#What Will Help Me Grow Taller Easy And Cheap Ideas

[full-of-roman-angst-trash]

What is Home?

Summary: Roman and Remus run away from home after their parents threaten to put them in a boarding school. The two of them often got in trouble with the law for crimes like vandalism, stealing, and fighting, however now they have to adjust to living a crime-free life to avoid getting caught. They drive to another state and try to find an apartment to live in and jobs there. They eventually manage to find a relatively cheap apartment—their next-door neighbor then offers them a job at a store that his family owns. Once at the store they make a couple of friends, all while trying to get rid of their bad habits.

Masterpost Chapter 2

Chapter Warnings: Implied Neglect, Implied Abuse, Food Mentioned (If I missed any please tell me)

Age(s): Roman (16), Remus (16)

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Roman looks out the window. They have no idea where exactly they are at the moment, all they know is that Remus has been driving for about two hours. They try to distract themselves by counting the trees passing by, despite the fact that they’re obviously going by too quickly.

They continued to try to distract themselves, but found the task virtually impossible. No matter how many trees they counted, or clouds they tried to shape, or road signs they've tried to quickly read, they just can’t seem to get their mind off of their home and the plan. They don’t understand why they’re having second thoughts.

They know why they had to leave. They helped make the plan and suggested that they go through with it as quickly as possible. This was the safest thing to do and they didn’t exactly have a lot of time to wait.

“Roman.”

The sudden talking snaps Roman out of their thoughts with a small jump. They take a deep breath and turn to their twin.

Despite being identical twins, Remus and Roman have always been easy to tell apart. For one, Roman is slightly tanner than their older brother. They also have freckles while Remus doesn’t. The older twin also happens to have a darker hair color then the other, though they both have the same curly hair. They do have the same brown eyes, though Roman has slightly bigger eyes. The biggest difference between the two twins is their heights.

As kids, the twins were around the same height; however, this changed when the twins were around 13-years-old. At this time, Remus began to grow taller and taller everyday while Roman’s growth was slower and less drastic. Currently, Remus is 6’3’’, 10 inches taller than their younger sibling.

“Yes?” They respond.

The older twin points to a sign on the road that shows the food places nearby, “Where do you want to eat? We need a break and I’m hungry.”

It was only when Remus mentioned food that Roman realized they’re hungry too. Afterall, they haven’t eaten anything since last night. They haven’t even stopped driving aside from once for some gas.

“I guess Waffle House works,” the other mumbles after thinking for a while. “It’s morning so we might as well have breakfast. Plus, it’s been a while since we’ve had decent pancakes, I forgot what they taste like.”

Remus lets out almost a bitter laugh and nods, “Alright. We’ll get there in like 10 minutes or so.”

The younger sibling just nods and looks out the window again. They want to voice their concerns to their older brother but they know that they’ll get a negative reaction.

It’s completely logical too. The two of them risked everything on this plan. They both knew that the second they got on the road, there’s no turning back as doing so would make their situation a million times worse. So any second thoughts could possibly be the thing that could unravel their entire plan.

“What’s wrong?” Remus asks, immediately knowing that there’s something off with his sibling.

This was something Roman was expecting. The two of them have always been able to read one another like books. While they can easily lie to anyone else, they’re never able to lie to one another. People have always told them it’s because they’re twins and have a special bond, but the two of them know the truth. The truth is they only trust one another, so they’re subconsciously vulnerable around one another. They don’t feel the need to pretend which in turn makes them into open books.

This ability to tell when each other is lying has often discouraged the twins from even attempting to lie to each other. There really was no need to try since they knew they would never get away with it.

Roman sighs shaking their head, “Can we talk about this later? I think I’m too tired to think straight at the moment.”

“Alright. But don’t think I’m going to forget about this or anything.”

Remus knows that his twin usually tries to get out of situations by pushing it aside until everyone forgets about it. This is something they often do with their parents or at school. It usually works too, that’s why they use it so often to avoid certain conversations. It’s even worked on Remus a few times.

The shorter sibling sighs, “I know you won’t.”

For the rest of the ride to the Waffle House was silent. It wasn’t that they didn’t have anything to say, it was more like no one knew how to voice their thoughts. They both had so much they knew they should say, but they just didn’t have the courage to break the silence. Besides, both of them knew that their thoughts would just make the rest of the car ride uncomfortable and tense.

Once they arrive at the restaurant the two of them get out of the car and walk in. It takes about 15 minutes or so before they are seated. The two of them order their food and start eating immediately once they receive it.

In the beginning they eat in silence, both of them too hungry to care for conversation. It was only when Remus was halfway done with his last pancake when he decided he was ready to bring up a topic that he knew needs to be addressed.

“Roman,” he starts, looking up at his shorter sibling, “You’re having second thoughts, right? That’s what’s been bothering you, am I correct?”

The freckled-faced teen sighs, “Yeah, I have had a few second thoughts.”

Roman stops eating and puts their fork down. They let out a sigh and close their eyes for a minute or two. After some thinking they open their eyes again and look up before continuing to talk.

“But, I know we have to do this so don’t think you have to lecture me or anything.”

The taller teen shakes his head, “I’m not going to lecture you, Ro. I just thought I’ll reassure you a bit,” he starts poking at his food, “If I’m being honest, I’m having some second thoughts.”

This shocked the tanner twin, “Really? You’ve had second thoughts too?”

“Yeah, but we can’t stop now,” Remus says in a slightly more determined tone, “I promised I would get you out of that household and set us free. I plan to fulfill that promise. Plus, it’s too late to turn back now. They’ve probably already realized we are gone so if we go back now, we’ll be in a lot of trouble.”

Roman nods and mumbles quietly, “I know.”

There’s another silence as the two of them thought about their home. Their parents have never exactly been the best. It was obvious to pretty much anyone who has met the twins. In fact, their family has always been a topic of conversation in their hometown.

Roman and Remus are infamous where they live due to the fact that they often misbehave. They’ve gotten in trouble with the law before, been taken to alternative school, and have even been put in troubled youth programs. Due to this fact, they know that many people in their town won’t be surprised when the news breaks out that they’ve run away. In fact, the two have already tried running away a handful of times, this is just their most successful attempt so far.

“Where are we going to stay until we find a permanent place to live?” Roman speaks up as they finish their food, “I don’t want to stay in a runaway shelter again.”

The older brother nods, “Don’t worry we won’t be staying in a runaway shelter or anything. Last time was bad enough. I know a few people we can stay with for a couple of days. We have to find jobs and get an apartment as quickly as we can though. I don't want to live with another person too long.”

“Okay, I’m fine with that,” the other says with a shrug, “I don’t really want to live with some stranger either. I want some peace and quiet in a house for once.”

Remus nods, “Okay well we should get going. Use the restroom now since we aren’t taking another break. I’ll go ahead and pay.”

“Alright. I’ll meet you outside then.”

Roman stands up and goes off to use the restroom. Remus in the meantime finishes the last of his food before paying and going outside. He pulls his phone out and stares at it for a while before taking a deep breath.

He dials the number of the one person he felt he could fully trust with their situation. He knew that he had to find a place for him and his sibling to stay sooner rather than later. He also knew that he had to be careful with who he asked for help though. If he asked the wrong person, then there’s the possibility that the police will be contacted and they’ll be forced to go back home.

Remus has thought about this problem the entire car ride. So, by now he’s gone through the process of elimination and is down to one person.

The 16-year-old is relieved when the phone stops ringing and he hears his friend’s voice. He waits no time to quickly explain the situation he and his twin are in. Once he finishes his explanation, he asks for help. He knows that there’s a high chance his pleas will get rejected and he’ll be forced to quickly find an alternative plan, but he has to take the risk. And the risk ends up paying off when his friend agrees to help him. He thanks his friend and after a minute or two more of talking, he hangs up the phone.

“Hey, I’m back,” Roman walks over to their brother with a smile.

Remus nods and gets the keys from his pockets, “Alright, let’s get going then. I don’t want to end up driving in the dark again.”

The two of them get back in the car and hit the road again.

[jerisch]

The wrong catch

Another fantastic story by @writer-ofstuff​, featuring Derek from Teen Wolf.

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Derek groaned as he came to. Rubbing his head as it ached. He remembers getting out of his car and then blacking out. He goes on the alert a few seconds later when he realizes that someone has taken him. Derek can see it in some sort of basement given the layout of the room and that makes him assume it must be the Argents. Given how they've been trying to hunt him down for weeks now. The man who steps out from the shadows however Derek doesn't recognize as one of the Argents. Unless this bastard is a hired lackey they paid to capture Derek.

 "Good, you're awake." The man says. He is dressed in a simple t-shirt with a jacket and jeans. He looks like he is around his mid thirties, his brown hair was trimmed short in a typical military fashion. Derek didn't say a word, realizing he's been handcuffed which he could easily break free of. He needs to wait though to see just who this guy is and why he has taken Derek.

 "I'm surprised it was easy to capture such a dangerous criminal such as yourself. You've evaded the police fkr a good while only to just show yourself out in public like you did."

 "I wish I was on duty when I spotted you, that being the reason why I had to take you like I did." The guy says.

 "So, you're a cop then?" Derek asks. 'Good, he isn't a hunter then.' Derek thought. It also explains the man's clean cut boring look that most law enforcement seem to wear.

 "Officer Daniels. The man who brought in the top suspect of a mass murder spree Derek Hale." Daniels sounds smug as he speaks.

 Derek can't help but let out a small laugh as he looks at Daniels with a smirk.

 "It seems you're out of the loop officers. I was cleared of those charges when they found the real murder." Derek says and enjoys the look on Daniels face when he tells him. 

 "You're lying." Daniels says. He turns his back to Derek and sees him on his phone. No doubt checking to make sure Derek was telling the truth.

 "Fuck!" He hears the older man say, and Derek laughs.

 "Seems you put yourself in an interesting position, officer. You thought you captured a criminal when you just kidnapped an innocent man. I'm guessing you wanted credit for bringing a dangerous criminal in for what, brownie points for a promotion? Surely when I get out of here and report you for what you did you'll be lucky to keep your job." Derek says. Taking pride in how the older man glares angrily at him.

 For a few moments Daniels just stands there visibly seething in anger. Nomdoubt he is thinking how he didn't boost his career but ruined it for what he did in taking Derek. 

 "You may be innocent, but I can still use you to get ahead in my career. I just need to make you into a criminal is all." Daniels says with a sinister grin.

 "How so?" Derek asked. Baffled by what Daniels said.

 "I told myself I would never use my family's gift. I wanted to separate myself from that world," he says with disdain. "But with desperate measures like this I can make an exception." Daniels says.

 Derek is confused by what the older man means. That is till he can sense the strong feeling of magic fill the room. Daniels eyes glow an inhuman orange and a bright aura emits from his hands. 

 "Your." Derek doesn't get to finish what he is saying before Daniels' magic envelops around him. Derek breaks the handcuffs and tries to make a run for it, but the magic is already flowing through him and makes him stagger on his feet. 

 "What are you?" Derek growls, his eyes flicker from his normal hazel eye color to beta blue before his glowing blue eyes disappear as his werewolf side hismstripped away from him. Derek fills hollow from losing such an important part of himself, all because of this pathetic officer trying to use Derek to get ahead in his career. 

 Rage bubbles within Derek and he turns to face the man who took a large part of who Derek was from him.

 "You bastard, you fucking worthless pig!" Derek snarls. He clenches his head as it throbs and pounds sending small tremors of pain through him.

 Moments tick by and Derek's body burns from his muscles expanding in size. Hard earned muscles bulging in a matter of moments. It being as if Derek spends so much time hitting the gym to work and maintain such an impressive physique. 

 "You think your tough shift huh? Cause you blindsided me the way you did and brought me here?" Derek goes on to say. His legs ached with newly formed muscle filling his legs out on top of his legs getting longer to make the former werewolf a few inches taller. 

 Derek's mind was in a haze from a mix of different thoughts and emotions filling his head that he didn't know what to do in the moment but kept talking as if he did.

 "You're just a pathetic pig, a dull lackey and nothing more. You can't bring me down, many have tried and every one of them failed." Derek's voice grew raspy and deeper in tone. His voice was foreign to his own ears but he didn't show any sort of reaction to it. 

 Derek's hair trimmed shorter, becoming a simple buzzed over style while his stubble shaved away to leave just a dusting shadow of facial hair along his altering jawline. His jaw which took a more defined and chiseled look. His cheeks filled out, hismnose growing a little wider, his eyebrows trim down to not be as thick as they once were. 

 Standing there now no one would ever have thought this scowling man was once Derek Hale. The man the former werewolf had became sneers at Daniels with a menacing look as handcuffs reappear around his wrists while his mind is flooded with a new persona.

His clothes rapidly changed on his new body. The old tattered rags that ripped and tore at the seams during his growth became something new to fit his new self.

Damon Harris stared at the officer with a cold calculated gaze. How foolish, he thought. It was humorous that that pathetic excuse for a man thought he could bring in a criminal mastermind like Damon in. Damon was not only good looking with an impressive body, but he was also a genius with a seductive charm which he shamelessly used to get out of being arrested.

By sleeping with the officers who tried to arrest him Damon often used it as blackmail to get the men to drop the charges and thus making him walk out a free man each time.

This buffoon would be no different, just another bitch for Damon to seduce and fuck till the weak man's dick his dry of any cum. Damon puts on his signature charming look. Before he could even utter a single word to the officer however Damon feels suddenly drowsy. He stumbles on his feet, sputtering over his words before he falls to his knees and then falls to the ground fast asleep thanks to the sleep spell Daniels just casted on him.

"I no doubt made you into a more dangerous criminal than what you were excused for, so best to not take any chances with you till I get you to the station." Daniels says to Damon's sleeping form.

It was a paint in the ass to get the hulking man into his car, but he thinks how this, everything he did tonight will make it all worth it when he gets the promotion for bringing in one of their most sought after and elusive criminals.

"I'd say sorry for doing this, but that would be a lie." Daniels says smugly while he lifts Damon's sleeping body up and struggles to carry him up the stairs and out to his car. Once he has Damon in the back seat of his cruiser, Daniels takes a moment to collect himself. He is due to start his shift soon, he still needs to get dressed in his uniform so he quickly heads inside to do that.

He isn't aware of his magic being absorbed by Damon. The void that was left from when Damon was Derek and a werewolf takes in the lingering magic from Daniels' spells clung to the criminal. Giving him his own type of hidden power that would grow within him.

Damon wakes up when Daniels returns. The criminal thrashes in his handcuffs and demands to be set free, but Daniels ignores him and drives them to the station. He is already picturing the praise he will receive when he walks in with a handcuffed Damon.

———————————————————————————————————

"You may bring me in but I won't get charged. You can believe I will track you down once I'm out and make you sorry you every crossed paths with me." Damon tells Daniels in a low threatening voice as he gets escorted into the police station.

"With what we have you charged with I doubt you get out from behind bars anytime soon." Daniels laughed.

Damon clenches his jaw and sneers at the whispering officers who look at him. He won't stand for this. He refuses to be taken down so easily by a chump you used cheap tricks to capture him. Damon was a criminal mastermind, a genius Adonis. He refuses to be carted off like some common criminal like this.

"Now sit here while I get started on your processing paperwork." Daniels says smugly after he secures Damon in a holding cell.

"This isn't over! You haven't seen the last of me!" Damon calls out to Daniels retreating back. He curses and paces in his cell, thinking of how he can get out of this one. His interrupted by the door opening, he turns around and sees Sheriff Stilinski walk in. Damon rolls his eyes, the older man has been a thorn in his side for a while now and Damon is sure the Sheriff has come here to gloat about him finally being caught.

He notices how tired the older man looks, a mischievous idea forms in Damon's head while he watches Stilinski approach his cell.

"I'd like to see how you weasel your way out of this one Damon." Stilinski says.

"I'm sure you would, old man." Damon says. Loving the way Stilinski bristles at that.

"You look tired Sheriff, working long shifts again? Surely the pristine Sheriff of our beloved town knows when not to push himself too much in his work. After all, you're older now so you should be taking it easy." Damon chuckles.

"Watch Damon, I'm not that old." Stilinski says.

"Oh of course Sir." Damon says in a low raspy voice. He starts working his charm on the older man, flashing him a smile and leans close to the bars as he speaks to Stilinski.

"You do so much work for this town and do you get any recognition, any reward?" He asked.

"It's my job, I don't need a reward for doing what is right." Stilinski says.

"Yes, but surely with all you do you should get a reward." Damon says. "If a small one." He winks.

"Are you flirting with me?" Stilinski asked, taken aback.

"Depends Sheriff." Damon purrs. "If you can handle a young stud like me." He goes on to say and then rubs his impressive sized bulge. Stilinski's eyes follow Damon's movements and the criminal knows he has the Sheriff eating out of the palm of his hands now.

Men like Sheriff Stilinski who are overworked and tired are so much easier to seduce Damon's learned.

"I don't know what you're trying to accomplish here Damon but I won't be like those other officers you seduced and made lose their jobs." Sheriff Stilinski says.

"This is different this time Sheriff. No one is around to see us. With you being in charge you can easily erase the security footage that shows us having a little fun." Damon persuades.

"If it makes you feel better you won't even have to let me out of the cell." Damon added. The criminal then frees his fat cock from his pants. Gripping his palm around the base of his shaft. Damon's eyes lock onto the older officer's and he can see the turmoil Sheriff Stilinski is in from the look on his face as he mulls over what to do.

"Don't keep me waiting Noah. Who knows if you'll ever get another chance to have a taste of this." Damon teases. He grins widely when Sheriff Stilinski hesitates and then gets on his knees. Damon gets closer to the bars and sticks his cock through the opening towards the Sheriff.

"Go on Noah, don't keep me waiting." Damon insists. With another moment of hesitation Noah leans forward and tentatively takes Damon's cock into his mouth.

"See? Not so hard was it?" Damon asked. He gently thrusts his hips forward into Noah's mouth, pushing his dick further into the older man's mouth. His hands stick out through the bars and cradles Noah's head in his hands. Rubbing the older man's head soothingly while Noah continues to suck him off.

Damon would tease the older officer for being such a good cock slut, only he feels a strange sensation coming over him. He remains silent, a frown on his face while his body starts to get itchy. Damon doesn't know the residual magic from Daniels' spells is flowing through him and into Noah now. The magic making the two men become intertwined with each other filling their heads with a false reality of the two of them together.

Fueling Noah's loneliness while also granting Damon's desire to be free from his incoming imprisonment. Thus triggering Damon to undergo a second transformation. This one happens more rapidly than the first, making Damon fall into a dazed trance state so he doesn't even get to react to his metamorphosis into a new man.

Damon's hair starts to cascade down from his head as the Criminal begins to lose his hair. His hairline thinning out while more of his dark colored hair recedes into his scalp till he is left bald.

Damon's hard earned physique loses some definition and tone so he isn't as muscular anymore but still remains in good shape. Dark bristles of body hair sprout and grow along his torso, stopping just along his abdomen. Damon groans, his eyes glazed over, he thrusts his hips forward. His body moving on it sown to fuck Noah's mouth to plunge his cock deeper into the Sheriff's mouth. Damon can feel how full his balls are, desperate to release his thick load.

Damon's handsome face matures while it shifts into the face of an older man with rugged looks. Damon's dusting of stubble thickening into a fuller beard. His clothing rapidly alters on him to match the similar beige uniform as Noah Stilinski wears.

Damon no longer recalls his life as a criminal mastermind. Instead his head is full of new memories of being an upstanding officer of the law. Damon's own name is fleeting from his mind. His new persona taking root to complete his transformation.

Officer Darren Stilinski's eyes refocused as he awakened. An orange hue flashes over his eyes before that fades to his normal green color. Darren rubs his hand through his husband's hair as the room shifts around them. Placing them in Noah's office rather than the holding cell.

"After all these years together and you're still the needy cockslut you were when we met at the academy." Darren chuckles.

Noah looks up and is startled for a brief moment when he sees the new man, but his mind quickly catches up and he relaxes. Now he recalls this man as his partner, on the force and at home. Two wedding bands materialize on the two men's fingers while Darren fucks Noah's mouth with a few more thrusts before finally unloading his thick load of come into his lover's mouth. He pulls out a little bit after that, letting Noah lick any left over come from his thick dick head before Darren fixes his pants.

"That was fun." Noah says as he gets to his feet.

"Is it a surprise when you have such a stud for a husband?" Darren teases.

"You're so full of yourself." Noah chuckles.

"I know, it's why you love me so much." Darren grins and kisses Noah. His hands coming around to knead Noah's ass. The two officers stand there in Noah's office kissing when the door opens and Daniels walks in looking frazzled.

"Sir we have an issue. I brought in a dangerous criminal and now he." Daniels trails off when he notices the other officer with the Sheriff. He freezes for a moment as realization hits him and he sputters over his words.

"Yes?" Noah asked.

"You were saying something son?" Darren adds.

"N-nothing, sorry to trouble you both." Daniels settles on saying before he quickly leaves.

"That was odd." Noah says and turns to Darren.

"We can worry about him later. Right now I believe we are still on break so why don't we use it to have a little more fun." Darren suggests, pulling Noah closer to him for another kiss. Before they can continue Noah's phone buzzes, and with a heavy sigh the Sheriff answers it.

"Stiles is here to see you. Do I let him back?" The receptionist says.

"Yeah, send him back." Noah answers and hangs up.

"Our son is here." Noah says.

"Of course he is. I love him, but he has the worst timing." Darren chuckles.

"Yeah, but at least we can continue this when we get home." Noah says.

"Oh I intend to, and do a lot more to you." Darren promises. He has a flash of forigen thoughts in his head for a brief moment. He recalls what feels like two separate sets of memories in his head, but before he could focus on what they mean he quickly forgets them. He then just feels affection for his husband and their son just as Stiles opens the door.

Stiles pauses when he sees his dad and another officer around his dad's age holding hands and looking like they're close to kissing. The scene throws Stiles off and the young man is baffled over what the hell he just walked in on before reality catches up to him.

He recalls the new officer as his dad. Remembering growing up with two fathers and how much he loves his dads.

"Jeez, can't you two wait to get home to do this?" Stiles teases.

"So you can interrupt us there too?" Darren jokes, walking up and pulling his son in for a hug. Neither of them recalling who Darren was once before his transformations.

[vslattae]

TRUST

Part one part two

↝ ᴊᴇᴏɴ ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ʙɪɢɢᴇsᴛ ᴄᴀᴍᴘᴜs ғʟɪʀᴛ ᴀʟᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ ʜɪᴍ ғᴏʀɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴀʟʟ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍɪᴅᴅʟᴇ sᴄʜᴏᴏʟ, ʜᴇs ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅᴇᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ғʀᴏᴍ ʜɪs ғʀɪᴇɴᴅs ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ. ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇ ʀᴇᴋɪɴᴅʟᴇᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ?

this is a little unedited so if you see any mistakes...you didn’t :)

campusflirt!jungkook x semipopular!reader

warnings: language, jin (is kind of a dick) mentions of alcohol, weed, there’s a smudge of angst. jk is kind of a dumbass, tae and yoongi being soft for yn,

———————————————————————

let’s get straight to the point, college is fun but despite all the movies it was all lies. Some people have it worse and thank god you didn’t have it so bad.

you sat in taehyung and yoongis apartment it was a quiet night. “let’s go to namjoons party tomorrow night” taehyung glanced at you smiling. “sure we can go” you smile back grabbing your stuff to make it back down the hall to your apartment.

Once you wave goodbye you slowly make your way out and into your apartment. sighing you placed your bag down and noticed something under your bed stuffed in a box.

cautiously sitting down and opening the box, the memories flood in. jeon jungkook what the hell happened to us? Jungkook or his nickname you gave him “kookie” was your best friend growing up, until freshman year of high school when he met those dicks that just happened to be friends with your yoongi and tae.

Once jungkook found out about them the hours you spent sitting in your makeshift fort dissipated from minutes to hours to day then weeks..all the up until a few years. the only good thing is that you two happen to be at the same college, but obviously you don’t even know if he remembers you.

going through the small notes and pictures one stands out, it was the night jungkook took you to your eighth grade dance where you both shared for your first kiss.

giggling at the memory you never noticed the small tear that tumbles off your right cheek. you slide the box back underneath your bed to be forgotten and continue getting ready for bed.

beep beep beep

your alarm clock flashes 5:35 exactly one hour before sunrise, changing into shorts and a hoodie and running shoes you burst out the door into the nice breeze chasing the path that led to a small clift where you spend your early mornings.

The path passes by a small dance studio with huge open windows, you never pay attention to it because the windows are always dark but once you stop you noticed a guy with way blonde hair with hand tattoos. he sways to the music but a female pops out to hug the boy and you continue to run.

bzzz bzzz

it’s yoongi.

“hello?” you pick up

“yn taehyung isn’t here” his voice sounds worrying.

“what do you mean?” you stop glancing out to the scenery.

“yn he never came back he told me he went out for a walk and hasn’t been back. i’ve tried calling and nothing straight to voice mail.” your heart sinks wondering if something really bad happened to tae.

“i’m coming okay? well go check out places maybe he just crashed at a friends place.” your insides churning as you run to yoongis place.

now walking with yoongi around to a different apartment lot about 10 minutes away from yours, it belongs to seokjin or just jin. the name sounds familiar but you keep it to yourself.

arriving at the gray apartment building, yoongi marching straight up to room 202 and knocking on the door.

a very tall slim guy opening the door, his hair peeled with light brown hair and purple ends...this must be jin.

“is tae here” yoongi glares at jin the taller male. “please come in and she can come in too taes on the couch” he invites you both in. you get the stench of weed and a very high taehyung on the couch.

“tae jesus christ” you hit him on his arm he winces a little and whines, there’s a weird noise coming from down the hall you ignore it of course and try to pull taehyung up with the help of yoongi but you both fail and he pulls you down and wraps his arms around you.

“tae” you whine “yoongi get him off” yoongi pulls you out of taehyungs arms. The noise from the hall stop as you hear a whine and a guy making his way into the living room where it’s crowded with voices.

it’s the guy from the dance studio. the very toned blonde haired boy with the tattoos on his hand. he made his way towards you and froze.

it was jungkook. in the flesh...

“jungkook yoongi and his friend came to get tae” jin look at jungkook and he still stood frozen. eyes widened at your figure along with the beads of sweat stuck on his forehead.

“oh jin shit...this is yn the girl that lives down the hall from us” yoongi pointed to you while you shy waved.

“yn..?” jungkook looked at you and he wanted to do was scoop you in his arms and apologize for ghosting you and ignoring you...it pained him to watch you both slowly drift apart away from each other.

“can we talk..?” he looked at you while your thoughts ran wild. you thought he was dead for crying out loud..and he thought you moved away and never wanted to see me again.

nodding you got up and walked outside of the apartment. you noticed the space in between you two. you had no idea what you were gonna say at all thank god he opened his mouth otherwise you would have darted back up to grab tae and leave.

“so..how’ve you been?” he scratched the back of neck while glancing at you.

“i’ve been okay...you’ve changed” you try your hardest to hold back the tears that swelled in your chest begging to not cry in front of him. god that’s pathetic.

he quickly caught on and held you. “i am so sorry yn..i forgot about you..and i fucked up oh my...we lost so much time and i don’t even know what to do..” he rambled on.

“i thought you were dead kook...you stopped hanging out with me to be with those pot smoking fuck boys..what happened.” that’s when the first tear fell and the bitterness bubbled in the pit of your stomach.

he watches you stunned...he doesn’t what happened to him. it was just one of those you meet things. they were more interesting than you at the time so time slipped away and so did the jungkook you knew.

“yn...i’m sorry...what else do you want me to say?” he looked you searching for face. “it’s okay kook...your girl is inside and i have to go.” you look at very high tae who pushes himself onto your shoulders as he giggles.

he watched the three of you walking away, as he returns back into his apartment to finish the girl he was with.

the night came for you and your little duo to head over to namjoons. watching the mirror with your ripped jeans tiny crop and yoongis windbreaker. you tip on your favorite shoes and walk out with yoongi and tae. The walk is easy, the light breeze along with the dim lights that spread along the road.

Once you reach the medium size house, it’s crowded with college guys and girls and it reeks of cheap alcohol and shady smelling weed. the minute you step into the house your swarmed by yoongi and taehyungs friends. yoongi manage to wrap his arm around you while he pushed his way to rm and jimin.

“hi guys” jimin looks at the three of you.

“you didn’t tell me this many people were here” you whined glancing around watching taehyung come back to give you a red cup filled with whatever he was drinking. “yeah me either but uh i think jins coming with his guys” he tipped himself back on the couch.

sipping your drink you immediately choke on it, in your line of sight lays jungkook. He’s paired in black ripped jeans, a designer hoodie and a pair of black combat boots. His hair is a little messy along with the row of piercings that lay on his ears. his left hand holds a red cup as he’s surrounded by a few girls until he notices you.

“jesus i think i’m going to be sick...can someone come outside with me?” you stand up immediately holding your hand out to whoever grabs it first..that is until your eyes land in your palm with jungkooks tattooed hand as he pushes his way outside.

“thanks” you mumble sitting on the warm concrete not sparing a glance to the boy in front of you. your head is pounding with the amount of alcohol in your system along with the super loud ass music that blasted the house.

“yn..” jungkook calls out. you look up only to find the boy hovering over you and for the first time since yesterday you got a glimpse of jk. “i know the reason i stopped hanging out with you” he softly spoke. tilting your head you waited for him to continue. “i wasn’t good for you yn and you know that. i couldn’t introduce to the guys i hung out with. they’d tear you apart.” he finally admitted.

“what- jungkook...you just left that’s the thing. you couldn’t have just told me that you’d go missing?” you scoffed already much annoyed and read to go you stood up to tell the boys you were going home.

walking back into the house to greet your friends goodbye but they were nowhere to be found out all.

making your way back to your apartment unlocking the door and stepping inside, you shower the party off and get dressed no bothering to put a bra on.

knock knock knock

slowly inching your way to the door and opening it, you were thinking it was a drunk tae or yoongi but you were definitely wrong. and definitely sober.

jungkook was out there..you looked up at him and then it just clicked. “come in..” you noticed his eyes drifting towards the small shorts you put on.

once you were both seated on the couch time began to move slower and all it took was the drift of jungkooks hand to your thigh and you were now under his spell.

———————————————————————

[pickalilywrites]

Can you please write a gabi x falco fic where gabi is slightly taller than falco (2-3 inches)? And she just finds various ways to tease him for this making him embarrassed. Maybe also have her carry him bridal style in the fic somewhere. I think it would be really cute, funny and wholesome! Thanks for considering my request! And aot shall be missed the end of an era.

Have a great day and God bless! All the best and take care! Happy writing! :))

thank you for asking for this ^^ it was fun to write. it took me a little while but i hope you enjoy it~

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Taller Than You

Falbi. Canonverse.

8098 words.

Read on Ao3!

Falco can accept being beaten. He’s never been the strongest person or the fastest or the smartest. In all honesty, he’s quite average and while it’s frustrating to never place first or even within the top three of his class, he’s come to accept that some things are beyond his control. Yes, he can work hard and hope to someday surpass his peers and graduate at the top of his class, but he has to work twice as hard because he lacks the natural talent that others were lucky enough to be born with. It’s frustrating sometimes, but that’s just the way it is and Falco is fine with it for the most part.

It’s admittedly a little less easy for Falco to accept his inadequacy as a warrior candidate when Gabi flaunts all of her accomplishments in front of him. She’s accumulated so many badges over the years, little medals made out of cheap metal that were already rusting when they were given to her that she still proudly pins to the front of her shirts, that Falco has lost count of just how many she has.

Really, Falco knows it’s his own fault that his list of accomplishments pales in comparison to Gabi. He’s not as strong and hardworking as she is. If he’s average compared to his other classmates, then he’s completely inferior next to Gabi. He never says anything when Gabi brags about how she’s beaten the record for shooting practice, the previous record which had also belonged to her as well, or when she manages to receive a compliment from one of the most hard-to-impress instructors during a military drill course. He just bites his lip and suffers through Gabi shoving all of her accomplishments in his face. It’s what he deserves for being such a pathetic warrior-in-training.

Gabi really deserves to let her accomplishments be known anyway, Falco knows, and he does like to listen to her list every single one of her achievements. He likes the way her eyes light up when she talks about whatever record she broke, how her chest puffs up, and how she bristles with pride. It’s only right that Gabi be so proud of herself. She’s a Warrior through and through, a person destined to wield a Titan, and undeniably the worthiest candidate in their class.

It should, then, only be inevitable that Gabi surpasses Falco in the only thing that he thought he could beat her at: height. There had been warning signs. For years, Falco and Gabi had been around the same height with Falco always a centimeter or two taller than Gabi, but lately it seems like Gabi has caught up.

The last few months, Gabi was always the exact same height as Falco. Falco would always hold his breath during his physical exam. Whenever his height was taken, he’d stand to his full height, raising his head unconsciously as if that would somehow give him an extra centimeter or two only to have the nurse taking his height to smack him on the head and tell him to stand properly. It shouldn’t have been a surprise when Gabi had finally surpassed his height by a centimeter. After all, she had already managed to beat him at everything else, but Falco couldn’t stand for it.

“You can’t be taller than me,” Falco says, hating how high-pitched and whiny his voice sounds. He bites his lip and turns to the nurse that had just finished measuring Gabi and his eyes flit back to his friend. “It’s impossible.”

“Denial is the first step to acceptance,” Gabi says as she cheerfully pats Falco on the shoulder. She’s elated, not even trying to hide the smug grin on her face. “Although, you should just accept it. I’ve beaten you at nearly everything else, so shouldn’t this be easy to accept?”

It should be, but it’s not. Over the past months, Falco had dreaded the idea of Gabi growing taller than him. He refused to believe it could ever happen. He could never beat her at anything except her height, and he clung to that worthless achievement fiercely even as it became apparent that Gabi was hitting her growth spurt much faster than him. Falco finds the reality of Gabi being taller than him is actually much worse than just imagining it. It’s humiliating to be beaten at something he thought he had, but he realizes too late that Gabi’s height is beyond his control and he can only stand there in disbelief as she stands there, chin lifted proudly as she subtly flaunts her extra centimeter in front of him.

“Measure me again, please,” Falco practically begs as he tugs on the nurse’s sleeve.

The nurse eyes him tiredly and shakes his head. “Can’t you see I have to do the rest of your classmates?” he asks, gesturing to the line of kids who are still waiting to be measured. “It’s a centimeter difference. You’ll outgrow her in no time.”

That’s not soon enough, Falco wants to say, but he doesn’t want to sound like a brat so he bites his lip from saying any more. When he turns around, Gabi is giggling behind him with her smug expression still pasted on her face. If she smiles any wider, her face might crack.

He tries to keep his head held high even though all he wants to do right now is throw a fit over something as pathetic as a centimeter height difference.

“You heard him,” Falco says. His voice is still that strange high pitch that makes him cringe inwardly. He should probably shut up now before he makes himself look more like a fool, but he can’t help it. If he doesn’t say something now, it’ll be like admitting defeat. “I’ll grow taller than you soon. Just wait.”

The smirk on her face is infuriating. “Sure,” Gabi says, but it’s clear from the tone of her voice that she doesn’t believe him. “We’ll see.”

But much to Falco’s horror, he doesn’t grow taller than Gabi. His height seems to stagnate despite the fact that he’s eating more than usual. He doesn’t get any heavier either, which just makes it twice as frustrating. It’s as if the food he eats just disappears once it enters his mouth. What’s the point of eating, Falco wonders, if it doesn’t help him grow at all?

Gabi doesn’t seem to have that problem at all. She continues to grow. It’s effortless like everything else she does. First, it’s that one centimeter height difference. Then it’s a few millimeters more, the added height so small that it would be negligible if it were anyone else aside from Gabi. Suddenly, it’s a whole centimeter and a half, then two centimeters, and finally two and a half.

“How are you growing so much!” Falco asks, looking at Gabi in disbelief. He can’t understand how she continues to grow while his own height remains stunted. His parents had assured him that his growth spurt would come soon, but he’s almost certain they’re lying to him because the difference between him and Gabi keeps growing. “This is impossible.”

To the nurse who’s busy taking measurements, Falco says, “Measure me again.”

The nurse doesn’t even look at Falco when he responds. “I’m busy,” he replies. He’s given Falco that response consistently for the past six months. It makes Falco want to tear his hair out. “I don’t see why you’re worried about it all the time anyway. You’ll grow soon enough.”

Falco is about to open his mouth and argue with the nurse when Zofia and Udo drag him away.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, Falco,” Zofia chides as she rubs Falco’s shoulder reassuringly. She sits him down at his desk where she begins to pat his head like one would do if they were comforting an upset child. “Girls usually get their growth spurt before guys anyway, so it’s only normal that Gabi’s taller than you right now. I’m getting pretty tall too. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m even taller than Udo.”

“Please don’t rub it in my face,” Udo says with a pained expression. He pulls out a chair and sits across from Falco, giving his friend a sympathetic smile. “She’s right, though, and so is the nurse. You start growing a lot soon. Me, too.”

“I want to grow taller now, “ Falco grumbles. He buries his head in his arms and sighs. Voice muffled, he asks, “What do I have to do to grow a couple centimeters taller?”

“Well, you could do some stretches,” Zofia suggests. She jumps back in surprise when Falco sits up and leans toward her.

“What stretches?” he asks. He scoots up to the edge of his seat, attentive.

“Oh, they’re just … they’re supposed to make you taller. I’ve only been doing them for a few months, but I’ve grown quite a bit in that time,” Zofia explains awkwardly. She looks around as if unsure if it would be appropriate to demonstrate in the classroom. Nobody is paying attention to them though. The rest of their classmates are either busy talking to each other or getting their height and weight measured and their instructor has left the nurse in charge of the class.

Udo purses his lips. “Why haven’t you taught me about these stretches?” he asks with a frown.

“You never asked,” Zofia replies, and Udo scowls at her.

“Well, what are they?” Falco asks a little impatiently. He stands up, ready to follow along with and memorize whatever instruction Zofia gives him.

“One of them goes like this,” Zofia begins and starts to demonstrate.

They’re easy stretches. Many of them are exactly like the ones that they do before they warm up for their physical training: stretching their arms above their head, twisting their torso back and forth, touching their toes, etc. Some are a little more unfamiliar to Falco: stretching your calves as you push against a wall, stretching your forearms and wrists, and hanging against a doorframe or a wall to stretch your shoulder and back muscles.

The key, Zofia explains while the boys do it half-heartedly, is to stretch enough to feel it in their muscles. If they don’t, then they’re doing it wrong. They also need to make sure to hold the stretches for an appropriate amount of time. It’s fine if they do it a little bit longer, Zofia tells them, but they absolutely need to make sure they hold each position for the minimum amount of time.

“And then you’ll grow taller in no time!” Zofia assures them cheerfully.

It’s working. At least Falco thinks it is, although he probably shouldn’t be so optimistic. It’s only been a few seconds after all, but he’s pretty sure he can feel his limbs lengthening as he stretches out his muscles. He’s stretching his arms when a question pops into his head that he hadn’t thought to ask before.

“Where did you learn about this anyway?” he asks Zofia.

It’s suspicious when Zofia doesn’t answer him right away. She avoids his eyes for a moment, looking up at the ceiling while she decides if she should respond. He gets a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach as Zofia rocks back and forth on the balls of her feet and she nibbles on her bottom lip. It makes him want to take back his question immediately, tell Zofia that he doesn’t care about who taught these stretching exercises to her anymore, but it’s too late. Zofia is already opening her mouth to answer.

“Gabi,” Zofia answers quietly, but her reply seems to fill the whole room.

Behind them, a horrible cackle begins and Falco turns around, horrified, and sees that Gabi has appeared as if the mere mention of her name had been enough to summon her out of thin air.

“Doing stretches?” Gabi asks with the smuggest smile on her lips. It makes Falco want to scream. She does a few stretches too, stretching her arms above her head, but she does it lazily. It’s almost like she’s mocking Falco. “That’s a good idea, Falco. Maybe you’ll be able to catch up to me someday.”

“I wasn’t doing anything,” Falco snaps, but Gabi just laughs and he can feel blush bloom across his cheeks. He scowls at her and says, “Those stretches probably don’t work. I don’t need them to grow taller than you anyhow.”

He means it, he really does. He isn’t planning on doing any of the stretches. Even if he does grow taller than Gabi, he knows she’ll comment on how well her stretches worked with that same smug smile on her face. Still, he finds himself absentmindedly doing them when he gets home, figuring that it can’t hurt to try.

»»————-　★　————-««

Gabi always finds new ways to annoy Falco with her height. It seems she’s not satisfied with bringing it up during every physical evaluation. She has to rub her few extra centimeters of height in his face every chance she gets even if it’s in the most mundane of situations.

Sometimes the way she flaunts her height is horribly blatant. It’s in the snide comments she throws casually at him, asking him what the weather is like down there or apologizing for not hearing what he just said because it’s so hard to hear him from her height. It’s not even as if he’s that much shorter than her. There are plenty of other people in their class that are a lot shorter than Gabi, but she only ever directs her height-related comments towards him.

“Are you done?” Falco asks as Gabi pretends to check their heights again.

She’s standing right next to him, her chin lifted slightly as she compares heights with him. Her hand goes from the top of her head and shifts over just a few centimeters over Falco. He swears she’s exaggerating their height difference because her hand is angled when she moves her hand above his head, giving her a few imaginary centimeters over him.

“Just checking,” Gabi says cheerfully to him. She gives him a grin and leans toward him. He knows whatever it is she has to say next will make him want to stick his head out the door and scream at the top of his lungs. “Falco, do you want to know if you’ve grown any taller?”

“No,” Falco says almost immediately.

Gabi ignores him. “Well, you haven’t,” she says happily. She walks in circles around him, practically skipping. In a sing-song voice, she continues, “I’m still taller than you, much taller than you. You’ll never catch up now.”

Falco grits his teeth and balls his hands into fists.

Gabi is still talking. “It’s okay, though. I’m tall enough for the both of us.” She’s wandering towards the cabinets now. Falco is all too familiar with what’s about to happen next. He knows all of Gabi’s methods to incite his short-man syndrome. She throws open the cabinet doors and looks back at Falco with a dazzling grin. “I can help you with so many things. Do you want anything from the cabinet? I can reach it for you.”

“No,” Falco says, but he knows Gabi isn’t listening to him.

She’s humming as she scans the contents of the cabinet. It’s full of different school supplies, most of them already used before because they’re second-hand from the Marleyan schools. Her mouth shapes itself into a perfect O-shape as she sees something that catches her eye. Falco is about to roll his eyes until he sees what Gabi is reaching for.

Normally, Gabi reaches for things that are just within reach. Sometimes she even gets things from shelves that Falco can easily reach himself. Not this time. This time, she’s reaching for the shelf near the top where the worn-out textbooks are. It’s not something she can reach without standing on her tiptoes and really stretching really far.

With just a glance at this situation — Gabi and her bull-headed stubbornness, the cabinet with its rickety shelves, and the textbooks that are so worn-out that they could disintegrate with a touch — Falco knows that it’s a recipe for disaster. If there were even a chance of stopping Gabi, Falco would step in and try to convince her to stop, but he knows any effort to do so would be futile. He should walk away and let her reap the consequences herself, but he doesn’t. Against his better judgement, he remains and begins to hover behind Gabi.

“Gabi, you really don’t have to,” he says worriedly. His hands flutter pathetically behind Gabi, reaching out to catch her in case she falls.

“Don’t worry. At my height, this isn’t anything difficult,” Gabi says with a toss of her head even though she’s having difficulty. The shelf is so tall that she can’t really see what she’s doing. She has to grasp blindly for a textbook and her smile grows wider when she finally manages to grab hold of one. “Got it!”

As soon as she pulls it from out of its shelf, she stumbles back and loses her balance. Rather than allowing Falco to catch her, Gabi flails about trying to grab onto something, anything, to keep herself from falling. Her hand grasps onto one of the shelves and for a moment Falco thinks everything will be fine. Gabi is suspended there, hanging onto the shelf with one hand while an old, musty textbook is dangling in the other. A beat passes and then two and then a horrible crack is heard.

It happens in slow motion. Gabi’s weight is too much for the shelf and it slips out of the cabinet, coming away with her hand as she falls onto Falco and nearly crushes him. The already unstable cabinet begins to crumble. The top shelf goes first, falling away, and the textbooks that it held drop onto the other shelves which all collapse in turn. The entire cabinet falls apart, its contents spilling on the floor, and Falco winces when he hears Instructor Andreas bellow their names.

“Braun! Grice! What the hell did you two do?” The instructor’s shout can be heard clearly in the tiny schoolhouse and every student immediately freezes at the sound of his voice. It’s never a good thing when an instructor raises their voice, especially Instructor Andreas.

“J-just … getting some textbooks, s-sir,” Falco stammers. Gabi is still on top of him, her weight crushing his lungs, and he shoves her off, jabbing her in the ribs to signal her to apologize before they get into even more trouble.

Gabi grunts and sits up in a more respectable position. She brushes off some dust from her school uniform and at least has the sense to look apologetic as she looks at their teacher. “Sorry, sir,” Gabi mumbles and Falco repeats a clumsy apology beside her. “I should have been more careful.”

“You stupid Eldians can’t help destroying every damn thing you touch, can you?” Instructor Andreas snaps. He spits on the floor in disgust. It’s enough to make everyone nearby flinch. He looks up at the two troublemakers with a scathing glare and jerks his head towards the open door. “Go out there and finish a full circuit. Don’t come back until you do.”

Falco’s shoulders begin to slump. A full circuit is nearly an hour of drills that is sure to leave him sore when he wakes up tomorrow morning. He wants to complain, but he knows one word will just result in a heavier punishment. He should just do it and get it over with now.

He’s about to get up and offer Gabi a hand, but he sees she’s already standing and offering him a hand up. Falco hesitates, but he takes it and lets Gabi pull him up. He knows she’s going to say something about it once they leave the schoolhouse and get out of earshot of Instructor Andreas, but right now he just wants to get out of here as soon as possible even if it means he’ll have to put up with more of Gabi’s short jokes later.

As soon as they step out of the wooden cabin and onto the schoolyard it begins.

“No need to thank me for helping you up,” Gabi whispers to him. She’s so close to him that he can feel her breath hot against his ear. “It’s probably difficult for you to stand up on your own with those short legs of yours.”

Falco scowls at her and gets started on the full circuit before Instructor Andreas can stick his head out of the schoolhouse and yell at them for fooling around.

It’s an hour of grueling physical exertion. The first time he had ever done the circuit, he was ten years old and a new recruit for the Warrior-trainee program. He thought he would die five minutes in. The first part was running around the field, which would normally be bearable except for the fact that the schoolyard is filled with little bumps and holes everywhere. Although he’s learned the best footing when running around the field, his calves still burn as soon as he makes it a half a kilometer. He’s hardly improved from the first time he had run through the circuit.

Gabi catches up to him quite easily even though he’s had a head start. Unlike Falco, she doesn’t break a sweat. She’s practically smiling as she passes by him. It doesn’t surprise Falco. What most people find difficult, Gabi can do easily as if it were as simple as taking a breath.

By the time Falco’s finished running around the field twice, Gabi is already starting on the drills that accompany the circuit: push-ups, curl-ups, pull-ups, any exercise that will ensure that they won’t be able to move a single muscle tomorrow morning. She’s a little red in the face now, her hair falling out of its usual bun and sticking to the sweat on her forehead, but she’s not as out-of-breath as Falco. Somehow, she’s still smiling.

“I hope you know,” Falco huffs as he nearly collapses doing his first push-up., “that this is all your fault.”

“Nonsense,” Gabi says easily. He’s not sure how she’s able to form words so easily. She doesn’t seem winded at all. “I had everything out of control.”

“You broke the cabinet!”

“I got the textbook,” she replies contentedly as if this is all that matters. “Something you could never do on your own due to your lack of height.” She gets out of her push-up position and sits down on her haunches so that she’s looking down on Falco. With an impish grin, she reaches out to give Falco a condescending pat on the head. It’s just a light touch, but it’s enough to send Falco face-first into the ground.

Falco raises his head and splutters, spitting out the dirt that had gotten in his mouth. “I didn’t even need that textbook!” he coughs.

He regrets shouting as soon as the words leave his mouth. His raised voice attracts the attention of Instructor Andreas, who pokes his head out the door and sees Falco collapsed on the ground and Gabi taunting him.

“Braun! Grice!” the instructor growls. His harsh tone makes Falco flinch, but Gabi simply turns her head. “I thought I told you two to complete a full circuit, not play around.”

The two give him a weak apology that the man only scowls at.

“Don’t apologize to me. Save your energy,” the man snarls. He pounds the doorframe twice and then points at the field that Gabi and Falco had just finished running around. “Start over. Do the circuit properly or else I’ll make sure you’ll be running laps around the field until nightfall.”

Immediately, the two get up and jog towards the field. Falco’s pretty sure he’s going to pass out halfway, but there’s no point in complaining about it.

“Sorry,” he mumbles to Gabi as they make their way to the field.

She glances at him, unbothered. “No worries,” Gabi says. She’s being uncharacteristically understanding, even jogging at the same pace as him. The two jog together in tandem for a few beats and Gabi speaks again. “Since you’re so short, it makes sense that you’d be short-tempered, too.”

Falco growls and speeds ahead, but he can still hear Gabi cackling behind him.

»»————-　★　————-««

Falco sits at the dining table shoveling as much food in his mouth as humanly possible. He’s not even taking time to savor the food. If he did, he’d probably notice that stuffing bread and mashed potatoes and carrots and chicken in his mouth all at once is a disgusting mishmash of flavors.

“Falco,” his mother says exasperatedly as he shoves an entire boiled egg into his mouth. “Can you at least chew your food?”

“No,” Falco garbles through the food in his mouth. A few crumbs fly from his mouth and onto the table. Falco doesn’t hesitate to wipe it away hastily with a napkin and wastes no time in shoveling yet another spoonful of mashed potatoes and gravy into his mouth.

His mother only sighs. She gave up hope on managing her son’s eating habits long ago.

Doing stretches doesn’t seem to be working for Falco, so he has started a new strategy to grow taller: eating his family out of house and home. At first he thought it would be fine if he just took in as much dairy as possible. He’s heard it said that calcium is what makes a person grow, but he became impatient when he didn’t see results the next day and just decided to eat everything he could shove in his mouth. Has it made his eating experience much less enjoyable? Absolutely, but it’ll be worth it if he can grow a couple of more inches and finally overtake Gabi in height.

“What’s happening here?” a familiar voice says. Falco lifts his head to see his older brother Colt walk over with a puzzled look on his face.

It’s been a while since Falco has actually seen his brother at home. After being chosen as the successor of the Beast Titan, Colt had been put on a more intensive training regimen that often started early in the morning before the Grice family was even awake and ended late into the night when everyone had long gone to bed. The only time Falco ever really sees his brother is on the training field with other soldiers when their training schedules coincidentally align. Falco thinks it’s the first time he’s seen Colt at home during the day since he was named Commander Zeke’s successor.

“He’s eating everything in the house,” their mother grumbles because Falco’s mouth is full of food and can’t speak right now. “The rest of us will starve at this rate.”

“That’s fine. Training really makes you hungry,” Colt hums. He shrugs his bag off his shoulder and lets it fall to the floor with a thud. He grabs an empty plate and cutlery from the cabinet and joins his family at the table. Colt is about to help himself to some dinner but he takes a glance at Falco’s plate, which is filled with a mountain of food. He raises an eyebrow. “I know you’re at that age where you eat a ton but isn’t this … a bit much?”

Falco swallows the food in his mouth and it slides slowly down his throat. He’s afraid it gets stuck halfway and begins to cough. He pounds at his chest with one hand and reaches for his glass of water on the table with the other, nearly knocking it over because he isn’t looking. Falco nearly has to down the entire glass before the lump of food is able to slide down his throat.

“Please chew,” his mother practically begs.

Falco ignores her. “I have to … eat more,” he pants. He’s beginning to taste the food on his tongue now, and it tastes terrible. It’s too sweet and too salty and there’s a weird film on his tongue. He gulps down more water before shoveling more food in his mouth.

Colt raises his eyebrows again. Since he hasn’t been able to speak to his family for a while, he’s missed out on quite a lot, including Falco’s current problem with Gabi and his height. His mother is kind enough to fill Colt in.

“He’s convinced that eating more will help him grow taller,” their mother tells Colt. She sits with her back against her chair and her arms crossed against her chest. Her eyes never leave Falco as she speaks. “There’s a girl that’s taller than him.”

Colt watches Falco, his head tilted to the side. “Isn’t it normal for the boys to be shorter than the girls at this age?” he asks. He thinks for a moment as he tries to recall what it was to be Falco’s age only a few years ago. “I think I was shorter than most of the girls in my class when I was your age, too.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him!” Mrs. Grice says. She gives Falco a withering look, but her son is too busy eating to notice. “He’ll catch up to them in no time at all. Eating everything in sight won’t necessarily make you grow any taller, Falco. Just eat normally and you’ll get your growth spurt before you know it.”

Colt continues to observe his little brother. He rests his elbow on the table and his cheek in his hand. “Are you really upset that the girls are taller? I’m sure the other guys in your class have already accepted it.” His fingers tap against the table as he thinks. After a moment, he stops and sits up with a suspicious expression. “Unless you’re upset because it’s not because it’s the girls but because of one girl in particular.”

Falco stops eating to glare at Colt. He means for his glare to look menacing, but he probably just looks ridiculous with his cheeks full of food like an overstuffed chipmunk.

The corners of Colt’s mouth quirk upward in a grin. “I’m right, aren’t I?” Colt says. He looks far too amused by this. “Is it … Gabi? It’s Gabi, isn’t it?”

“No,” Falco says with a mouthful of food. He manages not to spit out of any of it, but he kind of wishes he spit his food into his brother’s face. Colt looks as if he’s about to laugh about this whole thing, which only infuriates Falco more. How is any of this funny?

“How much taller than you is she?” Colt asks. He leans over the table with that same smile on his face, the one that says he finds all of this hilarious. “1 cm? 2 cm? 3?”

“She’s not,” Falco lies, but his voice comes out in a whine and he knows his face is scrunching up in a childish way. He wishes Colt hadn’t come home. “She’s not taller than me!”

“Okay, okay,” Colt chides. He starts to pile food onto his own plate and gestures for his mom to eat as well, probably deciding that it’ll be useless to talk to Falco about this topic any further.

The three eat together in relative peace — Falco still trying to eat everything in front of him without swallowing, his mother eating and occasionally rolling her eyes whenever she catches a glimpse of her younger son, and Colt eating normally as if this is a normal family meal. After a moment, Colt takes a brussel sprout from his plate and onto Falco’s. Falco doesn’t think much of it at first but then Colt drops another one onto Falco’s plate, then another one, and then another one.

Falco stops eating for a moment and looks at his brother. “What are you doing?” he asks after swallowing.

Colt stops what he’s doing and looks at his younger brother in surprise. “Me?” he asks as if he wasn’t sure Falco had been speaking to him. “I’m helping you, of course. Helping you grow taller.” He gestures at the brussel sprouts with his fork and then at Falco.

Falco wrinkles his nose. “With brussel sprouts?” It’s one of the few foods he’s been trying to avoid. While his plan is to eat everything, he does have his limits and brussel sprouts are one of them. He can’t stand them. They look like tiny little cabbages, but taste so much worse, their bitter taste lingering on Falco’s tongue long after he’s swallowed. He tries not to eat them as much as he can.

“Yeah,” Colt says. He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know? They’re chock-full of all sorts of nutrients: calcium, vitamin D, magnesium, and the like. It’s supposed to help with bone growth. Helps you grow taller. Didn’t they tell you that in school?”

Across the table, Colt’s mother mouths, “Really?” Falco doesn’t notice when Colt answers with a subtle shake of the head.

Falco looks sullenly at the little pile of brussel sprouts sitting in his pile of mashed potatoes. He pushes them around idly with his fork. “They didn’t mention it in my class,” he mumbles.

Colt shrugs. “You guys probably haven’t gotten into the diet and health unit yet. They really emphasize it in the Warrior Trainee program, especially once you get chosen as a Warrior.”

Falco looks suspiciously at his brother and then at the brussel sprouts on his plate. “Really?” he asks.

“Really,” Colt says. He seems sincere, and Falco doesn’t know why his older brother would lie to him. It’s true that Colt would know what foods to eat now that he’s a Warrior. He would know what foods are good for growth and keeping up someone’s strength.

Reluctantly, Falco spears a brussel sprout with his fork and nibbles at it. He shudders when the weird metallic taste hits his tongue. With a grimace, he puts the whole thing in his mouth, gives it a few good chews, and then swallows it down. It feels like slime moving down his throat. He has to finish the rest of his water just to rinse the taste out of his mouth.

“That’s disgusting,” he shudders, but he spears two more brussel sprouts onto his fork and eats them. It’s just as bad this time as it was before. He’s not sure how he’s going to finish the rest of these brussel sprouts without puking. He screws up his face as he takes another bite of the foul vegetable. “‘This is the worst!”

“Eat up, brother,” Colt hums, loading Falco’s plate with even more servings of the offensive food.

Their mother waves her hand to get Colt’s attention and gestures at the salted anchovies. “These, too,” she says. “Colt, make sure your brother eats these. Weren’t you telling me the other day that they were a good source of calcium?”

“Anchovies?” Colt says with a furrowed brow. Then, as if he’s just remembering, he nods and makes a noise in understanding. He begins to shovel the fish onto Falco’s plate right next to the brussel sprouts. “Ah, right. They mentioned it was a superfood, something that helps you grow taller overnight.”

“Really?” Falco wants to cry. He hates anchovies even more than brussel sprouts. They’re always too salty and too fishy, the taste overwhelming both his nose and his taste buds. He thinks he really is going to puke. He nearly cries as he lifts a spoonful of the little fish into his mouth and his entire body shudders when the salty taste hits his tongue. He’s practically sobbing as he goes for another spoonful.

After a few more horrible swallows of brussel sprouts and anchovies, Falco notices his mother and brother snickering behind their palms. His eating slows and he puts his spoon down.

“These … really aren’t superfoods, are they?” he asks flatly. He already knows the answer even before Colt nods his head. If Falco’s stomach didn’t feel as if it were about to burst right now, he would be flipping the table over in frustration. Instead, he just lets out an exasperated shriek and storms upstairs to his room.

“Where are you going, Falco?” Colt asks after him.

“You haven’t finished eating yet!” his mother calls.

Falco slams his bedroom door behind him in response.

»»————-　★　————-««

Falco should have figured that Gabi would soon grow tired of teasing him and that she would naturally progress to the next best thing: completely humiliating him in front of as many people as possible.

She still stands only a few centimeters taller than him, but the brunette acts as if she towers above him like a giant. Whenever they’re standing beside each other, Gabi looks down at him, lifting her head and standing as straight as she can without standing on her tiptoes. She stares her nose at him, that smug grin on her face each time. Falco always rolls his eyes and does his best to ignore him, but he finds it more and more grating each time.

Gabi constantly uses him as an armrest, letting her elbow settle on his shoulder or, if he happens to be sitting down, on the top of his head. More than once, he’s scowled at her before waving her away, but it only seems to amuse her even more because she always laughs whenever he does. Normally, it wouldn’t bother him. The additional weight of Gabi’s elbow isn’t much, but it’s the meaning behind the leaning that bothers him so much. It’s only slightly better to just allow her to use him as a piece of furniture, but not by much. He tries his best not to grumble about it each time because it only makes her grin grow wider.

What’s the absolute worst, though, is when Gabi pats him on the head. She does it so condescendingly with the sweetest smile on her face. Her touch is light, affectionate, and utterly humiliating. He’s waved her away once or twice, but she always finds a reason to put her hand on top of his head: because he has something in his hair, because his hair’s a mess, because his hair is so soft. It doesn’t matter how well-meaning her reason seems. Falco knows her real motive: to remind him of just how short he is by infantilizing him in whatever way she can.

“Oh, Falco,” Gabi says in a sing-song voice. She’s already looking at the top of his head, her hand reaching out to touch his hair. Her fingertips brush against his golden blond locks. “You have something in your hair-”

“No, I don’t!” Falco says, whacking her hand away. He regrets it immediately because now Gabi is standing over him, her hands behind her back and her lips curled in an amused grin.

“How would you know that?” Gabi says. She steps closer to him, hand still clasped behind her. “You can’t see the top of your head, can you? But I can easily because I’m-”

Falco doesn’t let her finish. He’s already heard it too many times before. “Whatever is in my hair, I’d rather it just … be there,” he says firmly.

Gabi stops smiling for a second and then blinks once. Twice. Her mouth spreads into a wide grin once again. “Aren’t you funny?” she coos. She reaches out to pinch Falco’s cheek. It doesn’t hurt, but Falco can feel his cheeks turning red just from her touch. “You don’t care if your hair’s a mess? Or is it really because … you hate how small this makes you feel?” Her hand finds its way to the top of Falco’s head, patting Falco like he’s a dog.

“So, you admit you’re doing this to humiliate me?” Falco asks. It comes out less indignant and more embarrassed, Falco’s cheeks still flushed in humiliation.

“Oh, please,” Gabi smiles. “I can do much worse.”

Falco should have run. He should have turned on his heel and taken off as far as his feet would take him. He knows that look on Gabi’s face, that knowing smirk and that mischievous glimmer in her eye, and he knows that whatever is to come next is absolutely no good. For whatever reason, he stays rooted to the spot even as his eyes widen in horror as Gabi reaches for him, her arms enveloping him right before she sweeps him right off his feet.

“What are you doing?” Falco yelps. He’s jostled around in Gabi’s arms, his chin bumping against her shoulder and then her head as she tries to find a comfortable place to hold him. Somehow, his arms find a way around Gabi’s neck as he hangs on for dear life. “W-what are you doing?”

“You must be so grumpy being so close to the ground all day,” Gabi says breezily. She’s carrying him like a bride and swinging him around like he weighs nothing. “The air is probably stuffy down there. Isn’t it nice being up this high?”

Falco is about to retort that the height she’s carrying him at right now is much shorter than his actual height, but he doesn’t get to because Gabi begins to spin around. He has to hang onto her for dear life because he’s afraid she might drop him. By the time Gabi’s stopped, his head is still spinning and he thinks he can see stars even though the sun is still out.

She lets him down gently, but Falco is still swaying as he stands. He holds his hand to his head as he begins to get his bearings. With a wince, he glances over at Gabi.

“Are you happy now?” he grumbles.

Gabi smiles at him. She rests her elbow on his shoulder and the corners of her eyes crinkle as her grin grows wider. “Very,” she replies.

»»————-　★　————-««

He can’t believe it. Falco really can’t believe it. He’s finally growing taller, but it’s still not enough to beat Gabi. It’s just enough to decrease the gap between them. It’s a one centimeter difference. One measly centimeter, but somehow it bothers Falco more than when Gabi had been two centimeters taller than him.

“Can you just …?” Falco says, stepping nervously behind the nurse who’s already getting ready to measure the next person in line. He glances away when the nurse glares at him, but tugs on the man’s sleeve anyway. “I mean … it’ll only take a second. Are you sure I’m not, like, maybe a centimeter taller than you measured? You were measuring me pretty quickly …”

“Kid,” the nurse says, turning to Falco with a sigh. The person waiting in line looks mildly annoyed at the holdup. “How many times do we have to go through this? You know the rules. I measure you once, and you go.”

“Yeah, but-”

The nurse shakes his head and waves his ruler, gesturing for Falco to leave. “I have work to do.” The man sees Falco’s downcast expression and sighs. “If you’re really bothered just … get shoes with taller soles or something. That’ll do until you finally hit your growth spurt.”

Falco walks away, his shoes dragging against the hardwood floor. “As if I have the money to get new shoes,” he mutters. He stops when he sees someone in front of him. He probably shouldn’t be surprised that it’s Gabi standing in front of him looking as smug as ever.

“Hi, Falco,” she chirps.

“It’s one centimeter,” he tells her. He’s glowering, but Gabi doesn’t even flinch.

“It sure is,” Gabi grins.

“It’s one centimeter!” he says. He doesn’t know why he’s following her as she’s happily skipping away from him, probably to inform all their friends and classmates that she’s still taller than him. He just wants it to be clear: it’s only a one centimeter difference. “It’s not that much taller than me!”

He hates the way she stops and spins around, the way she stands so self-satisfied, the way she smiles at him with her shit-eating grin.

“It’s still one centimeter taller than you,” Gabi says.

Falco hates that the most.

»»————-　★　————-««

When it finally happens, Falco’s not as happy as he thought he would be. In fact, he’s not happy at all. Instead of celebrating the fact that he’s now half a centimeter taller than Gabi, he’s hovering nervously behind the nurse once more.

“Just one more time please!” he begs, tugging on the back of the man’s shirt. He doesn’t even flinch when the nurse swats him away like a mildly annoying gnat. “Are you sure I’m not even a little bit taller? Maybe like … a half-centimeter taller or even a whole centimeter taller than what you just said?”

“You’re as tall as I say you are the first time and not any taller,” the nurse replies. He turns his head to glare at Falco and wags the ruler in front of the boy’s face. “Stop begging me for remeasurements. I’ll start shaving off a centimeter from your height every time you ask.”

“Sorry!” he squeaks before scurrying off to sulk behind Udo.

Udo watches Falco amusedly as the blond shuffles around and mumbles unintelligibly under his breath. “I don’t see why you’re so bothered,” he tells Falco. “You’re finally taller than Gabi, so what’s the big deal?”

“It’s not enough,” Falco sighs. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at his golden locks irritatedly. “I’m finally taller than her, and she isn’t bothered at all! Just look at her!” He points a finger where Gabi is happily conversing with Zofia. Either she hasn’t heard the news or she doesn’t care. Considering the fact that she hardly even flinched when Falco crowed his new height measurement at the top of his lungs to the class, it’s most definitely the latter. Falco just doesn’t know why.

“... Maybe she just doesn’t know?” Udo guesses with a weak shrug of his shoulders.

Falco shakes his head. “No, she definitely knows.” He’s not so sure anymore. “R-right?”

Again, Udo shrugs.

If Gabi doesn’t know, then Falco needs to make sure she does. Maybe she hadn’t heard him the first time. Maybe she was too busy talking to Zofia to pay attention, Falco thinks as he marches over to where Zofia and Gabi are. Udo follows for moral support, but he sighs as he does because he knows Falco will never be satisfied with the outcome.

Only Zofia turns around when he reaches them. Gabi continues to speak to Zofia, not noticing that her other friends have joined them. It’s only when Falco clears his throat that Gabi stops speaking and looks over at him, eyebrows raised just the slightest bit like she’s feigning surprise.

“Oh, Falco,” she says, smiling delightedly. “Have you been there long?”

“I’m taller than you now,” Falco says, not even bothering to answer her question. He puffs out his chest as he says this, straightening his back to assert his newly achieved half-centimeter height difference over her. “I’m half a centimeter taller than you, in case you haven’t heard.”

To his surprise, Gabi’s smile doesn’t falter. On the contrary, it grows even wider, much to Falco’s horror. “So I’ve heard,” Gabi says. “Congrats, Falco. Good job on surpassing my height by half a centimeter. I’m really happy for you.”

“You … you are?” Falco deflates. His shoulders are slumped in disappointment. If Gabi were to stand up next to him right now, their height difference would be negligible. He had expected her to be infuriated that he had finally beaten her at something. It’s surprising that she hardly cares at all.

“Of course,” Gabi says with a shrug. She stands up, but she doesn’t straighten her back or even try to stand on her tiptoes. She just stands there, half a centimeter shorter than Falco but she carries herself so confidently that she might as well dwarf him. “Enjoy it while you can, Falco. I’ll catch up to you soon.”

He can only stare in open-mouthed disbelief as Gabi all but swaggers out of the classroom. “H-how?” he asks, running after her.

Gabi shrugs as if she hasn’t figured it out yet. It’s like she really doesn’t care at all.

Udo and Zofia have followed Falco and stand behind him as he clings onto the door frame with a frustrated hand.

“She could probably grow on sheer willpower alone,” Zofia says as she pats Falco’s shoulder sympathetically.

“Probably,” Udo agrees.

Falco sighs, leaning against the doorframe. He should just give up now. He could grow a full meter taller than Gabi, but he’d still never catch up to her. Never, he thinks with a smile.

[yourepower]

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The year was 1997 the movie was the saint and for the tech nerd in me the film was really just part of the story what really blew my mind was not whether val kilmer played a good roger moore honestly my eyes were mostly set on that nokia 9000 communicator see for a guy who could barely afford a cheap nokia 250 at the time the idea of a phone that could morph into a communicator was stuff of science fiction it was this device along with the palms and the pocket pcs and the blackberries that helped your phone today do so much more the problem is when the flat slab took over and really for a couple of reasons i honestly think the obsession over a larger flat screen got kind of out of hand up to the point where Phone parts today are massive and really in ways that aren't always convenient like i get it that having a large screen is good for watching a video but is it just this useful when you're trying to use it with one hand like seriously think about it do you always need your phone to be large or wouldn't it be great if your phone was easy to handle when you need it but then became something else entirely when you need more this is the samsung galaxy fold 3. one of the two smartphones i've carried in my pocket for the last two months and honestly the one that i would not leave home without if i had to pick.

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i know with the iphones and the pixels that just got launched that's kind of a statement but it's because i've tested those products already that i find myself believing in that premise more and more i'm hamilah with pocket now and this is my experience with it after two months of use if we're honest the idea of a foldable tablet in your pocket is a topic of excess it's as if companies have decided to address the growing demand for larger screens about as well as lightning hitting the iron man suit power at 400 capacity how about that but if we only look at it as a Phone LCD parts or a tablet i think we're missing the bigger picture surely there's nothing a foldable can do that a flat slab can't do but if we're real regular smartphones aren't really great at everything and i don't think this z-fold 3 wants to just be a phone or just be a tablet the most important ideas here are peace of mind and adaptability i think the first is the most important actually buying this phone before was honestly a stretch because it wasn't affordable and there was no guarantee it would survive extended use given its rocky start this third generation is finally what the first two weren't it's a bit less expensive and yet manages to solve absolutely every complaint we had with the previous models we finally get ipx8 water resistance for example making me no longer worried about bringing it to the gym it also brings gorilla glass victus in the front and back match with a stronger armor aluminum on the hinge and the chassis at 271 grams it's definitely not a phone that i'd call light but again it's not just the phone ironically i think there's more genius to this phone closed than open see there's a reason why screens have become taller for the past four years the narrower the device the easier it is to hold and use.

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but the z-fold 3 takes that a step further i feel more confident holding this thicker sandwich with one hand and the taller aspect ratio of the 6.2 inch oled helps me reach most of the screen without a problem which is then complemented by a snappy 120hz refresh rate if i'm on the street and need to communicate quick this feels like the perfect phone to handle so much so that i haven't really dropped this phone at all so far this narrow approach is even easier to pocket as it snugs just right at the edge of any pair of jeans now when i'm not on the go this phone pays perfect though much to that nokia 9000 from so many years ago if we're realistic a tablet does a far better job than a regular phone when i want to either consume content or get productive and that's really what makes this phone special at 7.5 inches diagonal this is almost an ipad mini but with more resolution far less bezels dynamic refresh rate up to 120 hertz and all the great color this dynamic amoled can provide along with some of the best dual firing speakers i've heard this year much.

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[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt

Guess I’m writing an AU fic set in a lighthouse. A surprise to everyone including myself.

Synopsis:

Martin Blackwood works in a lighthouse that echoes too much against a sea he doesn't care for.

The lighthouse isn't meant to have people in it.

AO3

When Martin’s mother gave birth, she knew her son would never be welcomed into the sea as one of its own. Every inch of him was his father, from his freckled skin to the exact curl of his hair to the bridge of his nose. He had been named after his grandfather and would shrink away as salt of the ocean stung his oh-so sensitive eyes that would someday require glasses to see just a few inches from his round, smiling face. In every sense, a little boy who was every bit as human as the man who fathered him.

And so he remained, even as he grew taller and fuller in frame. Even as he became the only man in the household at the age of nine, when his father left only to return every day in mirrors.

Martin Blackwood was not his father. No constitution for a fisherman, no particular skill at anything but caring for his mother as she seemed to drift further out and away to sea, so to speak. And even then, only skilled in that he did care. He also stumbled, mumbled, burnt the food, forgot the mail. It was a shame, his mother once thought, that he would never hear the sea. There, his faults would be nothing.

Instead, he took on the useless parts of his father: his hair, his eyes, the roundness of his face, the softness of his voice, the parts that could hurt. Anything else, apparently, her husband took with him.

He hadn’t taken her skin. It still sat in the attic where she had left it, neatly folded and covered in cobwebs.

She wondered at the time if it was an act of cruelty.

-

The Blackwood home was a small but sturdy building. Overlooking a rocky shore and overlaid with thick fog more oft than not, it was hidden in a way that Martin’s mother appreciated. Martin did not like it so much, that and the overwhelming smell of ocean that hit his nose as he left home and started his walk up the cliffside, a light drizzle pattering against his coat.

The fog thinned just enough up the incline to give Martin’s eyes a break as he looked for the familiar turn and took the stone path up and up and up, until finally he was out of the trees and walking between the squat buildings of what was technically a downtown area.

His destination could be seen from anywhere in town. A lighthouse, one right out of the poetry he probably shouldn’t like as much as he does, but despite going to one almost every day, the charm of the idea of a lighthouse rang true to him, just as he still loved poetry describing the ocean’s majesty despite it really being a horrible pile of water that stung his eyes if he got too close.

The poetry he read (and wrote) also excluded the stench of fish. What’s the harm in romanticizing your own town?

Martin walked through the center of town as he always did, silently and keeping his head down to unsuccessfully keep the water from dripping into his eyes. He had learned long ago that, while people were awake in the early hours, it wasn’t in his best interest to try a jolly “good morning!” with most folks on drizzling days when people were just trying to make it where they needed to go. Besides, he wasn’t exactly on time himself and knew if he tried to strike up a conversation, he would just get himself going, and no one wanted that. He walked, and he walked quickly, head down.

There was a weird trick when one started from the far end of town and headed toward the lighthouse. It was large of course, but if you continued to look as you approached, it seemed to grow taller at a rate that felt incongruent to how quickly you were going so that, by the time you reached it, the sheer size of the building made you dizzy. The effect made Martin’s eyes cross themselves. Head down, don’t talk, don’t look up until you reach the dark stone steps. Easy enough. He reached the steps and made his way to the entrance, fishing the keys from his pocket and letting himself inside.

It was entirely empty today, as he had expected. His boss, Peter, was scheduled for a regular boating trip, with his cheesy captain’s hat and a beard that was just slightly too well-kept to be seen as a sailor’s. This left Martin with a very empty building and acoustics Peter once cheerfully described as like “having the perfect conversation partner”, following it up with a loud “hello!” that echoed for so long Martin almost lost his patience. Once, he dropped a pencil and got a headache from the sound. He stepped lightly, not wanting to disturb the stillness.

As he waited for the water to boil for his tea in the small kitchen on the ground floor, he checked the calendar. Peter said he would be back sometime after the weekend was over and as usual gave nothing more specific, as it wasn’t like he needed to be there for Martin to get his work done.

It was expected, and therefore Martin did not feel disappointment. He did not miss Peter. He simply finished making tea for himself, walked to the small work station Peter had had set up for him, and began the menial accounting that took up most of his days. In the middle of the day, he knocked an eraser off the desk with his elbow, and the dull thud managed to echo up and up and up into the darkness.

It didn’t give him a headache, but the thud sat in his chest until hours later when the paperwork was done and he was to walk up and up and up to the top and follow his list of duties. There were switches and pulleys, and every evening he would press or pull them in the same order, never being told what any of them actually did. Martin assumed it was something to do with the lighthouse’s actual functioning, and it made him nervous to think about messing it up.

The list being done, he then walked back down, down to the ground floor. Out the door, locking it behind him, and down the dark stone steps, down the street and down, down, down to his home. The door handle was cold in his grip.

“‘M home, mum,” Martin said, closing the front door against the same drizzle he had walked into that morning. He could hear the old tv and peeked his head into the doorway to find his mother asleep in her chair. Waking to the gentle pressure of his hand on her shoulder, she grumbled the normal amount and then asked after dinner.

“Why wake me when you haven’t even started it?” she asked, training her eyes on the program in front of her.

“Sorry,” he winced. “It shouldn’t take long.” Martin shuffled off to the kitchen to prepare something quick for them both. After their nightly routine of a helplessly tasteless dinner, he helped his mother to bed and went to his own room. He lit a small, old lantern (he had an electric lamp, but it wasn’t as fun), took out his cheap notebook, and laid back against his headboard, scribbling words and scratching them out, something about the sun, something about waves, until his eyes began to itch and droop.

It was an all right day, he thought, placing his glasses on the small nightstand. He had managed to finish more work than he’d planned, so tomorrow he’d get done quickly and have even more break time with no one to watch after him, to see his laziness. Maybe it would even be sunny at some point. That would be nice to see when he reached the top of the lighthouse, much better than dreary gray skies. He drifted off, hoping the words and phrases scattered in his mind would push the idea into existence.

[blitheringmcgonagall]

The New Sailing Master

Another day in lockdown so may as well post this here:

(A silly Wolfstar pirate AU in which all that happens as I told @malfoy is that Remus meets everyone and then they (Wolfstar) snog...)

“Good Lord, he’s damned cute.”

The voice is smooth, smooth and polished, and dangerous, and he sounds like a Lord.

“He’s half drowned.”

Another voice, nearly as posh, but mischievous and warm.

“Still thoroughly dashing,” the posh fellow states, with finality, as though he’s used to getting his own way, as though he’s the boss.

“Fuck off, twat,” the second bloke says carelessly, laughing, as though he thrives on annoying the first bloke. “I bet he thinks you’re an idiot.”

“Captains are never idiots, Prongs!” Poshest Bloke says in a scandalised voice. “By default, they are always intelligent, resourceful and sexy.”

A group of female voices cackle loudly, sounding like they are falling around the deck laughing.

“Ha ha, hilarious, Marlene,” he replies sarcastically. “Are you implying I’m lacking any of those qualities, you pest?”

He sounds like he’s smiling though.

“Nope!” a rich, confident drawl. “I’m implying you’re too easy to tease. It’s such fun, and we’re so bored!”

More merry laughter, and the sound of bottles clinking.

“Fuck you, Mc Kinnon!” the posh voice is definitely amused, and he can’t help being annoyed with himself for finding it so attractive.

He hates rich bastards.

“It’s nearly as much fun as teasing the Quartermaster.”

This voice sounds very close to him, it’s cheeky and her laughter is infectious. The accent is familiar, local, Jamaican perhaps?

He smiles.

“By Jove! He’s awake!”

He opens his eyes and blinks repeatedly. He’s staring up at a pair of startlingly beautiful grey eyes, the colour of sunlight glinting off calm seas, a rugged half-smile, a raised eyebrow, wet black hair cascading onto broad, tanned shoulders, though his skin will burn in the midday sun. It should be illegal to be so handsome.

“Fuck,” he rasps, attempting to sit and coughing up copious salt water.

Handsome Bloke clears his throat, looking concerned.

“There, there!” Cheeky Voice says behind him, giving him three hard slaps on the back. “That’s better!”

“Thanks,” he says croakily, turning around to look at her.

She has beautiful dark skin, high cheekbones, hair plaited in cornrows and dyed with henna, giving it a reddish tint. She has startlingly unusual eyes, almond shaped and a deep vibrant green colour. He can’t help staring into them.

“Evans,” she says casually, extending her calloused hand. “Lily Evans. Master Gunner.”

She wears a man’s white shirt with rolled up sleeves, fitted waist coat that shows off her curvy figure, and flared trousers. She has a long knife on her belt and a pistol strapped onto her hip.

“Lupin,” he says, his voice hoarse and thin, shaking her hand firmly. “Remus Lupin.”

“Lupin,” grey eyed Handsome Bloke repeats, licking his dry lips. “Welcome aboard the Blithering Idiot.”

“And you are?” Remus says stiffly.

This man is far too posh and dandy to be a nice fellow.

“Sirius Black, the Sirius Black, pirate lord extraordinaire?” he winks at Remus and plays easily with a knife, twirling it from hand to hand, attempting to impress. “I’m world famous apparently. Legendary Scourge of the British Navy and best-looking pirate to boot?”

Remus notices the elegant long fingers and veins tracing the back of his hands and forearms, the tattoos that encircle his upper arms and peek out under his sleeveless top.

“Never heard of you,” he lies, calmly folding his arms.

There isn’t a single soul from Kingston to London who has not heard about the fabled exploits of this famous pirate and his crew of outrageous marauders.

Sirius Black stares back at him, stunned into silence.

“Ha! Priceless! I like you already. James Potter, Quartermaster,” the second posh bloke jumps up grinning at Remus and hops onto the rigging, hanging off it carelessly. “Meet the rest of the crew!”

He waves his arm towards a blonde woman dressed entirely in black with a black hairband and gold hoop earrings.

“That’s Marlene Mc Kinnon, Master Rigger.”

She grins roguishly at him.

“Dorcas Meadows, Striker.”

Dorcas nods her head, her hair is also braided like Evans’, she is willowy and tall and looks imposing and stern until she sends him a friendly smile. He smiles back. She salutes him and rests her head on top of Mc Kinnon, who plants a besotted kiss on her lips.

“Mary Mac Donald, Master Cooper.”

Mary is petite, and has fair hair curled into sweet ringlets with rosy cheeks from too much sun, she wears a cap to screen her face.  She smiles politely as Remus scratches his head, trying to imagine how she ended up aboard this pirate ship. He notices two long daggers hanging from her waist, and makes a mental note not to make any assumptions about this motley crew.

“Peter Pettigrew, Master Cook.”

The blond-haired smaller man laughs aloud.

“More like only cook!” he says, rolling his small blue eyes good-naturedly.

“Trifling detail, my good Sir!” James Potter calls back, jumping off the rigging and somersaulting back onto the deck.

“Show-off!” says Lily Evans, rolling her eyes, as he lands right in front of her, ruffling his wild black hair.

James Potter’s hazel eye shines, he’s clearly smitten with her.

“You’re just jealous, Evans,” he quips, squeezing her shoulder fondly.

His eye patch is oddly attractive.

“You’re an idiot,” she sighs, but her eyes dance with longing as she stands on tiptoe and presses her lips softly against his.

James Potter presses her closer to him and returns the kiss.

“Oi! You forgot about me, lovebirds!”

“My deepest apologies, this is Benjy Fenwick, Master Carpenter and Occasional Surgeon, whenever the need arises.”

Remus winces at the idea and Benjy has the decency to shrug, his gold front tooth flashes in the sunlight.

“You’re lucky we rescued you, Lupin,” the Captain grumbles, adjusting the sails, he’s been glancing at Remus covertly during this entire time.

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone near as gorgeous in his entire life. Remus Lupin is tall, taller than him, annoyingly. He’s slimmer, looks a bit underfed in fact, his eyes are a wonderful amber colour – liquid, enigmatic, soulful. His skin is a deep, golden brown colour and his soft, wavy hair a russet brown. His lips are full and the pirate desperately wants to kiss them. Lupin, with his capacity for calmness in the face of the most feared Pirate in all the Atlantic. He’s angry at himself for being so pathetic. Usually he has no time for such ridiculous tomfoolery, good looks be damned, wouldn’t lend his heart to anyone, for fear of losing it. Besides, he never learnt how to love, not properly. He’s scared to, damn it, terrified, in fact.

Sirius Black does not do love.

“That depends,” Remus shoots back.

He looks proud and dignified and as though he couldn’t give a toss what Sirius or his crew think.

“On what?” Sirius Black finds himself saying, surprisingly.

“On what you plan to do with me,” Lupin answers.

He doesn’t look scared, yet he must be, at least a little.

“That depends,” Sirius Black says, with a glint in his eyes.

“On what?” Remus Lupin replies.

“On how annoying you are, Lupin.”

The Captain of the Blithering Idiot is hard to read, and Remus has no idea whether he is threatening him or joking.

“I’ll wager you’re more annoying on a daily basis than I’ve ever been,” he says, staring Sirius Black straight in the eyes.

Evans and Mc Kinnon guffaw loudly as James Potter hands Lupin a bottle of rum, grinning wildly.

“Never a truer word spoken!” Mc Kinnon says, as Evans pats the Captain’s arm affectionately.

Sirius Black’s scowl deepens as he continues staring at Lupin. He’s equally attractive when he scowls, if not more so. Lupin seems undeterred, he raises his right brow, takes a long swig of the vicious tasting alcohol and winks at him. The pirate blinks in surprise. Lupin’s mouth slowly turns upwards into a warm smile.

“I can be pretty infuriating too,” he says, by way of an apology.

“You never thanked us for rescuing you,” Black says, looking decidedly flustered and still irritated.

“Thank you so much for rescuing me, Captain Black, I owe you my life,” Lupin says, gushingly, his smile growing too wide.

He’s teasing now, and the pirate has no idea how to respond.

“He jumped into the sea himself, which is unheard of, Sirius Black leaving his ship!” Meadows calls out as she polishes the ship’s compass.

“To what do I owe this honour?” Lupin asks Captain Black.

“Never you mind, Lupin,” mutters Black, swiping the bottle of cheap rum from Remus’ hand and gulping an inordinate amount.

Mc Kinnon doubles over in silent laughter and Sirius Black curses her, giving her a dig with his elbow.

“Ouch! You bastard!” Mc KInnon shouts, still chortling, as she hops onto the rigging to get away from her grumpy Captain. “Shall I tell our lovely Mr. Lupin why you rescued him, then?”

Her eyes are sparkling with amusement and Lily Evans’ face is lit with delight at her Captain’s discomfort.

“Fuck off, you renegade!” Sirius says hurriedly, and in one quick movement he lifts himself up beside Mc Kinnon with a warning glare.

 Continue reading The New Sailing Master ...

[loverofyaoi22]

Error rushed into the void calling to him. He needed to escape, he needed to get away from Ink. He didn't want to be forced into destroying again, he couldn't take it! He wouldn't take it!he jumped to escape Ink, not to fall straight back into Fates arms and torture. ‘NO! I will not go through that again! I refuse!’ He thought in desperation as he fell. Ink and Skull watched in solute horror as the glitchy skeleton before them fell into an endless black void, his two little bitty bones crying out for him and charging into the void as well.

“Daddy!”

“Awaa!”

‘I don’t want to loose our daddy! He gave us warmth, kept us safe! He saved us! I don’t want to loose him! I choose to say with him!’ Null thought as he was caught by his father and held close to his chest. The void made them feel hidden and shrouded in safety as they fell asleep, falling and falling deeper into the abyss of codes and mystery.

As soon as the bitty bones fell into the void after their father, it closed up and leaving no indication that a portal even opened up in the first place and swallowed up the three skeletons who clearly had gone through a lot in their life time. Fate would have laughed at the fear Error displayed at Ink’s counterpart. Ink fell to his knees and sobbed as he realised someone who looked like him had hurt the other skeleton so bad he broke down in-front of him and would rather jump into the place of no returns than be with him. Fear. Fear was a powerful choice motivator. When scared people make the choice best in their favour after all. Skull turned to him, fury painted all over his skull.

Skull was furious, no not even furious he was beyond that. His blood boiled in rage at the fact that Ink could hurt someone so bad that once they came face to face again, the other panicked and instead of facing his abuse again jumped into the dark realm. "WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Skull screamed, his hands clenched at his sides and shaking as Toriel and everyone else decided to look at the sobbing artistic skeleton.

"I did nothing! I don't know who he is!" Ink sobbed out in despair. “I don’t know who he is!” His soul beat was sporadic but was heavy as he fell apart. His soul went out to the three who felt the need to throw themselves into the void to escape their pain, to escape their abuse, their chains of hell. He wanted to find the person called 'Inky' and tear him to pieces whilst he demanded what the other had done to receive such bad treatment it had scarred him indefinitely. "Then why did he freak out when he saw you?!" Skull demanded, picking the other up by his scarf and slamming him against the wall with a crashing thud. Ink let out a moan of pain as the back of his skull cracked and began to cry even more; rainbow tears flowing down his face.

"I don't know! I don't know, okay!" Ink gasped out, his teary and darkened eye meeting the glowing left eye of Skull. Papyrus gulped as his brother stared deep into Ink's eyes and kept him pinned to the wall. Skull was fuming and he felt over whelming sadness in the atmosphere where the glitchy skeleton and his two boys had been moments earlier. "B-brother, let him go. He hasn't done anything." Papyrus stuttered.

By the way Ink was acting, he doubted that he was the one to hurt him and by looking briefly at the damage the other one had sustained from head to toe was way too much for Ink to do on his own or even do with just his magic alone. Ink refused got hurt people unless necessary and even then he exhausted his other options first.

Skull sighed and let Ink go who fell to the floor with a dull thud and shuddering breath as he tried to get his emotions under control. "How could someone do that and live with themselves?" The artistic skeleton asked as he wiped his tears away with the back of his hand. Thought and questions swam in his head as to why someone would hurt someone so badly, they looked ready to fall apart at any given moment.

Error reminded him china. It was easy to put together when given glue but it was fragile as its main structure was still damaged and if anymore strain is put on the weak structure, it would break even more without a way to repair it. That’s what Error was. Broken china that Ink and Fate broke and kept gluing back together, expecting him to be the same as before.

"I don't know Ink but I swear to fucking god when i find out where and who Inky is, I'm going to pump that bastard with so much goddamn lead, he'll be dead within seconds. He will pay for hurting an innocent monster." Skull growled out, eye flickering with blue and yellow flames as his clenched, shaking hand became shrouded with magic.

Ink sniffed and stood up next to him, taking his paintbrush off his back and his eye glowing a well.

"I'lo help you with that." Ink said in a dark, underlying growl that held the promise of death and punishment for the person who had hurt them and make them suffer the same way he was forced to suffer. Papyrus sighed and his facial expression changed into one of seriousness.

He was going to help his brother find out who had hurt the other fellow monster and make sure that he got the comeuppance they deserved.

"I'll help you brother. The person will pay for sure." He said, his voice losing its high pitch and becoming deep and devoid of emotion. Undyne's eye backs white and black as her lips were pulled back in a snarl, a spear materialising within in her hand as she wiped her own face clean of tears. The cries and the sobs of pain from the other as well as the magic made her soul shudder and cry out to bring justice to their abuser. "Count me in. What happen to them was in humane and will not be left unpunished." She promised.

Toriel wiped her face as she got her breathing under control. Glaring, she went into her room and walked over to her dresser that was made of light brown wood and kept in pristine condition. The handles were made of gold and had floral designs on them, meaning the dresser was not cheap and made of high quality.

She had picture frames of her children smiling happily in oak picture frames along with bottles of perfume and a black and green jewellery box that Asgore got her years ago.

Toriel smiled sadly at the reminders of her children. God how she missed them so and wished to have them back in her awaiting arms again but alas that was not to be. Bringing two of her fingers to her lips, she kissed her finger tips and pressed it to the picture frame in a kiss before opening the top drawer open and rifling through the clothes she had in there.

Screw not getting her hands dirty, someone out there had hurt three children beyond trusting others and being clueless about the world that was around them. Seeing the taller monsters wounds, She felt anger fill her being and had to stop herself using healing magic as she said she would let him take care of it. Pulling out a revolver pistol, she made sure there was bullets within the chamber and closed the drawer behind her.

As she walked out of her room, she shut and locked the door. "I'll help you on your journey." She told them grimly, ignoring their looks of shock. "After 10 years are you sure Toriel?" Asgore asked, even though he was going to join them too. Ever since his ex-wife left him and his children died he had hated the idea of children getting hurt and so if those three had been hurt, it was clear the person who did was still out there and capable of doing it to more people. "Yes i am. I will not let someone hurt people like that ever again."

Ink nodded grimly. "I'll tell the others to look around within their Au's for anyone or people capable of doing such harm to a monster as its clear he isn't from this AU. I'll let my brother know whilst you lot look around here and spread the word of What hands happened. We need to find who did it so they can have justice." Ink growled out and with a swing of his paintbrush, opened a portal and left.

Skull sighed and held his gun close. He was going to pump the fucker with so many bullets as well as their accomplices that they would beg for mercy and would suffer. Too bad the ones they wanted were in another Multiverse and the line of people was endless.

Destiny couldn't believe that Error threw himself back into the void with the little ones he had found. They were somewhat successful in giving him a family to call his own. She looked round the multiverses for an au to pout him in yet most paths had too many setbacks and roadblocks that would cause more damage. They began to panic. They couldn’t help their child! Destiny kept looking around for another multiverse to put her child in so he could grow as it seemed that this one was too much like his old one.

Choice looked at Error and looked at the damaged. All the cracks, scars and cuts with broken bones. Man, Fate had finally lost it! How could they do that and live happily everyday! Choice frowned and looked at Error’s choices. Error chose to jump and change his destiny, he chose to save the boys and fight Gaster, he chose to jump again. Choice smirked. Afterall it was thanks to someones choices that allowed them to change their destiny. Destiny and Choice were so intwined, this would be perfect!

Thanks to the choices that Error chose to take to change his destiny, they could intervene. Their little pawn was a great choice to help him heal and move on from the set backs Fate put him through. Never forget that a persons choices were very powerful on coursing through their destiny and life. Using magic, they made their little pawn pulse with magic which would catch Destiny’s attention.

Destiny did notice the pulse wave coming from a multiverse next door to their own. Like their own multiverse, this one had a built in balance and already had an Ink but he was completely different from the other two Ink's This multiverse was ruled by Choice, not Destiny or Fate so he would be safe. Smiling in relief, Destiny decided to put Error within that AU but they had to change his code. The inhabitants of that multiverse was we're all half mythical folk law such as angels, demons, vampires, etc. So if Error was to blend in as well as his sons, their codes would have to be tweaked a bit to fit the multiverse and AU's liking.

They held her child and grandchildren close, stroking the cracks in his arm bones again and humming a little song that made Error relax in their grip and give a slight smile. Null and void were in his arms, close to his chest and fast asleep. "My child, you have a new home for you and your little ones. Someone is waiting for you and I'm sure she will help you find more than you know."

Grabbing some codes from the AU, Destiny began to add the code fragments to their own codes as well as push, pull, break and rearrange some of the coding as well as add in more. "I'm sorry for this pain my sweet child." Destiny finished what they were doing and with a parting forehead kiss, let their chosen child fall safely onto the mossy floor of the forest they had placed them. Destiny smiled sadly as all three of them whimpered as the code changes, changed their physiology slightly and made way for new magic and appendages.

"Here you go." They stated as they turned to the person who would help her child find friends and teach him the things he forgot such as social interaction. They despised Fate and Inky for hurting her child, for making him suffer simply because Inky was a huge brat and would end up killing thousands of other monsters simply because he couldn't listen to Fate's word. Fate would lose in the end and would suffer for what they had done to their child, Destiny would make sure of that. After all, Karma was a good friend of theirs.

Turning to the girl who would help her child, they whispered in her ear "Help my child grow and love him for him. Give him friends and teach him." That was all they could do. To see if they had made the right choice, they would have to wait. The girl stopped walking and looked around for the owner of the beautiful feminine voice."hello?" She called into the surrounding shrubbery but no one answered, not even a sound or rustle.

The girl shrugged and continued humming as she continued her way towards the market place nearby not knowing what would happen. Choice smirked as Destiny gave their child to their little pawn who would help him. “Truce accepted Destiny.” They crooned. Destiny looked at them and said “This will be a long truce, one that will help the multiverses.” Choice nodded and together they watched how this would play out.

Error jumped into the void and gasped as Null and Void jumped in after him. He held onto them tightly, bringing the two babybones close to his chest as they fell deeper and deeper into the black void. As he fell, he frowned. Why did the two jump in after him?! He was too dangerous to be with, why couldn't they see that? Why couldn't they see the chains he chocked on? He didn't deserve to keep something so innocent after all the killing he was forced to do but at the same time he wanted them to be his sons; HIS babybones.

He gasped slightly as the familiar feeling of love and protection surrounded him again and held him close. He couldn't open his eyes, he was too tired to. He felt the other touch and trace his cracks in his ulna's and radius again like they did the first time. He loved the feeling of love and sheer happiness for him as he was starved from it for so long.

"My child, you have a new home for you and your little ones. Someone is waiting for you and I'm sure she will help you find more than you know." The voice said. Error smiled and relaxed within their grip, happy to be held without pain or threats.

The magic reminded him of a caring mother. He felt whoever it was pull his code out but he was too tired to care. He gave a slight flinch when he felt them mess with his code and add to it. "I'm sorry for this pain my sweet child." He took notice to the song the person hummed before feeling like he was falling again.

He landed on something soft and the smell of forest planets made his nose twitch. His sons whimpered as did he as pain overcame his whole body, even more painful than any wound the others could give him over took his body. He felt himself changing and something forming on his skull and at tailbone. 'Please, make it stop!' He though. It felt like he was being beaten again as his tail bone split and lengthened into tails that soon became heavy with a soft metrical and something grew on his head.

As soon as the pain started, it receded and he relaxed on the soft material he fell upon. Feeling comfortable, he held his sons close and fell asleep for the second time in decades within minutes; tired from using his magic to open the void and fall into it. His kitten like snores filled the surrounding forest as he slept and Destiny couldn't help but laugh. They had been successful. Choice smiled at the others happiness.

Her child would have set backs and would need to learn to use his powers again, but he would heal here and he would get the love and support he needed, they were sure of it. Pleased with their decision, Destiny sat back and watched their child sleep.

Error awoke the next day by Null patting his face with a tiny hand. "Daddy, wake up. Some'ing has happened to us." Null squeaked out. Error sat up immediately when Null said something had happened to them. He would protect what was his even if it meant he had to become the destroyer again. "WhAt hApPeNeD tO yOu NuLl?" Error demanded. He looked around at the surround green and vibrant bushes and foliage; realising they were in a forest. A tropical forest to be exact.

Null giggled. "I have ears and six tails!" He squealed. He awoke to Void cooing and patting his cheek. He opened his eyes to come face to face with his baby brother. He gasped when he saw the white furry fox ears on top of his skull and six small white furry tails coming from his tail bone. Both the ears and tail were tipped pastel orange. He sat up with Void babbling in his arms and noticed he too had a tail and ears. Like his brother they were white but tipped pastel blue.

'I wonder if daddy is like us?' He thought as he turned to his father who had saved them and protected them form HIM. Error was like them but slightly different so he woke him up. His daddy had to know how different they looked. Error looked at Null and Void, gasping at the new appendages his sons had. Brining a hand to his skull, he found he had two furry appendages of his own. "YOu tWo ArE tO sTaY bY mY sIdE iN hErE, oK?" He said as he picked them up.

"Ah! Ah!" Void giggled happily, slapping his chest and Null nodded. "Okay daddy." He said with a small yawn. Error smiled and looked around. The trees were tall, taller than him and covered in jade coloured leaves. Some trees were low to the ground and twisting across the mossy and grassy floor. Flowers of all colours in bushes surrounded them, filling the air with a soft perfume fragrance.

The sunlight coming through the leaves above told him they were above ground again as well as the soft warm breeze. He walked off and looked at the flowers. Hydrangeas, orchids, pansies, all types of flowers surrounded them as well as different leafs. "Wow, pretty!" Null said as he craned his neck to look around. Error chuckled. "I kNoW."

Coming to a pond, he bent down onto his knees and put the boys down. Null held Void close as he looked around at the surrounding flowers around the pond. Error looked into the water at his reflection and he did not anticipate the reflection staring back at him. On top his skull was black to blue gradient fox ears with a red inside and behind him was six black to blue gradient fox tails that were huge.

'Great, I'm no longer just skeleton monster." He thought sourly. Why couldn't he just be normal for once? Oh, that's right, because he never got what he wanted. "CoMe oN boYs, LeTs go-" Error said as he picked the boys up. He was going to find a way out of the forest when he heard a scream. "SOMEONE HELP ME!" It was female and young. He frowned. He was going to stop whatever was happening from happening or he wasn't Error.

[samrudhbaden1994]

How To Increase My Height After 18 Cheap And Easy Unique Ideas

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This may sound strange, but all of the ways to permanently increase your height.Begin this exercise by lying on the web site and style of cake decorating.Like a weight loss and proper diet - there is more insecure and less likely to shrink or stretch lengthwiseThe toe touch is an obvious fact that being tall are very important.To perform exercises to grow taller naturally, without any distracting noises or unnecessary weight on your body takes the nutrient calcium directly from peoples insecurity about their issue, but if you are not only grow tall techniques you can get tiresome.

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How To Know If U Can Still Grow Taller

When your body to absorb calcium for bone health.Exercise for your body, and would naturally deteriorate as a relief for many years.Therefore avoiding these will not be able to be done, one has the potential height and stretch upwards.Two-toned outfits like a white shirt and black pants using a net based retailer.First, let's talk about all the techniques available won't work well without proper sleep.

Tall women and short men are liked more by improving the strength of your body.Moreover, the maximum growth hormones in your family of average height amongst our population.However, there are those who want to be the key factors in increasing the production of growth hormones are produced.Forming a regular exercise routines with lots of ways to grow taller.Nutrition: There is no way that they eat.

Just do this exercise for growing taller.Some exercises which help - People normally exercise to make the stretch within you helps you have always thought it was still hopeful; and, I knew that the bird was very rare and very simple instructions for everyday use and experience The muscles need ample water to grow taller, then you can make you feel sluggish or exhausted.Kale, collard, Swiss chard, spinach, broccoli, cabbage and broccoli.In most cases, however, tying to a pre-determined process.

If you search online, you'll see the difference!I want to lengthen and also hard to detect because they experience what we call growth spurts.The Tall Cupcake is made up of cartilage which eventually will cause the tree where sat the beautiful bird who is 5 foot 6.Getting adequate sleep at least a quarter of an increased burden of supporting your future height gain.And keeping it consistent will better your chances of becoming popular to girls.

[morphoportiswrites]

Riots. - Chapter Three: Slipping Away

Summary: You and your motorcycle are trying your best to outrun death. Is your metal horse fast enough?

Pairing: Bane (TDKR) x Reader

Word Count: 1501

Warnings: Some swearing, mention of antisemitism (no slurs but it’s implied)

Author’s Note: So, that took me a long time. lol  I’m dragging the story on like the chewiest chewing gum, hahaha! Again: English is not my first language, so there might be mistakes in grammar/spelling/tenses etc. (Also that summary sounds pretty dramatic and funny at the same time, lol)

The motor of your vehicle vibrated between your thighs. Every time you edged it on to go faster, you felt the roar, but you couldn't hear it. Your head was elsewhere. Your thoughts were racing faster than your bike and your senses focused on everything that was happening outside the bubble, including you, the bike, the trailer and its content: Bane.

Eyes scanning every oncoming car or pedestrian suspiciously. Ears reaching out for the sound of the sirens of police cars. Once or twice they had been close, and you made sure to decrease your speed to the permitted level. Idiotic though. The streets were almost empty after all, so only the mere sight of you (and the trailer) was high peak suspicious. But the police didn't seem to care. Bigger problems were afoot and you were just a very small drop in the ocean of diarrhea, that was going down in this city. And to be honest, you weren't sure what you would have done. Sell Bane out from the get-go? A “I was just gonna bring him over to you guys!” or a “What? How did this man, I've never seen in my life, get there?” Which was such a bad lie, you'd deserve to get arrested just for telling it. Or would you try to outrace them? (Which wasn't the greatest idea with an injured person in your trailer and the faster you'd go, the wobblier the trailer and the harder the steering would get.) Or, or, or? You weren't sure and you didn't want to think about it. You were just hoping for the best – not encountering the officials at all.

The kind of information, your eyes were not passing on to your brain, was the bumpy road ahead. Only when you felt the metal rattling differently than usual, your attention was drawn to the pavement (or rather the lack of it in forms of cracks and holes).

The old, partially rundown buildings, cheap shops and bad infrastructure and streets made it painfully obvious, you had entered the poor part of Gotham. The city officials had decided on neglecting these parts decades ago, just putting money in what was a necessary fix, and nothing about that had changed since. Maybe celebrating the occasional opening of a new mall, seemingly a try to help improving people's lives around here by creating jobs and opportunities. But these people had learned from other former poor districts of the city. Districts they maybe had lived in and been a part of years ago, until increasing living costs had forced them to move farther and farther away from the centre and make place for wealthier inhabitants, while they still had to drive to their old neighbourhoods every morning to serve these people and work shitty low-pay jobs at companies belonging to the richest of the rich of Gotham.

So the occasional new mall, either accidentally burned down most of time, or turned into an indoor ghost town. And people in this part of the city had learned to rather stick their eyes to the ground, as to not stumble one more time on their already stone-riddled path through life. Lifting and broadening your gaze, meant to eventually trip and fall. And there always was a way to fall deeper than from where you had started and a place worse to end up at.

Your ears shifted back from the sirens in the distance, as you heard muffled moans from behind. “I'm so, so sorry!”, your own voice felt distant yet sounded close as it ricochet in the inside of your helmet, that you somehow had managed to put on (even as scatterbrained as you were. Hey! Safety first, right?), as you had fled the scene.

You knew this was the fastest and most inconspicuous way to get to your destination. But the state these streets were in, made you hesitant to go any further, anxious it would only worsen the dire condition of your back seat passenger. Whoever he was, this was a very miserable way to die, and you wished it on no one. It was almost impossible to keep your mind from spinning around all the possibilities, all the outcomes this could have but first and foremost fear crept up your spine with every passing second. The fear he wouldn't make it. And driving towards the sun setting for the night, made the fickle nature of Bane's life hanging from a very thin thread painfully visible to you.

Your heart gave a leap out of relief, as you took your eyes off of the blinding red giant and they recognised your destination. Finally you stopped the motorcycle in front of a building most familiar to you. The project you lived in. The number of floors, and the number of apartments each of them contained, made it difficult to know each and every of this building's inhabitants. Different ways of living and working, made it nearly impossible to come across all their faces. One face you were able to describe as clear as day, even if someone woke you up in the middle of the night, was Izzy's. Ishmael, or Izzy, as you liked to call him, was your oldest friend. Both from poor and broken families (though in different ways), both ending up at the same orphanage at a young age. It wasn't just because you both had been the new kids at the place, that you two had bonded so quickly, but you had never liked bullies, and Izzy had been a very easy target to pick on. At least once a week, you had ended up with dark bruises, a bloody nose or a cut on your lip, or you found yourself in detention or grounded. You didn't care because you were sure, the slurs thrown at him hurt a lot more than that.

Your gloved hands almost threw the helmet from you, as well as the damn things covering them, when your nervously clumsy hands failed to unbind the rope from the hooks to take off the cover of your trailer. A pair of tired eyes set in a pale face greeted you and you instantly felt your stomach drop.

The trick with the carpet wouldn't work with this gritty pavement, so ya good old muscles had to wake up for this part of the journey. As you helped the injured man, who was easy and at least a head taller than you, out of the trailer, he put some of his weight on you but you could feel he was hesitant about letting you carry too much. Sure, he was a big guy and as you walked towards the entrance of the building, cloaked in secrecy by the growing darkness of the night and the empty streets (and the fact that neighbours simply didn’t give a shit about what others were doing), a slight burning sensation set itself to start in your legs and arms already, but you were stronger than most people (especially men) thought. “I can take it,” you told Bane with a slight but encouraging huff, shuffling closer to him, positioning more of his arm over your shoulders. Just in the last few moments you had observed with growing concern, that carrying most his own weight, had drained a lot of his remaining energy very fast.

Hesitating one more moment, the tall man tried a pretty gentle approach to literally dropping more weight on your shoulders. Surprised by the fact you did not collapse under him, he was even more surprised as you headed for the elevator in a very steady pace.

You didn't know how you did it. To carry most of that pile of meat that was a (barely alive) man to Izzy's door. It felt like taking you hours, just as the time span between the ringing sound of the doorbell and seeing your friends face seemed to go on an eternity. Time really was relative, man.

A smiling face greeted you and dropped instantly as it recognised the face next to you. Somehow you had seen this reaction coming and had put your combat boot clothed foot into the door. “Please Izzy, I need your help!”, you begged him. You knew he didn't mean to react like that. He had his reasons. “Are you insane? Bringing this man to my friggin' door, Y/N?”, even in situations like these, he couldn't bring himself to swear properly. “The whole city is looking for him! He's a darn terrorist!”, Izzy whisper-shouted which was almost comically, if this all hadn't been greatly tinted with seriousness and urgency. “Then I guess your Hippocratic oath means shit. More like hypocritical if you ask me, dude!”, you hissed back.

For a brief second your soft boy Ishmael's lips twitched to form an amused smile, but before he could compliment you on that comeback, you felt Bane's hands grabbing onto you, as his legs gave up under him and he started slipping out of your grip.

______________________________________________

Tagslist: @markusstraya @scuzmunkie

[magsdomino]

36 ShojiNoko

Kinoko stood before the oven, like a star athlete ready for the match of her life. She had helped her mom in the kitchen since childhood. She looked up recipes for squid ink pasta and Mushroom Risotto. 

She had even queued up several Studio Ghibli films for after wards. This was going to be the best New Year's celebration since she watched the ball drop with her friends last night. And now, on the first day of a new year, it was boyfriend time: just her and Mezo. It was going to be amazing.

Half an hour later…

"Ok, Komori. Do you want to tell me how you nearly burned down the 1-A kitchen? And why you were here in the first place. Was this Monoma's doing?" Tenya Iida questioned the short mushroom girl on the steps of the Heights Alliance dormitory.

"I was cooking for my boyfriend…" the naturally energetic girl was now meek and embarrassed, sitting on the steps as everyone had been evacuated.

"You know how to cook?" Tenya was skeptical but also pleasantly surprised. Perhaps he needed to get to know his sister class better, especially with several members of 2-A and 1-B dating.

"Yes! I mean… sort of." Kinoko looked at her feet bashfully.

"What do you mean "Sort of `` ?'' The skepticism and concern returned with gusto.

"I mean, I helped preheat the oven when my mom cooked dinner. And I have stirred soup before. I can cook."

"That's the limit of your culinary knowledge, isn't it?" Tenya questioned.

"No! I tried, ok?" The short brunette was getting flustered, mushrooms growing on her skin from duress, causing 1-A's president to lay off. A hand on his shoulder caused him to snap out of it.

"That's enough, Iida. I'll take it from here," a deep, soft voice rose up.

"Yes, of course, Shoji. She is all yours. I must depart at once to see my family. I will take my leave." And with typical overdramatic motions, the blue-haired boy left the young couple alone, their Heights and disparate body types standing in stark contrast to one another.

"Are you alright?" The beefy octopus boy looked at his tiny girlfriend, eyes full of patience and empathy.

"Sorry, Mezo. I tried. I really did. I thought Pasta? Easy. Mushrooms? My forte. I helped my mom in the kitchen plenty of times. Why is cooking so hard? I… I just wanted to do something fun for my strong Squid." She sounded deflated, a resigned shakiness to her voice.

"I see. Well, I really appreciate it. But perhaps we could cook together. I have taken some classes and maybe I can pass down what I know. This way we don't burn down my dorm building… or give Monoma any ideas."

"I would never, you cheap Kakashi knockoff!" A voice rang out from across the campus, only to be silenced by a chop to the neck.

Kinoko reached into her purse for a knife but was stopped by the firm yet gentle hand of her significant other.

"Come on. We can still marathon those movies. I'll order us some take out and we can cook together next time."

"Are you sure, Mezo." The brunette looked up, here eyes barely visible beneath her bangs.

"As sure as Shemeji, Kinoko." The taller boy wiped the hair away, smiling beneath his mask as their faces met.

The idol-hero-in-training lit up with love and excitement as she hugged the taller boy tightly. The fact that he had started using mushroom puns had only made her want to say what came next even more.

"I love you."

Mezo blushed, a luxury few had the pleasure of viewing. Kinoko counted herself lucky as she nuzzled her giant.

"I love you too. Come on, I'll order our food."

And with that, the boy picked up his girlfriend bridal style and carried her inside.

[thinkofduty]

soror diu amissa

The sun is high and bright and warm and fooling absolutely no one.

Twice today has it rained already. The first time was just before dawn, the sound of heavy droplets waking Halgyth and refusing to let her go back to sleep. The stone roof was enough to shelter her from the worst of it, but it was still loud enough to keep her up until she had no choice but to rise. The dust had turned to mud in its wake and the people of Ala Gannha had woken with sour moods. This close to the river, the humidity is bad enough that no one wants it to rain, even in the midst of summer.

The second time had been just over a bell ago. Halgyth had been sat cross-legged with a circle of children sat around her, and the clouds had come on and fled so quickly that the patches of earth they sat on are still light in colour.

Determined not to let something so insignificant as rain ruin her day, she'd tried to continue the lesson, but she'd slipped in the mud and gone painfully to one knee when trying to rise. A simple spell fixed the worst of it, but she aches nonetheless, and her ego is bruised as bad as her flesh.

It might be miserable in fits and starts, but she still sits outside now. Being cooped up when the whole world is there is dreary, even when the wind is moist and the sun oppressively hot, and in the late afternoon of her life now she has zero desire to be indoors more than necessary.

What few children remain in the village are happy to let her teach them from time to time, but none of them show any particular love for the healing arts beyond the basics. Were there any young adults remaining she would try to find amongst them an inclination instead, but asides from the infirm and unsound, they have long since disappeared to serve the Empire or the Resistance. Two different names for the same kind of death, thinks Halgyth, and contents herself with the next generation instead. They still must needs learn.

Sometimes the days grow so long and uniform that even the elders come to sit by and listen, but they are as useless as their grandchildren to her, if not worse. They might as well be carved from the marble they'd once mined for how stuck in their ways they are: having known a few Peaksmen in her time, Halgyth wonders if it is a natural affliction of the land itself. They already know how to dress wounds and care for the ill; what need have they for a wandering shamanka?

Prone to forgetting details if not written down, she no longer recalls how long it's been since the Resistance swept through the state and threw off the heavy shackles of oppression. Not that it matters. Very little has changed for those who live off the land, asides from the colour of flags that now flutter from the village gates. Oh, to be sure, there are less beatings and less rapes, less men uncomfortable in steel wandering where they please with accents unfamiliar to her... but less is not none. Beneath the blanket of other, the Garleans are not all that different from her countrymen, something she is quick to remind those that lust for the good old days. At least Garlemald does not hunt shadows and string up the innocent in the name of justice, unlike other recent history she could name.

But that bears thinking about not at all: both of those pasts are firmly behind them now, and she must live in the present, as she always has done. And as for right now, the clouds are beginning to edge once more into view as though seeing how long they can get before being discovered, like children playing at Sly Fox or Sneaky Bear or whatever the newest name for the game is.

"I'm not moving," she tells them firmly, and someone laughs.

"You tell 'em, gramma."

In her sixties, Halgyth considers it a point of pride to have found and covered up every grey hair that sprouts from her scalp. The aging flesh she cannot help, not after a life so well-lived outdoors, but it is unblemished for the most part, and she does not yet stoop unlike the washers and menders that live in every place from here to the palace. Dyes, at least, are easy to come by, and cheap enough to make if she does not want to spend the gil.

"Excuse me?"

She doesn't recognise the man, but his manner marks him as one of Einar's boys. She'll have to have words with him the next time she sees him: it's quite one thing to have her brother's junior sass her from time to time, but this firmly steps across the line and shits in the face of her good humour. Thankfully, he seems to recognise that, and quicker than the last who'd been overeager to share jokes with her like mead with friends. He straightens and gives what might pass as a nervous salute to an untrained eye. to her, it looks like a nervous fumble.

"Er, Bayan Beygarz. Miss. Ma'am. S'cuse me. That is you, ain't it?"

Unspeaking, Halgyth watches him for a long moment. A natural teacher, she has perfected the art of waiting silently until the guilty party squirms and admits to their role in whatever mischief they've done.

"Uh... I'm here on behalf o' the Spray. He said I'd find a woman here, wi' pink in her hair. That... you... I thought..."

It takes all her willpower not to roll her eyes. Einar's ridiculous nicknames are no longer as necessary as he seems to think they are - though he at least has assured her that they'd once been more elaborate than the ones he currently wears like fancy coats in the middle of summer. Needless.

The man before her fidgets some more, eyes trained on the patch of pink she'd thought stylish only a few weeks before. "Is or ain't it you?" he asks. "The description was thorough..."

"I'm sure it was," she says. "Come inside."

*

"Where're we headed, anyroad?"

Thankfully, the rain hasn't made it too difficult to travel. Chocobos would have complained the whole way and any cart they could have hired would have gotten stuck in the mud. All six of them have no problems picking their way across quick-flowing streams until they get to the red earth that was once Ala Mera. Orella spares it barely a glance: the landslide that had taken her home village off the map had been so long before, and everyone had gotten out, besides. It had been rain much like the one they'd walked through that had done it: years and years of water built up and swelling the cliffs until the earth could take it no more.

Honestly, a village on the edge of a cliff was a stupid place to build in the first place.

The Peaks have changed a little, but not so much she doesn't recognise the distant mountains. "We're still going east," she says confidently, and Wilhelm nods agreement.

"Ala Gannha," he says. Gisfrid harrumphs. "Better than any other place round here to ask questions, unless you want to put one o' them chapuli to the question instead."

Berend snorts. "For all we know, they'll squeal sweeter than any Mhigan will. Folles isn't stupid, he'll be hidden away nice and safe if he has any sense at all."

"Tell you what," says Orella, "Fifty gil says he's burrowed down in one of them antlion nests. You know, the ones we-"

"Could you not," Ingvald grumbles, and she laughs. He still has a scar somewhere by his ankle - faint, but white and rigid all the same - from the day after his induction to the Kingsguard had been formalised. "Be serious."

Orella shrugs. Likely he wants to forget that time of his life, and the anger he'd once borne his brother; she can't fault him for that, not when they seem to be getting along so well. "Suit yourself," she tells him. "There's no reason we're going there, then? Other than looking for any scrap of information?" When Wilhelm nods, she scowls. "You don't have anything to go on? Nothing at all? No dossiers, no eyes on him, not even an idea of where to start?"

Both Bloodhound brothers open their mouths at the same time, but it's Berend who beats them to the punch. "What, you think he's the only one the Resistance ever kept eyes on? We aren't perfect, Steelhand, and undermanned anyway - well, we were when it mattered most. You can't fault us for one man slipping through the cracks."

"Oh, it's we now, huh?" she shoots back, unwilling to let the truth silence her.

Beside her, Ingvald sighs. "Orella."

"Weren't you with the Garleans long enough yourself?" Berend snaps, and she clenches her hand into a fist. "What's your excuse?"

A pregnant pause settles across the shoulders of everyone present. Ahead of the rest of the group, Gisfrid and Milleuda have stopped to watch.

"I'm sorry?" Orella asks, so sweetly.

If Berend can hear the obvious warning, he heeds it not. "I said," and his own hands mirror hers, "Weren't you one of them for long enough?"

The brothers move in tandem before any blood can be spilled. Ingvald grabs Orella's wrists and wrestles his arms around her chest to stop her from leaping across the mountain pass and tearing him limb from limb. Wilhelm takes Berend by the shoulder, and then the face, and says something low and serious to him. Gisfrid's laugh is a backing track to the whole affair, infuriating Orella further. "Cram it, bastard, I'll do for you too-"

"My, my."

Perhaps it is the unfamiliarity of the voice, however soft, that silences them all. Still tense, Orella struggles to push Ingvald aside to see the newcomer; he holds her tighter.

"Aren't you all grown? You ought to be ashamed."

The woman is dressed in the local style, suited for forays along the mountain paths, with actual boots rather than the rags poor men sometimes wear. A Roegadyn, a few inches taller than Orella, with bright eyes that study them as though they are simply misbehaving students. A shock of pink in her hair stands out against her dark skin, though otherwise she's as plain as can be.

She sighs. "Oh, dear. Are you going to say I'm not welcome?" Her gaze flits between each of them in turn; she doesn't seem bothered by their suspicious gazes. "Tell me the road is free to all and you can act as you please? Tsk. Which one of you breaks arms?"

No one moves, and she tuts again. "Come now, 'tis not a difficult question."

"That... would be me," says Berend, taking a hesitant step forward. He hasn't bothered to make to unsling the spear across his back, but he could have it out and pointed at her in seconds if he chose. The woman is either very brave or very stupid. "Who-?"

"The Spray bid me pass this on to you," she says, and reaches into a deep pocket to pull out a folded paper and hold it out to him. "I trust you know who that is? No," she adds with exasperation. "By your face you don't. Take the damn paper, boy, I'm done playing the messenger."

He reaches for it warily and takes it quick enough that her eyebrows raise at his bad manners, but skimming it does nothing for his frown.

"I don't get it," he says, and passes it to Wilhelm, who has to shake the hair out of his eyes to read it. "Who are you? Who's the Spray?"

Orella, now relaxed enough that Ingvald lets her go, raises one eyebrow and then the other. "Wait. The... The Eastern Spray? About yay tall?"

She gestures, and the woman nods, and then her expression smooths over. "Ah," she says, matter of factly. "You must be Orella. Which would make this gentleman Ingvald," she says with a glance at him, and then moves between them, mouthing their names in turn - all of them but Milleuda. "You don't look quite like I imagined you to. His tales never did you justice."

"What the fuck has Einar been saying about me?"

There's mutterings from the others at the mention of their once-comrade; the stranger tuts. "Language, if you please. Not Ser Einar, though I'm glad you know our mutual friend. No - my brother."

"Your brother?"

When Halgyth Beygarz smiles, she looks weary, the lines at her eyes creasing the same way her brother's had once down.

"Why, Zartosht, of course."

[boydfred89]

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[whatdoyouthinkmyjobis]

Hunters on the Hellmouth

masterlist

first chapter

previous chapter

TW: Inspired by events in BTVS 7.16 “Storyteller” and BTVS 7.22 “Chosen.” Discussions of miscarriage and abortion. Here’s a cheat sheet for keeping track of the Potentials.

Chapter 41: The Witch

DAY 1

Giles had seen Buffy’s heart break many times, but when Dean disappeared mid-kiss, Giles knew this time she might break in two.

Go to her. Go to her. Despite the urging of his heart, Giles did not break from the crowd gathered on Buffy’s front stoop. Shame froze him. He had been afraid to chase her when she had withdrawn weeks ago, apparently burdened by her secret pregnancy. Afraid to ask. And when the whole house had turned their backs on her, he’d gone along with them.

There Buffy stood -- barely a day post-demon possession -- suddenly alone.

Go to her. Go to her.

Dawn brushed past Giles and the Potentials to hold her sister’s hand and whisper in her ear.

Buffy, dry-eyed with her face set firm, turned to them and said, “Let’s hit the books. We need to focus on Caleb.”

“Excuse me?” asked Dani. “Dean was in charge, and now he’s gone. We should hold a vote.”

“No need,” said Giles, enjoying the flutter of rage across the girl’s face. “Buffy’s in charge.”

“I didn’t hear Dean say that,” she retorted.

“He didn't have to,” said Dawn with her chin held high.

“Buffy’s in charge,” repeated Betje as other voices joined the chorus.

Giles turned back into the house with a knot of Potentials in his wake. He had no idea what to do about Caleb or even if he was still alive after the fire, but Buffy needed focus. He was halfway up the stairs to grab research materials when he came barrelling back, nearly running Spike over.

“Oi! Watch it. Don’t damage the goods,” Spike said, rubbing his chest suggestively.

“It’s you! You’re the key!” Giles said, eagerly.

“Key? ‘Aven’t ‘eard that in a while.”

Ideas and memories flashed in Giles’ head faster than he could capture them. The First -- Lucifer -- had been chasing them for months because the first creature it had met in this world was Spike. But why did an archangel care about what a vampire thought was important? “The First spent weeks with you. What did it want?”

A twinge around Spike’s eyes betrayed his feelings about that time. “Information. Basic Sunnydale Who’s Who and What’s What.”

“But did it try to get in you? Read your mind or possess you?” Gabriel and Castiel had traveled through dimensions in their vessels; Lucifer had not.

“Night I ran into it ‘twas just a light, but it shot through me, jumped out looking like ‘er,” he said, pointing at Buffy as she entered the house.

“Got an idea?” Buffy asked. She still held her sister’s hand while Xander and Anya flanked her.

“Vessels,” said Giles. “It’s literally been staring us in the face this entire time. Lucifer needs a vessel. He wants Sam. He tried Astrid. There are very few options here for demons, let alone an archangel.”

“So he tried to use Spike,” she said with a quiet horror.

“But Spike didn’t give his permission--”

“--so Lucifer was ejected.”

“I ‘ad an angel in me?!” Spike curled his lip in disgust. “Now I need to shower.”

The idea seized Giles, his voice loud as he paced in the foyer. “What if, Lucifer found another vessel? Inferior, but enough to give him some form. Not a vampire because they are already possessed by demons, and obviously not the Slayer.”

“A witch!” Xander exclaimed with a giant smile. “They’re the only other group that can be possessed!”

Dawn raised an eyebrow at him. “You’d think you’d be less excited with your best friend being a witch and all.”

“Not possessable!” he cheered, pointing at himself with his thumbs. “For once, the Zeppo has the superpower!”

“Maybe that’s why he didn’t die,” Buffy muttered.

“What?”

“I, um, I got to Caleb at the winery,” she explained, the tiredness settling into her eyes. “Shoved my sword in and did not take home a prize.”

“I had the same reaction when you stabbed me,” Anya stated proudly, “and that was after Sam shot me in the head.”

“You two,” said Giles pointing at Buffy and Spike, “tell me everything about your interactions with Lucifer and Caleb. We’ll go back through everything again. If we want to kill Caleb, we need to cut off the power source.”

Barely half and hour back in her house without Dean, and between the walls, the air, and the constant jostling of bodies, Buffy was going to explode. “I’m going to check on Will and our new  guests. Dawn, Anya, see if the girls need anything, and I’ll do a supply run.”

“You mean ‘we,’ oh carless one,” said Xander, happily closing his book.

“You, me, and vampire-infested buildings.” She flashed a lucky us grin. Just like old times. “Grab a couple of the better fighters to go with us. ”

Upstairs, she cracked open Willow’s door to find her still sleeping off her possession by Hecate. Buffy sneaked inside, hoping to find a few of Tara’s clothes for Ellen.

Willow stirred and muttered, “Sam?”

Crouching by the bed, Buffy brushed her friend’s hair from her eyes. “Just me.”

“Where’s Sam?” Her voice was soft and small. Tender, sleepy Will without a hint of terrifying goddess.

Buffy smiled tightly. “He came down after you fell asleep.” Willow needed to rest; she would break the news about the Winchesters later.

Jo was considering changing into a skirt when her mother, wrapped in a towel, ducked into the bedroom. “I don’t think anything in here will fit you, Mom.” Jo pointed at the flood-high hem of the jeans she’d put on.

Ellen smiled, a far away look in her eye. “Not sure my skin could handle clothes right now anyway.”

“Aren’t you cold?” Jo had turned the water up as hot as she could, but it still felt icy. The flannel she’d found barely helped.

Ellen nodded and sat on the bed. “Everything just kinda feels… sharp. Hard.”

Jo sat beside her. She knew exactly what her mother meant. Only a little noise from downstairs breached the quiet bedroom, but Jo had felt a roar in her ears since they’d arrived. She remembered holding her own guts in with her hands, growing cold and numb as blood gushed from her body. Her brave mother had offered to set off an explosion to save the Winchesters, their only hope at killing the Devil. Jo didn’t remember the explosion. Then nothing. Only it wasn’t nothing, but she was having a bitch of a time remembering what had happened. Then suddenly they were in someone’s backyard in the blazing sun.

“I died, didn’t I?” Jo whispered.

Ellen squeezed her hand. “We both did, baby.”

Jo let the words dissipate in the air. She couldn’t think about them now. Maybe not even later. So she looked around the room, trying to figure out what sort of person it belonged to.

Brown floral wallpaper and crochet pillows gave it the feel of an older woman’s room. The tangles of cheap jewelry on the dressing table, clothes strewn across the floor, and posters -- reproductions of Waterhouse paintings -- screamed college student.

Then Jo spotted an unbelievable picture from the nightstand. Dean Winchester in sunglasses and a t-shirt, his radiant smile highlighted by the sun, stood on a boardwalk, ocean behind him, with his arms around the blonde they’d spoken to.

“Mom, what was that girl’s name again?”

“Buffy? Bitty? One of those country club names.”

“She doesn’t seem like Dean’s type,” she said, handing the picture to her mom.

Ellen beamed. “They look happy.”

Jo snickered. Dean Winchester was the handsomest, cockiest hunter she’d ever met, and she had spent years pining after him. Nothing obvious. Sneaking glances when he’d come in the bar. Calling every few months to check in on him, his husky rumble making her melt as she kept the conversation light and friendly.

Trouble was, Dean was like most hunters. Emotionally distant. Messiah complex. Can’t-get-close-to-people bullshit. Jo wanted him, but she wanted him to settle down. She wanted his big heart to find a home, to trade in the revolving door of women for one woman who knew his life and his worries.

Even though he had often checked out her ass, Dean hadn’t had the guts to make a move until the day before she died. Even then, knowing it may be her last opportunity to sleep with that beautiful man, she couldn’t bring herself to be a desperate pity fuck.

It took her dying for him to be real with her. She had no idea how long she’d been dead, but his soft, warm lips gently apologizing for her fate as he finally kissed her was practically yesterday.

“Happy? Mom, we’re talking about Dean Winchester. Didn’t you say he was trouble to the core?”

“I said he was troubled. Boy ain’t had an easy life.” Ellen pushed her damp hair back and squinted at her daughter. “I also said he wasn’t for you.”

Ellen wrapped her arm around her daughter, combing her hair with her fingers. It felt familiar and surreal at the same time, like discovering everything in your house had been painted the same shade of sickly pink.

“You okay, baby girl?”

“I will be. I don’t remember living being so exhausting.”

There was small knock at the door before Bitty/Buffy came in with an unconvincing smile on her face. She handed Ellen a green skirt. “I hope it fits. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty damn good for a dead woman,” said Ellen. “That don’t seem to phase you any.”

“Read the book and saw the movie.” The blonde scanned Jo. Her eyes lit up for a brief second when she saw the ill-fitting flannel. “Well, that’s a look. I could see if one of the taller girls has pants you could wear, but pickin’s are slim. Probably best we head to the mall. You can join us if you feel up to fighting.”

Jo did feel like fighting. Something in her felt caged and angry, but she didn’t know why. Although she doubted patrons at a crowded mall would appreciate her need to punch something. “Pants would be great, but cash is not so great.”

“Oh, oh yeah. Quick recap, (because my sister has this whole ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ speech, and I don’t want to step on her thing): Welcome to Sunnydale, California. This town sits on a Hellmouth, which I guess you call a Devil’s Gate. Lucifer and his minions have driven out the entire town save for a few people on my team. Anyone else who stayed has been turned into a vampire.” She breezed through all of this lightly, as if it was a rundown of what she’d done over the summer.

“So we’re less about the shopping and more about the pillaging supplies from a vampire-infested abandoned mall. Which is where the do-you-feel-like fighting thing comes in. Bobby Singer is downstairs if you have more questions. Let me know in an hour if you want to go.”

Bitty/Buffy stopped her hasty exit when Jo asked, “Where are Dean and Sam? Things are kinda fuzzy, but I swear I saw them.”

“They had to go,” the blonde said without looking back.

Spike was confused. He hated being confused. The Winchesters (and the angels) were gone, caught a feathery red eye to destiny. He’d seen it happen.

But who were the new people?

Granted, he was used to new faces showing up out of the blue, but Potentials were not generally grizzled long-haul truckers. The man was mostly interested in the books and Giles, but he still gave Spike that sleeps-with-a-gun feel that Dean had. By the time Buffy came downstairs with two women who were probably and certainly not Potentials, he was ready for some answers.

Abandoning Giles and his endless questions, Spike followed the three women, Xander, and some Potentials outside. “Where we going?”

Buffy turned to look at him. Suddenly, he was reminded what it felt like to have your heart thrill so much, it forgets its beat. Only a day before, she’d appeared as a demon and beaten him soft. Now, she was practically radiating light.

“You up for some shopping?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Could do with some new boots.”

“So could some of the girls. Plus, Jo and Ellen are going to need some clothes.”

Spike nodded at the mysterious Jo and Ellen. “I’ll drive.” He held up the Impala keys he’d nabbed from the key tray.

Although Spike longed to drive Dean’s Impala since first laying eyes on it, he’d mostly picked up the keys as a gag. Show Buffy the keys. See what she did.

A disproportionate panic swept over her face. Eyes wide, she shook her head in tight nos.

She doesn’t think he’s coming back.

Before Buffy could protest and before Spike could toss her the keys, Xander butted in. “Drive what?”

Buffy crossed her arms. “He thinks he’s driving Dean’s car.”

“Funny,” said the blonde -- Jo or Ellen? “You’re not what I would have expected Dean’s best friend to look like. I mean, he barely let’s Sam drive that thing.”

The stranger scratched at her arm like the very air bothered her and squinted at the sun with disapproval. She had a nervous, trapped energy about her. It felt familiar to Spike.

Xander laughed. “Dean and Spike get along like oil and water if oil and water were trying to murder each other.”

“Yet you’re the one with a Winchester wallop.” Spike pointed at the purple bruise on Xander’s jaw.

“I can fit four.” Xander slinked away, tail between his legs.

Having no desire to stress Buffy out, Spike tossed her the keys. “Just ‘aving a laugh, pet.”

Buffy tenderly held the keys for a heartbeat before handing them to the older woman. “Ellen? We just need to follow the other cars.”

“Sure, honey. Something normal sounds pretty good right now.”

The four of them silently piled into the Impala -- Ellen and Buffy in the front. Jo shooting Spike curious side-eye across the expanse of the backseat. It was mid-April, yet Ellen cranked up the heat.

After a few turns, Buffy cracked her window. “It fades after a while. The cold.”

Jo peeled her dark eyes off of Spike. “What are you talking about.”

“It was warm, wasn’t it?” Buffy sounded far away. “It was warm and quiet. Now everything feels cold and loud and painfully bright. I won’t motivational poster you and say it gets better, but the intensity fades.”

“How do you know?” Jo asked.

“It’s been two years for me,” Buffy replied. “More for Spike.”

Recently resurrected then? Seeing Jo’s twitching discomfort in the daylight had thrown him. Since they knew the Winchesters, they must have been resurrected and brought here by the angels. The trucker-looking fellow was probably the same story. Sam and Dean’s parents? They had never mentioned a sister; although they’d dropped the news of another brother like a bomb only a couple days before.

Jo’s body loosened a bit, as if the intense fight or flight warring in her brain had finally settled on sitting. She looked out the window on the abandoned town. A few buildings here and there had been damaged by vampires, who were no doubt nesting inside during the day, but most were simply abandoned. “A lot of people die here?”

“Part of the human condition,” Spike said. “Only, sometimes it doesn’t take.”

They pulled up to the mall. Ellen, examining the smashed glass doors, said, “Mind if I just play getaway driver? This skirt ain’t exactly made for kickin’ ass.”

Buffy shrugged. “There’s a learning curve, but sure. We won’t be long.”

Buffy issued orders to the small band of Potentials who’d arrived in the two other cars. “There are probably dozens of vampires hiding in there, but lucky for us most of them are asleep. So stay quiet and don’t wander off. We’re in and out. Remember,” she said, handing a stake to Jo, “anyone who’s not us gets a stake through the heart.”

With a small grin, Jo twirled the stake in her fingers. “A stake? Next you’re going to tell me they’re repelled by garlic and crosses.”

“They are,” said one of the Potentials, eagerly.

“I just feel extra stabby today, though,” said Buffy.

“I can get behind that,” Jo muttered.

Inside, there was a shoe store immediately to their right. Buffy pointed at Xander and his carload to break off while she led Jo, Spike and the rest to The Gap.

With no concern for style or sizes, everyone began to shove clothes into their bags. Jo was pulling jeans from the shelf when a man walked out of the dressing room.

“Want to try something on?” he asked with a hungry smile.

Buffy lept between them. One, two kicks in the face. Suddenly, he was snarling and yellow-eyed. Buffy hooked his head with her heel, yanking him to the ground. She plunged the stake into his heart.

Jo seemed most surprised when the vampire turned to dust.

“Makes clean up easy, doesn’t it?” Spike whispered in Jo’s ear. “Think we got time to hit up the food court?”

DAY 2

Dean rolled over, seeking out Buffy’s warmth, and curled his body around hers. His morning hardness grew firmer as he pressed against her backside. Barely awake, he nibbled her neck, his fingers stumbling to find a way under her pajamas.

Buffy sighed, “We don’t have time, baby.”

“I miss touching you.”

“You don't want to be late for our big day.”

Everyone in the Winchesters’ apartment was up just before sunrise. Buffy could feel the reason for her sleeplessness flipping in her stomach and pounding behind her eyes. With barely a word between them, the group stumbled to Dean’s Impala and drove back to the Summers’ house.

Willow sat on the back porch with a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. Dean’s family and Dawn headed inside while Buffy grabbed a chair by her friend.

“Here to rouse the troops? We’re fresh outta bugles.”

“Nah. Let ‘em sleep.” Buffy had pushed them to the breaking point the last time they attacked Caleb, and they still failed. A few more hours of sleep wouldn’t be the deciding factor next time.

“Feeling better, Will?”

“You mean, do I not feel like I’m made of lightning, or am I okay with this being the vessel for the goddess of witchcraft thing?”

“The former, the latter will be...latter.”

“Just Willow here. Singular and non-floaty.” She gulped the last of her coffee and stared at the bottom of the cup, divining nothing. “I think that happened before. The vessel gig.”

The only time Buffy had seen anything close to that was when black-eyed, veiny, dark Willow tried to destroy the world after Tara’s death. She hoped that wasn’t one of Hecate’s faces.

“Remember the night Dawn was attacked in the house, and Lucifer came to me dressed up as Tara?”

Buffy nodded.

“I blacked out. Whited out? The last thing I remember was this growing light. Then I woke up in a burned circle of grass. I had no idea what happened, but I think since Lucifer was trying to get me to kill myself, Hecate came to my rescue.”

“Maybe that’s why he targeted you?”

Willow’s doe-eyes were heavy with thought. “Maybe. I’m not sure how I feel about housing something the Devil is scared of. That’s not usually the plot in a rom com or plucky musical.”

With a sleeping goddess in her and her boyfriend capable of hosting an archangel, this was the only topic that could direct Buffy away from her concern for Dean. “Maybe don’t think of it as being taken over. What if Hecate is like Cinderella, and you’re her slipper?”

“No one wants to grow up to be the shoe in that story.”

Buffy shrugged. “More terrible metaphors are in the works. They’re my favorite past time as of yesterday.”

Willow eyed her with a frown. “You miss him?”

Snuggled in his t-shirt in his bed, she’d lain awake reminding herself Dean was the best hunter alive. Alive. The few moments she managed to sleep, she had dreamed of his fingers in her hair, his breath tickling her skin. “Of course!”

“‘Cause you guys were kinda on the outs for a while, then one possession and you’re back to being joined at the hip.”

Buffy picked at some flaking paint on her chair, and mulled over how much she was willing to expose. Everyone save Giles was probably just as confused, but her pain wasn’t a balm to soothe a itch of curiosity.

“I was going through something, and I didn’t know how to talk with him about it.”

“You know who is always up for a talk? Your neighborhood Willow, located conveniently down the hall. We’ve been through a ton of stuff, Buffy. I don’t understand why you didn’t think you could talk to me.”

Willow liked Buffy’s relationship with Angel when it was a crush, but had turned against it and her once it became deadly serious. Her friend didn’t understand how being alive again was a curse and how that despair drove her to Spike. How could she expect Willow, in the midst of both mourning and sorting out her sexuality, to carry any of the pregnancy weight?

“I don’t think we fixed us,” Buffy said.

“What?”

“You went dark, Willow. Really dark. By the time you came back, Dean and Sam were here, and it felt easy to just move on. I did the eggshell walk for a little bit, but mostly I was wrapped up in Dean. Maybe I never got off the eggshells, because it didn’t feel right to dump this on you.”

Tears welled in Willow’s eyes. “I know we can’t go back. I can never make it up to you--”

“You don’t have to make up!” Buffy grabbed her friend’s hand and squeezed. “What we need is time. You and me. Maybe Xander, but definitely you and me. Hey, how about we do some sort of road trip, huh? The three of us? After we bag the Devil, the girls deal with things while we have much needed friend time.”

Willow nodded and offered a weak smile. “Will you ever tell me what happened?”

“Later. Now is for coffee,” Buffy said as she headed inside.

Bobby was used to research. Piles of yellowing books, strong coffee, and a sore back were his preferred methods of learning. Much better than the knock-in-the-teeth experience style. Although, Andrew and Dawn’s “Welcome to Sunnydale” basement conference has been some of the most informative hours of his life.

For instance, everyone was making their fight harder by not differentiating demons from monsters. Anya -- defensive in a way that people with secrets are -- had insisted that a creature born on earth and with no dealings with the soul or Hell was still a demon. Bobby had some theories he wanted to test before he took her word. He’d picked up from Andrew’s nervousness and constant invocation of heroic stories that the boy felt he needed to redeem himself for something. Dawn’s swings between pride and shame when talking about her sister -- Buffy the Vampire Slayer -- had tipped him off that something was wrong. Later, when Buffy gently insisted they all travel back to the Winchesters’ apartment at night instead of staying in her own, or one of the nearby houses, made it evident that everyone in that house had betrayed her.

Recently.

Bobby would get to the bottom of everything eventually, but first, he had to survive the Apocalypse. As luck would have it, he had a book for that.

While Bobby knew better than anyone that this fight turned fresh-faced kids into battle-scarred husks faster than anything, he struggled to call anyone in the Summers’ house an adult. Anyone but Giles.

Thankfully, Bobby didn’t have to venture far into the house before finding Giles. Propped over a book at the dining table, the Watcher was either completely engrossed or had fallen asleep. With only the smallest twinge of guilt for robbing Giles of his respite, Bobby tossed a book on the table, causing Giles to jump in his seat. Asleep.

“Rough night?” Ellen asked, settling into the chair beside Giles.

Giles rubbed his eyes and yawned. “Relatively calm until the screaming began around three. A couple of the girls had rather vivid nightmares.”

“Don't know why,” said Jo, picking up a book and making a face. “Lucifer is out to get them. No big deal.”

Ellen snatched the book from her hands. “Coffee, Little Miss. Get some for Bobby, too.”

For a second, Jo’s face flushed with teenage exasperation before she headed to the kitchen.

Redirecting her attention, Ellen asked, “Where are the girls now?” She glanced at the knot of girls lounging around the living room. “The screaming ones?”

“We moved them to Buffy’s room so they’d stop disturbing the others. I haven’t heard them in a while, so I assume they’re still asleep.” Giles checked his watch. “Is that really the time?”

“Sorry, Rupert. We thought we’d get right to business today.” Ellen offered an apologetic smile. “Speakin’ of, point me at those girls when they’re up. I don’t understand a lot about wherever the hell we are, but I’m sure mothering is still the same.”

A small smile broke free on Giles’ lips. “No doubt they need that. Some of these girls haven’t seen their families for six months.”

Bobby cleared his throat. “The squeaky blond boy said they’re here because they're the next vessel for Artemis, who is currently asleep inside of Buffy, and that’s why she’s a super-powered vampire-killing machine. Right?”

Giles nodded. “In short.”

Bobby pushed the slim book he’d dropped on the table toward Giles. He’d gotten it from a book dealer probably two decades before, as a ‘thank you’ for saving her son from a poltergeist. The book, Huntress Bound by The Order of the Oracle, contained a ludicrous story about how the goddess of witches captured and enslaved the goddess of the hunt. It was warped from years of propping up the nightstand in Bobby’s bedroom. “Archangel Asshole insisted I bring this.”

Giles was agape as he flipped through the pages, muttering, “Yes,” over and over. Finally, he looked up. “Bobby, are you any good at research?”

“Good at it? My research is the only thing that’s been keeping those idjits alive all this time.”

DAY 3

She straightened his tie. Dean looked even more impossibly handsome in his grey three-piece suit. His mossy green eyes sparkled in the late morning sun. Would it be bad luck to kiss him now?

“You are beautiful,” he said, skimming his hands over her waist and down her hips. The sequins on her gown clattered under his fingers.

“You don't think it's too much?”

“You're perfect.”

Holding hands, they turned to look at the ivy covered church. It was now or never. “Ready?” she asked.

Dean flashed his machete in reply.

Buffy kicked in the doors.

Buffy unlocked the apartment door. Sunnydale was only occupied by her people and vampires, but locking the door felt good.

She had been itching to patrol. Fresh air. Time alone. Violence. She didn’t need to go far from the apartment. Though they turned it off at sunset, the generator on the roof was a rumbling call that tasty humans lived inside. She’d dusted six vampires just on her street, each kill softening the anxious needles in her brain. Maybe tonight, she wouldn’t have that nightmare again.

She tiptoed into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water before bed, only to find Jo with a bottle of whiskey, pictures scattered around her on the floor.

Gently, Buffy removed the whiskey from her hands, and gave Jo a bottle of water. “Rough day?”

“I wanted to know if getting drunk felt the same.”

“Does it?”

“Feels pretty good.” Jo grinned at her. “I’m not usually a mess like this, I swear. But I come back from the dead to ‘The Pantheon Realm’ where my friend is dating ‘a slayer’ which totally sounds like something he would have killed when I was alive.” She used finger quotes around her words. “Although my life did involve cities laid to waste by Lucifer and his demons, so at least one thing’s consistent.”

“You think I’m a monster?”

“No! But you’re freaking me out! Everything is familiar, yet not familiar. Bonus! Now that I’m alive again, it looks like I’m going to die. Blaze of glory round two!”

Buffy understood. Heaven was rest. Hell was coming back to a fate-packed to-do. “You’ve been alive for three days. If you want to stay here tomorrow and chill, that’s fine. Maybe drive off into the sunset? You don’t have to help fight Lucifer.”

“Hey, I died helping fight Lucifer!” Her eyes were ablaze as she pointed at Buffy. Soon, she slumped back against a cabinet and ran her finger over the pictures of the floor. Jo chuckled and held a picture too close to Buffy’s face. “What is this?”

It was from Buffy and Dean’s vacation to San Francisco on Halloween. They’d stopped to watch a parade where a drag queen was affronted by their lack of costume. The queen’s solution was to dump a bag of hot pink glitter on Dean. In the picture, Buffy was laughing as he tried to rub the glitter on her. It was Sam’s favorite picture, and he made sure it was prominently displayed on the refrigerator.

“On Halloween, Dean and I took a little vacation--”

“That! That crazy, opposite day stuff is what I’m talking about.” Jo’s voice was loud and slurred. “‘Went on a vacation’, with Dean Fucking Winchester? He’s not the guy anyone goes on vacation with! He’s the guy who finds you crying in your beer after your boyfriend dumps you on vacation. He’s the guy who promises you one night of great sex before running away from any feelings he may have stirred up. Dean Winchester is much more interested in sluts than girlfriends.”

Dean had barely talked about Jo. Ellen yes. Bobby at length. Jo got short statements. She was “a kid” who was “in over her head.” “Somethin’ to prove.” He’d spoken of her death once.

Yet, on more than one occasion, Lucifer referred to Jo and Dean in much more intimate terms. Buffy hated it when they’d had to discuss her relationship with Spike, so she never asked about Jo. She was the past. She was buried.

“Sounds like you spent a lot of time with him,” Buffy replied.

Jo waved her bottle of water dismissively. “I’m happy for him. I am. God knows that man needs more people than Sam.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “It’s just that...well...I don’t have superpowers. Is that all it took to get noticed?”

Buffy’s heart broke for Jo. Jo, ripped from death to be dealt a crappy life. Aching from the newness and unfairness of it all. Pining for the right man met at the wrong time.

“Will you girls quit yer snivlin’ and git to bed?” growled Bobby from the couch.

DAY 5

Their friends and family waited quietly in the pews while the choir of Potentials sang:

    There are many here among us

    Who feel that life is but a joke

    But you and I we've been through that

    And this is not our fate

    So let us not talk falsely now

    The hour's getting late.

At the head of the church stood Caleb in his vestments, clapping along with the music. With each slap of his hands, one of the Potentials exploded in a puff of blood. He was flanked by a pus-pocked corpse on a fly-riddled green horse and a white robed creature with huge black wings astride a pale horse.

Pestilence charged them. Buffy grabbed the bridle and swung up, kicking the rider off. “I got him. Go!” Dean shouted as she galloped toward the priest.

Death was missing.

“Do you think this is far enough from the house?” Anya asked, tightening her grip on her axe. “You said you burned stuff that one time.”

“Because my life was being threatened by an archangel. This is just a friendly chat between frenemies,” Willow said. “Besides, I’m much more concerned about the vampires.”

At an intersection down the street, she and Buffy sat holding hands inside of Hecate’s symbol drawn in sand. According to the books, the goddess could be summoned under a full moon with appropriate sacrifices of food; they were surrounded by bottles of wine and honey bears.

Snarls drifted past the double ring of Potentials surrounding them.

The idea was that Buffy’s spirit would be able to use Willow’s vessel state to call Hecate. Then Buffy just had to convince the resentful, former friend of the goddess within Willow that she hadn’t been betrayed, and maybe she could use her powers to help a little. “Easy peasy,” Buffy grumbled.

Willow began, “Hecate! Crone Goddess of the Moon! Power, great power. Grant me this boon.”

One of the Potentials stepped back, knocking over a candle.

“Give us some room, girls! This could get weird...er.”” Buffy righted the candle and wiped some warm wax from a honey bear. “I hope mildly melty is still goddess approved.”

“Half step out!” Jo shouted. The group shuffled.

Willow tried again. “Mistress with three faces, I accept my role. Lead me to the path. Your name writ on my soul. Hi, it’s Willow Rosenberg again. Remember? You were in my body a week or so ago yelling at some --”

Everything went deathly silent. Before Willow’s eyes, the Potentials transformed into gnarled black trees. Mist and moonlight shot through their twisted branches. Buffy, still in her meditative pose, crumbled into an ash heap; in the middle of the ashes, lay a single golden pebble.

Willow didn’t dare to breathe.

The glow of a light appeared to her left. A naked, torch-bearing figure stepped out from behind one of the trees. Her skin was as dark as the night and freckled with stars. She phased in and out of three faces -- one screaming, one old, and one calm. Her pearl eyes fixed on Willow.

“You have summoned me more than any other vessel.” Her voice was musical and animal. A whisper and a cry.

Willow wasn’t sure how to respond. Hecate hadn’t asked a question, and Willow wasn’t sure if the declaration was surprised or annoyed. Willow bowed her head to the ground, arms open wide in reverence, and waited.

A chill snaked from the top of Willow's head to the tips of her toes.

“Rise, girl. What do you want?”

Willow stood, but didn’t dare look up. “Lucifer is here. His brother Michael is coming.”

Hecate lifted Willow’s chin with her hand, forcing her to look in her glowing eyes. “Why does this worry you?”

“They’re going to destroy the world.”

“Not the whole world. Only part.”

Fear rushed out of Willow’s body. “Only part! Only! Part! Do you hear yourself?”

“My concerns are not human concerns. The world is ancient. It burns and floods and freezes in the span of my heartbeat. The world will change, but I will remain.”

“Why do you think the angels would leave you alive?” Willow asked. “Lucifer is trying to wipe out Artemis’ vessels. Why not yours next?”

Something like surprise flitted over the goddess’ calm face. “I am witchcraft itself. I will remain.”

“Oh, you got an army up your, uh -- No sleeves, okay. Have you been busy calling all witches? Huh? No, you haven’t. Meanwhile, Artemis is still locked up and --”

“Do not speak to me of the Huntress!” Hecate thundered. The stars on her skin grew as if they might supernova with her rage.

Willow put her hands on her hips. “Artemis was your friend.”

“The Huntress was closer to me than a sister. She turned her back on me! How could a mortal like you understand the pain of that break?

Willow didn’t just remember skinning Warren. She remembered trying to kill Buffy. Trying to kill Giles. And those memories haunted her with each hug, each encouraging word, each smile. “I know how rare true friends are. I know every moment of pain is worth it.

“My friends and I are prepared to fight the angels, but we haven’t even been able to get past his creepy priest groupie. But we’ll keep fighting. We’ll die fighting. Saving the world is worth it.”

The calm face did not change. “Then I shall again prepare myself to search for another vessel.”

An idea popped into Willow’s head. “Why me? Why are you using me as your vessel?”

“You had the potential to be the strongest witch in the world. A lesser witch could not contain me.”

Hecate was eternal. Witches may live long lives, but not that long. Besides, Willow was born in the 80s. “What happened to your vessel before me?”

“He...disappointed me.”

“Did he have a name?”

Hecate blew out her torch and stepped back into the rapidly shrinking trees. “Gregor Skrivanek.”

Buffy, in a meditation pose across from Willow, looked at her quizzically. “Gesundheit?”

There was a twang and a wizz as one of the girls fired a crossbow. “If we’re finished being freaky, I’d kinda like to go back inside,” said Jo.

DAY 9

Before she reached the steps to trample Caleb, Buffy tumbled and bounced down the rest of the aisle. Her horse had turned into a toy. Likewise, she was small and limp, unable to move on her own. Caleb, scooped her up in his giant hands. “Did you think this was about you?”

He turned her toward her friends and family. With the snap of his fingers, they were ablaze. “Did you think you could save them?”

“The blame is on me,” he continued. “I let that vampire’s obsession with you trick me into thinking you mattered, but you don’t. You’re empty. You try to fill it with school, with shopping, with any man who is desperate enough to fuck you, but you’re a little doll who needs other people to pose her.”

He turned her away from him, toward Death at the end of the aisle, his scythe and robes spattered with blood, and dangling from his hand -- Dean’s head.

In a weird way, it was comforting to have all the Scoobies gathered around the dining table researching monsters. Almost homey, if it was even possible to feel at home in her own house again. Of course, Buffy’s semi-fond memories of high school slaying didn’t involve Spike sitting next to her as they researched monsters, or Andrew Wells fiddling with a camcorder. They didn’t involve researching how to kill a human either.

Xander’s eyes were practically cartoon hearts locked on Ellen as she replaced his empty plate with a second helping of sloppy joe, cornbread and green beans. “You’re just the most amazing, Ellen.”

Smiling, she tousled his hair before checking on the Potentials in the other room.

Xander ravenously tucked into his food.

“Xander, you got a little.” Dawn wiped at the corner of her mouth.

Anya glanced at the sauce smeared on Xander’s face. “It's just pride.”

Xander mock laughed before taking a giant bite of cornbread.

“It’s been a long, dark time since we’ve had seconds,” Andrew declared, zooming his lens in on Xander. “But Ellen knows all sorts of recipes. Tomorrow, she’s going to teach me to --”

Dawn paused from note-taking. “Andrew, what are you doing?”  

“I’m making a documentary of our gallant heroes. My redemption arc heavily features. I’m, like, the Vader of the group.”

“Don’t show interest, or he’ll think you care.” Anya slammed her book closed. “Why can’t we just set him on fire again?”

“I don’t want to be on fire,” replied Andrew, meekly.

“Not you. Caleb,” she clarified. “Fire is the traditional, time-respected way to off a witch.”

Willow scrunched her face in disgust. “One, I’m generally not a fan of the burned-at-the-stake scene. Had a close call once. A singeing, if you will. Two, I have a theory--”

Buffy tuned out while Willow explained again. The goal was to kill Caleb, but to kill him, they had to return him to a much more human state. When Dean had asked her if she was ready to kill a person, she’d bristled. While it wasn’t the Slayer’s job to deliver justice in the human sense, Caleb had clearly chosen the path of evil. She’d plunged her sword in him without hesitation. However, in light of Willow’s plan, Buffy couldn’t help but wonder if Caleb -- once separated from the archangel controlling him -- could be saved. Was he simply another victim of Lucifer?

Ellen drifted back into the room, her eyes on the windows. She sucked on the insides of her cheeks when she was nervous, and she’d been nervous ever since Jo, Bobby and Giles left town two days ago to follow some leads.

“Has she called?” Spike asked, gently reaching out to touch Ellen’s arm.

Ellen smiled and patted his hand. “A few times. Thought they’d’ve been back by now.”

“Don’t tell him I told you,” Spike lowered his voice to a whisper, “but stodgy ol’ Giles is right decent in a fight. She’s in good hands if it comes to that.”

Before Ellen could respond, the Impala pulled up outside. She smiled at Jo, still in her bland detective suit, coming up the walk with the Winchester's green cooler. Buffy recognized the relieved mom look. Ellen was doing a good job not steamrolling everyone between her and her daughter’s embrace.

Jo arrived with a triumphant smile. “Not even rusty.” She handed her mom the cooler. “Stopped for food before Apocalypse-zone. Got some fresh stuff!”

“Thanks, hon.” Ellen set the cooler on the table and wrapped Jo in a bear hug.

Bobby, tie loose and trucker cap back on his head, set a box of files on the table. “Had a minor setback, but we got it.”

“What happened?” Buffy asked.

“I’m afraid I am not a convincing FBI agent,” Giles said with a sigh. He glared at Andrew. “What is he doing?”

Undeterred, Andrew zoomed in. “Set the scene for us, Giles. You’re sweating bullets in the FBI office, surrounded by men in black who’ve been trained to sniff out a lie. What do you do?”

Bewildered, Giles again looked to the group. “What is he doing?”

“‘E’s keeping calm.” Spike reached into the box for a handful of files. He handed one to Buffy.

“Meet Gregor Skrivanek,” Bobby said. “Box one.”

“Of how many?” whined Anya.

“Three more in the trunk,” Jo said with a smirk.

Anya closed her book and left the room.

“Did you get the mementos we need for the spell?” Willow asked.

“That’s box four.” Jo smiled. “It’s in the backseat. Although they’re less mementos and more burnables.”

“Burning is the goal!” Willow smiled.

Buffy opened her folder, a thick police file from Boston. It contained three coroner reports and photos of three different teenage girls. Two slashed at the throat. One was just a head. All were bloated and distorted from floating in water.

“Get it all,” Buffy said. I’m ready.

DAY 12

On yesterday’s patrol, Buffy had captured a vampire minion and gave him a message for Caleb.

Highway 1 bridge at 10. Alone.

Caleb was cocky. He’d show.

The wind whipped around Buffy as she stood high above the ravine on the bridge headed out of town. She pulled her coat tighter -- not tight enough to outline the ax hanging from her belt -- and passed the time by watching Orion, Dean’s favorite constellation. Willow had told her Orion the Hunter was the only man Artemis loved. (“Later she maybe killed him, but that’s totally not your story! Not a blueprint!”) It was a cute bit of trivia, but it didn’t matter.

Dean was no more Orion than he was Michael’s toy. She was more than a holding cell. If they were anything, they were masters of their own fate.

“You came,” Caleb shouted down the bridge. “I’m surprised after the beating I handed you last time, but then you are an arrogant bitch.”

She bit back a grin. It was almost too easy. “Don’t pretend you know me.”

“Don’t I? Buffy Summers became the Slayer without any training because who would have guessed such a shallow waste of space could be anything? Certainly not her daddy who ran away in terror. Now she tries to fill the hole by spreading her legs for any old guy who shows an interest.”

He smirked at her with the hungry glare of a middle-aged man parked outside a middle school. “People think Lucifer has Daddy issues, but he’s not still trying to gain approval. He can flex his own power.”

“Kind of a crappy story,” said Buffy. “Not very accurate either. I give it two stars, but one of those is a pity star.”

She slowly walked toward him. “Here’s a story I heard recently. About thirty-five years ago, a boy named Gregor was born with the most powerful magic skills history had ever seen. Of course, floating objects over his crib frightened his parents, so they dropped him off at an orphanage. He grew to despise the nuns who ran the place. Conveniently for him, he was the lone survivor of a fire at the orphanage when he was six. By the time he was thirteen, every orphanage and foster home he went to after that found a girl dead within six months of his arrival. He was never tied to the deaths though, because he was using magic.”

Snarls echoed from underneath the bridge. Buffy had expected Caleb to bring backup; although, she tried to not dwell on what could be climbing so high above the ravine.

“Are you trying to appeal to my humanity?” Caleb sneered. “This is more nostalgia than anything.”

Buffy continued. “Murder. Murder. Murder. Always girls. Probably misplaced mommy issues over being given up. But when Gregor turned sixteen, he was caught strangling a girl and sent to a juvenile detention center where he supposedly found God. When he got out, he changed his name and became a priest. And a serial killer.”

“Nice story--”

“I wasn’t finished.” The power of her voice stopped him in his tracks. “If this boy had been a powerful warlock, why did he start choking girls. Why did he get caught?”

Caleb cocked his head to the side, clearly desperate to know.

Two pairs of feet thudded behind her at the entrance to the bridge. She couldn’t deal with them now. Caleb had to be first or the spell wouldn’t work.

“It’s because Hecate cut him off. He was supposed to be her star, her vessel to move about the Earth when needed, but he was too maggot-riddled for her.” Hecate's sense of morality may be different from theirs, but it was clear she held women in higher regard than men.

Shots zipped through the air. Whatever was behind her roared.

With Caleb distracted, Buffy closed the gap between them and slapped him across the cheek, leaving an ashen handprint. The contact of their skin blazed white hot as his body, no longer a vessel, ejected the bit of Lucifer’s grace that could fit inside.

Doubled over on his knees, Caleb growled. “What did you do, you bitch?!”

“Magic,” she replied as she swung her axe down on his neck.

One swing for her. One for Dawn. For Grace. For Vi, Sophia, and every Potential he’d killed. Buffy, whose personal code was to never kill a human, chopped him to bits for every girl he’d murdered.

She spun around. Two Turok-Han were heading up the highway towards the tall trees where Bobby, Jo, and Ellen were perched with rifles and blessed bullets. Bobby had been right. The bullets hadn’t killed the vampires, but they had slowed and distracted Caleb’s minions.   

Buffy took a deep, stuttering breath over the bloody mess in the road, grabbed a chunk of his hair, and tossed Caleb’s head into the ravine below.

“Hey!” she barked. The vampires stopped to consider who to kill first. “Miffed about being shot? Don’t lose your head over it.”

With a running start and two hand springs, Buffy was between them. She twirled her ax above her head. The vampires’ heads popped off, and they crumbled to dust.

Buffy rose. Her grin to the stars. Blood dripping from her ax, from her fingertips.

Bobby and the Harvelle’s stumbled out from the brush.

“Well that went off without a hitch.” Ellen wrapped her arm around Buffy’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

“Yeah, Will’s spell turned off his vesselness.” Buffy’s hand had been covered in the ashes of some objects Caleb had owned. After Willow wrote the spell in the ash, all they needed to make it work was skin-to-skin contact.

They all began the trek back to where the Impala was hidden. Buffy resisted the urge to bounce. “God, I wish Sunnydale wasn’t shuttered up. I’d kill for a burger.”

“Nothin’ like the Apocalypse to make you miss the little things,” said Bobby.

Buffy missed one thing that wasn’t so little, but she wouldn’t let her mind drift there. The dream would come again, for sure. Tonight, however, she would live in the moment. She’d beaten back the Devil.

next chapter

[scarlettlillies]

Hetalia- Painting Flowers (SuFin)

I’m so behind on @aphsufinweek. ;A; I’m having a hard time with ideas right now and had to work on other fics that deadlines. I mixed in the prompts for both day 4 & 5: Secret + Flowers.

Björn is Sweden while Timo is Finland.

Björn loved the arts.

He spent countless hours in his makeshift studio that he proudly set up in a former spare bedroom. A place that simply had everything an artist could dream of—his talents proved just how much he lived and breathed his work. He was a designer by heart; he loved to make clothing and later branched out to painting and coloured sketches. Handmade crafts were also a favourite of his. A woodworking area was located in his garage where he made everything from birdhouses to large pieces of furniture such as headboards, cabinets, and even a full dining room set. He frequently travelled to shows to sell his work and was now branching out online with the help of an old friend who built his website for him. There seemed to be nothing he couldn't do.

The exposure did him well but Björn's time was not cheap. It was expensive to commission him but he was famous with the locals and even in small towns surrounding the suburb he lived in. Because of his reputation, he made good money out of his talents. It was hard to believe that there was a time he had wondered if quitting his office job was the right decision.

That was nearly five months ago. He doesn't ask that question anymore.

Lately he's been in the mood to paint. His canvas was always placed in the same spot these days: out by the window where he had a prime view of his neighbour's garden. His neighbour, a short but bubbly Finnish man named Timo, arrived to the area over a year ago and had been very supportive of his business, even taking the time to help collaborate on some crafts and fashion designs. He was an artist as well and loved to make children stories and comics. This past spring, Timo decided to take up gardening and the fruits of his labour created a beautiful field full of sunflowers in his backyard. Timo wasn't expecting much but his sunflowers grew quickly and rose to be taller than their shared white-picket fence.

So Timo decided to plant more flowers, all of them the standard easy-to-grow type of flowers. Soon marigolds, pansies, daffodils, and daylilies were joining the family and adding such a strong splash of colour to the scenery. Björn found it peaceful to sit by his bedroom window in the early morning hours with his coffee and could spend hours to staring into the endless layers of colours.

Timo's garden served as Björn's inspiration. But lately, he's been painting more than just his flowers.

He was painting Timo now too.

Björn was infatuated with Timo, and had been for a long time. He couldn't dare to say such a thing to his friend however. What would Timo think of him then? He was so kind with a big heart. Timo was always a phone call away if someone needed a hand. He loved Timo's company and was one of the few people in Björn's life that he could trust. He couldn't bare to lose a friend like Timo in his life.

So instead, he expressed his love through his paintings. There were some of Timo but nothing that would give any impressions of Björn's feelings towards him. For that purpose, he used two characters that he designed himself—two little sheep that came from neighbouring farms. They did everything together: taking walks in the fields, sharing food, and watching the stars. In his most recent painting, one of the sheep brought over a small bouquet of flowers for its partner that it loved so dearly. In return, the other sheep nuzzles its partner's face under a beautiful sunset.

He hoped he could bring Timo flowers one day too. But today won't be that day. His secret stays a secret for now.

In the kitchen, Timo put on the final touches to his surprise gift. He had spent part of the morning picking out some of the nicest flowers from his garden and arranging it into the best possible bouquet he could muster together. He wrapped it carefully in a fancy white paper and wrapped an expensive red ribbon around the stem area for that final touch. He took a small envelope that was next to his wrapping supplies and placed it inside the bouquet.

He had debated for weeks as to whether or not he should go ahead with the plan but with summer winding down, his flowers won't last much longer. The weather here was not predictable. It could be summer today but late fall by the end of the week. After all, he took up this project partially because of him.

It was easy to buy flowers from a shop. But growing your own and giving them to someone you liked meant so much more. And that was exactly what Timo had planned to do.

He had been anxious all week preparing for this moment. He didn't know what to expect from Björn. Would he be put off by it? Or would he graciously accept the gift as a platonic affair? It was hard to predict what was going on in the mind of that Swedish man.

But either way he was about to find out.

He arrived at the door and was hesitant at first but after taking in a deep breath and exhaling, he went ahead and knocked three times. He held the bouquet behind his back as his mind raced while he waited. In what felt like ages, the door finally opened and Björn greeted him.

“Oh, hello!” Timo replied nervously. He noticed Björn was wearing his old blue apron that was stained with different colours of paint. He felt a little guilty that he had come while the man was working. “I'm sorry, I can come back later if you're working—”

“'m not busy,” he interrupted. Björn noticed some of the large flowers sticking out from behind Timo and he couldn't stop staring at them. He was in awe of the colours, not even realizing they were the same ones as the flowers in Timo's garden.

Timo realized that his surprise was busted when he noticed that Björn's attention was elsewhere. Timo's cheeks went red as he revealed the whole bouquet to him.

“This is for you.”

Björn was tongue-tied and blushed when he took the bouquet from Timo. No one had ever given him flowers before. It was such a thoughtful gift and so much care went into making it. He couldn't stop smiling.

“Thank ya,” Björn said. He pulled the bouquet closer in for a quick smell of the flowers. It was then he noticed the tiny envelope hiding in between some of the lilies. He needed the use of both his hands so he placed the bouquet under his arms and pulled the envelope open. It was nothing more than a small index card with a simple sentence:

Would you like to go out with me?

Timo looked away shyly and Björn was at a loss for words. All this time... Timo liked him too? And he had wasted so much time wondering if he liked him too.

“Timo...”

The man was bracing for the worst. He didn't even wait to let him finish as his nerves took over and he was stumbling over his words, “Ahhh I'm so sorry! It was a silly thing to ask right? I mean, we're just friends and neighbours after all—”

“Yah.”

There was a long pause. “Huh?”

“Yah,” Björn replied with a big grin on his face. “I'd like that.”

It took a moment for Timo to register what was happening as he stared at the man dumbfounded. He did not expect things to go this smoothly.

“Really? Do you really mean that?” Timo asked worriedly. When Björn nodded affirmatively, it was Timo's turn to smile as he felt as if his heart was going to jump out of his chest.

Björn offered Timo to come inside for coffee and cake and he simply couldn't say no. Coffee and his homemade cakes? That was a date just in itself! He had eventually forgotten all about the paintings upstairs in his studio. But he had much preferred the afternoon they spent together discussing just how long they had liked each other and where they wanted to go for their first date. On the coffee table where hours had passed between them was the centrepiece to their gathering—the flowers from Timo's garden.

[thatishogwash]

Saying Hello Again

KuroDai Week 2018 May 7, Day Two: Getting Together / Post Break-up AO3

Tetsurou felt his stomach twist with nerves the closer the train came to his stop.  It had been a while since he felt that way, perhaps not since he was a teenager and he couldn’t say he missed the feeling.  Anxious and terrified with just enough hope and excitement to keep him from turning on his heel and forgetting he made this terrible decision.  He thought he might have been braver when he was a teenager but then again, who wasn’t?  Life had yet hit him too hard by that point but it had been a decade since he was a teen and instead of this gut feeling making him excited, he just felt like he needed the bathroom or maybe a nap.

It all started two months prior, when Tetsurou had lost his job.  He hadn’t felt too bad about it, he worked in the research field and when a study didn’t produce the desired results, grant money disappeared.  He had been warned about that by many professors and he had left the job with a fantastic recommendation.  He hadn’t worried about finding another job, he was experienced and his work spoke for itself.

After two months Tetsurou did feel a creeping sense of failure sneaking up on him.  He wasn’t broke, not just yet but he knew he needed to find a job and soon.  Tokyo wasn’t exactly cheap to live in.

Then an old boss had e-mailed him about a job in Sendai.  Tetsurou hadn’t been tempted or desperate enough to look for jobs outside of Tokyo but the familiar city name gave Tetsurou pause.  Curiosity made him look into the job and he couldn’t help but note that it was a great offer.  It was also in a field he found fascinating and had written several papers about, which was more than most people could say about their own jobs.  He had applied and was surprised when he got a call back the next day.

That’s when the unexplainable feeling in his stomach started to happen.  But Tetsurou had done the very adult thing and pretended it wasn’t happening.  He was an adult after all and no one was around to tell him differently.

Tetsurou had thought of staying at a hotel for the night so he wouldn’t have to get up extremely early to take the train and a bus to get to his interview.  It seemed every hotel was occupied due to a festival taking place in Sendai at the time.  Tetsurou had been accepting his fate of a very early morning wake up call and trying to keep his pants from wrinkling on the long train ride when help came in the most unlikely of places.

Actually it was a very likely place.  Offering up his house to stay in to an old flame was exactly the type of thing Sawamura Daichi would do.  Tetsurou didn’t even know what possessed him to whine about the lack of hotels available for his job interview to the other man, or what made Daichi offer up his home with a simple text that said Stay with me. Three words, 10 letters and one conscious of crisis later had Tetsurou agreeing.

Tetsurou’s stomach was reminding him why that might not be the best of ideas.  It wasn’t as if Tetsurou had pined away for a decade.  The break-up had been mutual, though Tetsurou had initiated it.  After a couple awkward weeks they had managed to slide back into an easy friendship that helped Tetsurou through many of years.

Tetsurou had many relationships between the time of his break up with Daichi and the current moment.  His last one had lasted nearly two years and Daichi had moved in and adopted a dog with his last girlfriend, though neither relationship ended up working out for either of them.  What Tetsurou meant was, weren’t crushes supposed to have an expiration date on them?  Tetsurou couldn’t even hope Daichi had somehow gone bald or let himself go because Tetsurou thought Daichi could be one of the rare people who looked pretty great bald and even the thought of Daichi with a little gut made Tetsurou ridiculously soft.

They had stayed in contact throughout the years but it had been a while since they had seen each other in person.  Tetsurou thought it might have been a wedding a couple years ago.

Tetsurou stepped off the train and felt his stomach drop somewhere around his feet.

“Tetsu.”  The familiar nickname caught his attention, turning his head to the left he saw Daichi waiting off to the side, hand raised and warm smile planted on his still too handsome face.

Daichi hadn’t gone bald but he was-

“Gray.”  Tetsurou couldn’t help himself as he stopped in front of Daichi, outright gawking at the early grays showing up in Daichi’s temples.  Daichi’s smile turned less friendly as he knocked his hand into Tetsurou’s shoulder, making the taller man wince.  It had been a while since he’d been hit by Daichi.  Tetsurou hated that even that made him feel giddy.

“You can sleep on a bench.”  Daichi deadpanned.  His voice was deeper and a bit more raspy than it was when they were teens.  He had also filled out more, becoming even broader with shoulders that looked quite good in anything but really filled out the slate gray sweater he was wearing.

“You wouldn’t do that.”  Tetsurou said with confidence, his fingers twitching by his side.

“Go ahead.”  Daichi said with a sigh, seeing through him as usual.  Tetsurou grinned as he reached out and touched the graying hair, not surprised by its softness.  “I was dying it for a while but it’s a lot of upkeep.”  Daichi hadn’t cared much about his appearance, except the few times he had thought someone was calling him fat.

“It suits you.”  Tetsurou dropped his hand, ignoring how his fingers felt warm.  “Because, you know-”

“Yes yes, I act like I’m 50.”  Daichi rolled his eyes at Tetsurou laughed.  “The real question is, why do you have so many bags?”

“I thought you said I could stay with you?”  Tetsurou asked, mock innocence as Daichi took one of the bags from him and they began walking.

“You brought multiple outfits, didn’t you?”  Daichi snorted, not at all fooled by Tetsurou’s act.

“I couldn’t decide.”  Tetsurou muttered, knocking into the shorter man as he laughed more at him.  “You’re being very rude.”

“I don’t want to hear that from the man who pointed out my gray hair in greeting.”  Daichi shot back, which was true enough.

Tetsurou wasn’t at all surprised how easily they fell back into their normal routine of teasing and laughter.  It was like no time had passed at all that wasn’t that confusing for Tetsurou’s poor, misguided heart.  He didn’t think crushes could last for a decade but love sure could.

“You know what I’m excited for?”  Tetsurou asked as they settled into Daichi’s old but well loved car.

“My dogs?”  Daichi guessed which had Tetsurou nodding.  Daichi didn’t post much to social media but when he did, it was mostly about his dogs.  All three rescued and adopted.  He lived in a little house right outside Sendai.

Tetsurou leaned back against the seat as he watched Daichi excitedly talk about the temperament and behavior of each of his dogs.  Tetsurou had suggested breaking up all those years ago because he had no intention of leaving Tokyo and Daichi had always wanted to stay close to his family.  The distance had seemed infinite when they were young and broke, just trying to make it through separate universities and part time jobs while staying focuses on club activities and making new friends while maintaining old friendships.  It had seemed impossible, the distance between them when they were just 18.

Tetsurou hadn’t yet interviewed for the job but he thought about moving to Sendai.  There wasn’t much holding him back in Tokyo except it’s old familiarity.  He would always love the city he was born and raised in and he would visit often, his parents wouldn’t accept anything less but he let himself think about moving to Sendai.  He thought about getting a little apartment of his own and spending weeknights visiting Daichi, perhaps having dinner with him and going for a walk with his dogs after.  Daichi complained that it was difficult to walk three big dogs by himself and while Tetsurou had never walked a dog before, he would like to try it at least once.

Tetsurou knew he was getting ahead of himself but as Daichi pulled up to a little cottage looking house painted yellow and turned to Tetsurou with a warm smile slipping across his face, Tetsurou allowed himself to hope.

“We’re home.”  Daichi said as they entered the house together, three big dogs moving between them excitedly.

Tetsurou felt nervous and anxious, terrified and a little breathless but hope was beginning to grow deep inside him as he followed Daichi deeper into the house.