#this could be angst

[writingattemptsxx]

Claws and Fangs; Tentecals and Ink; Together a Deal

Jade was shunned by all and just wanted to curl up and cry, but a weird octopus changed that.

—

The octotrio is fun to write for and imagining what kid them would be like is even better.

—

Tw: Quick mention of blood

—

These halls felt cold. They were probably physically cold. Rock and shell walls underwater in the north couldn’t be warm, but they felt more emotionally cold and intimidating. They were the walls that housed the truly scary things.

Jade had never been the one to go out of his way to talk to people. That was his twin brother, Floyd. He was the one who clung to his parents and didn't want to leave their side. He was in middle school now, so he was at least used to being on his own, even in a crowded school. But, it didn't mean he liked it. Even worse, the ones he was supposed to interact with, to build friendships with, painted him as a monster purely because he existed.

Both he and Floyd were overly familiar with the whispers. “Look at their teeth.” “Their claws will rip you to shreds.” “They can dart after you in seconds. They'll get you before you know it.” “I think one of them looked at me! Am I going to die?”

They even changed their approach depending on which brother they were gossiping about. Floyd, the curious and hyper one, was said to be someone who would chase down any prey and show off his teeth just to mess with it. On the other hand, Jade, the anxious wallflower, was painted as a manipulator who was always scheming in the shadows.

Right now he just wanted to find his brother. Floyd always swam away the second classes were out, finding something new to look at or mess with. Even just yesterday, he darted off to mess with some shells he found. And all of that would be fine if he didn't leave Jade alone with these disguised sharks. He was going to cry if he couldn't find him soon.

“Where are you?” His voice was already wobbling. It wasn't until he turned a bend that he ran into Floyd, literally.

“Hey!” Floyd turned around. “Oh, hi Jade.” After recognizing Jade, he turned back around, paying him absolutely no mind. Instead, he peered back into a random classroom and stayed mostly hidden by the wall. He seemed so interested, which wasn't new, as if he didn't know his very own twin was anxiously scouring the whole school for him. Knowing him, he probably genuinely didn't know any of that.

“What are you looking at?”

“Some kid in here. He looks cool. Usin’ all his arm… limbs? What do you call them again? Whatever. He's using them to look and write at like a hundred things at once!”

Jade followed his example and peered into the room through the gap of an entrance. It was another mer their age. If memory serves, he was in their class going back a few years. He was an octopus merfolk all alone in the room. He was sitting mostly turned away from the door and to a round stone desk. He was inside some sort of pot or cauldron with a lid settled next to it. All his tentacles were just spilling out of the pot bushing themselves writing, just as his hands were.

His hands were leaning a stone slate on the edge of his desk to write on. Each of his tentacles were also scrawling out something on different slates and even some parchments, most of them were on the desk, but some had to be placed on the floor likely to prevent things from getting in the way of each other. He was scratching notes into the stone with hard fish bones as well as using what looked like octopus ink and thin bones to scribble on the parchment.

How did he even get those? The stone slates and fish bones were used often enough underwater, especially in school, but the others were shocking. Ink could be expensive with how hard it was to get usable stuff from anything that made it. Paper and parchment could be even worse with how much work went into making it waterproof and writable.

Jade was studying the unaccompanied mystery until he realized his brother was lazily swimming toward him. “Floyd!” He was trying to keep hidden and quiet as to not draw attention, but he didn't want to be alone again, so he quickly swam after him.

“Where’d you get this?” Floyd suddenly grabbed the ink pot. The octopus jumped back and Jade wanted to die on the spot.

“What?! Give that back!” He reached out with his arms and tentacles only for Floyd to dodge every attempt.

“This stuff’s expensive, so where'd you get it? Did you make it? Octos can do that, right?”

“No?! I bought it. But anyway, it's mine! Give it back!” The octopus sounded like he was fuming. At least if he attacked Floyd, Jade would have time to escape.

Jade tried to sneak around to check the notes. He might not be as adventurous as his brother, but some curiosities screamed to be answered. The second he touched one of the stone tablets, a hand swatted his away. “You too. Stop messing with my stuff!” Instantly being scared off by Mr. Octo, he swam behind his brother.

Now he was staring straight at both of the twins. After getting a better look at him, he had quite an interesting look. He was mostly black except for his chin and up which was an ashen gray. His eyes were a striking blue that looked as if they would scare you away from him alone. His hair was a shining silver coming down to his ears except for one lock on his left side that curled down to his chin. He was round and looked squishy and soft. Even his cheeks were puffy as they kept in black ink-filled tears seconds away from being shed.

“Just give it back! I'm not going to do anything ‘funny’! I'm not your little twerp to mess with!” His voice was shaking and he sounded like he was holding back a gasp for air. As he slid further into his pot, one of his tentacles suckered onto the lid and started to lift it.

“What?”Floyd was probably starting to panic with how he reached back for Jade. It seemed neither of them knew what to do and what he was on about. “I just asked where you got this. I didn't say any of that.”

Octo paused for a second, his eyes just above the entrance. His voice even echoed into the pot. “I know what you're thinking. You aren't unique picking on me.”

“Sevens, ... I'm sorry?… I didn't wanna make you cry…” Floyd lightly put down the ink in front of the pot and started to slowly inch away.

Jade couldn’t help but feel bad as he also inched away. He was going to cry, himself, about a minute ago, and from the sound of his rant, it seemed like they had the same culprit as to why. Both bullies and Floyd.

Jade made it about halfway to the door and Floyd a bit closer to the door, before the hideaway octopus spoke up. “If you weren't here to mess with the ‘octo-twerp’, what were you doing?” His eyes were still just above the pot entrance and he looked like he was going to kill them both with his stare alone. He didn't trust either of them an inch.

“You just looked cool… I'm sorry I messed with you. Didn' want you to cry or anythin’, just… I can leave…”

“I looked cool? I want to know why you stole my ink then. You, yourself, said it was expensive.”

“Yeah. Cool, neat, that stuff. Seeing you write all that at once seemed interesting. I stole it to mess with you, sure, but I just wanted your attention. I planned on givin’ it back.”

Mr. Octo’s eyes marginally softened and he rose from the pot ever so slightly. “Just don't steal my stuff. Who even are you?”

“I’m Floyd.” Floyd swam up to Jade and put his hand on his head. “And this is Jade. He's kinda shy, so he doesn't talk a lot.”

What? How dare Floyd speak for him? With a pout, Jade tried to whack Floyd’s arm away.

The hidden octopus gave a small chuckle as he rose to rest his arms on the pot rim. “I’m Azul.”

—

Jade silently snuck through the halls and right before he turned to the corner to the unused classroom Azul stole to make a study, he flipped the direction of his black hair strand.

Both he and Floyd were almost identical. If you weren't paying attention, you might confuse them, but at least they thought it was obvious who was who. They looked like mirror images of each other. Their bodies had mostly blueish-green skin except for lighter bits on their chest and head and darker bits as their fins and stripes that scattered around their body. They also both had ear-length turquoise hair, sharp facial features, and a long eel body with a tail about two-thirds their total length. Their easiest-to-notice difference was that Floyd had a golden eye and a long black lock of hair on his right while Jade had the same on his left.

He turned right into Azul’s room and snuck behind him. He waited one more moment as the other was distracted with a few pages and stones. With a jump, he covered Azul’s eyes, even tilting his head so his newly placed hair would be felt.

Azul didn't even waste a second before placing his hands over Jade’s. “Hello, Jade.”

Jade gave a pout as he swam to the other side of Azul’s stone desk, lowered himself to eye level, and gave him a very unhappy glare as he fixed his hair.

“Don’t look at me like that, you sore loser. If I was genuinely Floyd, I would have heard him.” The three of them had only been talking for a month or two, yet Azul could read them almost exactly. His eyes still read of distrust, but he never did anything to show that and talked to them pretty well. Even so, Jade had a hard time getting past Azul’s suspicion and hasn't said much, mostly communicating with body movement or through Floyd. What he's said verbally could probably be counted on one hand.

“Where’s Floyd?” Jade gave a small shrug making Azul sigh as he turned his attention back to whatever he was doing before. “If he barges in here shouting or touches my stuff again, I'm going to kick him back out. I need some peace.”

Jade looked over all of his things and noticed that amid his usual marked beige parchments was a mostly clean golden one. It had barely any writing on it and what was there looked intentionally placed, as if there was a pattern he was following. There was even a very slight glow to it. It was placed right in front of him and any added writing was made by a fish skeleton dipped in ink. Jade gave a small point to the new thing.

“This? It's just something I'm working on. I’m-”

“-Guess what!” As predicted Floyd came bursting in shouting. He held up a small red crab, held by a grip on its pincers. “I found something!”

“Floyd! Can you come in here without belting at the top of your lungs?!” Azul put down the skeleton in his hand, folded his arms, and gave the boisterous intruder a grimace.

“It's a crab!” He bolted and stopped right in front of Azul’s face. “Look!”

“I see it?…”

Floyd shook the crab before placing it on the far side of the room. He immediately swam back to them and pointed at it. “Crab! Imma call it…” He paused for a second. “Snappy!”

Jade lazily floated over to his twin and gave a similarly lazy smile. He waited for a second before bringing Floyd a headlock and giving him a noogie with a pointed grin. It earned him noisy protests.

“Look at the ink-spewer and his monster guards!” The trio looked over to see a group of roughly five mers, some from the grade above. They all look like the stereotypical mer. The kind you'd see everywhere. Fish-like tails of various bright colors. Similar colors scattered their hair as well. Even their skin had varied shades from pale peach to a deep brown. The one who specifically spoke had a purple tail and hair with tan skin and freckles littered on his face and shoulders.

If you were to ask a young Jade, there wouldn't have been any difference between them. They looked different, sure, the others even looked different from each other, but they were all mers, but now it was quite obvious. They were the standard and the trio were animalistic monsters with their claws, fangs, tentacles, and ink.

The second Jade loosened his grip on Floyd, Floyd darted to the middle of the room, putting his arms out to cover Jade and Azul. Jade, on the other hand, swam to hide behind the pot with Azul ducking deeper inside it with a tentacle lifting the lid. “Just shut up! We weren't doing anything to you!”

“Aww, not anything? Doesn't that defeat your whole purpose?”

Azul was almost completely hidden by now, the lid was over the top of the pot, but was tilted slightly up so he could just see outside. “Just ignore them, Floyd.”

This time another mer came forward. He had light brown skin, dark blue hair, and a green tail. “Aww does the crybaby wanna curl away in his pot? Are you going to stain it with ink?”

“SHUT UP!” Floyd was mad. His tail flocked from side to side as his shoulders rose up and down with each attempt at a deep breath. Even Jade was starting to get upset. If he didn't think Floyd would snap soon, he might snap himself.

“What? Does it upset you that we call a crybaby a crybaby?” The first met to speak swam up in front of Floyd, intentionally invading his space. With that, a slap came down, hitting him in the face.

“That’s it! You wanna see claws?! You’ll get claws!” Floyd lurched forward and Jade instinctively closed his eyes and Azul closed the lid to his pot.

The next thing he knew was screams and the iron-rich scent of blood diffusing through the water of the room.

—

Both Floyd and Jade got in trouble. Despite Azul specifically saying Floyd’s name, apparently, ‘someone could have been lying and it could have been either one of them’. Jade wasn't even shocked. It's not like he didn't notice even adults looked at his fangs and claws before his eyes.

Luckily, it came to light that they were bullying Azul and it was self-defense, so with the anger of both their and Azul’s parents, they got off with only being suspended for a bit. Jade and Floyd were going to mention they were bullied as well, but the mess was already too big. They already wanted to hide away. They didn't need more attention on them.

Today was finally their first day back after being doted on by their parents. Mom and Dad weren't happy Floyd attacked another, and they certainly weren't happy that Jade got punished for doing nothing, but they were proud that they stood up for someone else and were worried about them being attacked first.

They went back to school expecting it to be mostly normal, except for more fear and rumors around then. That was true, but there was something else that was swirling around too. Gossip that was different from the usual rumors around the eel twins.

The entire day they heard whispers of many people's skills going missing as they gained something else. Someone gaining a girlfriend but losing their smooth voice. Another gaining a smooth voice but losing their speed in the water. Multiple similar events had gossip swirling.

Both Jade and Floyd were discussing the rumors as they were passing by Azul’s room, and before they even looked inside, something wrapped around them and pulled them inside. The next thing Jade knew, they were both in a big hug.

“Are you two ok? Especially you, Floyd?”

“Wha-” Jade was extremely confused. Confused enough to try pulling away to look Azul in the eyes, but he was squashed back into Azul’s chest with double the strength. He tried to mumble something into his chest, but even he could barely understand himself.

“Azul! Too much!” Finally, at Floyd's words, they were both let go, allowing them to take a second to take in some breaths again.

“Sorry…” Azul’s voice was small and he even shrunk back slightly. He had ink-filled tears diffusing into the water around him. “You two got in trouble because of me. I'm so sorry.” He was barely able to sob out his words, gasping for air every other second.

Floyd went up to him and roughly gave Azul’s hair a rub, completely messing it up. “Nah, they were just stupid. Couldn't have done anything to me.”

Azul looked at Jade. He had the same puffy eyes as the first time Jade saw him tear up, but it was missing something. He couldn't find the distrust in his gaze. It made him feel oddly fuzzy. Jade was barely able to utter anything, and even when he did, his voice was still small and barely audible. “I’m fine. I didn't even fight.”

Suddenly Azul’s eyes widened and he took in a gasp. “Oh, right! Jade, you remember that golden paper?” Jade gave a nod. “I finished working on it!” He opened his hands in the space between all of them, and a glowing golden scroll was summoned. “I call it ‘It’s a Deal’! I can trade anything I have or can get, magical or not, for the same with someone else! All we have to do is agree on the terms and have them sign on the bottom line. With this, all three of us can be everything we wanted. I don't have to be a loser crybaby and you don't have to be feared monsters.”

All of that could come from this scroll? They could all have what they wanted? Jade looked back at Azul who looked practically beaming. “Really?” His voice was still small, but it grew with hope as the fuzzy feeling in his heart grew.

“Absolutely! I can give us all exactly what we wanted, all I need is your backup. It may not be easy and we might even need to play into some things, but at the end of it all, we’ll have what we hoped for and more.”

“I’ll do it.” Floyd brought attention back to him as he gave firm words.

“Do what?” Azul looked completely confused scanning Floyd's face for some hint.

“Your deal thingy. I'll do it.”

“You don't have-” Azul paused for a second. He took a deep breath. “No. Let's do it.” The golden page’s glow suddenly got brighter as the words started to rewrite themselves to say exactly what they talked about. In exchange for not attacking Azul or leaving his side for another, they were to be given a share equal to Azul’s and stay his right hands, him never choosing another before them. Once the words stopped two fish skeletons, already ink-dipped, were summoned. One in front of Jade and the other in front of Floyd.

Neither of them wasted a second. They both scrawled out their names on the bottom lines. Floyd Leech. Jade Leech. The skeletons suddenly disappeared and the contract curled up as Azul grabbed it. “It’s a Deal!”

—

“Jade?… Jade!” Azul’s voice shocks him back to the present. “Are you ok? You aren't one to daydream while doing work.”

Looking at the desk in front of him, Azul’s right, he is supposed to be working. The log book for Monstro Lounge is sprawled out on the desk in front of him. To his left is Azul sitting at his mahogany VIP room desk and in front of him is Floyd sleeping and taking up the whole couch. Jade himself was sitting on one of the chairs for the glass table with a marble rim they nicknamed the ‘deal table’.

“Sadly, no, I am not, Azul. I am horribly bored. I might as well just leave. The exam and thus the results are way too far away.” Jade is giving his fake customer service smile, something he knows Azul can see right through. They just made a bunch of deals for students not willing to truthfully attempt the exam, and they need to wait for the results to come back to have their fun with those not able to hold their end of the bargain. Some part of him wonders if any of them will actually succeed, the question is just screaming for him to find the answer.

“You can't walk out! That's a complete violation of your contract! Also, the exam is two days away, with the results about three days later. You can wait.” Azul’s flustered face will never not be funny. It‘s a nice return to who Jade originally met, that emotional octopus. He has been a bit overzealous in his work and contracts recently. He needs to relax a bit.

“If you look back at it, it is not in contract violation. My side of the contract is to not attack you or turn on you for another, not that I have to stay and do grunt work.” With that, Jade earns a small huff from Azul. Who mumbles under his breath before returning to his work and silence with Jade doing the same.

After a few minutes of sulking, Azul looks back up at him. “You two are extremely stressful, you know that.” Azul sighs. “Don't answer. I am well aware you do it on purpose. I swear I might be the next to overblot. There have already been two.”

Hearing that, Jade also looks up, giving Azul an upset glare.

“It was merely a joke. I have enough control to prevent that.”

[hinamie]

to moving forward

[chloesimaginationthings]

The Afton kids deserved better in FNAF..

[mobius-m-mobius]

#the Nowhere Man who waits and the God of Stories who watches

[ktkat99]

Jason comes back from the dead and, as he's still a bit out of it, heads to the manor.

Crawling straight up through six feet of compacted earth is hard, especially after waking up suddenly in a coffin, so after he makes it inside, he sits down to rest on the couch.

And immediately falls asleep.

Hours later, Bruce returns home to find Jason's body, covered in dirt, dug up from the grave and left on his couch.

[bunnieswithknives]

As much as I love angst I think it would be funny if he just didnt give af

[tryingtoremembermyname]

‘her dream ride is probably a jeep or something…’

my dream ride :

[courfee]

17 December 1975 / 15 May 1976

[starry-bi-sky]

There are two things that Damian knows that he knows Father doesn’t.

He has an older brother

He was dead

(And a secret third thing: Damian was glad he was dead. They did not get along.)

Well. No, correction, they were two things that Damian knew that Father didn't. Past tense. Strange magic swirled through the air and created a mirage before his eyes, and immediately a scowl forms across his face.

The mirage shifts and shimmers like the light hitting a slowly turning prism, and then it settles into a memory. One that Damian does not recall. Like looking into a tv screen, it shows, faintly, a room, with most of the magic going into the image of a crib.

His mother was standing on one side, and next to her, standing on his tiptoes was a small five year old boy looking up at her. With dark hair and skin that was only few shades lighter brown than Damian's, the little boy's resemblance to Damian was undeniable.

However, his eyes were blue. Not green. Damian's scowl deepens, and he sinks back. "Danyal." He mutters, and feels eyes turn on to him.

Danyal Al Ghul. Damian's older brother. A prodigal swordsman like Damian, and five years his senior. He'd be fifteen if he was still alive. His memory of the last time he saw his brother was still clear in his mind.

(A sword to Danyal's neck. Stars were glittering through his window. Damian was five, Danyal ten. He is not sure why Danyal had snuck into his room, all he remembers is hearing a sound and on instinct reaching for his sword.)

(His brother had intercepted easily. But had not shoved the sword away. Moonlight hit his blue eyes, and Damian remembers seeing the pupils shrink to let the light in. His eyes looked almost silver.)

(His brother bares his teeth at him. Damian wants to slice his neck more than anything, and he bares his teeth back. "Good." Danyal says, his voice low in a hiss, "Your reflexes are good, little brother.")

("Of course they are," Damian remembers snarling, and presses the sword closer. But it does not budge. "I am an Al Ghul.")

(Something unrecognizable passes through his brother's eyes, and his mouth twists into something like a smile. "I know." He says, and tilts his head downwards at him. "And you will be great.")

(His brother shoves the sword back, causing Damian to stumble. And like the wind, he is gone.)

(The next morning, he goes on a mission with mother and a few others. Mother is the only one to return with Danyal's sword, and a red-eyed look in her eyes. Damian does not mourn. Now there's only one of them.)

"Momma." The little Danyal-mirage speaks, a furrow between his childlike brows as mother lowers a bundle into the crib. His blue eyes watch her, and lifts onto his toes to peer into the crib as she sets the baby down. "Who is this?"

Their mother's hand comes to rest along his back. "This is Damian, my son." She murmurs, voice low. "He is your little brother. Protect him well."

Damian scoffs internally -- not likely. He remembers every spar he ever had with Danyal, every harsh word and insult. His pushing, pushing, pushing for Damian to get up. To try again. Do it again. The only kindness he ever showed him was when his fingers bled. And even that was harsh, firm. Rolling gauze around his wrist and scolding him, telling him how to wield his weapon better.

(It was the same as everyone else, but somehow it hurt worse coming from his own brother.)

But he watches his older brother's youngest self tilt his head to the side, and then reach his chubby hand through the crib's bars. He runs small, blunt fingers over the baby's arm, and the baby jerks. Through the crib's bars, Damian sees himself grab Danyal's fingers.

And he scowls even deeper.

And Danyal's eyes... widen. He lets out a little gasp, and a small smile Damian's never seen him wear tilts at the corner of his mouth as he looks up at their mother. "Mother," he whispers, "he grabbed me!"

Damian... his scowl falters, for a moment.

He doesn't wait for a response, he looks back to the baby with sparking eyes. His expression melts like sugar as he bounces the finger being gripped tight by the small hand. "Hello, little brother." His brother says, voice its of usual firmness, but there's more fondness underlying it than Damian's ever heard. "My name is Danyal."

The mirage shifts before Damian can comprehend his older brother's voice. It shows the crib again, appearing as if a few days had passed. There is night lilting through the nearby window, and a creek of the door. The baby doesn't stir.

Danyal sneaks in, still wearing his training clothes and a sword strapped to his side. Damian's scowl returns, watching him creep over to the crib. Of course -- the last night he saw his brother wasn't the only time he'd snuck into his room.

Would he go so low as to attack an infant? Damian wonders, watching his brother cross the room to his crib. But while his fingers rest against the hilt, they never curl to unsheathe.

His brother peers into the crib again, and there it is again, that smile wider in the corner of his mouth. It's not a full one, but its as uninhibited as it gets. Dripping honey-sweet with awe. "You are so tiny." Danyal whispers, and pokes a finger back through the crib. It wriggles, then pokes Damian's cheek gently. "Was I as small as you when mother gave birth to me?"

There is no response from the baby. Not a coherent one anyways, the little thing snuffles and turns his head, mouth open to latch. Danyal stills, his eyes grow ever wider again.

Danyal says nothing else, just rests his cheek against the crib and watches the baby sleep in silence. The affection never leaves his young face.

Damian feels unsettled. Off-foot. This Danyal is foreign to him... He wonders what happened to have changed his brother's mind on him.

There's a scuffle, quiet, but there. Danyal picks up on it just as Damian does, and his head pricks up like a deer, head already turning away from the crib. The affection leaves his face, falling away like water into something serious. His blade is already slightly unsheathed.

Two assassins, belonging to grandfather, burst out of the shadows. Their swords swinging into the air and ready to strike.

Danyal kills them both, his back to the crib. It's not without struggle, and when the two assassins lay dead on the floor, the baby is wailing at the top of his lungs. Danyal has a laceration cleaving down diagonal of his cheek. It's close to his eye, just barely missed blinding him.

Damian never knew how he got that scar. He does now. (He doesn't know how to feel about it.)

His brother clutches his bleeding face, sheathing his sword as tears well up onto his face. But he turns towards the crib, and hurries over. "You're okay, you're okay, you're okay." He hushes rapidly, the League-drilled seriousness fallen away to reveal a panic-stricken five year old. He sticks one hand into the crib, the one not clutching anything, and grabs little Damian's hand.

Their mother comes bursting in that moment, and Danyal turns his head towards her. "Mother." He says, his voice cracks un-wantingly. Their mother steps over the bodies of the assassins easily. "They tried to kill Damian."

"But they did not." Talias says, kneeling down next to the crib to inspect Danyal's face and Damian's well-being. When she finds nothing of concern beyond the injury, she continues. "You killed them before they could, Danyal. Well done."

The mirage of his brother nods, his eyes teary and red.

Damian... is discomfited. he never thought Danyal would kill assassins for him. He would have thought his brother would sooner look the other way. The mirage shifts again, and it quickly shows time passing.

Danyal sits in Damian's nursery every night, after that. He lays at the foot of the crib with his sword, a pillow and a blanket with him. Some nights there is nothing but peace -- or as close to peace as a baby could achieve -- and some days assassins break in.

Danyal kills each one.

The mirage shifts again, and it shows more memories of Danyal interacting with Damian during his youth too young for him to remember. His first steps, his first words.

"Danya." The small toddler of Damian says, arms reaching for Danyal.

A frown curls across Danyal's face, and pulls Damian into his lap. "No, no, little brother." He scolds, voice firm but.. softer. "It is Danyal, Damian. Danyal."

"Danya!"

Damian's brother sighs, but there is that same-small tilt at the corner of his mouth. A glimmer in his eyes. A glimmer... that Damian is finding he recognizes.

(He always thought his brother got that look in his eyes when he was mocking him. Was he wrong?)

The mirage shifts again, and this time it shows only mother and Danyal, alone. Danyal is older, taller. Seven, if Damian had to guess. Mother has a stern look on her face, her hands tight on his shoulders. "Damian will be starting training soon, my son."

Ah, then close to eight then. Training starts, always, at three years old. He watches Danyal nod, his expression mimicking their mother's. His arms are folded, always folded, behind his back, always neat.

"You can no longer have the relationship with your brother as you did before." Mother says.

Danyal's expression... falters. It shifts, it fluctuates. He looks surprised, thrown off. Like he isn't quite sure he heard what mother just said. His brows furrow. "What... do you mean, mother?"

"I mean what I said, Danyal." Mother says, stern, "Ra's will be keeping a closer eye on Damian now that he is of age to begin his training. He will not like if he sees you both getting along."

"I am sorry, my child. But your relationship with Damian ends here. You are rivals now, not brothers." In a cruel form a gentleness, mother raises her hand and tucks a stray curl out of Danyal's face.

Of course. Damian never had a relationship with his brother because of Grandfather. Of course. No, he's not feeling a little bitter. No. There's not an inner child that still, like a candleflame, wishes that he'd had a bond with his only flesh and blood.

Danyal is dead now. So it's not like it matters. He's happy about this.

Danyal frowns, and he steps back. He looks lost in thought. "We are still brothers, mother," he says, argues, and looks up to meet mother's eyes. "Let me train him, I will make sure he gets the skill he needs. If we must be rivals, then I will teach him how to defeat me. If he can defeat me, he can defeat anybody."

Their mother, and Damian, both blink in unison. Then mother smiles something sharp, calculated. She folds her hands behind her back. "Then do it. But you will make him hate you."

"...So be it."

Damian.... Damian is silent. His world axis has been tilted on its head. He is sliding, and sliding, and sliding down. Spinning. Many things click into place at once.

More memories from the mirage show. It shows Danyal training Damian. It shows their arguing, their bickering. It shows Danyal going to their mother to praise Damian and his skills, how fast he is picking up on the sword. How one day he will surpass even him.

It shows Danyal sitting outside Damian's bedroom door every night, listening in for anyone who dares to break in. His knees drawn to his chest, his sword at his side. Sometimes he sneaks in, sword drawn, when he hears a sound.

Some nights, Damian wakes up. He remembers those nights. Danyal standing over his bed with his sword unsheathed and tight at his side. He remembers the instant terror as he immediately reached for his own weapon.

His brother always scolded him for his lack of vigilance. That had he been anyone else, Damian would have had his neck cut. He would've been dead already. It only made Damian's hatred of him grow.

But he understands now. Because there were assassins in the room that Damian, four years old, three, did not notice. Not until later. He always assumed the attacks on him after Danyal's death had been because now there was a new heir to target.

It had been the only lesson he'd been even somewhat grateful for.

Then finally the mirage shimmers, and it shows Danyal, ten years old, in one of the training rooms, mid-spar with Mother. It's fast, sharp, impressive and like a blur. Damian is unsure if at ten which one of them was the better swordsman. Some of the assassins who have never met Danyal said Damian was, but the ones who had said it was Danyal. He'll never know.

In a lull in the fight, when their swords are crossed, mother speaks. "Ra's wants you and Damian to fight." She says, teeth grit into a deep scowl. The cross breaks and Danyal jumps back, he frowns.

"We have fought, mother." He says, and dives in first, swinging for mother's feet. Mother dodges, and slices at his arm. He swerves out of the way, twisting on his feet like a dance. "We are always fighting, doesn't he see our spars?"

"Not a spar like that, my son." Mother says, a snarl in her voice. She lunges, and Danyal blocks her blade. "A fight to the death. Father has grown tired of having two heirs."

That gets Danyal's attention -- or, more accurately, it distracts it. His eyes widen, and his sword lowers for a single moment. A mistake. "What?" Is all he gets out before mother has him on his back, her blade pressed to his throat.

He freezes. As does Damian. Danyal's brows furrow, then unfurrow, only to knot up again. "Mother, what do you mean a fight to the death?" He flips to his feet when mother removes the sword. She walks over to grab her water.

"Must I repeat myself, Danyal?" Mother snaps, rubbing her forehead before swigging from her canteen. "Father wants to find out which one of you is the stronger heir, and so you will fight to the death after your training in a few days."

Danyal's tan face loses a shade of color, he looks ashy. "There must be some mistake!" He exclaims, his arms gesturing out as he peers around mother. "There is a five year disparity between us, Damian has only just started training two years ago. It would be an unfair fight!"

"Do you think me unaware?" Mother whirls on him, and there is a grief-stricken look on her face. Like she is already mourning Damian's death. Damian feels ill. "Your skill is far beyond what Damian can accomplish right now, and there is nothing that I say that can convince Father otherwise."

Danyal wears an expression like he is scrambling for answers. A white knuckle grip on his weapon. There is a long silence, and his lower lip curls up. His throat bobs, he swallows. "Is there really nothing we can do?"

Mother makes a frustrated sound, pushing her loose hairs out of her face. "Not unless Father changes his mind, or I send one of you away. But Father would surely send someone to look for you or Damian."

"What if one of us faked our death?"

Mother stills. As does Damian. No, he thinks, stiff as a rod, no way. These mirages were lying, nothing but figments of an imagination. Of some quiet what-if that Damian had not yet stomped out.

Mother's expression shifts, and then turns contemplative. Danyal notices, and keeps pushing, he looks as hopeful as he could get beyond his usual unwavering, stone-like expression. "One of us could go to father--"

"No." Mother cuts off, voice sharp. Danyal wilts, confusion flittering across his face. Damian, from the corner of his eye, sees Father tense as stone. His white-slit eyes have not left the mirage. Nobody's has.

"Father will undoubtedly check there first, it would not be a good idea. You or Damian will have to go somewhere where he would not think to look. Someone unaffiliated with the League."

Danyal's face falls, shutters, and then closes up again into stone. Mother begins to pace, and Danyal's blue eyes follow her. "So a stranger?" He asks, and there is disgust lilting into his voice.

Mother nods, and she looks just as offput as Danyal.

The mirage of Damian's brother rolls his shoulders back. "Then I will do it, mother." He says, voice unwavering. There is a stubborn note behind it all, one that Damian recognizes. "I will fake my death, and Damian will stay here."

Mother's eyes turn sharp on him, and she stops in her spot. She pivots. "Are you sure?" She asks, eyebrow raising, "There is a chance you will never meet your Father if you leave. Nor will you see I or Damian again, if you do this."

Something like fear flickers across Danyal's face, eyes widening momentarily -- as if that very thought had not crossed his mind. But then it smooths over to sharp determination. He nods. "It would be the same for Damian if it was him instead. I will do it, Mother."

Damian feels ill again. Father has a strong set in his jaw, his teeth grinding.

Mother stares at Danyal, and then her expression softens. And like before, it is grieving. "In a few days time, I and another member of the League will be going on a mission to the American States. I will tell Father that you will accompany me, once there we will dispose of the other member and then orchestrate your death."

The American States. Danyal was here, in the country. He was out there somewhere -- but no this was fake. It had to be. Danyal was dead. A fool who got himself killed on a mission with mother and left the title of Heir to Damian.

Or maybe it had been his plan all along. His and mother's both.

...Was mother ever going to tell him?

The mirage of Danyal nods, sharp. Understanding. There is a gleam in his eyes that is not pride, it is tears. And when Mother leaves the room and leaves him alone, the stone-like expression on his face crumbles and falls.

His brother, ten years old, curls up his lip in an ugly way. It wobbles as the tears in his eyes do, and he brings up his hand to slam it over his mouth. And sinks to his knees, a yell-like sob muffled behind the skin.

His brother, ten years old, looks smaller than Damian remembers him being, and cries.

Damian has never seen Danyal cry. Not once in the mirage of memories, nor in his own.

The memory holds for a minute, and then disappears. And no new one shows up. The magic is gone, and it leaves a silence in its wake. Heavy, staticky, and full of revelations.

So there are two things that Damian knows that his Father now knows too.

He has an older brother

His older brother is alive.

(And a new secret third thing: Damian wasn't sure how to feel about it.)

[writingattemptsxx]

Finn in Twisted Wonderland

Chapter 1: Arriving Crying and Scared

A school full of teenagers and staff, but what happens if instead of a normal student being teleported, a five-year-old comes along? Along with Grim breaking in to join him of course.

—

This took forever to complete, and I've had the line out forever. I hope you like that, and feel free to mention feedback and/or what you want to see next (if anything at all).

—

Next chapter here

—

Finally, he was in. Grim spent so long getting snubbed by some stupid black carriage, but he’s The Great Grim, he doesn’t need the carriage. He can just come in. That’s just how great he is.

Grim searches the room of floating coffins only for a few seconds before one catches his eye. It was only one and it was on the floor. The others were floating around the room except this one. Why? Grim couldn’t care less. He just needed the outfit, then he would be in.

He rushed over to the coffin and gripped the lid. Then he pulled. Then he pulled. Then he pulled. But, it wouldn’t open. “UGH! How dare you deny The Great Grim?! Come on! I need that outfit before someone spots me!” He pulled harder, but it still wouldn't budge. Finally, he decided to use every ounce of strength in him, including his magic. “Try this on for size! Mya-ha!”

The lid flew open! Awesome! But someone was sleeping in the coffin, only moving in discomfort from the heat of the flames. Less awesome. The first thing that struck Grim as odd was his size. He looked small like a child. Was he one? The robes he was wearing were even a bit too big. It looked way smaller than what would fit an average person, but it was still a bit too big. No. No way! He could just be a fey, right? Like a dwarf. Grim heard they were small, yeah? But when he looked closer at the sleeping thing, he looked nothing like fey. No pointed ears, no fangs, and no horns. Absolutely nothing. Fey usually had some distinctive features, so was he actually a kid?! All he had was light skin with small freckles on his cheeks and nose and fluffy and messy light-brown hair.

Grim was shocked and jumped back as the kid started to stir. “A little bit longer? Please?”

He snapped back to reality at the kid’s whining.

“No can do! Now give me those robes!”

—

There was some noise going around? Possibly someone talking, but it was incredibly muffled. Though they sounded angry. Finn got a bit anxious and curled up. His blanket felt odd. It felt silky and not fluffy. He didn’t want a new blanket! Could he have his back? And his pillow was gone too! He's been sleeping on his arm, and it was starting to feel fuzzy.

As he was thinking the voice suddenly became clear and everything became hot. “Try this on for size! Mya-ha!” Finn tried to shift away from the heat radiating from mainly at his feet and slightly above him while fighting for sleep. It was hot! Too hot!

Finn heard someone jump back. Was Nanny scared? Why? Then it felt like someone was burning a hole in his side. Finn tried to ignore it, but it felt like he ignored it for days, and it didn't stop. He only ignored it for a few minutes, but it felt like days, no years. Finn decided to say something, maybe then Nanny would let him sleep. None of the birds were singing. It couldn't be morning.

“A little bit longer? Please?” He was too tired. He wanted to sleep.

“No can do! Now give me those robes!” Wait. That didn't sound like Nanny. The voice was raspy but high-pitched. Nothing like his sweet and soft Nanny’s voice. Finn slightly opened his eyes only to find himself somewhere completely unknown. His eyes opened wider, and he sat up to marvel at the room as things had yet to set in. Things were floating! Floating! So cool!

“Hey! Over here! Don't cha dare ignore me!” Finn looked at the noise. It was the same voice as before. When he looked, he noticed it was a kitty!

“Kitty!” Finn hastily got on his knees and reached for the cat.

“Who’re you calling a “kitty”? I'm not a cat, much less a “kitty”! I'm The Great Grim and you better respect that!” Finn was in awe. The kitty could talk! On closer inspection, he had cool flamey ears and a cool pokey tail. He stood up, stepped out of the coffin, and just looked at ‘The Great Grim’ for a few seconds.

“Grim kitty.” Finn had no expression and said it so matter-of-factly.

“I told you I'm not a kitty!” As Grim yelled, fire spread across the room. Maybe it was the fire and the heat coming off it, or maybe it was the yelling and the loud anger emanating from it, or maybe it was something else, but something finally got everything to set in. Finn was somewhere unknown. He was alone. On top of that, there's a mad fire-y cat in front of him, who was only getting angrier by the minute. Tears started to prick in his eyes, and they were only getting harder to hold.

“That’s right! I'm Grim, The Great Grim, not some kitty! Be afraid and finally recognize my magnificence! Just give me that robe you're warrin’”

Tears started to fall, and Finn started to sob. Finn’s hands found his face trying to wipe away the tears pouring down. “I want Nanny! I wanna go home! Let me go home!”

“Just give me those robes!” Grim shot a fireball in Finn’s general direction, though far enough away that he obviously wasn't aiming. But, aiming or not, Finn was scared, and he ran out of the room.

Finn ran and ran. He didn't know where he was going other than away. He was scared. He wanted home. He wanted Nanny. His Nanny. It didn't help that the flaming Grim-cat was following him. Grim was shooting fireballs in Finn’s direction, though intentionally missing, and demanding Finn give up his robes. Suddenly, he noticed an open door, and sick of running, he bolted inside. The only issue is he never thought to close the door, and after running inside, he tripped over a rug and fell onto his stomach.

“Myah! Foolish human! You thought you could get away from me?! Now give me those robes!” Finn knew he was trapped. He knew he couldn't get up and out of this. He had nothing he could do, so he just cried. He couldn't even see Grim as Grim was behind him and Finn was only facing down at the floor.

Out of nowhere, a crack was heard only for Grim to respond a few seconds later. “Me-Yeouch! That hurts! What gives?!”

“Consider it tough love!” What was going on? Finn was too frozen in fear to get up and check, but who was this new voice? “Ah, I've found you at la-… Are you perchance fey?” The sudden acknowledgment unfroze Finn from his fear. He got up on his knees and turned around to face the unknown voice.

The voice came from a tall man holding both a whip in one hand and now Grim, who was struggling and demanding to be let go, in between his body and the elbow of his other arm. He had a top hat adorned with a blue ribbon, a mirror, and a black feather. He had fancy clothes, including a cape adorned with many more feathers. The man had green hair and was dressed in mostly black. He also had what looked to be a bird mask which hid his eyes in shadow except for his bright yellow irises.

Finn still had tears streaming down his face and could only ask one question, “Where is Nanny?”

“Who?”

“Nanny! Mother and Father had her take care of me! I want to go to her!”

“How old are you?” To this question, Finn removed one of the hands that was wiping away tears from his face and held it out, splaying out all five fingers. “Five?” Finn only nodded leaving the man speechless.

“That kid can't even be here! Let me in their place!” Grim was still being held by the man, and Finn finally brought his hands down to look at the cat speaking, though tears were still falling.

Completely ignoring Grim, the masked man kept his focus on Finn. “How did you even get a familiar at such a young age? No wonder it's so unruly.”

“I’m not a familiar! Much less to a kid! I'm The Great Grim!” He was still whining and struggling with all his might, but the man’s grip didn't loosen.

“All disobedient familiars will say that. Child, did someone give you this familiar?”

Finn’s tears had slightly slowed at this point, so he was able to get out a question. “What's a fa-mil-ler?”

“A familiar. You know. A beast or an animal that helps a mage.”

“I don't have a far-mil-ler.”

“Is he not yours?”

Grim shouts loud. Louder than you thought he could after how much he's been talking. “Myah! I told you I'm not a familiar! How hard is that to understand?!”

Finally, the man turned his attention to Grim. “Well then, you shouldn't be here! Once I settle the situation here, I will remove you from campus!”

“How dare you?! I got here fair and square! You're already down a student,” Grim gestured to Finn who, by now had stood up, and was just watching, “So let me in their place!”

“We can't just let someone who invades campus join this school! We have a selection process!”

“And your ‘selection process’ picked a random kid!”

“We’re working on figuring this out, and the kid probably isn't random! He probably has an immense magical ability, that messed with something. Speaking of you,” The man turned back to Finn, “What's your name and where are you from? We should get you back.”

“I’m Finn Lawson and I’m from Highfield, Andrila.” While talking, he turned to pay attention to his hand as he traced symbols into his palm. Then he looked back up and smiled.

“I've never heard of there before, also the name sounds quite unique. We should try to get you home. Follow me. The ceremony should be over and students in their dorms by the time we arrive.” The masked man then snapped his attention to the still-struggling Grim. “And you need to stop squirming and howling for me to put you down. I will hold you until I can remove you from campus.” he turned his attention back to Finn, “Shall we go?”

The man started walking and Finn followed. They ended up retracing the same path Finn took earlier. This time he was able to see things he missed as he was running. The stone of the walls and pavement. The small amounts of moss growing in the cracks of both. The scenic look of the outdoor hallways. It all looked pretty. Finn took some of his time looking for animals in the trees and bushes, though he found only a few birds and squirrels, and seeing what the shape cracks looked like to him. A worm. A dog. A tree. Another worm. A triangle. A square. More worms. Not a lot of things came to mind as the cracks were mostly single-lines, worm cracks, or simple shapes.

The man leading Finn suddenly stopped and as Finn was distracted, he kept walking until he bumped into the other. They had stopped right in front of the rod where this all started. Finn stepped more behind the man as he led them in.

“Here. Step in front of The Dark Mirror. I'll watch him.” Grim was muttering to himself at this point, not struggling the way he did before. Finn did as instructed. It was a large ornate mirror floating in the middle of the room. The glass reflected nothing, instead, it was pure black. Finn hadn't paid much attention to it before, being more preoccupied with the coffins, then with Grim, then with running. “O Dark Mirror! Return this soul to where it belongs!”

The mirror lit up with green flames on the inside of the glass revealing a mask that moved as if it were an alive face. It made no response.

The man behind Finn cleared his throat. “L-let us, er… try this again. O Dark Mirror! Return this soul-!”

“There is no such place.” A response from the mirror. A response that broke the man’s straight posture.

“W-what?”

“There is no place in the world where this soul belongs. None.” Does that mean Finn can't go home? He won't see Nanny again? He's stuck here alone? The tears he thought he was done crying came back getting ready to fall again.

“This has never happened throughout my long tenure. I must confess that I am at something of a loss.” Not even the Mister knew what to do? What was going to happen? When could he go home? When could he see Nanny? The returning tears started to stream down his face again. “Kid- Uh, Finn. Don't cry it’ll… it'll be alright… I just gotta…”

With the man distracted Grim finally jumped out of his arms. “I got an idea! You gotta a job right, but this kid needs to be looked after because of your mess up, so let me do it! All ya have to do is let me inta the school!”

“What?! No! Of course not! You broke onto school property and demand not only a place in the school while insulting it but also to look after a child! If we were even to let you in as a student, you wouldn't even have time to look after a kid! Even someone as kind as I could never let that happen!”

“So what?! You're going to keep a kid with no one? Your teachers have jobs, and you just gotta give me a changed schedule, I'm The Great Grim! I'll have no issue keeping up. I mean look at him!” Grim turned to the crying Finn. “Come one kid, don't you wanna keep the ‘kitty’?” To this, he gave a small nod. “See! You're outnumbered here.”

The man looked to Finn, then to Grim, then back to Finn, then back to Grim. He kept doing this for a bit, then spoke again. “Fine, for I am ever so kind, but you will be under strict surveillance and the moment you fail any class or do anything wrong, you are out of here!”

“YES! I'm in!”

“Just barely! Now come with me. We should go to the library. I need to look some things up.”

—

Crowley had never had this happen to him. In all his years of being headmaster, this was new. A child here and a monster as a student and taking care of him. He didn't exactly have another option, or not one he could think of between the yelling cat and crying child.

Scanning through the books he found a few things that may be useful, so he picked them out and headed back to where Finn and Grim were told to stay put. As he turned the edge of the bookcase, he found the kid and cat sleeping at their table. He should probably get Finn somewhere comfortable. It was getting late. They also have a few teacher dorms free. Though he does need to read this… He can just check this all out, it's only about five books and he's a fast reader.

He checked them out and then used his magic to teleport them to his room. He then picked Finn up and placed him on one arm, putting his other hand on his shoulder to stabilize him. As he looked over, he saw Grim sleeping in the chair next to where the kid was. He had one job: watch the kid. Yet, there he was, asleep. Crowley should really move Grim somewhere comfortable, too. If he woke up alone, who knew what trouble he might have caused, ‘Although’, Crowley thinks, ‘maybe it would scare him into leaving’. No, even with the little he knows, that's not what that cat would do.

He moved his hand off Finn’s shoulder to shake Grim. “Get up. We need you to move.”

“Myah… Not now…” His tail was swatting at Crowley’s hand.

“Yes, now. If you don't get up now, we'll leave you.” That seemed to wake him up.

“Myah?! How dare you?! I'm up!”

“Shhh! The kid is sleeping! Now follow me.” He started leading them to the teacher dorms. They probably only needed one between them, and there was one close to him, so they should be good. They're only staying there for a bit until they can find a way for Finn to get home. That shouldn't be too long, right?Finally, he was in. Grim spent so long getting snubbed by some stupid black carriage, but he’s The Great Grim, he doesn’t need the carriage. He can just come in. That’s just how great he is.

[glitchedcosmos]

Season 3 prediction

[ky-landfill]

we’ve argued enough about it, haven’t we, Bruce?

[riaki]

ur highschool bully gojo was chefs kiss 💋 what do u think about them going to the same college and taking the same classes?? and the reader sitting next/talking to some other guy and satoru gets jealous?? arwahhhshdhshshs so many possibilities, i hope u continue writing it!!

hi nonnie !! thank you so much :) this is ur official part 2 ! i was struggling to think up some possibilities but this helped a lot :oo | read part 1 here ! -> cw: swearing, jealousy, i let it get fic length oops

(former) highschoolbully!gojo on the brain again… like. when you end up seeing him again however many months later, and you can tell that he’s changed. it’s not like its immediately obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know him like you (used to); but he’s a little softer-spoken and his smiles seem nine times more genuine. it’s not a hundred percent; the kind that really lights up his face instead of just barely falling short of his stark blue eyes, but it's something.

of course, you have nothing to base it off of, because when you do inevitably see him again it's the very definition of meet ugly.

college is a new frontier, but its also a clean slate. its your first time going into something so new without your old bestfriend at your side, but some faint flickering thought reminds you that it might be better that way. but the universe is against you from the very first day, when youre gettin yourself some coffee from the same chain you did the morning of that fateful presentation so many moons ago. you're too busy thinking to yourself what kind of strange parting ritual it is to relive your trauma to notice the lanky, white-haired boy who hits his head on the chiming bell over the doorway. people are giggling around you n sighing dreamily but youre too deep in the music pumping through your headphones to notice and your eyes are glued to the class schedule on your phone, trying to ensure you dont get lost on the first day when—

you blink and your ass is flat on the dirty floor of the coffee shop, and the first thing you register is that your stomach is soaked and burning. you'd spilled your coffee. it takes you a moment to realize, but when you do you're pissed. so you quickly get to your feet, trying to reign in what little of your ego you have left to give the offender who bumped into you a piece of your mind as you look up, then..

how unlucky do you have to be?

just like that, satoru's slid himself back into your life, after ramming through its locked gates. you forget that he always forgets the point of keys, both when it comes to his apartment (which you still have the spare key of in case of emergencies), and the door to your heart. to rub salt in the wound, the only thing that's stained with your coffee order are his shoes, which look like they cost three weeks of your old job salary, but it's all over your shirt. of course it is. because why not? make it look like you tripped and fell into a patch of mud on your way to the lecture hall and tack on an unwelcome reunion with your ex-bestfriend.

to you, it's like the cloud of gloom from your highschool youth has resettled over your head like a swarm of gnats on a dreary, hot summer day. the stars always seem to skew and misalign themselves for you. but for satoru, the stars have handed him one of those huge swirly lollipops that you only ever see being paraded about by toddlers. he recovers almost instantly, trading the burn on his feet and the way it sours your expression like he's just squirted pure citric acid into your throat for a pleasant burn of his own on his cheeks. but it's whatever. girls seem to like it when he blushes, for some reason. he won't question it, if it works on the only one he cares about.

he holds his hand out, ready to help you out like the good samaritan he's become— and it's like a real burn to his heart this time when you ignore it and stand up on your own, refusing to look up and meet his pleading gaze. might as well have taken an iron stoker right out of the fire and jabbed him with it. but he's gojo satoru! he won't be defeated by this one mere, maybe very significant reunion. he's got stamina.

so he offers to buy you a new drink, feels his heart sink when you shake your head (can't even spare a little 'no' in his direction), and talks enough for the both of you when you leave the dingy little store make your way down to campus and the lecture building. you clearly don't want to see him, but he ignores that in exchange to notice the way you shiver every so often. the previously searing-hot coffee that stains your shirt turns cold fast, and moisture n wind don't mix well. he wishes he could offer you some of his own warm coffee, no doubt sickeningly sweet, but he has some sensitivity now, apparently. so, in a brash moment, he decides to take his blazer off and drape it over your shoulders instead.

when you cross the threshold between city and campus, you expect him to yank it off your back and be on his merry way. but he keeps walking next to you, so you walk a little faster, and you absolutely loathe the cheeky little grin that curves the corners of his lips up to show a glint of teeth when he effortlessly keeps up. you curse his long legs when you find yourself winded, but at least you can lose him when you get there.

or, that's what you think. once again, your constellations break themselves to rebuild anew for satoru. you're about to call him a stalker when he follows you all the way to your classroom with that smirk that's growing exponentially until— oh, no.

your phone that's been on the schedule up until now desperately scrolls to the roster— and there it is. he's in your class. needless to say, not another word goes between you as you stomp in and take a seat. luckily for you, you've already corresponded with your roommate's brother (who's annoyingly cute, satoru notices) and agreed to sit next to each other. satoru takes the seat right above you and never stops kicking his freakishly long legs against the wood the entire time.

so yeah, it's obvious he's not a saint; he still has that undoable ego and he's cocky as fuck (as you have the misfortune of finding out when he quickly bullies your professor), but there's a certain familiarity in that no matter how ugly it might appear to others. and if you asked (which he really, really hopes you will someday), he doesn't hang around douchebags who use kids' foreheads for ashtrays and treat girls like they're candy from a glittery pez dispenser. and at least he's switched harassment targets. even though he has an overwhelming sense of superiority over others and never has his lips together for more than five seconds, and even though he has this hellish habit of clicking his pen whenever he's not talking (or when someone else is), it seems like he's changed.

and over time, you gradually find yourself warming up to him. the spunkiness that used to get on your nerves ceaselessly becomes an object of endearment, and you don't really mind the way he never seems to stop moving anymore. it's a nice sort of distraction in the lifeless still of the lecture hall, albeit the pen clicking still drives you near insanity. you notice he always does it obnoxiously and quickly when you're talking to your roommate's brother, but you ignore it.

and for satoru? he hates that he can kinda sorta really tell that you're the only one who can read him like he's a damn book, cus you slowly start to soften up in the nostalgia of his presence like cold playdough between warm fingers that tell you he may have finally caught you again after letting you slip the first time. and he notices it. this time, he's determined not to let you be the one that got away again. but youre really giving him a shit time outta it with the way you constantly entertain the guy who always has his breath in your face.

yeah, he's got a cute face that's sunkissed by freckles. yeah, his hair looks like he models for shampoo companies. and fuck, he has a nice voice. but what of it? satoru's the one with the mesmerizing blue irises and the cloudy white hair your professor wishes he had instead of sad little wisps of old age. still, as chilly days turn into frigid weeks, he gets the perfect backseat angle of the growing relationship between the two of you. the boy's kinda dumb so you copy off of satoru’s work when you need to (he has to hide the 1-0 scoreboard between him and the guy on a sticky note from you when you take his notes), but said guy’s always buying you stuff and lending you erasers and laughing when you flick the shavings at the annoying girl who never stops whispering in the front of the room.

satoru tries to act unbothered, and he almost convinces everyone. including himself. but the angry, burning knot in his chest that's entirely different from coffee stains suggests something more. that should be him at your side. him, making balls of paper with rude scribbles and silly doodles to throw at the people he knows you don't like. him, surprising you with little gifts and the cheap trinkets he knows you adore so much instead of all the luxury things he could afford. there's no way this punk could possibly measure up to him, right? but at least you and satoru are well on your way to becoming friends again. not as close as you used to be, but it's something. substantial. and he's learned to be patient in the time you've been gone.

but he'd be lying through his teeth if he said he wasn't tired of it. he’s endlessly plagued with thoughts of increasing intensity— first, it starts out with just you. only you. the way he likes it. the way he likes your face, and your pretty eyes and your gorgeous lips and your soft hair and your figure and the complimenting clothes you wear. but it takes a turn; thoughts turn into dreams that turn into fantasies and he's lying when he says he doesn't enjoy them when he accidentally lets it slip during a group study session— and it’s all fine— but then, that guy appears. the brat who seems to sit a centimeter closer to you with each coming day. not only does he haunt satoru in real life, he’s tormenting his dreams, too. tainting the image of beautiful you.

needless to say, satoru starts to wake up with his hands gripping his damp pillow like he's choking it, acutely aware of the sweat sliding down his neck and over his chest as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the dorm's air conditioner run and thinking of what it'd be like for dreams (the ones where he replaces the boy) to become reality.

it's a buildup. and soon, he reaches the apex; it's like a rollercoaster, that stomach-twisting moment when you reach the top of the rail that points to the steep descent downward. but this time, he hopes it's a thrill he gets instead of the usual falling fright; the one he got when he realized he’d slipped between your fingers in highschool.

and satoru finally comes to a grinding halt at the top of the ride one breezy fall day when he decides he wants you back in his life after you smile brightly at him and wave goodbye for the day. he’s tired of you having one foot in and one foot out of his heart; he wants, needs more. he always has, he realizes.

so he’s thinking about you and how to approach the feelings he’s realized during those long lectures, and one morning he comes up with some semblance of a plan when he’s high on the sugar from the fruit tea you bought him that morning. and he hopes that, by the end of it, he'll leave your apartment with your hand in his currently empty one, chilled with the remnants of cold condensation from the bottle.

soon enough, satoru finds himself extinguishing his nerves and raising a tense fist to knock on the door with nothing but the clothes on his back and a flimsy plan to ask you out on a midterm study sesh and maybe even a date, but he stops when he realizes it’s slightly ajar. a brief thought of what look might be on your face when he surprises you crosses his mind, so he lets himself in quietly, because he knows every single floorboard that creaks like the back of his palm from his childhood. he’s hit with a wave of warmth and an achingly familiar scent that twists at his heart, and your apartment is cozy and safe and it screams you and he thinks he catches sight of his jacket slung across the back of the couch in your living room, but he’s not sure so he takes a step forward and—

he’s greeted with the sight of that stupid guy with the nice hair and the freckles, and it makes his heart drop. but even worse, he’s kissing you and his arms are winding around your waist but you’re kissing him back with a slight hesitation that’s blinded to satoru by his shock and the fingers he thought would end up in his own tonight card through the boy’s hair and your lips glisten with the strawberry-kiwi flavored gloss he watched the boy give you a few days back and his world is turning red and he feels like his throat is constricting and he can’t breathe—

and he doesn’t even realize you’ve parted lips and you’re calling his name through the newfound tightness of his chest and the painful ringing in his ears thats even louder than any silence of a lecture hall, or the void that should’ve been filled with your voice during the time you were apart. but now satoru realizes he’d take that any fucking chance to have that again because it’s so much better than what he’s stuck with now. having you, but not really having you, because you’re there but you’re someone else’s and you’re not his and he isn’t yours. the best thing he could ever hope for was for you to own an article of his clothing and a piece of his shattered heart, broken into a million fragments. some cruel voice in his buzzing head reminds him to change the scoreboard to 0-100.

and he could buy you cheap hot coffee or earn your smiles from scrunched up paper balls or even hear your laugh with crude jokes, but there’s no point when he realizes he can’t buy you with caffeine or earn you with hitting the back of people’s heads with his bio notes or have you and your laugh all to himself anymore.

it’s almost pathetic, the way satoru’s voice cracks and changes. the look of unadulterated concern on the face of the boy who stole your lips just adds fuel to the fire.

“gojo? what are you doing here— hey, are you okay? you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

he noticed you’d stopped calling him satoru a few weeks back. he should’ve seen it coming.

“huh? oh, yeah. i’m good. i think you’re the one hallucinating.”

he’d never told a bigger lie in his life.

satoru had left after excusing himself for intruding. how very unlike him to be so polite, you think.

so in the end, he leaves your apartment with something in his hand, after all. but it's not your own— just his blazer that you’d given back to him before he stepped out the door, taunting him with the faint scent of coffee and lingering perfume. his hope was foolish, so it seems. it’s too bad, he thinks. if it were him, he would’ve sandwiched you against your counter while he kissed. but it wasn’t. apparently, it was your turn for your stars to align at the price of his.

and so, gojo satoru, the boy force-turned man with a chipped ego and a completely broken heart, loses you again.

bonus bonus.. part 2….

[loosethreadsofyoursoul]

psych is such a relief compared to other fandoms. we all know shawn is bisexual and has the potential to be in love with all 3 of his best friends but like i never see any active hate about it. like more than one ship? polycule. don’t like any of them? they’re all still besties. it’s just such a calm feeling to scroll through the psych tag and just see them all being silly. i love it here

[wakkoroni]

Batfam Incorrect Quotes/Scripts: pt 20!

Tim, getting ready for patrol: I bet you can’t go through the entire patrol walking on your hands

Dick: probably not… I can try though

Bruce, sighing: Tim, why would you do that? You know Dick can’t back down from a challenge

Tim, shrugging: things were getting boring around here. I had to spice things up somehow

—

Throughout patrol

Riddler: Riddle me this- wtf are you doing?

Nightwing: 🤸‍♀️

[the-purple-possum]

When I say I really want a Jason adopts tim fic, I don't mean I want him to become a parent at 19 to a teen like 2-4 years younger than him, I want Jason to meet Tim and decide that he wants Tim on his side.

I want Jason to adopt Tim as his Robin, like he decides that he wants to recruit this 15 year old that is some how the smartest and snarkiest person in Gotham. I don't want infantilised tim, I want a sorta Nani and Lilo sibling dynamic, but with a smaller age gap.

Like sure, Jason sees his little brother as some sort of soggy kitten that he must protect, but also a Tim that is very capable of looking after himself.

I want Tim to look at Jason, see Bruce back when he first donned the Cape and traffic light colours. And then in true Tim fashion decide to fix him, B was being too over protective since Red Hood showed up anyways.

Like imagine, Jason meeting Tim instead by accident when he drops in on a drug trade. Tim says some quip that throws him off his game while fighting. Jason basically losing to a very deadly fifteen year old who's not slept in 29 hours, and he thinks 'f it, I like the kid'. Then trying to recruit him consistently until Tim goes 'why tf not'.

I want enemies to caretaker, but they both think they're the caretaker