” Kon says. “You have got to get out of this house.”

“You don’t even live in Metropolis,” Danny says.

Kon shrugs. “Doesn’t matter; I’ve spent more time here than you.” There’s an old-school arcade he’s been to a handful of times, and a couple of places to eat. Anything has got to be better than Danny hanging out and brooding in this sad bedroom by himself.

It's a warm day outside. The sun shines down on the two of them as they walk in near-silence toward downtown. The awkward silence doesn't quite break until they're at the arcade, competing on an old racing game.

"I don't think we have this one in my dimension. The other dimension. Whatever." Danny says.

"Yeah?" Kon speeds ahead of Danny in the game, just in time to cross the finish line. Danny groans.

"Yeah, but this world doesn't seem to have Doomed, either," Danny says as they start another race. "There's a lot of little differences like that."

"That's gotta be weird," Kon says.

"Yeah, Clark kind of freaked out when I told him the sun there was red."

Yeah, Kon can see why. They talk more as they play more video games, and Danny tells Kon about his friends and what they'd do when they were hanging out in his hometown of Amity Park. The main people he talks about are his best friends, Sam and Tucker, and his older sister, Jazz, but he mentions a few others.

"Wait, who is Ellie again?" Kon asks, after Danny shares a story about a prank she pulled on another kid at Danny's school. They've left the arcade, and are hanging out at the diner a few blocks away. It's not the coolest place-- in fact, it looks like a grandmother decorated it-- but Clark introduced Kon to it, and it has great food.

"Oh, I didn't tell you?" Danny asks. "She's my clone."

Kon chokes a little on his soda. "You have a clone?"

-----

Danny is probably being paranoid.

Scratch that, he's definitely being paranoid. Lois and Clark have been nothing but nice, and they're clearly used to weird things happening. Like, even aside from the whole alien superhero thing, Lois just saw a kid fall out of a portal and decided to help? Plus, Clark is an actual superhero.

Even his— the Fentons came around on the whole “ghost powers” thing. Eventually. But he’s gotten used to hiding, to trying to blend in.

(And what had them accepting him done for them in the end? They’re dead, the GIW killed them.)

He’d rather hide than suddenly discover that Lois and Clark aren’t cool with their long-lost son being half dead.

Some of his powers he can pass off as Kryptonian— super strength, flight, enhanced senses. He knows Lois saw his ghost form, and though she hasn’t asked about it, he’s pretty sure it’s just a matter of time.

These thoughts circle through his mind over and over, only leaving him temporarily when he’s hanging out with the Lane-Kents.

His bio family.

That’s not much better, though; there’s a sadness in Lois and Clark’s eyes whenever they look at him, although they try to hide it. Jon just a kid, and clearly doesn’t know what to make of the whole situation. Lois keeps saying they are going to introduce him to more people, especially people his own age, but Danny shies away from that. He doesn’t want to meet more people. He doesn’t want to get comfortable here.

Still, he’s glad he came out with Kon. An afternoon of videogames and greasy food hasn’t solved any of his problems, but it’s a nice break, and Kon has already promised to introduce Danny to his friends— a whole team of teenage superheroes.

“I can’t get over how many heroes there are here,” Danny says. “Like, why do you even need that many?” Sure, it would have been nice to have some more backup when he was Phantom, but in this world there seems to be at least one superhero for every major city, plus some extra.

Kon shrugs. “Natural disasters, alien invasions, supervillains, street crime… No one can handle all of it.”

Out of all the things he’s encountered so far in this dimension, this might be Danny’s favorite. Even more than the proven existence of aliens. Back home, Amity Park needed Phantom, even if they hated him. But the world here doesn’t need Phantom.

It’s kind of freeing, and Danny hates it. He doesn’t want to like anything about this dimension more than his own.

Would it really be that bad? You might be stuck here forever, a little voice inside his head whispers.

He ignores it.

#superpham au #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #I know some folks wanted a confrontation between Clark and Danny about Kon #but that's not really the vibe of this fic #and I think a lot of other people have done it better anyway #i'm not 100% in love with this section but I think it's good enough for now

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raineandsky · 5 months ago

Text

This is for @pleasantkryptonitewinner who requested the New Better Villain taking on the villain's hero and gettin a lil too violent with it :) hope you enjoy!!

tw: implied violence, blood

The hero, for lack of a better word, looks normal.

The villain isn’t sure what he was expecting. Most people look normal. But all those years under a mask, a charade… it kind of became all that the villain could see him as. The hero. Even now, looking him in the eye as the person he is—really is—it doesn’t seem real.

That and, well— the villain can’t deny that he’s pretty alright to look at. That was certainly an unexpected twist.

The other villain—the bastard he’s cursed to work with, the jackass taking his job, his nemesis, his city—has the hero in a death grip. It feels like it’s all moving in slow motion. The two of them are tousling, kind of, as much as they can tousle with the other villain raining hellfire on a hero that’s well out of his depth.

It’s strange, that the other villain seems to be the outlier here. The hero and the villain have danced around each other for years. It’s been some sort of unspoken rule that they never quite hit hard enough to truly maim. But the hero came here, probably expecting the villain, expecting their usual song and dance, and instead got met with an entirely different tune.

Does the villain want the hero dead? Does he want their game to end? He doesn’t have time to decide.

“[Other Villain],” he snaps, “stop it.”

The other villain leans back, his fist still balled in the hero’s shirt, his other pulled back for yet another strike. “Oh, sorry.” His chest is heaving, as if he’s the one losing here. “You want a go?”

The villain doesn’t know what his answer would be to that. “I think he’s got the idea. Leave off.”

The other villain doesn’t move. The hero wipes idly at the blood painting his mouth.

Like a child asking a genuine question, the other villain simply says, “Why?”

“Because you’re ruining my fun.” True. “You’re taking over on my nemesis.” True. “You’re on my watch.” Half-true, without the supervillain to take charge. “I know this life better than you. Let me do my job and stop butting in.”

“You’ve been fighting [Hero] for years without any progress.” The other villain’s brow knits, genuinely confused. “I’m doing you a favour.”

The villain glances down at the supposed favour he’s getting. Blood splatters the hero’s face, deep crimson painting his clothes. Something of a black eye is already appearing, and the villain hates that noticing that means he also notices that the hero is looking right at him.

He’s not sure why it’s so off-putting. Should he have caused that? Does he want it to have happened at all? His emotions are clashing together in a horrendous cacophony and deciphering any of them is impossible.

“Let go, [Other Villain].”

The slight frown turns into something more hateful. “No.”

“Your violence isn’t welcome in this so-called partnership. Pull it together, or go tell [Supervillain] you ruined his plan.”

“You’re generations out of date, [Villain].” It comes out of the other villain’s mouth as a spit. “Violence is the way forward. I’m helping in ways you’ll clearly never understand.”

The villain isn’t entirely sure why he lurches for the other villain, much like he hasn’t been sure of anything since the hero showed up here and ruined what was already a fairly shitty day.

The other villain has his work cut out for him with an opponent that’s not already half-dead, it seems. The two of them land in a heap on the ground, the other villain’s grappling for his partner’s throat and the villain’s grip tight on the other’s wrists and the air disappears from the villain’s lungs and the world seems so far away and everything is muffled—

The villain gasps his next breath, scrambling away unsteadily. The world slowly comes back into focus, the hum of the city below and his own haggard breathing tuning back in. He swallows nothing, the feeling a sharp burn in his throat, and whips around to look for the other villain.

The villain finds him on the ground, unmoving, the lightest trail of blood trickling from his nose. The hero is sitting next to him with a battered road sign lying at his feet, staring off into nothing.

“Did—” The word hurts. The villain tries to clear his throat and only makes it feel worse. “Did you hit him with a roadwork sign?”

The hero huffs a sort of laugh that melts quickly into a cough. He doesn’t look at the villain when he says, “Think it was about time I hit him back, wasn’t it?”

“I didn’t know you had it in you. You’ve never hit me quite that bad.”

The hero actually laughs this time, the sound choked. “You pull what he just did and I’ll consider it.”

The villain hums a sort of laugh as well, settling on the floor opposite, and the two of them fall into silence. They’re both too tired to say much anyway.

This is another strange experience. The hero and the villain usually fight and go their separate ways. This sort of… hanging out is new. Different—and thankfully not the type of different that got them here in the first place.

The hero smiles at him, and even through the bloody face paint and the blooming bruises, the villain hates that he still looks good. Looks normal. Looks like a nice civilian that the villain would end up curiously following for a couple blocks because his half-decent face caught his attention.

The hero is, the villain supposes, a person too. Another civilian that looked at the state of the world and took up a side, just like the villain did.

“Thank you,” the hero says through the daze of annoyance, “for saving me.”

“Eh.” The villain waves a nonchalant hand. “It’s not like you were going to do it.”

That earns another choked laugh. “Ah, you’re funnier than you like to admit, [Villain].”

The villain scoffs in offence and quiet falls over them again. “Thanks as well, I guess, for…” He gestures vaguely at the other villain lying next to them. “Hitting my colleague over the head with a road sign.”

The hero’s smile grows. “You’re welcome.”

The hero reaches for his mask, just as stained red and tattered as its owner. He turns it over in his hands for a moment, slow and thoughtful, before carefully putting it back over his face. “Back to the heroics, then,” he says lightly.

The villain nods, but he’s not really listening. He finds that, now he’s seeing the person he’s familiar with, he preferred the hero without his mask after all.

#creative writing #writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #writing community #heroes and villains #hero x villain #got a three day weekend too now so im hopin i can at least get a new story started for yall :D #that is if i dont spend those three days sleeping of course. which is likely #when i next post is a mystery to all of us

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in1-nutshell · 4 months ago

Note

Hi, it's me again and I have another request.:

This is a continuation of the story of Captain Ace.

It seems to me that everything could have started with a simple task to protect the UN Assembly from a group of nationalists.

And everything was fine, the attack was prevented.

Until Captain Ace saw one of the attackers wearing a bandage with a familiar symbol (a skull with tentacles).

In short, please write a story about how, after many years of hibernation, Hydra returned to the world stage to create chaos.

And how Captain Ace is trying to explain to her teammates that this organization is not just a group of supervillains, but a real Nazi cult striving for world domination and who committed an untold number of horrific war crimes during the war.

Introducing DC Hydra!

Hope you enjoy!

Captain Ace finds out about Hydra

SFW, Angst, Mention of Hydra, Platonic, Super Soldier reader

YOUNG JUSTICE

There were a few things that Ace wished had stayed in the past.

Not too many things.

But there was one word that she wished that she would never hear again.

Hydra.

The evil Nazi organization that was fixated on world domination.

The same organization she and the Justice Society had once fought.

The same organization she lost her dear friends to.

The same organization that was responsible for the sacrifice and mourn the life she lost…

Ace remembered asking Batman and some other Leaguers about the organization during the first days out of the ice.

Ace: “Are you sure?” Superman: “We haven’t heard anything about them since your time Ace. Its safe to say they are gone.” Ace turns to Batman for reassurance. Batman: “It looks that way.” Ace sighs in relief and offers the men a soft smile. Ace: “Thank you for letting me know Batman. Mr. Superman sir, are we still going to try those corndogs later?” Superman affectionately pats Ace’s head. Superman: “You better believe it Ace.”

The organization lingered in the back of her mind still, but it was less of a burning presence now a days.

She had her team to thank for that.

Finally, a temporary state of peace.

A peace that would soon shatter after a UN mission.

Ace didn’t remember all the details of what happened during the mission briefing.

All she knew was that the team was supposed to be guarding some important political figures.

Glorified babysitters was what Wally once called it.

It wasn’t long before trouble reared its ugly head.

Ace was walking around the building when she noticed a familiar looking bomb under some stairways.

She hadn’t seen one of these models since her first years with the Society.

Thankfully the rest of the team got the ambassadors to safety while Ace carefully defused the bomb.

Jay would be proud of her for how fast she defused it.

Ace through psychlink: “Bombs been diffused. I’ll be out in a minute.” Connor: “You need help getting it out?” M’gann: “I can fly you out if you want.” Ace hoisting the dead bomb on her shoulder. Ace: “Nah, I’m fine. See you eager beavers outside in a few minutes.” Out of the corner of her eye, she spots a black cloth. Ace picks it up. A burning red Hydra logo was stamped on it. Ace: “Oh sweet mercy no…”

The Justice League came as soon as they heard word about the bomb and was helping the team with ground control.

The team notices that Ace is a bit tense when she comes out of the building.

Even more so, when she was seen talking to Batman about something and leaving with him and the League.

Not even saying anything to the team!

It was something so obscure that Conner didn’t understand.

It was something about calamari…

At the Watch Tower… Flash: “Hey so why’s Ace here?” Ace: “The better question is…” She pulls out the cloth with the Hydra logo on it and tosses it onto the nearest table. The Leaguers look at it, most with faces of confusion. Ace: “Do any of you know what this logo is?” Green Arrow: “Something from that one store the teens go?” Green Lantern: “No that looks a bit like some street art.” SLAM! Ace slams her hand on the table and angrily stares at Batman on the other end. Ace: “This is the logo of a dangerous Nazi organization from the past. My past! These are the same people who are responsible for horrendous acts on humanity! The people who have murdered for less! People who put those nukes were in that plane. The same one I flew before going under!” She pauses, takes a shaky breath and continues. Ace: “I was told that the organization died off. So, tell me, why in the name of Uncle Sam’s short’s is still alive!?” There is a heavy silence in the room. Ace suddenly feels ashamed for the rude outburst. Most of these people don’t even know Hydra anyways. Ace: “I… I’m… I apologize for—” She stops when a hand is placed on her shoulder. It was Flash’s hand. Batman broke the silence. Batman: “The organization has been on the Leagues radar since your sacrifice. The former Justice Society members kept it updated until they couldn’t give anymore. The organization has been dormant until now.” Ace: “Why didn’t you tell me they were still around? Why?” There is silence. Ace: “This is the Leagues business then? Then count me in.” Batman: “No.” Ace: “Why not? Are you going to give up the last source of information about Hydra? As Robin said one time ‘Fat Chance’.” Flash: “I don’t think he—” Superman: “Don’t try.” Ace walks straight up to Batman and crosses her arms in defiance. Ace: “I Will be on the team whenever Hydra is even mentioned.” This wasn’t request. It was a demand. Bruce’s lenses squinted a bit. More painful silence and some sweating leaguers. Bruce: “… You will be acknowledged and called in when needed.” Ace: “No alternative secrets on Hydra?” Bruce: “No alternative secrets.”

So many leaguers had to breathe a sigh of relief that Batman wasn’t going to throw hands with a super soldier.

…It would be interesting to see but still that’s a child!

Well, the child was technically older than most leaguers but that’s not the point!

It was agreed within the Justice League that the news of Hydra would be kept a secret.

Especially from the Young Justice.

It didn’t sit too well with Ace… but she also didn’t want to drag her new family into anything related to Hydra.

She already lost too much to that organization…

Captain Ace enters the base’s main room. A blur of yellow and red sweep her off her feet as she is transported to the couch with the rest of her team watching her. Ace: “Wallace! You can’t just pick people up like that!” Wally: “And you can’t just disappear with the Justice League like that.” Ace was about to retaliate but opts to just remain silent. M’gann gently takes her hand. M’gann: “We were worried about you when you left without saying anything.” Ace sighs a bit. Ace: “I apologize for that one Cookie. I’ll do my best not to do that again.” Connor huffs. Artemis playfully ruffles Ace’s head. Artemis: “You better.” Robin sits down next to her. Robin: “So what did you talk about?” Connor: “And what did you talk with Batman about calamari?” Ace looked a bit nervous with the sudden questions. Kaldur noticed it. Kaldur: “Perhaps we ask questions another day. It has been a… rather eventful day for everyone.” Ace sends Kaldur a grateful look as the guilt racks up in her. Maybe she would get to tell them one day. Just maybe once Hydra has been fully taken down.

#dc #dc comics #young justice x reader #young justice x platonic reader #super soldier reader #captain ace

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artist-issues · 7 months ago

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that was real dumb. From a storytelling point of view, truthfully. Why would you take the only character who has some real-life characterization, some stuff that grounds the show and makes it's main element feel at least a little rooted in reality, and unravel all that characterization—and then kill him off?

Let me back it up.

It's a teen treasure-hunting show. Nobody wants to watch that unless all those individual words feel realistic enough to be relatable, and compelling. Teen. Treasure-Hunting. Emphasis on teen, otherwise I'd watch National Treasure.

you have the boy hero who's dad was a treasure-hunter and mysteriously disappeared. Thats not very realistic, its a little fantastical, but you can make it feel realistic if you work hard, and compelling if he's a good actor with chemistry.

you have the hot girl who's part rich-kid, chosen-poor-kid, who hangs out with the underdogs just...because. Okay, that's a little cliche, a little "my parents don't understand me, I'm a rebel without a cause" in the cheeseball way. Clearly gotta be the girl-in-the-group, gotta be eye-candy. But you can make it feel realistic if you work, and compelling if she's played by a good actress with good chemistry.

you have the boy who's a brainiac and he hangs out with the underdogs because they'll be nice to him even if he's a weird brainiac, just...because. He's like the good-boy in the bad-boy group. Another cliche, but that's fine. That won't take too much work to explain, and it's not super compelling, but it rounds out the crew, and again, it'll work if you have a good actor with good chemistry.

you have another hot girl who's basically perfect and joins the hero group later—she's rich but she's more compassionate to poor people than literally anyone around her for unexplained reasons, she can be inconsiderate but that compassion thing comes in clutch if consequences ever roll around to keep her likeable, she's funny, charming, strong when she needs to beat someone up for girl-power but damsel-in-distressy when her boyfriend needs to look heroic, willing to turn on her whole family for the love of our hero, whatevs. Cliche, but you can even make her feel real if you work. Points for an actress who's good and has chemistry.

and then you have loose-cannon, comic-relief boy who's like our hero but grungier and slightly less heroic so that he doesn't steal the spotlight. He can break up tension when you need a break from tension, OR he can bring it in when you need to start drama, because like we said, he's a loose-cannon. Fine. Cliche—

—oh but wait. His dad abuses him. Oh, that's some real stuff right there. Real-world stuff. Not "my daddy's a supervillain murderer," or "my daddy ran off and disappeared treasure-hunting," or even "my daddy doesn't like my friends." It's right in between the cliches and extremes. It's real-feeling in a way that everything else isn't.

But maybe they'll overdo it and make it super-tragic, super-dramatic, they'll shoot it in a way that's too gratuitous, he's got PTSD but it's way overdone, he's all weak and mumbly or he's got to be taken care of by the rest of our motley crew like a soft boy—

No? No, they're not doing any of that? No, they shot it in a realistic way that portrays the horrible tension of the relationship but doesn't linger too long, too melodramatically? No, the character isn't making this his whole thing—hems actually acting like this is just a part of life? A sucky part of life, but a normal part of normal life for him? Woah. Thats real stuff right there. And it causes the trauma and the rage and the heartbreak but...all that stuff just simmers...under the surface? Realistically under the surface? He brushes the abuse topic off with people who care about him, but he's perfectly willing to use the abuse topic to get out of trouble with adults who are on his case? Like a real teenager in real life who grows up around this and experiences it might?

Wow. That doesn't take much work to do, at all. It writes itself. It is real and true.

More than that—little things—when a character says a heroic line of drama-film dialogue about treasure hunting, this comic-relief boy always winds up saying something...random and sort of shallow? He says something about weed or repeats what the dramatic kid said in a funny accent? Like a real teenager would in real life? Like a real kid, who really responds to everything as if he doesn't think much about The Future or Epic Destinies?

He eats moldy bread when everybody else is poring over a treasure map? He flirts inappropriately when he should be dramatically waking up in his concerned lover's arms after getting hurt saving her? He makes really stupid decisions, not because they need to cover a plot hole or because he's "the dumb one" but because...he's a badly-raised teenager who genuinely has always had to look out for himself? He says something simple and real when any other character would've said something daring and poetic?

And put on top of all that that he's played by an actor who's really good at his job and has great chemistry with everything that breathes onscreen?

That's the character that puts the teen in "teenage treasure hunting show." The real, believable adolescent-who-doesn't-think-beyond-the-moment. The reason watching this team of cliche treasure-hunter stereotypical breakfast-club Romeo-&-Juliet cast is even interesting.

By having JJ be a trailer-trash punk who's dad beats him up, who loves to have a good time with his friends and takes his anger about his lot in life out on a silly us-versus-them rich kid group every chance he gets? By being the character with one foot in "reality" and the other in "adventure" out of sheer "I've had nothing my whole life so I don't know what Considering My Future is, and I might as well be cocky" attitude?

He grounded the show. You can believe John B would drive his van into a moving plane, and Pope would be able to win in a fight against a grown-man drug-dealer, and buried treasure exists and can be found by kids—you can believe all of that because of JJ. Because one character feels real, your subconscious goes, "I know that the writers know what 'real' is because JJ stood up covered in bruises in that hot tub, so I trust them to bring 'real' back in somewhere down the line."

I'm not saying there's nothing else realistic in the show. I'm saying, he felt the most really real.

And they killed him.

I don't care how pretty and neat it is to see my hometown in their show, I'm not watching it anymore, it was already way not worth it, but that's just ridiculous.

Don't even get me started on the way they killed him, and by whom, and how it was shot, and at what point in his "character arc" it was done. Ridiculous.

#Outer banks #outer banks season 4 #obx season 4 #obx #jj Maybank #outer banks 4 #spoilers #outer banks spoilers #OBX season 4 spoilers #characterization #meta #Critique #ramble #hate

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dcdreamblog · 3 months ago

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So... what's the consensus on that Joker movie? I know a lot of people thought it was crass to use the iconography of a supervillain and attempt to use it for a sympathetic character.

Oh I loved it. The direction was great, the music was excellent. Really a director at the top of their craft taking a hard edged, uncomfortable look at mental illness, show business, the collapse of the American dream and the obsession with celebrity. And I mean the cast, Robert De Niro, Tony Randall, Jerry Lewis, Diahnne Abbot and a script from Zimmerman that doesn't miss just... Oh no wait, I'm obviously confusing Joker for The King of Comedy, a film from 43 goddamn years ago that WB tried to pass off as something other than reheated leftovers by slapping a real life psychopath on the front.

(The Poster for WB's 2019 film 'Joker')

To call is crass is a deep understatement, trying to ride the wave of a mean spirited meme of people with no actual problems in their lives idolizing and philosophizing about a man who would turn them all into Jack-O-Lanterns for looking at him funny. As if it could possibly be appropriate to use the Joker, a criminal who is very much ALIVE and still committing his crimes on a semi regular basis to this day as some sort of a heavy handed metaphor for what, the underclass? It's insulting. To equate people who are struggling day after day just to guy by with the clothes on their back with a performative serial killer in a purple suit.

I've said it before I will say it again. Even if we knew a single thing about the Joker's life story for certain (which we don't) none of it would excuse for a SECOND the things he has done. He's insane in a purely medical sense, as far as the law is concerned, as far as the law SHOULD be concerned he is in charge of as many mental faculties as could possibly be needed to stand trial for his crimes. He knows the difference between right and wrong, CHOOSES to commit evil action and then chooses to do it again. To use him as any kind of general metaphor for the mentally ill or the underprivileged, the poor, the forgotten is to give the man far more credit than he will EVER deserve. The Joker is not your avatar, no matter what you're suffering he has no philosophy and certainly no philosophy that will have anything to do with YOUR well-being.

And you know what gets me? You know what REALLY grinds me up inside? When every single film with a tone darker than the Looney Tunes set in Gotham feels the need to make itself fucking important by trotting out the death of the Waynes. A real tragedy that happened to real people within living memory. To have actors playing Bruce Wayne and Alfred Pennyworth, two men who were directly impacted by the tragedy, who are both still ALIVE and working every day to overcome it. To put them in this movie making wild and fanciful accusations on Thomas Wayne's propriety, it's sick.

Thomas Wayne's son saw himself in this movie, an effigy of his own tarnished childhood pushed out under the spotlight for all the people to cluck their tongues and shake their heads at the grime and cruelty of poor old, broken Gotham.

Alfred Pennyworth, a man who has stood with his spine unbent and his heart unbroken for DECADES since the deaths of his employers and friends on that night in Crime Alley. Who drove in the middle of the night to pick up their son and has stood by him ever since in the NAME of that friendship and love.

You want to know what I think of this movie? I want you to ask Dick Grayson, or Tim Drake, or Cassandra Cain, or Damian Wayne what they think of the movie that lionizes the man who killed their brother.

#dc #dcu #dc comics #dc universe #superhero #comics #tw unreality #unreality #unreality blog #ask game #ask blog #asks open #please interact #worldbuilding

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maxwell-grant · 8 months ago

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The Penguin Ep3 - "Bliss" Breakdown

(Episode 1) (Episode 2) (Episode 4) (Episode 5) (Episode 6) (Episode 7) (Episode 8)

So that's what Victor's image in the credits was meant to represent the whole time. A still of him inside the last memory he has of his home, his perspective on the window before it all went to shit.

I get that it might have been obvious the opening was a flashback given the election was still ongoing and given we get to see Vic's friend, the one who was shot by Sofia, still alive, but they also peppered enough bits that hade me fully convinced we were just watching Victor's present life when he was out of earshot from Oz. The bombs were a genuine shocker.

Credit to @davidmann95 for pointing out that the rooftop pebbles are Victor's equivalent of the Crime Alley pearls, an extremely important detail to add to the other Batman parallels Victor's gonna be shown having in this episode.

I'm loving a lot of the choices that go into Oz's outfits and specifically what kind of outfits he wears around specific characters, the whole chameleon thing he's got going personality-wise reflective in his choice of wear, and I like how this extends to the people around him and his choice of vehicle and base and everything. He may not wear fine suits everywhere and for all occasions, but this is very much a Penguin concerned about fashion particularities and branding and ways to dress up himself and the people acting in his behalf.

This scene where Oz pays Victor is funny, but it importantly sets up an element that's gonna come into play regarding their relationship by the end of the episode, that is how hard Oz projects on Victor and how much of his insecurity and need for affection comes through in his attempts to deal with the kid. Two episodes in after all the shit Victor's done for Oz and it's the first time we're seeing Oz talk about giving him a salary. It's not an unusual comedy beat, sadly not a real life one either, but the thing is, Oz is not a cheapskate, far from it. Across the last two episodes, he's been very quick to fork over cash to smooth over negotiations, and he's more than happy to pay the kid and praise him for demanding double (even if he shuts down the idea), it just genuinely never occurred to him until the moment that, right, the kid whose job is driving me around and burying bodies and putting his neck on the line for me needs a paycheck, of course, he's gonna get a nice thousand per week because I'm a good boss who does that kind of thing.

Nice little reminder of the class disparity element of the show, in how Sofia looks at Oz's set-up and dismisses as tacky garbage, while Graciela calls it bougie and thinks Victor's basically set if his boss is letting him crash in a place like that. Also illustrated in the money scene earlier, because from what I've researched, a thousand per week is an average salary for a driver in New Jersey (which is where this Gotham is located), and despite Oz calling it a start, Victor's already shocked at how much money Oz is paying per week. Just these totally different conceptions of what money and good living entail across the board for our characters. SPEAKING OF totally different standards,

So it turns out that Sofia has been planning her own meteoric ascension into ruler of Gotham for about as long as Oz, and more effectively at that, and if there's anything this episode will establish for sure about her, it's that Sofia Falcone is an actual supervillain the way Oz is still some ways from being. Alberto's shipment wasn't the ticket for the two of them, just for Oz, and Sofia just needed him to drive her around and open the door once more.

Oz the whole time basically happy with running a club and pushing dope out of a warehouse to the point of crying to her in the end that it was the best thing that ever happened to him, while Sofia here casually unveils a Gus Fring hidden meth lab with a mushroom forest full of Arkham Super Drugs and another Batman Villain working out in the backroom to produce them. Oz spent the last years ass kissing and spinning plates and seizing his own little levers of power all over Gotham, while Sofia was enduring soul-redefining torment entrenched inside the Supervillain Factory of the world where she would discover and pillage the tool that would let her conquer the city in one swoop.

A tool that she debuts before the underworld with an intimidating yet casual speech, above the city writhing before her and falling by the minute into her grasp, before casually leaving and telling her grunt to wrap up negotiations for her. The Riddler showed Gotham what a supervillain is and can do, a call to the maladjusted victims and freaks everywhere to grab their masks and bombs and get in the action because this is how the world works now that Batman exists, but Sofia here shows us not just a different way the rot spreads across the city, not just a way in which Arkham can become the other force filling in the power vacuum, but that being a supervillain is also a business model every respectable criminal in the city is gonna have to get on board with real fucking quick.

I love/hate that we get to have a few scenes of Sofia and Oz working together and how good they are, glad they could at least give us those before everything gets turbofucked forever further.

I definitely encourage you to keep up with the Penguin podcast, and particularly the latest episode where they talk with Rhenzy Feliz and fluency consultant Marc Winski, where they go over the thought and care that went into depicting Victor's stutter and incorporating it into the character and show, it's a very insightful conversation.

Oz's empathy for people with disabilities shows up in him complaining at the waiter for speaking over Victor, and later in their scene with Johnny Viti when he berates him for calling her a psycho, and is consistent with lots of other little moments where it's come up. I like that this is a consistent thing with Oz, and not just one of the things he does for show - even when he's complaining about Sofia to Victor, he never disparages her based on mental illness, he calls her uptight and elusive and a problem he wants off his back, but he never insults her the way all the other mobsters do.

Even in the bathroom scene by the end of the episode, where he does lose his patience and rushes Victor to explain himself, only happens after they've reached a boiling point. I do think it's important, for his character and role, that Oz maintains some important principles, even if they are still self-serving.

Again, love how the show knows just when to drop the Penguin name to maximize hurt on Oz.

What a fucking show Farrell and Miloti and Feliz give us in this episode.

I said back when the trailers dropped that Sofia Falcone looked like she was going to be the prestige crime drama protagonist that this show would have if it wasn't about The Penguin, and that's the vibe you get out of these two together. She is the tormented HBO leading lady and he is the charismatic side character, he is her driver with a wacky voice and face that bites it tragically to motivate her revenge / bites it after the reveal of how he backstabbed her. Which is exactly where the Falcones liked him, that funny guy in a supporting role who drives them around and runs their club and digs up their graves, and it's partially how their last scene in the episode plays out.

"Yeah I know I ruined your entire life and led to irreparable damage to your mind and sanity and reputation and all that, but I really wanted a little piece of the action as a nightclub owner, is that so bad?" is a confession that Oz only survives because he's the main character. In any other show, him bearing the depths of his embarassing pathetic soul to Sofia like that would be the last thing he does before dying, tragically or cathartically.

But to his credit, it worked. Sofia actually sheds a tear for him. It's the first time Oz has seemed genuinely honest with her, and more importantly, it's the first time anyone has been honest with Sofia ever since she got back from Arkham. She really has no one else she can possibly trust but the least trustworthy person on the planet. Who on Earth could possibly be willing to make an ass of themselves before her like that if they weren't being truthful?

Lauren LeFranc: You know, I think Oz is a bit of a walking contradiction and I think he deeply believes what he believes in that moment. I think he genuinely feels that way. Also understands the benefit of her being on his side at the same time. Right? Like, if she doesn't believe in him, their operation currently goes to hell. Not to say that he's playing that up, I think that is a moment of genuine emotion from him. But I also think for a man like him, he's not quite sure where it begins and ends. He doesn't believe that it's bullshit. That doesn't mean that it's not. Like, I don't know if he can even identify it or if, honestly, if Oz takes the time to unpack that. He's not a guy who's like, "Hmm, let me think about my actions today.", you know? - The Penguin Podcast: Episode 3

I'm extremely curious as to what the Sofia-Oz dynamic is gonna look like in the rearview. Does he have enough of a lid on his temper to fake that masterfully being offended on Sofia's behalf while playing her attack dog? Does he genuinely regret that she got sent to Arkham over whatever he did? I think this and the ending scene go a long way in pending towards either way and that's interesting to me. Even if 90% of what he says is bullshit there's some of that regret / kinship that feels genuine

I am very curious to see what becomes of Eve and what more will we learn about her. She seems to be Oz's second-in-command when it comes to businesses he does with her and the girls, and I like that the girls and Victor form a personal squad for Oz (and crucially, he's promising all of them a bigger slice of the pie when he becomes a big shot, and just as crucially, all of them have massive targets on their back right now).

It is genuinely funny how appalled and offended Oz is, at the idea that maybe the kid he roped into this with a gun to the head only stuck around out of fear, not because the kid thinks he's a great guy giving him a chance. I call him the Michael Scott of crime and I mean it. But like most funny things about the Penguin it also has something sad and lonely and pathetic and human about it, the ever present disconnect between the gentleman he wants to be and the thug he acts like.

Like with the salary thing, it just did not cross his head at any moment prior to this, not when he threatened to kill the people he cared about or openly argued with Vic whether to shoot him and stuff him in a trunk, not when threatening to gut him like a fish for messing up or spilling his secrets or telling him to lie with corpses, that Vic was sincerely scared of him and his power and did not leave because he feared this known gangster would do exactly what he said he was going to do. To Oz, doing those things to "his guy" now would be unthinkable, but the question that Vic wanted to leave never even popped in his mind.

And it makes him genuinely upset. That scene at the bar, where he is fully alone, sad and tired with his drink, tired from all the plates he's had to spin and all the indignities he's endured and still endures, tired from all the hats he's had to wear, and sad because the only person so far he's been able to let down his guard around, the one person with whom he could at least wear a hat he liked just bailed on him.

Of course he'd never kill Vic for just wanting to leave, once he realizes that this is actually a factor in how Victor views him and obviously he'd be a bad boss if he did that. Of course he gets angry at Victor for wanting to throw away an opportunity given to him that Oz would have (and probably has) killed for, he's giving Victor the kind of help he desperately wishes he got and he's gonna throw it away? Of course he gets shocked at being reminded Victor is a guy with needs, a guy that Oz holds lethal power over, and not just a kid version of Oz that he can live out his Rex Calabrese fantasy by helping out and mentoring. And of course, none of the cruel and hurtful things he says to Victor before he leaves would sting if there wasn't just enough of a bitter truth to them, or at least, enough of it to stick with Victor.

What an excellent scene Victor's panic attack was, totally get why it was the editor's favorite

I was waiting for a Victor-centric episode and was not dissappointed, this is the episode where he first comes on his own as a character and we see how crucially important he is to the show, the from-the-bottom ground floor perspective on everything that Reeves and LeFranc have repeteadly defined the project around. I love getting to see such an on-the-ground perspective of how fucking monstrous Riddler's plan was, and the kind of lives it ruined. This poor kid thrust headfirst into a Batman/Robin origin story and situation.

It's like Feliz said in the podcast, the end of the episode is the first time we've ever seen Victor, and maybe the first time Victor's ever seen himself, outside of survival mode, outside of simply living to try and get to next hour and do what his parents/Oz tell him to, which is a painfully real state to be in for anyone who's dealt with poverty growing up or is dealing with poverty right now. It's the first time he really has an opportunity to decide on his own what he's going to do on his own. As much as we may know he's making a doomed choice, that he really should just hop on the first bus out of Gotham and join his girlfriend in the sun, well, he's a Batman character, he doesn't get to do that.

Victor wants to live his life and protect himself and the people he loves and make good choices and be a good person, but on a deep fundamental level, he just wants his family back, he wants his dad back, he wants to do right by them more so than by himself, even if that means doing things they would find detestable. Like the son of a doctor, a son who now chooses to inflict violence every night if it means he can avenge their memory, here we have the son of a nurse presented with a choice: He gets to honor the intentions of his parents by dying as a well-meaning decent nobody like they did, or he gets to make up for the shame of how they died by living a good life, one which was denied to them, by surviving and thriving as a criminal. He gets to honor their ideals, or get back at the shameful cruel reality of how they died, but he cannot do both. So he makes his choice.

Oz, in this episode, burns nearly every single bridge he has: with the Falcone family, with the Maronis, and with Sofia, and he even does it with Victor. If Victor hadn't come back, Oz would have died on that parking lot, and still Oz is ecstatic that his guy's come back, because all he wants is for someone to like him enough to stick around with him. Victor is not so sure he's not in for a horrible time now, but in his own way, he also burned his bridges, and he also got what he wanted.

Okay Vic, you wanted dad to not take shit from others and shoot for a better life, you got a dad who will teach you to do just that. You wanted to pal around with small-time criminals you were friends with even if your parents insisted otherwise, well, the king of hoodlums is the only guy you have left in your life now.

You have committed yourself body and soul to a dangerous life within the city you love, spurred on by the tragic injustice that took your parents in an event that destroyed your entire world? Great, welcome to Gotham, here's even a new name you get out of it.

#dc comics #batman #the penguin #hbo #hbo max #oswald cobblepot #oz cobb #victor aguilar #colin farrell #rhenzy feliz #sofia falcone #cristin milioti #lauren lefranc #matt reeves #the batman

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rockyteriyaki · 5 months ago

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Oh my god, what are your carcar superman thoughts, if you feel like sharing??

(re: my tags on this post)

KAYA omg thank you for giving me an excuse to write about this during my breaks today!! admittedly this is entirely born of me watching the entire canon of DC superman movies on cable tv while working from home, but it’s my fav plot bunny.

in broad strokes, i think it would go something like this: oscar is a reporter for the daily planet (additional visual reference here), and carlos is the guy who sits across from him and is always poking his voluminously-haired head over the partition to see what oscar is working on. and he never throws away his keurig cups, and his music always bleeds out through his wired earbuds, just enough to drive oscar insane, and he’s also superman.

but the problem is that nobody believes oscar when he tells them that. even when he comes to the office with some glossy, sharp(-ish. it’s hard to focus on a moving target) printed photos of superman’s hooked nose and hairy wrists, literally nobody sees the resemblance. the clark kent effect is just too strong. he starts talking about the similarities in the lower lash line and george (who is j jonah jameson in this universe, i just decided) looks at him like he’s suggested they acquire playboy and run full-frontals in the next print edition. carlos is also deeply surprised by this, but is just cocky enough about it that instead of commiserating, slapping palms and getting on with his life, oscar wants to force him to get changed into his stupid little super-suit in the bullpen in front of everyone, just so they can see what he sees.

so then it would be oscar getting roped into being carlos’ groupie (standing amidst the fangirls and adoring citypeople like this —> 😐) doing increasingly insane things to try to get some kind of concrete evidence that his coworker is actually an alien from a different planet who can fly and has laser eyes. at some point, though, it stops being about the daily planet, and starts being about the mountains of tapes, photos and recordings oscar has of carlos that he never shows to anyone, all the weird little rituals and secrets carlos lets him in on while he tries to pass as human, and post-supervillain-fight wound-stitching and extremely inappropriate uses of x-ray vision 🥰🥰🥰 mutual recklessness, miscommunication and blackmail!! it’s real in my mind!!!!

#and background galex because alex’s pride is deeply wounded by not being the first pick for the superman story #ahhh this was fun to finally write out #thank you for the ask kaya!! 🫂#asks #my fic #kinda #carcar #carcar superman au

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justcruisingaroundrevived · 13 hours ago

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Yandere TEC boys if the reader comes from an abusive household

I Just Hope to God You Saved My Number. Call Me When You Can

Summary: Yandere! TEC x Abused! Reader

TW/CW: Yandere tendencies, obsessive behavior, blood, cyber stalking, real life stalking, mentions of bruises, mentions of abuse (for both reader and TEC)

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I hope you enjoy reading this!

Reblogs are appreciated!

- You’re out of your mind if you think Bill would be sympathetic to you coming from an abusive home

- Let’s think this critically. This is a teen who comes from a household where his mom hits him and his siblings, a dad who left him, and never having any sufficient control over his life

- Finding out that you come from an abusive home would just fuel the need to control you even more.

- He probably found out when you were at the library with him. He’s been crushing on you for a while, but doesn’t let that slip whatsoever. Sure, he shoves love letters into your locker and stares around you in the corner of his eye, but that’s doesn’t mean anything!

- However, what was peculiar was your refusal to leave the library. Even has closing time hung both over your heads, you still adamantly sat in your seat, not doing anything but being nose deep in a book

- That’s when he notices the scars. The bruises. All hidden in an oversized t-shirt that you had no idea showed it off. Bill doesn’t anything. Just stares at it…

- Is it possible for someone to come from a worse environment than him? I mean, his mom takes away his allowance, but this is like…supervillain shit

- Follows you to your house another day, and finds a silhouette of your mom yelling at you while you look down in shame. Maybe he even sees a couple of tears streaking down your face. Oh, this was a nasty environment

- He doesn’t even know what to say at this point. Just watched you run upstairs while your mom slams the bedroom door shuts

- This is honestly a jackpot to him. The benefit of abuse victims (in his own twisted logic) is that they’ll rely on the first person that shows them a little bit of kindness

- He probably would try to lower his guard a little bit. Just a little.

- Maybe allows you to spend time with him without any of the club members around and show you his comics. He won’t let you touch them, though

- He may take you out on dinner trips just so you don’t have to worry about going home too early. He’s quiet and awkward (and he’s breathing a little too excitedly) but it’s better than staying with your parents

- Maybe even allows you to vent about them for a little bit.

- However, this is all a ruse. For him, by letting you be vulnerable and open to him, it allows Bill to find perfect blackmail material for you

- Why would you ever leave his side? He’s really the only person who understands you, and without him, what will you have?

- He’ll even start to isolate you from your family. Considering how abusive they are, you probably wouldn’t even mind. Bill’s a creep, but he’s also your only friend

- He’ll have you wrapped around his finger, because what choice do you have?

- Josh wouldn’t get it.

- His parents are mean, but also spoil him rotten, so he doesn’t really get anything about abusive parenting

- Every time he sees you in the corner, crying about not wanting to go home, he freezes instantly. He’s so used to being the victim, so this is wholly new territory for him

- That doesn’t mean the love letters stop. Oh no. Instead, now these love letters contain graphic detail on what he’s going to do with your parents “If he had the time and money”

- It would’ve been comedic, if not for the fact you constantly keep getting these letters over and over and over again

- Like Bill, he’ll also try and convince you to stay longer. On the bonus, he may be slightly softer around you. Allowing the both of you to talk and find out more about each other

- May or may not stalk you to your house. He’s doing this for both know your address and see if it’s “really that bad”

- Still, he wouldn’t do anything. Just simply watches from the bushes while your parents are screaming at you about some random thing they were supposed to do

- Expect to find a gift in your locker the next day. It might not be what you’re interested in, but it’s the thought that counts, right?

- Would he blackmail you? Depends.

- If it’s really bad, then definitely. You’re technically the first person he has power over. You possibly would rely on him for all kinds of support, and it’s perfect honestly!

- Being forced to his terrible attempts at comfort because it’s clear to him that he’s your only outlet from the abuse. Having to accept gifts from him because it’s the nicest thing anyone has done for you, and generally being attached to him by the hip

- It’s almost a dream come true!

- Pete, surprisingly, would be sympathetic to this situation

- You are apart of him. He’s growing up in a household that throws him around a sack of potatoes. So, he would feel this weird sense to “protect you” (Really, it means controlling you)

- He’s still a creepy bastard. Constantly gifting you vile things address towards you. However, he sees a whole new target of people

- Following your parents and siblings you may have, he’ll try to see if any of them have a pattern he could go off by. Maybe they’re always hanging out with a certain group at a certain time?

- He’ll have a notebook describing detail after detail on how he’s going to scare them. If one of them is slightly afraid of spiders? Then expect a package with a buttload of spiders, causing them to shriek and desperately try and get them off. If one gets queasy around blood? Surprise! They’re getting sprayed with real pig’s blood

- Sort of turns into a prankster. Trying to keep your family on their toes as much as he can. It’s especially fun seeing their horrified reactions

- However, he would never approach you with this information. He’s bad at handling emotions and prefers to “stalk his prey”.

- Overhearing your conversations, desperately waiting for you to tell your friends about the “silly little prank” a stranger pulled on your abusers

- I don’t think you would, cause he will still send those creepy packages to you. It’s like your family’s part of a hit list or something

- That just encourages Pete to go bigger and badder. To the point where your family has to make a P.O. Box just for the smaller stuff can get sent to rather than appear at the front door steps

- Constantly making sure everything that can be locked is locked and only trusting packages from major companies/online stores

- Don’t worry! Pete knows how to make his packages look official as well

- Jerry would honestly be the best yandere for this situation. Mainly because he would still act like himself

- When he first notices the bruises, he could already feel himself getting clammy while his eyes wander around the injured area. He looks away when you notice though.

- It feels so awkward to him when he notices them in real life. What should he do? Offer you to get out? Call CPS? Comfort you? Please tell him

- He’ll offer you to stay in his house for a while. His parents are way too busy to notice him bringing over a stranger. However, accepting means getting stared at while you try to enjoy the fantasy movie Jerry popped in

- He’s combing through online articles + his forum boards for advice. That unfortunately means he’s going to mix up the legit articles and whiny manchilds who think abuse if “My mommy wouldn’t let me spend $100 on an exclusive MtG set”

- It creates these mixed signals when comforting you. He’s still trying, and that’s better than the other three

- However, this time, he’ll actively stalk you and your family members. Making sure he’s got their basic info down to a tea before harassing them

- Using fake emails and ghost accounts, he’ll both white knight and harass you. Making sure you keep on your toes and always run to him

- For your family members, it means constant death threats. Even sending gore videos to them and treating that he’ll “Do this to you if you don’t leave Y/N alone!”

- Of course, he wouldn’t do that in real life (he’s too much of a coward), but he’ll be there! Always willing to be the shoulder you cry on

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