#like do the kid lions have human child voices or not?

[nickbutnodick]

i watched mufasa today and was writhing in agony the whole time. partially because it was ugly. partially because the plot sucked. and not as much because i had horrifying period cramps.

[steviewashere]

Take Up Space

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse (it is minor, but the themes are there), Implied/Referenced Child Neglect Pairings: Steve Harrington & Steve Harrington's Parents, Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Established Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has Bad Parents, Steve Harrington's Father Being an Asshole, Steve Harrington Wants to Be Loved, Steve Harrington Feels Like a Burden, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson Comforts Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Moves in With Eddie & Wayne, Steve Harrington Needs a Hug, And Gets One

🫂—————🫂 Couldn’t even say it.

Didn’t want to look him in the eyes and just say it.

Steve’s been holding on. He has. Hands to the ground, fingers in the soil, gravel under his nails. Been holding fast to his parents. Claw marks on his mom’s calves and a ring of teeth on his dad’s neck. Fighting for purchase against everything his parents want him to be; the words they have to say when he’s behind his bedroom door and feigning sleep. When he’s ear against the wood, teeth in his bottom lip, holding back cries—“How does our kid get a fucking D in math class? We’re business people!”

He’ll always be absurd to his parents.

To his mom, he is the long lost love of her life. He is the flower nearly wilted in her palms, plucked fresh from the grass, tufts of petals blowing behind her. The thing she always wanted; that she gave name to; that she thought she needed. She knew his name before anything else. Said it her self, holding the remnants of her childhood doll—“I named him Steven,” she had told him, “a mighty little lion with a great, big roar. I held him close every night, just as I will do with you, my little lion.” He was born small, premature, wrinkled and crying. He was placed upon her chest the same way a bouquet is laid on a casket—with love and loss, grieving just begun. It didn’t take long for her to change. For her voice to grow sharp and loud and angry. Disappointed, too.

Just a disappointment to them, that’s what he was. Didn’t win the championships? Disappointment. Got third in the second grade spelling bee? Disappointment. Barely graduated high school? Dis-a-fucking-ppointment.

It was shown in the way he never met his dad’s expectations. Ruler slaps on the wrists, wooden spoon to his bottom, the time out corner. Sometimes, he’d drop his homework on “accident”, to explain why he didn’t have it. Why they couldn’t see the big, fat, red F on his assignments, scrawled dark and heavy, circled with that perfect penmanship his teachers always had—always had for the failures in class. He’d have to get his report cards signed, but he’d forge them. He’d have conferences, but he’d always “forget” to invite his parents.

And it was better when they’d leave for business trips. Always too long, over staying their welcome in out-of-state hotels, in foreign countries they’d never be built for. It was better because he didn’t have to explain. It was better because he could get away with being human. He could show up tired to school, could get a bad grade and feel relief, could fuck up big time on a test and have no repercussions (especially if he went home and deleted voicemails from their answering machine), and he could graduate by the skin of his teeth. Take up the extracurriculars, do the bare minimum, not have to try so hard to be somebody he isn’t.

Of course he didn’t make it into college, not with his skill set. Of course he didn’t try again—not because he didn’t care, but because he simply couldn’t. Of course he worked dead-end retail full time; it’s all his parents could think to do with him—it gave him time away from home for eight hours or more, so it was a win for everybody.

But underneath all of that—beneath the scoldings and the physical punishments and the hot spit in his face—there were absent words, too. Absent gestures.

Steve doesn’t remember the last time he embraced his parents. Doesn’t remember the last time he heard ‘I love you.’ Doesn’t remember the sweetness of growing up. It was all tainted, taken from him, buried under the soil—the soil he grips to, nose deep in it, sniffing for where the bones have been buried.

He’s twenty now. None of it should matter. It shouldn’t matter at all that he can’t get those three words out of his parents’ mouth. Or that he can’t gauge the weight of arms on his shoulders, arms that aren’t his friends, arms that aren’t the ex-chief of police. Yet, of course it all does.

Nearly six months after Vecna, after the earthquake, after he helped save the world like some vigilante superhero, his parents finally come home. They come home with overflowing suitcases and permanent scowls, stomping and clicking through the front door, keys heavy in a bowl, jackets hung firmly, and his name on their tongue: “Steven!”

They come home with a medical bill in their hands. Thousands of dollars “down the drain.”

And Steve greets them with a neck scar visible above the collar of his current blue henley. His hair down to his shoulders, bangs itching to stab his eyeballs. With thin white lines on his knuckles. A gritted smile on his sullen, tired, pasty face.

“What is this?” His dad had hissed, flicking his right wrist, the paper wrinkled and noisy in his hand. “Thousands! You’ve cost us thousands of dollars!”

“I had surgery,” Steve tried to explain—voice meek, small, already timid—“got mauled by some…vicious and frightened dogs during the earthquake that happened. Guess that’s what happens when you try and help out.” He gave a nervous chuckle and stepped side to side. Buy that, he internally plead, just buy it and berate me and we can move on with our day.

His mom didn’t say anything in this. Face hard-set, painted lips flat, eyes sharp. She was unclasping the earrings hanging heavy from her earlobes, fisting them in her palms, bending down to pick up the stilettos she stepped out of, and then she evaded the conversation. Just went up the steps like a ghost, barely making a sound, simply gliding. He wanted her to come back, to stop this, to stand up for him—wanted what they had when he was really little, when she cared. When she held him close. When she promised.

His dad scoffed. “And you didn’t use your own insurance?”

“I don’t…I thought that I was still on the family plan?”

Steve was then leveled with a stare. A familiar stare. One that conveys exactly what his dad won’t say yet, “Disappointment.” His dad sighed. “Well, you aren’t. Which you would know if you listened”—

“Nobody told me! How am I supposed to”—

“Don’t talk back, Steven. You shouldn’t have to be told everything.” The paper had been thrusted forward, right into Steve’s chest. He gripped for it before it fell to the ground—where his heart has already been mushed into the hardwood. His dad stepped around him, around his heart, retreating towards the dining room and kitchen, fiddling with the band of his watch. “Have you found a job yet? Any college acceptance letters? An apartment?”

He huffed and followed. Bitter, “No. I’ve been recovering from surgery. Physical therapy, a couple skin grafts, my antibiotics…I told you about it over the phone the last time you cared to even call and check in on me.” Immediately, Steve had bit his tongue. Too much, too fast.

The Stare.

“That’s no way to talk to people, Steven.”

“But I”—

“When did you become so uncouth?” His dad scoffed a humorless laugh and drifted towards the kitchen sink.

The kitchen had always been too big for just the two of them. Spacious, many cabinets, the best of the best in terms of appliances. Not a single stain on the countertop. No cracks in the tiles. All of it clean, seemingly unused. Maintained to be picture perfect.

Just as Steve had been most of his life.

His dad continued on, “You’re supposed to be in college right now. Making something of yourself. Instead you’re—what—standing in the kitchen, holding a medical bill you cost me because you were trying to save dogs? Dogs, Steven? You could be doing something with your life! Could be going to school to become a doctor like that Hagan boy. Whatever happened to Thomas anyway?”

Steve stayed silent, still biting his tongue—his dad already knew about Tommy. Small in the doorway. Hunched in and looking at the ground, bile risen in his throat, the scars on his back and sides aching.

“But”—a sigh—“nope. Saving dogs. What are we going to do with you? Should’ve sent you to military school like Robert Kelly’s kid, I heard he’s doing great these days. You’ve always been defiant, though, so I’m sure that gig would’ve been drilled straight into the ground.”

The sink turned on, his dad had washed his hands. Wiped away the residual weight of the medical bill from his palms. A medical bill that he never bothered to ask about before. Just like the other ones. Like the other concussions. The fights that put the family name at risk. The bruises and blood that ruined poor Steve’s reputation.

If only he knew the truth.

His dad went to say something else, but instead—

“Why don’t you care?” Steve bit, “you never cared. This isn’t the first bill. Why does it even matter how much you have to spend? You’re my dad; you’re supposed to care about me.”

A different stare this time. Squinted eyes. Furrowed eyebrows.

Are you challenging me, is what this one said, are you doubting me?

“When you’re saving dogs? Why should I bother, Steven?”

“Because I’m your son! Because I—I need your help! It shouldn’t matter what I’ve been doing. It should matter that I almost died.”

He rolled his eyes. “Died,” his dad muttered—a soft, bewildered echo. “Stop being so”—

“Why don’t you just love me? Why won’t you love me just as I am? I need you to care. I need you to…to treat me like I’m your kid. Not some friend. Or some business partner. Your son. But you…you don’t love me?” He shifted again, side to side, boiling and ashamed and ready to puddle into the fine porcelain of the tiles. “You don’t love me enough to call and ask why you need to pay a medical bill. You didn’t bother to even know an ounce.

“It’s like that every time with you. All those stupid concussions. You didn’t want to take me to the hospital. Didn’t want to pay it off. Worried about your stupid last name. About the family image. I almost die and all you care about is the fact my life is costing you money.

“Money is more important than me, that’s all you’ve shown.”

Another scoff. “Don’t be so”—

“Ridiculous? Unreasonable? Dramatic? Stupid?

“Why are you so incapable of loving me? That’s all I want! For you and mom to…to hold me and tell me that you love me! But you…you only care when I cost you money! Why can’t you care?! I want you to—I want you to be my dad! What’s so wrong with that? With loving me? Why am I such a hard person to love? Why can’t I just…just be enough for you?!”

Finally fallen silent, Steve stood still in the kitchen’s entryway. A world between worlds. Tired, heaving, stomach turning. Palms sweating, wetting the dumb bill that ruined this all.

It remained silent. With his dad looking at him.

Those hazel eyes and his square jaw. The same face Steve sees staring back at him in the mirror. And yet his own isn’t enough to love.

There is nothing.

And so he kept standing, empty, words dead to the floor, heart by the front door. He took a deep breath through his nose, remembered the path to his get-away bag—a bag he packed in sophomore year of high school, after a terrible basketball game, when he was slapped on the back of the head for failing to make the winning shot. It has a new toothbrush and tube of toothpaste, emergency cash, hygiene products, a new wardrobe that coincides with his current size, and all his important documents—nothing of his family’s. He had what he needed packed in his closet.

So, he left. Chose to go. Before his dad had the chance.

Let the possibilities die in the air. What could’ve been if there wasn’t so much space and so many expectations between them.

Who knew saving the world would be the ending of your own?

Who knew love was such a price to pay?

——— Now, he finds himself parked outside of Eddie’s. The backpack in the passenger seat. Leaves it for now, unsure if he’ll be wanted. But he knocks on the door regardless.

There’s a moment where there’s nothing.

Him and the blackness of the trailer park. The rustle of grass in the gentle, autumn breeze. People chattering a few doors down, over cigarettes it smells like. Max’s own bedroom light is out, most likely asleep right now. Chain link fence glinting with the very little moonlight that’s there. Fresh weeds on the outskirts, born from the rain.

Serenity around his turmoil. A constant anger still stewing, bubbling, steaming within him.

What if Eddie can’t handle him right now?

What if he has to crawl through Robin’s window, leave her with words, run for the hills?

What if…what if…what if?

“Steve?” Eddie calls softly, sing-song like he’s tried already.

He whips back around from where he’d been looking out at the grass. Shuffling. “Oh, hey, Eds. Sorry—I—Just…Can I come in, please?”

Eddie steps aside for him. Lets him in without words. Until, “You’re shaking, sweetheart. Is everythin’ alright?”

“Hm? Yeah…yeah, yeah…I think that I—Think I just moved out of my parents’ house?”

A soft, surprised sound behind him. The click of the door closing. “Yeah, you think?” Gentle.

Everything is gentle here.

The amber light in the living room. Rows of hats. Shelves of mugs. Family pictures proud on the fridge, next to yellowed drawings in crayon, all hung up with goofy Garfield magnets. There’s an open box of Honeycomb on the table, a fresh bowl poured. A carton of milk turned so that the missing persons report could be read.

When he was younger, Steve imagined being on one of those panels. What it would be like. To have gone missing. Not a note or a clue or a peep. To have his parents care enough to find him. Now, though…now it feels like they wouldn’t even bat an eye. Maybe it would’ve been the same back then, too.

“Yeah,” Steve murmurs, “he got mad about a medical bill for that surgery I had. And I just…god, it’s embarrassing.” He lets out a humorless chuckle, too similar to his dad’s—a sound he will always recognize as that, from his father’s chest. Horrid and wretched. Something rotten in him, too, it seems. “I asked him why he doesn’t…doesn’t care about me. Why he doesn’t love me. I mean…who does that?” Steve makes eye contact with Eddie, who must’ve gotten closer, stepped right in front of him. With very little courage, the last dredges of it in his veins, he speaks, “They let me live in their house, eat their food, use their shit. Was that wrong of me? Am I…am I stupid for asking?”

Eddie inhales hard and deep. “Oh, Steve,” he breathes.

“It had to be, right? Of course my parents love me. They’re my parents!”

“Steve, that’s”—

“I get it, y’know. I get that it’s hard to love me. I know that, you know. But I don’t…the way he looked at me, Eddie, I knew he knew that too. I don’t think they—Why am I such a hard person to love? Is it me? Is it something wrong with me?”

He’s unsure if that was rhetorical, if he really wanted that answer. But as it is, he’s aware of the ache in his head, the burn between his eyebrows, the need and want to pinch the bridge of his nose. The tears that rise—ones that won’t fall, not without his permission. Without permission at all.

Instead of an answer, at least not right away, Eddie envelops him with languid movements and a warm body. Heavy arms on his aching back, hands pressing firm to his taut muscles, rubbing up and down his rigid spine. There’s breaths and words and kisses murmured against his eardrum. A chest rising and falling against his own. Tickling hair.

And instead of protesting, Steve clings back hard. Harder than he’s ever held anything.

Digging fingers into a t-shirt—the soil. Not wanting to let go. Never wanting to let go. Not when he’s finally getting part of what he wanted, to just be held. Maybe not by his parents, the real dream, but at least it’s something.

Somewhere in it all, in their mess of limbs and their mingled pulses, Steve cries—giving that allowance. Sobbing big, aching, roaring hiccups into the soft spots of Eddie’s neck. Wet breaths and wetter tears. Letting go until he has nothing left to give—and then some. His head is aching already, eyebrows pinching, eyes heavy on his already too heavy face.

He’s tired.

More tired than he thinks he’s ever been.

This must be the adrenaline crash. Makes him realize all the ways he’s hurting. His back and his legs and his fingers. His head and his teeth. His heart. And here he is, screaming all of his pain into the gentle parts of Eddie, where he’s offered and where he’s swaddled.

“Shhh,” Eddie’s whispering, “shh, Stevie, you gotta calm down a little for me. Just a little, I’ve gotcha.” They’re moving somewhere. Shoes scraping and dragging against carpet. Set down on a soft cushion—the couch, then—with words still murmured in his ear. “I’ve gotcha,” Eddie says, “he doesn’t deserve you, sweetheart. I’ve gotcha…I’ve gotcha.”

“Why can’t—I don’t—Love”—he stops himself with a wet, spraying cough-gag onto Eddie’s warm skin.

Hands press into his shoulder blades, dragging firmly down his spine. And then fingers at the ends of his hair, a thumb pressing into the knobs of his neck. Eddie sways them back and forth gently. “You’re gonna choke,” Eddie murmurs, “take a deep breath, baby. Just one breath for me, that’s all.” He obliges, inhaling hard through his nose, trying to release it as slow as possible through his mouth—not incredibly, but just enough. “Good,” Eddie says, “good job. You can cry, sweetheart, but you gotta keep breathing good for me.”

Again, he does what Eddie tells him to do. Wetting his skin more with each deep breath he blows out. And when he’s just a shivering, hiccuping mess in Eddie’s arms, he finally allows himself to relax—to loosen.

Eddie presses a kiss to his left temple. Then he pulls away just enough so they can see each other’s faces. He swipes the hair out of Steve’s face, gentle with every touch he gives. “You’re gonna stay here with me, alright?”

“What about”—

“Wayne’ll understand, I promise. I’ll grab your stuff. I want you to just sit right here, okay? And when I come back in, we’ll just relax for the rest of the night.”

“I’m tired.”

“Then we’ll just go to bed, okay?” Eddie kisses his temple again. He pulls himself off of Steve and gets off of the couch with a, “I’ll be right back.”

Steve only nods at Eddie’s back, now slumped into the couch.

Disappointment rings loud in his head. At least he didn’t let his parents say it this time. But once it’s ingrained in him, he knows the way it should sound. Dripping with ire—red and loud and bass boosted from his dad’s mouth. And yet he doesn’t know what ‘I love you’ sounds like coming from either of them; or at least he doesn’t remember.

He’s gone and unloaded himself here. Not that he intended for that to happen.

There wasn’t really a plan when he drove over to Forest Hills. Maybe the naked branches of one. He’d come over, tell Eddie what happened, maybe get so overworked that he started to cry, and then he’d slip out without another word. Just get back in his car, leave a note or something for Robin, and evade Hawkins all together. Though, now that he’s out of that house, maybe his parents will finally take the initiative on getting out of this town. It’s something they always wanted, something they always threatened they’d do if Steve didn’t shape up. Now would be the time, he supposes, now that he’s left with the last crumbs of his dignity.

A few minutes later, still stuck to the back of the couch, Eddie comes in through the front door. That one backpack in his grip. Fingers tight on one strap, looking at it with confusion.

“Is this all of your stuff?”

He shrugs. “My go bag.”

“Go bag,” Eddie echoes.

“Yeah, I’ve had it packed since sophomore year. Just in case, y’know.”

Eddie inhales in that slow way he does. “Yeah,” he whispers, “yeah, I get that.” He hefts the bag up and down. “It’s just…just really light, sweetheart. Are you sure you have everything you need?”

He nods resolutely. “Stuff can be replaced. It’s fine.”

The couch dips beside him. His eyes drifting from his lap, up to where Eddie’s looking directly at him. That backpack between his feet—limp and folding in on itself from how empty it is. There’s a question on the tip of Eddie’s tongue. Hesitantly, “What was your plan, sweetheart?”

He shrugs again. “See if I could spend the night here and then…I don’t know? Figure it out as I go, I guess. Didn’t wanna be a burden or anything.”

“You’re not a burden,” Eddie states firmly, “you are never a burden to me or anybody else in our friend group.”

“But”—

Eddie lays his hand on his forearm, squeezing him tight. “I want you to stay right here with me. I want you to eat my food and sleep in my bed and take up space, you got that?”

Steve sniffles. Wetly, “Are you sure? I can get a hotel or some”—

“Stay here.” Eddie squeezes his forearm again. His eyes bounce between Steve’s own. Then, he murmurs, “I love you”—which is the first time he’s said it—“and I hate your parents with the most sincere hate I could send a person. But you…you, Steve, are worth loving and caring for. No matter what.”

“But what if you grow tired of me? I mean…my parents, they”—

“No matter what. Steve, I will always care and love and respect you as a human being even if our relationship fails—for some reason, which I can’t even think of a reason, so we’ll be okay.” Eddie hefts the backpack in his other hand, still light and still collapsing in on itself. “Now, how ‘bout we get ourselves to bed?”

Steve swallows, darts his eyes over Eddie’s face. Nods once, the last of his tears rescinding. “I’m so tired, Eds.” But it sounds like more than that. The weight of those words falling off his tongue, the hollowness of his mouth all that he has left afterwards.

Eddie frowns lightly. His hand goes up to Steve’s face, cupping his cheek gently, wiping his thumb under his left eye. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, “I know.” He sniffs himself, something small, but that’s when Steve notices that Eddie’s eyes are wet, too. “I wish I knew how to completely fix everything for you. I’m sorry your parents won’t be your parents.” Then, he stands up from the couch, hand out for Steve to grasp—which he does. “Let’s go to bed, sweetheart. We’ll talk more about this when we’re rested up.”

In the bedroom, Eddie sits Steve’s bag on his dresser. Rifles through it and tutting the entire time he does. Steve probably could’ve packed some pajamas in there, but it’s fine. It’s fine because it needs to be fine. Instead of making some retort, Eddie easily grabs Steve a set of pajamas—some fleece red pants and a white t-shirt—and hands them off.

They change in silence. He brushes his teeth alongside Eddie’s, placing his own toothbrush in the same cup. Even as awful as this day has been, the sight of their toothbrushes together makes him a little giddy—something in him warm.

Once under the covers, Eddie drags Steve into him. An arm wrapped around his shoulders, chin to the top of his head, stroking fingers up and down his spine, connecting the dots of the many moles on his back. Treating him with the same love and reverence as always, as if nothing in their lives has changed. The normal is…nice in the aftermath.

“Eds?”

“Hm?”

“I love you, too,” Steve whispers, “thank you for this.” He shuffles in closer, probably too close. Arms bent awkwardly, legs tangled in one another, his cheek pressed flush with Eddie’s chest. His heart is beating strong and hard, Steve turns his head to kiss it. “I’ll figure out a way to make it up”—

“Nope,” Eddie mows over, voice soft, yet firm, “not doing that. No making up that needs to be done.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Okay, fine,” he sighs, relenting. “You’ll regret saying that once you realize how messy I am.”

Eddie snorts. “Have you met me? Think we’ll be a-okay. Go to sleep.”

Steve drags his lips over Eddie’s chest one more time, blowing a raspberry against his skin. Laughing when Eddie squawks.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

“Fine…fine, I’ll go to sleep. I love you, Eds.”

“Love you, too.” He squeezes Steve’s shoulders. “We’ll talk more in the morning, okay? But you’re safe here—take up space.”

Tonight doesn’t fix everything. But…but he can learn to be loud. With Eddie guiding him, that shouldn’t be much of a problem at all. Not at all.

🫂—————🫂

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 1- I D.A.R.E. You

Summary: After starting your new job as a 3rd grade teacher at Alma Pierce Elementary School, you meet a handsome Javier Peña who has been forced to come give a presentation to your grade. Although you've never met him, you're shocked to find out you may have more in common than you'd think.

Warnings: Mentions of Javi's past work for the DEA, mentions of death and grief, language, financial compensation if you were subjected to the D.A.R.E program as a child, Javi's family friends giving him sass

Word count: 6.2K

A/N: Post Season 3 Javi lives forever in my brain, as the first chapter of this story takes place in Laredo, May of 1997. This man deserves love, and boy is he going to get it.

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

“It’s your lucky day, Peña!” 

Javier glanced up from the pile of paperwork scattered across his desk to acknowledge the voice coming from the doorway to his office. 

“What do you want, Carter?” 

Javier's voice half grunted in response, his eyes shifting back down to the pile of papers on his desk. In his doorway stood his office mate, Detective Eric Carter. When Javier began his new position with the Laredo County Sheriff's Department 4 months ago, it took everything in him to keep from calling his new co-worker Steve. At a glance, he looked just like his old DEA partner. Tall, lanky, with a wiry head of blonde hair and bright blue eyes. 30 seconds into meeting Carter, it didn’t take long to realize looks were about the only thing he and Steve Murphy had in common. Eric Carter was a human ray of fucking sunshine, and his chipper demeanor was blinding Javier this early in the morning. 

“It’s your turn!” Carter replied in a sing-songy voice, slapping a red file folder onto Javier’s desk, covering the papers he had been sorting through. Javier picked up the folder and crinkled his brows in confusion. He turned the cover towards him, holding it just far enough away so that his squint trying to read its contents wasn’t too obvious. God, he just needed to give up and buy reading glasses already. 

As he got the folder just the right distance away from his face, he gave Carter a look that said absolutely fucking not. The folder read D.A.R.E school assembly lessons, with a picture of the Lion mascot giving a big thumbs up in his black D.A.R.E shirt. The office had recently been recruited by Laredo Public School District to start giving presentations to the Elementary schools, using the program aptly abbreviated for Drug Abuse Resistance Education. 

“Just take away the “R” and rearrange some letters and it spells DEA!” Carter laughed to himself. “It’s like it was made for you!” 

“No.” 

“Sorry Peña, you’re bottom of the totem pole this week. We’ve all done our time, and you’re the last one left in the office who has yet to go present. It’s not even that bad, you just basically go talk to these kids for an hour and tell them drugs are bad, don’t do them, yadda, yadda, yadda, you get the gist, and then it’s done. Piece of cake!” 

“I’m not fucking going.” Javier scoffed. “I have shit I have to get done.” Gesturing in annoyance to the piles of papers on his desk, now in disarray from the folder being thrown on his desk. 

“Not a choice, Mr. Peña.” 

A new voice passed by the doorway, and a much broader frame stood behind Carter’s. Chief Deputy Dean Morris, had joined the conversation, knowing that it wouldn’t end easily for Detective Carter if he kept harassing Javier about it. Morris was head of the department, and what he said, went. Coming from a background in the Air Force, Morris knew how “civilian” a position at a sheriff’s department must have felt for Javier after his time in the DEA. 5 years ago, it seemed fair to think that neither of them would have assumed paperwork, mundane training programs, and now, arguing over talking to 10 year olds about the dangers of doing drugs would have played any importance in their jobs. 

 “Right of passage. Ever since the school board dropped this on us last year, we’ve all done our time. Believe me, no one wants to do it, but like Carter said, today is your lucky day!” Morris’s voice oozed with sarcasm, knowing that Javier would absolutely hate every second of what he was about to have to do. 

“You lucked out on your day to go too, Peña. It looks like you get to go to the school with the hot teach-OW! Hey! What was that for?!” Morris had slapped Carter’s shoulder before he could get out the rest of his sentence. 

“Keep it in your pants, okay Carter?” 

Carter let out a huff of defeat. “I’m just saying, he could have gotten worse days to go…” 

“Just read from the notes, let the kids ask a couple of questions at the end and then you’re on your way. Easy peasy. When you get to the school office they’ll let you know where to go.” 

Javier opened his mouth to rebuttal, but before he could even get out a word, Morris held up his hand to stop him. 

“Not a choice. I’ll have Carter help you finish sorting paperwork, so don’t try to bullshit me and tell me that you have too much work to get done.” 

Javier let out a sigh of frustration that was a little louder than he intended it to be. His hands rested on his forehead as he rubbed the bridge of his nose before replying. 

“Fine. But this is one and done.” 

“Good man.” Morris reached over Javier’s desk and gave him a pat on the shoulder. He and Carter started to make their way out of Javier’s office when Morris turned his head over the back of his shoulder. 

“Carter’s right about the teacher, too. She’s a catch.” He winked and shut the door behind him. 

Javier gathered his things and made his way through the office, passing by Detective Carter’s desk. 

“Have funnnnnnn! Say ‘hi’ to the hot teacher for me!” Carter mocked, twinkling his fingers, waving at Javier. 

Without saying a word, Javier flipped him off, and kept walking. 

Settling into his truck, Javier set down his belongings in his passenger seat, and opened up the red file folder to see where his unexpected journey was taking him. 

This is fucking ridiculous He mouthed to himself as he cranked up the AC in the truck with one hand, and rummaged the other through the items on the seat. Reaching next to him, he grabbed and opened the folder, and grazed his index finger down the inside cover, where a schedule of schools, dates, and times were printed. At the bottom, he found 

5/27/97- Alma Pierce Elementary School, 12:00-12:30 pm, school cafeteria

 Javier’s heart sank to the bottom of his stomach. He read the line several times, re-checking the location and date to make sure what he read was true. 

Fuck. 

To any of his other co-workers who had been tasked with giving one of these D.A.R.E. presentations, the elementary school they were assigned to that day most likely held little to no significance. Of course, out of the 16 elementary schools in the Laredo Public School District, Javier was assigned to the one that held the most significance to him. 

The school that his mother taught at for her entire teaching career before she passed away. 

Since returning home from Colombia, Javier had been avoiding human contact like the plague. He had returned as somewhat of a “hometown hero” after his accomplishments with the DEA but couldn’t have felt further from it. He had become Laredo’s hottest topic. 

“What was it like to help catch Escobar?! The Cali Cartel?!” 

“We’re so proud of you, the DEA couldn’t have done it without you!”

“When are you going to come over and tell us all about Colombia? We want to know everything!” 

Each question, compliment and conversation about his time in South America was like a knife to his heart, slowly twisting with each word that came out of someone’s mouth. He could feel the guilt and burden of his time away growing heavier and heavier as he politely smiled through these conversations. 

But worse than the strangers who felt entitled to berate Javier about his time in Colombia, were his friends and family who he had been actively avoiding since returning home. Besides his father, Javier hadn’t seen anyone close to him since his mother’s funeral 8 years ago. It hurt Javier knowing that he had returned to Laredo a changed man, haunted by the things he had seen and done. His mother’s closest friends, those that she worked with at Alma Pierce Elementary School, had promised to fulfill Lucia Peña’s dying wish that they would look out for Javi and made sure that he came home okay. 

Well, Javier was home. He wasn’t quite sure how to break it to them that he wasn’t really okay. 

As he drove and parked in front of the school building, Javier’s heart began to beat heavier in his chest. His fingers drummed on the steering wheel as he started at the entrance to the school. He couldn’t decide if the feeling swirling around in his stomach was comfort or terror, knowing that Alma Pierce Elementary looked exactly the same as it did the last time he was here 9 years ago with his mother. 

He did know that part of that feeling definitely had to be terror, as he began to think about the fact he was about to be interrogated relentlessly by his late mother’s closest friends. Might as well sign these women up to work for the DEA- they were probably more terrifying than anyone Javier had encountered in his time working there. 

After a few more deep breaths, Javier gathered his things out of his truck and headed towards the main doors. Each footstep felt like he was walking through wet cement, questioning if it was too late to turn around.

Practically tip toeing in to the office, hoping to be as inconspicuous as possible, Javier let out a soft “Hi, I’m from the sheriff's department, I’m here for-“ 

Before he could even finish his sentence, the office secretary, a tiny and graying Señora Gutierez was thrusting her arms across the threshold of the office desk to wrap Javier in an impressively strong hug. 

“JAVIER PEÑA. I cannot believe it’s you! oh my sweet mijo, look at you! The older you get, the more like Chucho you look, dios mio! Why haven’t you stopped by?! We have all missed you so much, what have you been doing? It is so good to see you!” 

Here we go.

“Hola, Señora.” Javier half grunted from how tight he was being squeezed. “It’s nice to see you too.” 

“I have lots to ask but I know you need to go, or they will know that this old woman has been running her mouth, making you late.” Señora Gutiérrez began shooing her hand, as to send Javier on his way. 

Javier chuckled. He felt his body begin to ease slightly, letting the familiarity of friendly faces bring him a small sense of comfort. 

“I would hope after this VERY LONG time that you have not been to see your mamà’s dearest friends, you still remember where the cafeteria is?” She gave Javier a playful grin.

“Sí, Señora.” 

“Everyone will be so happy to see you, mi amor. Now go, or everyone will be after me for keeping you!” 

Grabbing his things, Javier made his way down the bustling hallway. Tiny faces stared up at his, as he shuffled his way towards the cafeteria doors. There, he was greeted by a sea of children chatting amongst themselves and 3 smiling faces, patiently waiting for his arrival. 

“JAVI!” 

Out of any of the faces he was bound to see today, these were the 3 he would recognize anywhere. The ladies who stood before him were the fellow 3rd grade teachers who had taught alongside his mother for almost 20 years. 

The ladies surrounded him in a bear hug, Javier quietly noting to himself that he had definitely reached his hug quota for the next several weeks. 

“It’s so good to see you, Javi.” The first of the 3 women spoke, her words sweet like honey. Linda Garcia was short and stout, her gray bangs brushing over the brim of her glasses as she looked up at Javier. Linda had always had a soft spot for Javi, and reminded him the most of his mother. 

“It’s good to see you t-“ 

“PENDEJO. WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! WHY HAVE YOU NOT CALLED?! WE SWORE TO YOUR LATE MOTHER THAT WE WOULD TAKE CARE OF YOU, AND IF IT WASN’T FOR CHUCHO KEEPING US UPDATED TH-” 

“Maria, let the boy breathe, this is the first time you’re seeing him in years, and this is the route you’re going to take? Dios Mio.” 

Standing next to Linda were her 2 partners in crime, Maria Rogers and Estelle Lopez. 

If you didn’t know Maria Rogers, you would be shocked to see the ferocity that came out of such a tiny woman. Javier’s mother used to refer to her “el vòlcan”- a matching nickname for her fiery personality. 

Estelle, on the other hand, was one of the most soft spoken people that Javier had ever meant. If she had something to say, he knew it was time to listen. 

“Hi everyone, it’s really great to see all of you.” Javier meant it. As overwhelmed and flustered as he was, it brought him peace to know after the hell that these last 8 years had been, some things never change. 

“MRS. ROGERSSSSSSS. WHEN IS THIS GONNA START?! I’M HUNGRY AND I KNOW LUNCH IS AFTER THIS.” 

“BE QUIET, MICHAEL. YOU KNOW WE’RE STILL WAITING FOR ONE MORE CLASS. YOU’RE SO ANNOYING.” 

“AM NOT!” 

“AM TOO!” 

Chatter and fidgeting amongst the 3rd graders instantaneously increased, the crowd of children now growing restless. 

“Oi, these niños will be the death of me, thank goodness this school is almost done.” Maria mumbled under her breath, the other 2 teachers rolling their eyes and laughing in agreement. “We’re just waiting on one more class, but they should be here any minute.” 

Overhearing the conversations shouted across the cafeteria, Agent Carter’s voice wandered through Javier’s thoughts. 

“You get the school with the hot teacher!” 

Obviously, Carter was not referring to the 3 women who stood before him. Although he wasn’t one for crude office banter, Javier couldn’t help but wonder if Carter’s statement really held true. With a genuine curiosity and a slight smirk on his face, he leaned back, arms crossed and asked, “Yeah wait, there’s still four 3rd grade teachers right?” 

The women all shot him a look that took him aback, their eyes burning a hole though Javier. 

“Jesus, you men really have a one track mind don’t you. Yes, I’m sure all of your friends from the department have been more than happy to tell you about our new teacher who just joined us. She is a sweet girl, and I am sure she is sick of getting harassed by all of you.” 

“Maria, I was just asking a quest-“ 

“Javier Jesus Peña, I have known you since before you were born. Wipe that smug look off your face, I know exactly why you asked the question”. 

Yup, things haven’t changed a bit. 

Before he could retort, the cafeteria doors began to swing open, followed by a long line of children, and you. 

“1, 2, 3, eyes on me!” 

“1, 2, eyes on you! 

God, the amount of times you’d had to repeat that phrase as the end of the school year approached, you might as well have gotten it tattooed on your forehead. 

“Okay 3rd graders, we’re already 5 minutes late for our assembly, and I’m sure the other classes are not going to be happy that we’re holding them up, and probably making us late for lunch after” 

The chatter stopped. With only a few days left in the school year, you were running out of ammunition to keep your class’s attention. At least the threat of being late to unch would work for now. 

A little hand shot up from the middle of the line you were about to trail down the hallway, like a mother duck with her babies following in line. “What’s your question, Jaun?” 

“Do you know if it’s gonna be the same guy as last time? He was kind of scary.” Mumbles of agreement came from the voices surrounding him. The Laredo Sheriff's Department had sent in a slew of their employees each week for these presentations, and you had been convinced none of them had ever even attempted to talk to a child. Last week’s presenter, Martin, Michales, something like that, had spent the large time of his presentation talking about getting murdered by the Cartel, leading to tears from many of your students, and a prompt request to not have him back. 

“I don’t know sweetie, it seems like there’s someone new who comes every week, but I sure hope it’s not him.” The class let out a small giggle. These were the moments you loved about your job as a teacher, especially now that you had moved to an older grade where your kids finally picked up on your subtle jokes with them. 

You had been with your class since after Christmas break, filling in as a long term sub for a 3rd grade teacher on maternity leave. The job followed an impromptu move from Chicago to Texas after breaking off your relationship with your boyfriend (regrettably, almost fiancé)  of 3 years, who had been cheating on you behind your back for 2 of them. You felt like an idiot that you hadn’t seen it coming, but it still hit you like a ton of bricks. Paul had plenty of red flags, but your optimistic demeanor and the mounting peer pressure of watching your friends get married and start their own families made you feel trapped. It still stung to think you would have settled for a miserable life with Paul out of the fear you wouldn’t find anyone else. 

 Desperate to get as far away from Illinois as possible, you packed your bags and made the nearly 4 day drive down to Laredo, Texas. Laredo,  a strange choice to many, but made nothing but complete sense to you. Your best friend since the 2nd grade, Sarah Alverez, had moved to Laredo your Freshman year of high school, her father accepting an agricultural engineering position in ranching country. You spent every summer until college visiting her and her family, having nothing but the fondest of memories for a sleepy town outside of San Antonio. It was a stark chance from the hustle and bustle of Chicago suburbia where you had spent your childhood. Long, carefree summer days made you promise yourself that if you ever did leave Chicago, you’d find yourself here. Well, you had made good on your promise, but for reasons that still made your stomach churn in gut-wrenching knots. 

You and your class journeyed down the hallway to the cafeteria. Thank god it was a short trip, because you were far too tired to put up with the bickering and shenanigans the back of your line often seemed to plague you with. Just as you were entering through the cafeteria doors, you promptly turned around, your body facing the line as you walked backwards further into the cafeteria. “Isabella and Jorge, keep your hands to yourself! You two know you’re not supposed to be in line togeth-” Before you could finish your sentence, the back of your body collided with one behind you that you hadn’t seen since turning around to stop a near WWE smackdown in the hallway. You had bumped into kids more than once who weren’t paying attention to their surroundings, but it became very clear, very quickly, that the body you had backed yourself into was not a child’s. 

The body you had backed yourself into was much taller and broader than yours. Two large hands firmly, but gently grasped around the middle of your upper arms to catch you without stumbling backwards any further. An overwhelming scent of cedarwood and sage cologne filled your senses. This obviously was not one of your coworkers, either. 

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorr-“ you started to apologize as you came to face the body that had stopped you in your tracks. Your apology halted as you were met by incredibly broad shoulders covered by a navy blue suit jacket. As your gaze continued upwards, the shoulders were followed by a strong square jawline and plush lips, the upper covered with an impeccable mustache. Continuing up, you were met with the most beautiful, deep chocolate brown eyes, whose soft stare soon met yours. There was no denying that this man was devilishly handsome. Realizing that you had most definitely been starting too long, you restated your apology. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were behind me.” Your eyes shifted away from his and darted down to the floor. 

A small smirk formed on his face as he looked down at you. He didn’t realize it, but he couldn’t help it. You were wearing a yellow sun dress that hit just above your knees, covered by a light washed denim jacket. Your dress swayed beautifully as he watched you take your last few steps backwards, making him question himself if he let you run into him on purpose. You smelled like vanilla and something sweet that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Pink embarrassment flooded your cheeks as a soft smile on your face met his. He now too realized that he had been staring a little too long, and that he still had his grasp on your arms as you had turned around to look at him. 

“No it’s okay.” He let out a small laugh under his breath. “I just didn’t want you to go too much further and trip over anything else.” He gently let his hands leave her arms, and watched as she brushed a piece of hair out of her face and looked back up at him. 

“Should we go sit down now?!” A small voice shouted from your line, causing you to snap back to reality, realizing that you had a line of children still standing behind you. 

“Yes, sorry sweetie” you replied, brushing your dress down back into place. “You guys can go find a spot behind Mrs. Rogers’ class.” Your class passed by you, paying no mind to the interaction that just took place between you and the man you had just bumped into. 

As you watched your class pass by, you turned back around to find the man still staring at you, causing your heart to palpably beat in your chest. The same strong hands that had caught you were now extended in your direction, offering a handshake to introduce himself. “I’m Javier Peña, uh Javi, actually” as your hand met his, realizing how small they felt in his grip. “I’m from the Laredo Sheriff's department, I uh, I’m the one that’s supposed to be doing the whole presentation thing today.” Your hand stayed in his as you introduced yourself. God, his hands were something else.

His grip loosened as your co-workers began to move towards you. You began to realize how hot your face felt, knowing that you were flushed with embarrassment not only from almost falling into a crowd of 10 year olds, but from how awe struck you were by the man who had caught you.

The three women on your 3rd grade team had taken you in as one of their own when you started your job here. They had been more than happy to step in to help you with whatever you needed, including trying to set you up with every single man your age that they knew. With the exception of the parade of overly forward sheriff's department members who had been at your school every Wednesday. Those 3 had no problem telling those men to fuck right off and leave you alone (in the nicest way possible.) The ladies slowly crept closer towards you, sly grins stretched across their faces as they giggled like school girls. 

“OH, so it looks like you met our sweet Javier!” Linda said with over exaggerated enthusiasm. 

“Sweetie, you’re SO good with the technology around here, you know how us old ladies are. Maybe you could help him set up the video he needs for his presentation today?” You knew damn well these women knew how to press play on a VCR. You grimaced your face at Maria. While you couldn’t see your face, you were absolutely positive your expression was screaming “Oh my God, could you please make it any more obvious that this man is insanely attractive and you don’t need to add to the embarrassment after I already ran into him like an idiot?!” 

“Yeah, of course, I’d be more than happy to help!” You pointed towards the stage that sat in front of the cafeteria. “Just come this way and I’ll show you how to set it up.” 

Following behind you, Javier leaned his head down towards yours. “Must be the most complicated VCR set up I’ve seen in a while.” 

You let out a giggle. “Yeah, they're all very sweet, but not the most skilled with anything that has to do with technology. When our principal had mentioned the idea of us potentially getting a computer lab, they just about had a heart attack. Setting up the TV to play a video should be no problem.” You gestured towards the stage at the front of the cafeteria where the TV cart was kept for presentations. He followed behind you, keeping a respectful distance.  Not respectful enough to keep himself from staring at the curve of your ass in your dress as you walked up the stage stairs. 

“Do you have the tape you need to show?” Your words went in one ear and out the other. Carter and Morris weren’t kidding. He hated to admit that those idiots were right about anything, but God, you were beautiful. His gaze was locked on you as squatted down next to the VCR, ejecting its previous contents. It seemed in that moment that you very much both realized that when Javier stood in front of you, you eye level with his waist, staring up at him, dangerously close to his coc- 

“Uh, yeah, yeah sorry,” he shook his head slightly to snap himself out of the thought he was about to have. “Thanks.” he smiled sheepishly. 

“Well I’m no technology expert, but all you should have to do is press play wherever you need to, and you should be good to go! Let me just roll this cart out for you and we’re good for you whenever you’re ready!” You began pushing the cart out onto the stage, but before you could get anywhere, Javi had his hand over yours. 

“You don’t have to do that. I’m sure it’s probably heavy, I can push it.” He insisted. 

You raised your eyebrows and gave him a look that made him step away. 

“What, you think I can’t do it?” Defiantly, you pushed the cart out to the middle of the stage to prove a point, looking back at him and shrugging with an “I told you so” look on your face. Any other woman he had met would have thankfully given up the task, let alone offer to do it at all. At that moment, Javier Peña knew you were not just any other woman. And that- that terrified him in the best way possible.

 Just before you hopped off the edge of the stage to re-join your class, you looked up at him as he ran his fingers through his locks of thick, curly brown hair, trying to regain his composure. 

“Good luck up there, Mr. Peña.” 

Javier couldn’t even tell you what had happened in the 30 minutes that he was up on stage. There were many times throughout his career where he had stared out into a sea of blank faces as he gave a presentation about intel, informats, wire taps… but having the eyes of 80 9 and 10 year olds glued to his every word was an absolutely terrifying experience. Not because he was nervous about the judgment of a child who may or may not even be able to tie their shoes or wipe their nose, but because of what they may say about him to you. It took everything in his power not to stare at you the entire time he was up there, but every time he glanced in your direction, your face lit up with a reassuring smile. You had even given him a little thumbs up when he had successfully started the VCR, playing a clip of Daren the D.A.R.E Lion. 

As the presentation finished, the kids applauded and gave a unanimous “thank you!” prompted by the teachers. 

As your class gathered behind you to walk down to the cafeteria, Maria tapped your shoulder. 

“Take a picture, mija, it will last longer.” 

You were too busy staring at Javi to even notice that Maria was talking to you. Her words went in one ear and out the other. 

“Huh, what? Sorry, did you say something?” 

“I said, take a picture, it will last longer.” Maria laughed to herself. “I don’t think your eyes have left him once since you walked in here.” 

You hated to admit it, but it was true. You had known this man for less than an hour, and he already had butterflies dancing around in your stomach. God, what were you, 12?! Pull it together. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Maria.” Of course you did. If you were wearing pants, they would be up in flames. Liar, liar, pants on fire. 

“I’ll take your class to lunch today. I’ll be back to help stack all of the chairs in a few. I’m sure he could use some help cleaning up, and I’ve heard that VCR is really difficult to work.” Maria nudged you before she turned around to collect your class and parade them out of the gym. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” 

Trying to contain your excitement, you playfully rolled your eyes and shook your head. 

The other teachers and students left, leaving just you and Javi. He gathered his things that he had left on the stage and started to make his way back down the stairs. It took him a moment to realize you were standing at the edge of the steps, arms crossed over your chest, smiling up at him. 

“I’m sorry if the kids were rowdy. It’s been a zoo since there’s only a few days of school left.” You both let out a small chuckle. Now that you two were alone, you became very aware of how nervous you were.

“You did a really great job! Honestly, you’re the best person we’ve had since we’ve started doing these presentations. The guy we had last time, I can’t remember his name, something with an M?! Anyways, I don’t think he’s ever spoken to a child in his entire life, and there were definitely some tears.” 

Definitely Morris, Javi noted to himself. 

“Thanks, I uh- didn’t think I’d be so nervous to talk in front of a bunch of kids. I’m glad it wasn’t too bad. I should thank you for helping me with that video. Didn’t need to get my pride bruised in front of 10 year olds.  Also glad I didn’t make anyone cry.” 

You both let out small laughs, your cheeks revealing small smiles across your faces. While the silence between you grew, the distance between you began to shrink as you both subconsciously took a small step towards each other. 

He watched as a small wave of sadness flooded your expression. “Stinks that this is the last week of presentations before the school year ends. it would have been nice to have you back.” You looked at him with a half hopeful smile. You saw the same feeling reflected back in him as his brow scrunched and bottom lip entered a small pout. 

“Oh shit. Yeah, I uh, I guess I forgot it’s the end of the school year. That would make sense there wouldn’t be anymore presentations.” He rested one hand on his hip, as the other traveled through his thick, brown locks. You bit down on your bottom lip, stunned by his broadness and shoulders to waist ratio, which was made even more apparent as his fingers combed through his hair. His deep brown eyes met yours, melting you instantly.  “If I had known that you would have been here, I would have signed up to come a lot earlier.” 

Before you had a chance to recover yourself from the puddle you had just turned into, the cafeteria doors swung open once again. Maria was a woman on a mission. Her tiny, thin frame marched with purpose towards you both. 

“Oh good thing I caught you, amor! I was just thinking that I had something important to tell Javier before he left and I’m so glad you’re here to hear it too. Javi happens to be a dear familiar friend, and I was just telling him before the presentation how excited I am to see him and his father at my cookout this Saturday! I know you had mentioned you were thinking about going! You’ll be there, won’t you Javier? Aren't you so excited to come to the party this Saturday?”

Maria and Javier entered a silent stare down. Their expressions allowed them to have an entire conversation without speaking a word. 

There’s a party on Saturday? What are you talking about? What does this have to do with anything?

Dios Mio, Pendejo. Take the hint. I already invited her. She will be there on Saturday so you can see her again. Don’t mess this up. 

“Oh really?” You chimed in, perhaps a bit too over enthusiastic. “I wasn’t really going to know anyone besides the staff at school, so it would be nice to see another familiar face!” In all honesty, you were trying to find a way out of going before just now. Huge social gatherings of strangers weren’t really your thing, but if it meant it was a chance to see Javi again, you would brave it. 

“Oh yeah, the uh, the cookout! Yeah, uh, yeah, I’ll be there. It would be really nice to see you again, too.” Although Javier’s tone carried a tint of confusion, his smile was confirmed that his statement was genuine. 

“Bueno!” Maria clasped her hands together and shook her head in delight. “So you will BOTH be there on Saturday!” 

You could already feel your heart swelling at the prospect of seeing Javi again. 

“Oh and mija”, Maria turned towards you, your face lighting up, wondering if she had even more good news to deliver. “They need you in the office. Isabella and Jorge got into a wrestling match in the cafeteria and the secretaries needed to call their parents. Oi, these niños are like wild animals, summer cannot come fast enough!” 

“Of course they did. They might as well put WWE referee under our job description because it seems like that’s all I’m doing all day. It’s like herding feral cats.” you groaned. “Those two cannot be together next year…” 

Javi let out a snort. “Sorry”, he said, trying to contain his laughter. You joined in, realizing the ridiculousness of your statement. 

“Alright, well I guess that’s my cue to go. It was really nice to meet you, Javi. I’m really glad I get to see you again.” It took every ounce of strength in your body to move yourself out of the cafeteria doors. As you walked away, you turned once more to look back over your shoulder, to find that Javi’s eye’s hadn’t moved from your direction since you turned around. “See you on Saturday.” 

Even after you were out of sight, Javi still stood frozen, his eyes wide and jaw still half open. 

“Hola, earth to Javier, are you there?!” Maria interjected, waving her hand in front of Javi’s awe struck face. 

Snapping out of his trance, Javier began to speak, but was stopped before he could get out a single word. 

“Listen to me mijo. I want you to be happy. That was all Lucia asked for before she passed. So first and foremost, you are welcome.” Maria gestured, alluding to the fact that Javier owed her big time for what had just happened. “Secondly, she is a sweet girl. If you do anything to break her heart, so help me, I will come to the ranch and run you over with your father’s tractor. Understood?” 

“Understood.” Javier understood that this was not a threat, it was a promise. 

“Good. She’s a good one, Javier. She reminds me so much of your mother. Lucia would have loved her.” She reached up her hand to cup the side of Javi’s face, before bringing her other arm around him for a hug. 

Javier exhaled, trying his best to hold back the tears that were welling in his eyes. It was the first time since returning home that he felt a sense of relief and comfort fill his body. Maybe, he was more than the man he was returning home from Colombia. Maybe, the people who loved him before he left still loved him now, despite the person he’d become. Maybe, just maybe, someone else could love him for the new man he now hoped to become.  

[uniquecellest]

I've seen clips of Hazbin Hotel floating around and I have some thoughts:

I think Vaggie might die. BUT I do not think she will be permanently dead. I think Adam and/or Lute will knock her out but she will appear dead and instead will take her back to heaven and will wipe her memories from the moment she let the child go free up to when the Hotel is attacked and she is knocked out. Obviously Adam or Lute will then fill her head with lies and will turn Vaggie against Charlie specifically.

I think with the dead executioner, I don't think it was anyone in Hell. I think it was Adam or Lute so they can go to back to Hell to kill more of the souls down there.

With Lilith's disappearance it could be to protect Charlie and/or Lucifer or it could be that she's a big boss in what is coming. OR Adam/Lute/Sera or Eve (if we ever meet her) kidnapped Lilith and plan to use her as a weakness against her husband and daughter.

Angel Dust visiting Heaven with Charlie and seeing his sister and she doesn't remember him.

Angel and Vaggie getting kidnapped in Heaven along with Lilith and the three don't remember their friends or family down in Hell (cue Angel's brother coming in and knocking his ass back down PLEASE)

Sera isn't a bad or good. She has nuance to things but she does have a heavy burden to bare.

Emily will start to question but Emily won't be the one to fall it will be Sera or Sera loses her wings trying to protect Emily

Lucifer meeting his siblings again and Charlie meeting her aunts/uncles

Despite Angel meeting the requirements to enter heaven, it's not about what a person does if they reform it's about whether the person themselves actually wants to be/feels like they deserve to be in Heaven. For instance, Angel still has his contract with Valentino something that even Sera probably can't get him out of, and in the moments we see Angel improving he probably thinks/feels that he still does not deserve Heaven.

Alastor isn't real and is possibly someone created by Lilith's own musical voice/magic.

Alastor is Lilith in disguise

Alastor may say that he views Charlie as a "daughter" to get under Lucifer's skin, but he actually does and has trouble expressing his emotions about it without pissing off Lucifer

I need Jeremy Shada in this

Specifically I need Jeremy Shada's character and Jeremy Jordan to duet together in this show

Seviathan did something to Helsa or Charlie and framed the other for.

Upon that discovery, Helsa and Charlie - still rivals - grow a respect for each other and will help each other on occasion

Lilith has met Angel Dust before and views him like a son (get squashed Valentino)

Valentino will do something to tear Angel away from all of his friends. In particularly Charlie, Husk, and Cherri Bomb are the ones hurt the most and the ones Angel tries to make everything up to

We get to Angel's demon form in the finale

Charlie tries to talk to Vaggie but Vaggie just shuts herself out and leaves the hotel.

Lucifer tries to reassure his daughter that there is the possibility Vaggie was going to tell Charlie but she wasn't ready and Adam exposing her before she was ready has shaken up her foundation

The kid that Vaggie spared comes to help her

Vaggie is actually friends and keeps updates on the kid she spared

Lucifer hears how Adam pronounces Vaggie and punches (like the fight with the hyena's in Lion King and Rafiki hits one with the back of his hand without even looking; that's Lucifer with Adam)

Adam actually had it planned that everyone in heaven worried about a Hell uprising that he has been preparing his executioners to actually stage coup against Sera so Heaven can be what he wants

Adam was actually the first human in Hell and is the one that caused Lucifer's fall

Lilith, Lucifer, Charlie get offered the opportunity to being angels

Someone is pitting Adam against Heaven and Hell and in turn Adam pits Heaven against

[ace-writer-lani]

Sneak Peak at my Son of Persephone Nico AU:

(This is the main fic and part 3 of my Blooming from Darkness series)

Excerpt of Chapter One: Aquamarine (Bianca's POV):

“Who said we are going anywhere? We don’t even know who you people are and you’re trying to recruit us to join your cult?” Bianca paused, remembering Percy’s own cryptic words. “Are you trying to recruit us for a cult too?”

“Yes. I mean no!” he stuttered, “I guess the army he’s trying to force you into can be considered a cult, but I’m just here to save you guys and bring you to a place made for people like us.”

Bianca took a step away from him, tugging Nico with her. “People like us? You just made it sound even more like a cult!”

Percy gave a frustrated groan and opened his mouth. But before he could say anything, whether it was to defend his not-cultish-camp or not, something solid and completely invisible rammed into them, knocking the three of them to the ground.

A new voice rang out, shouting “For Zeus!” and Bianca looked up to see a girl with short, spikey hair. She had an almost raw aura to her, radiating a sense of authority and power as she charged at Dr. Thorn with a large spear and shield. There were two other kids that fought alongside her: one was another girl with blonde curls that almost seemed…familiar, and the other was a boy with a wispy goatee that ran weirdly. Percy sighed at relief at the sight of them, so they were probably with him.

As if today could get any weirder. Bianca knew she and Nico should’ve gone with her plan to fake being sick so that they wouldn’t have had to go to the winter dance in the first place.

It was too late for that though and now she had to deal with three possible cultists and whatever Dr. Thorn was because he was starting to transform more and more into something definitely not human with every blow he took. He looked as if someone had a baby with both a lion and a scorpion at the same time, which was a combo she wished she had never gotten the chance to see.

“What is going on?” Bianca cried, shielding Nico from another black spike that whizzed through the air. “What is that?!”

The blonde drew a dagger from a holster strapped around her thigh. It was the same bronze color as Percy’s sword and flashed under the moonlight.

“He’s a manticore!” she said, and Nico gasped, “Watch out for the spikes because they contain poison.”

“Oh really, Annabeth?” Percy muttered, drawing his blade. “That would have been nice to know before I got stabbed in the shoulder.”

“Normally people tend to, you know, avoid sharp things whether or not it’s poison, Seaweed Brain.”

“Is that really a manticore?!” Nico asked, eyes wide. He tugged on her sleeve repeatedly. “Bia! Bia! It’s just like in Mythomagic! Manticores have three thousand attack power, plus five to saving throws, and-”

“Please, not now fratellino,” Bianca whispered calmly (because she could not lose control). Then she stepped forward, making sure Nico was within her sight and out of the line of fire before she clicked the button of her ring. It transformed into a crossbow in a fluid motion, and she started to shoot at the manticore.

“What the fuck?” yelped the spikey-haired girl when an arrow nearly hit her after the monster dodged it. If Bianca’s hands weren’t currently occupied, she would have immediately covered Nico’s ears at the profanity. “Who gave her a crossbow?” She gave Percy a glare. “Was it you, Jackson? Did you think it was a good idea to give a dangerous weapon to a child?”

“Again, you're at a military school. Plus, you guys are literally children too-”

At the same time Percy said, “I didn’t give it to her! She already had it! Why do you always assume I did something wrong?”

The girl ignored him, turning to the other boy who was blowing a set of reed pipes. It was a bright little tune that clashed with the atmosphere of the situation they were in, but when Bianca looked harder, the music seemed to be controlling plants…unless Bianca was starting to hallucinate.

(Maybe she was the one on drugs.)

-

The rest of the chapter will be posted on my ao3 either tonight or within the next few days so stay tuned ;)

Update: first chapter is posted here!

[soulsoffairlight]

1: Anime girls are not real people, they are drawings, they are costume ideas. Since there is no real minor to protect, it is that character's LIKENESS that anime-Karens are trying to restrict. To restrict her likeness in that way means we are forbidden from being attracted to anyone that even looks like her.

1.5: Calling everyone "pedophile" willy nilly only makes the word lose it's status. Pedos are supposed to be the most despised minority, even the scummiest criminals hate pedos. But when 9/10 of the population can be labeled pedos over stupid reasons like anime girls, pubic hair, 18-year-olds, young-looking adults, etc then that word will mean nothing.

2: Anime girls do not age like us. We get older but they don't. Most of these "underage" drawings would be well over 18 if you added the # of years since their show came out. So if a character is permanently underage that means nobody is ever allowed to have the hots for her? Nobody can even age her up?

2.5: If I find a drawing of a beautiful girl attractive, that is a compliment to the artist's skills, not a condemnation of my character. If someone like Komi or Shirahoshi is SUPPOSED to look super-attractive & we fall for her, that means the animators did a great job.

3: They resemble adults. In anime for every loli, there's a girl under 18 who looks like an adult (Komi, Momo, Evergarden, Eliz Liones). So if an artist draws a beautiful naked woman & a bunch of horny straight guys find it hot, they become pedophiles the moment the artist decides she's under 18? Isn't that a form of entrapment? If a drawing resembles an adult, she should be treated as such.

3.5: What real 16-year-old girl has natural pink hair & pink eyes? or green hair + green eyes? These are shows where Japanese people look like Nordic white people. Stop taking it so seriously.

4: If having the hots for underage heart-throbs like Reimi, Momo, Komi, or Nagatoro makes them a "Pedophile", then by the exact same logic, anyone with the hots for anthro girls like Lola from Space Jam, Gadget from C&D R.R, or Amy Rose from Sonic MUST be labeled as Zoophiles. "Buh Lola looks human enough so it's not beastality" Then these anime minors look adult enough so it's not pedophilia.

5: Anyone crying "pedo" over barely-underage drawings would have a heart attack if they went to an anime convention. Vendors there openly sell pillow covers & obscene mouse pads of young characters. By their logic, every vendor selling any sexual merch of non-adult characters is equal to a child trafficker.

5.5: Is it pedophilia for an adult woman to cosplay an underage character? Or for a man to be attracted to an adult woman while she's dressed like an underage character? Most popular cosplayers have done sexy cosplays of Asuka, Sailor Moon, Bunny Bulma, Jinx, & other fictional minors. How about the dub voice actresses? Many VAs have signed or sold sensual drawings of underage girls they've voiced. If a VA is cool with men calling her (16 yo) character a waifu is she a pedo accomplice?

6: The ones screaming "pedo" CANNOT DEBATE IN GOOD FAITH. Don't let these bullies fool you. Anyone screaming "pedo" over mature anime girls is 100% doing it for corrupt power-hungry reasons. These people are lowlife abusers, they just wanna pick on someone. They are WEAPONIZING the ages of these drawings, they see Momo's age as a free pass to bully anyone who thinks she's hot. If they truly thought you were a danger to kids, they wouldn't be talking shit to you at all, they'd be quietly gathering evidence or calling the police. If you debate them as to why simping for waifus is not pedophilia, they will pull every dirty trick from the narcissist handbook to paint you as bad as possible.

7: There is no correlation between real life pedophilia & anime """pedophilia"""". Anime Karens/Antis have argued that normalizing the sexualization of fictional minors will lead to the normalization of real life pedophilia. This is EXACTLY like the argument that violent videogames will lead to more shootings. You know what else is normalized in anime? Training & exercise! Yet alot of anime fans are still morbidly obese or horribly out of shape. Anyways people know murder is wrong, even when it's depicted in fiction, so the same logic applies to fictional teens being sexualized. Most sane people know the difference between a fictional minor being sexualized & real kids being sexually exploited. If someone doesn't know that, they were already a creep, just like how if a gamer doesn't know that violence is wrong irl, they already had issues. There is no "can kinda blur the line between real & fake." Most people know the difference between real & fake. The human brain isn't gonna start finding real kids attractive because it enjoyed Highschool DXD or Cat Planet Cuties.

Womp womp keep crying I'm not reading allat. Go outside

[confessions-official]

i wish more people knew when to give up on their marriage. if you’re struggling with marriage, having a kid will NOT fix your marital issues. if your partner is picking fights with you when you’re drunk and making you and your kids walk on eggshells around him whenever he’s in a bad mood, that’s bad! “oh but we should stay together for the kids—” the KIDS (or kid in my situation, my brother is seemingly unaffected by watching our dad yell at me and our mom constantly) feel unsafe when they hear people raising their voices or forcefully/loudly closing doors, setting things down etc. that shit fucks you up! hearing from your parent that actually the reason you get overstimulated so much is because you’re not exposed to very stimulating things that often and if you just put yourself in overstimulating situations more your sensory issues would go away like fucking exposure therapy for my autism????

not to mention if you’re going to choose to work for the majority of your kid’s childhood and force them to do sports that they hate (while hammering in the importance of doing sports so you can get college scholarships otherwise you’re not going to get anywhere in life and you’ll end up miserable) when you do see them, you do not get to be upset when your kids joke about having an absent father. presently you’re like a couch cushion that wildly increases the anxiety levels of your wife and child. feeling like a fucking zebra hunted down by one really awful lion when i’m just sitting on the couch trying not to think about how scared of you i am.

and listen. you can claim to love your wife. you can say it all day, you can blame your relationship issues on her for not wanting to have sex after she literally had a brain tumor and needed brain surgery, you can accuse her of doing all sorts of things like cheating on you with one of her closest queer friends, you can refuse to give her help with tasks that she struggles with because of that brain tumor she had and then blame her for not just Doing the task that she asked for help with. you can do that. you shouldn’t do any of those things. but you could. she puts up with that because you’ve worn her down so she just lets it slide since it really isn’t worth the trouble. BUT. you do not get to compare her to her physically and verbally abusive alcoholic step-dad who kicked her out of her house when she was thirteen years old. you don’t get to do that. it is so goddamn hypocritical of you to do that when YOU are more like him. you think you’re so much better than him because you don’t like him as a person but just because you don’t hit your kids doesn’t mean you haven’t traumatized them or given them emotional baggage that they’ll carry with them to hell. YOU need to do the right thing and ask for a divorce. it’s getting ridiculous at this point. just shut the fuck up and take the L. you failed at your marriage and that’s fine, you got like five to ten good years in and i understand the sunk-cost fallacy cause you’ve made it almost twenty years but you HAVE to realize that it’s time to give up. this one is on you, man. i would never say this to your face because you’d never give me a moment of peace for as long as i live, but i’m right. they’re your problems, and you can either figure them out or leave. BETTER YOURSELF AS A HUMAN BEING OR GET OUT OF MY LIFE. please

 

[supurman]

[ from supercopy ] : “ you have no idea what it’s like to be me, superman ! no idea what it’s like to try to fit into your shadow ! ” embarrassed by being yanked away from his friends and teammates like a naughty child, superboy radiates disdained heat. kon is a member of young justice on official young justice business— while the mission had gone awry ( which he’s sure robin will express to everyone during debrief later ), ONLY kon’s mentor ( and dad ) showed up to proverbially pull him aside by his ear in response to some reckless tactile telekinesis use against today’s enemies. wrathful tears dampen eyes as blue as clark’s. “ i didn’t do anything wrong ! ” ( except he knows excessive force is wrong ) “ i’m tired of you expecting me to act just like you did when you were my age. ”

it had only been a few months now since young justice has become official. a band of teens with their own amazing powers. and one of them was all clark's responsibility. his own son, kon a fighty one at that. a teenager with emotions that often lead him astray. he loved so much, but didn't know how to control it. so loyal to his friends, he was often easily hurt. and so sensitive to any disturbances of his friends that it set him off like a live wire. this is what superman has been dealing with for some months now. it wasn't the child's fault. it was clarks [...] had he not let him be under the grim hand of lex for so long  or had let him live his own life as a 14 year old boy in hawai'i … he would be much sounder of mind. happier.

however... not every wrong act can be answered with kind words and pats of affection. sometimes the brakes had to be slammed and the firm deep fatherly tone clark's father once used on him needed to seek his own new son. his use of his TTK was excessive. the crack in the concrete from it could still be seen. the shattering from its impact had shot its way through the ground to the base of a crane. if clark had not come in time who knows what it would of feel through with the skyscraper sized iron bar it was holding on its wire.

once the situation was over the elder super snatched his child into the air. not it was just them now. kon knew where this lead - it was in the way his fathers fist were clench, how sharp his eye was, and the pose of his flight. ❝ now what has gotten into your, conner ? " the human name comes out. it was serious now. ❝ you could of killed someone innocent let alone the criminals themselves. thats not what us el's do. ❞ clarks voice was edged and sharpened in disappointment. lives at risk were no excuse.  

“ i didn’t do anything wrong ! ” @supercopy shouts.

the father turns to look at the kid-super whilst in the sky. the suddenness of it cast his red cape to the side. ❝ yes, you did conner ! don’t act like you didnt ! ❞ a shout. its loud. its too demanding. abruptly clark's tightened palm loosens where they were.. the truly sees kon's face now. the tears that hold onto his very same eyes which clark has. he sees himself now in pain. ❝ i... wait kon. its not LIKE that . ❞ the edge in his tone is shaved with the sandpaper of guilt. uncertainty were in the feathers of his words. being a father [...] it was not easy. being a father of someone he had let down so far.. even worse. he was lucky that kon even let him truly take him in.

the fury of kon is still whipping at clark whether the child continues lashing out or not. its a hot wall that kon uses to defend himself. and tears that reveal a somber, softer underbelly of pain. he was just a juvenile lion trying to keep a king at bay thats what it seemed. and clark should never make it seem that way. though in superman's own chest there is embers of anger, there is something else found within. the ability to recognize another's plight. ( clark, if your legacy was the world kon should not be forced to be atlas ).

a hiss of air came from his lips as his eyes pinched. his curl tosses where he shakes his head. what kon did [...] it was still wrong. but clark needed to take a step back. he was a kid once who made mistakes as well - he was just lucky those mistakes could be made a farm until he became a young man. kon was bound to make mistakes. blue eyes are revealed from long lashes once again looking at kon. his son's eyes still look at him with ire, smallness, and sharply. partially : clark deserved that.

❝ kon. i'm sorry. listen. i shouldn't have yelled at you like that. but what you did... it was still too much. ❞

another hiss of breath from the bass of his timbre. his lip purses ❝ you wear this symbol now. youre part of a family first before youre a super. its the house of el, not the super symbol. kon i know what i am in the world is a heavy burden that is suffocating you [...] i shouldn't be wanting you to be what i am and expecting no mistakes. i made my own.. and you will too. but still, you got to listen to me when I say that was too much. im trying to help. i know what its like to have these powers at be a kid. no one else knows what you're going through like i would. if we don't start seeing eye to eye [ ... ] then i don't know what i'll do with myself. i really love you and just want to lead you the path my parents led me. ❞

[ur-elder]

I’ve been caught in this cycle of grieving through my joy. Bathing M (my two year old) reminds me of my childhood. My father would always bathe us. I know my mother did so much but that was his way of bonding with us. He played the best games, and threw his whole heart and soul into them as if he were auditioning for Broadway—or perhaps he was able to heal some of his childhood through play. Whatever it was, my father made taking a bath a wonderfully magical time for us kids. The most striking game that we all recall with ease was “Mufasa.”

You may recognize the name from the animated movie “The Lion King,” which was frequently played on VHS in our household. Now the game was simply my father shutting off all of the lights in the bathroom, save for the connected walk-in closet light. The light would illuminate just enough for us to comfortably see the exchange. My father would step into the closet, hidden from sight, and negotiate with “Mufasa” who spoke in a booming, deep voice.

“Please, they just want to play!” My dad would plead with the scary being.

“Then they must stop that splashing!” Mufasa would roar. It was a negotiation on our behalf for whatever felt right at the moment. We would shriek and hide and giggle and beg for more. He always allowed us as much game time as he could, before the bath water would inevitably become too cold to stand.

I think all of these thoughts while bathing my own son. I grieve my father while feeling love and joy at having the opportunity to raise my own child. I took my father for granted my entire life. And the moment I recognized all he was to me, he was gone. I am so thankful I started to appreciate him in my mid twenties, a year or so before his passing. I begged for visits and time and phone calls. It wasn’t enough, looking back. I thought I had time to build this really cool adult relationship on top of the father-daughter relationship I had come to appreciate. I didn’t. It crushes me under its weight, this grief. Magnus lost an incredible grandfather, one who would have tirelessly indulged in silly games at bath time to make him smile. And despite processing this deeply painful realization over a year ago, the pain does not recede. Sure, it slumbers and allows me my joyful moments. But the human brain does not release such intense euphoric emotions, regardless of their damage. I grieve anew each time a loving memory is prodded. Then I process. Then I heal. And then the cycle begins again. But I won’t let go, either. He belongs in my head, my heart, and in my thoughts. His memory is important. Regardless of the strain, it helps. It helps that I remember so sharply and can use those memories to be a better parent. I’m thankful I can grieve, and openly cry and snot whenever I feel the need. It is not the linear healing I had anticipated nor experienced prior. His death has imprinted upon me and altered how I view my relationships and my own life. I have many regrets. But there is not time like the present to make a change, say what needs to be said, or do what needs to be done. Our loved ones are counting on us. My dad needed love and support towards the end of his life. I was reaching my hand out, but not fast enough, not intentionally enough. I will never make that same mistake again. I will love fiercely, be outspoken, be upfront, and let the people know in my life that I love them and that I do not take their love for granted. You will never have enough time. Make the best of it.

[creedx13]

(Trauma)Jason Creed(Touture/gore)

Trauma night terrors and the walk of shame.

Content warning: PTSD, violence and hate

It was the same dream as usual, just a casual relieving of my screen debut with the "Friends Of Humanity".

 Mr. Logan had given me some pocket money for helping him with the firewood. It was like 3 dollars just enough for a slurpee or maybe a candy bar. It was a beautiful full moon night and I was much too excited for sleep. I had just moved up a belt in martial arts class and I was feeling invincible. So I decided, like an idiot, it would be a good idea to leave school grounds and head to the local seven eleven to buy sweets and chase pigeons. I scaled the outer wall using my claws and I was off into the night. I was so absorbed in the beauty of the night and the feeling of freedom in my hair I didn't notice I was being tailed. Rookie error. They wouldn't have caught me so easily if I'd have been paying attention. I didn't even make it to the stupid convenience store. They jumped me on the first block. I felt something hit the back of my head, a baseball bat I think. I fell forward and the bat guy's buddy snapped one of those ugly suppressor collars on me and hit a button. It felt like my whole body was crawling with angry spiky fire. Apparently, this model came with a Taser feature. How wonderful. I black out I hate blacking out. Next thing I know I'm strapped down to some sort of torture chair. Like where do you buy this stuff, super sickos are us? As soon as I started to come around I heard a woman's voice say "It's awake, go time boss." just like that the camera under the ring light turns on and Graydon Creed himself steps From the shadows. Of all the ways to meet your biological father for the first time I'm pretty sure this is the worst. He then started spitting his holier-than-thou bullshit showing my claws and fangs off to the camera then forcibly turning my head to show my ears. He then made the case that I clearly wasn't human and I didn't deserve a place in civilized society "You wouldn't send your child to school with a lion or expect them to share a bathroom or locker room with a polar bear?" as if I was a threat to kids. I'm a kid myself. "Tonight I will make the streets safer. tonight I teach you how to protect your families, your children." he then slowly declawed me, cutting my fingertips off slowly one by one using a pair of sharpened garden pruners. I screamed I cried, I fought, I growled, I swore, none of them flinched. They were void and cold behind their eyes and I was helpless and alone at their mercy. I fought and slashed wildly in my sleep, slicing my bed sheets to ribbons with my claws. I woke suddenly sitting up in bed shaking from the adrenaline and drenched in my own sweat. I carefully assessed my surroundings grounding myself in the present moment just like Mr. Logan taught me after the first nightmare I had in the infirmary. My roommate is deaf which is why he was chosen to share my room cause I won't wake him in the night. I carefully bundled up my torn sheets in my arms and headed down to the laundry room for some spare sheets. Mr. Logan was there he was dropping off his torn bedding as well. At least I'm not doing the walk of shame alone tonight. He hands me a fresh bundle of bedding. "Here ya go kid. You want me to help you make your bed?" he suggests. I can make my own bed but I don't want to be alone right now. I don't think he wants to be alone either. "Yes please." I sound small, I feel even smaller. Mr.Logan just gives me a sad knowing smile. "Common kid." He pats me on the shoulder, he is gentle but firm. After he helped me with my bed, I help him with his bed. As he escorted me back to my room he said something that stuck with me. "Head up kid, you're a fighter you'll get through this. You can and will survive worse. It wasn't your fault and they will pay. they always do in time. Now go back to bed it's past curfew." he gave me a sly smirk and headed back to his room. The terror of my past left me alone until morning. Thanks Mr.Logan you're a cool guy.

[astroaquarium]

Signs on the House Cusps series: Part 1 Aries-Virgo

Aries on the 1st: you come across as being headstrong, determined, and a go geter! you are an open book, and are unapologetically you.

Aries on the 2nd: you take your finances very seriously, and are likely very good at saving money. You are open and honest about what you value.

Aries on the 3rd: you were a leader in school in front of your peers/and siblings. Your voice might be quite brash or loud.

Aries on the 4th: in your family, you are the leader or the dominant voice. Your home life might have been aggressive in terms of living arrangements or relationship to your family in either a positive or negative way.

Aries on the 5th: you might enjoy sports as a passtime, and/or the gym and excersise. You might look at dating like its a sport or a competition. Your children might have Arian qualities.

Aries on the 6th: your routine is very fast paced and on the go. You don’t like to sit still, instead you smash through your daily to do lists. You are blessed with a good fighting immune system.

Aries on the 7th: you are attract dominat romantic partners, who take the lead in the relationship.

Aries on the 8th: your sex drive is very healthy and might have a high libido. You are most likely very dominant in the bedroom.

Aries on the 9th: you might have very strong religious or spirtiual beliefs or very strong beliefs against this. you might like to study or be interested in the human body and human movement.

Aries on the 10th: you might have a career in sports, managment/leadership, medicine, or emergency services. You like to be seen as a leader in the workplace.

Aries on the 11th: you are a very supportive and encouraging friend, you push them to be better.

Aries on the 12th: you keep hidden your feelings of anger, rage, and passion, as these feelings scare you.

Taurus on the 1st: you come across as being very calm, cool, and collected. you are traditionally beautiful.

Taurus on the 2nd: you love the finer things in life and that is what you get when you set your mind to it, although you may have a tendancy to procrastinate and indulge.

Taurus on the 3rd: you have a beautiful soothing voice. you likely have a good relationship with your siblings.

Taurus on the 4th: your family may be very nurturing and supportive, you may have found memories of your upbringing.

Taurus on the 5th: you may enjoy winning and dinning frequently, you might like to cook or bake in your spare time. Your children may have been a breeze to take care of.

Taurus on the 6th: you may procrastinate daily tasks and chores, you like taking things slow and need freqent naps.

Taurus on the 7th: you attract beautiful romantic partners, who may be slow, stubborn, and materialistic.

Taurus on the 8th: you are very sensual being, you crave touch and tantric sexual encouters. You may die a very peaceful death.

Taurs on the 9th: may be interested in or study the arts or art history or even beauty therapy.

Taurus on the 10th: seen as very beautiful and lusted over in the workplace. this is a model placement. may also have a career in the arts.

Taurus on the 11th: very caring friend, maybe a little bit lazy in checking up on them at times, but you care so deeply for them. You dream of a better world.

Taurus on the 12th: you hide your femininity and vulnerability, this scares you.

Gemini on the 1st: you come across as very chatty, socialable, and fun. People trust you easily!

Gemini on the 2nd: you may like to gamble (money, and valuables). Your values might change frequently.

Gemini on the 3rd: you are very easy to talk to, you may talk very fast and be super chatty. You are likely the most talkative out of your siblings, and have very open communication with them. Such a wordsmith!

Gemini on the 4th: may have grown up in a very intellectually focesed family. You probably keep in contact with your family regularly.

Gemini on the 5th: you might like to write in your spare time. Your kids might be chatterboxes.

Gemini on the 6th: you hate routine and prefer to do things on your own watch. You might have ups and downs with your health, but you may recover from illness quite quickly.

Gemini on the 7th: you attract chatterboxes and intellectual types. Your romantic partners often challenge you mentally.

Gemini on the 8th: you might keep your thoughts to yourself and be reluctant to share. You are quite changeable sexually, and are open to most things.

Gemini on the 9th: you might love to study, and even be an eternal student and find it hard to narrow down to just one thing, as you are always changing your mind.

Gemini on the 10th: you might be seen as a becon of knowledge by work collegues. You may have a career in journalism, the media, academia, or performing arts.

Gemini on the 11th: you are the chatty friend. You have big ideas ans dreams that are always changing.

Gemini on the 12th: you keep your voice hidden, you dont like to speak up for yourself because you might be scared of others judgement.

Cancer on the 1st: you come across as extremely sweet, shy, and affectionate. People can feel instantly protected and close to you.

Cancer on the 2nd: you hold your finances very close to your heart and may be inclined to spend and put value on centimental items over others.

Cancer on the 3rd: you have sweet, soft voice. you may have been very shy in school. you are likely the nurtuer of your siblings.

Cancer on the 4th: you had a very wholesome upbringing, maybe slightly sheltered? your relationship with your family is very warm and personable, you love your family.

Cancer on the 5th: you might like to cook, knit, or create art in your spare time. Your children may have cancerian qualities.

Cancer on the 6th: your routine is very dependant on how you feel. if you dont feel like doing something chances are you wont.

Cancer on the 7th: you attract romantic partners who are nurtueres, people who will take care of you and dote on you.

Cancer on the 8th: you are the ultimate lover and nurter. your death may be very emotionally painful.

Cnacer on the 9th: you may be interested in studying childrens studies and/or primary or early childhood care and teaching. You may also be interested in studying the culinary arts.

Cancer on the 10th: you are the mum of your workplace, your collegues come to you for emotional support. You may have a career in psychology, primary teaching, hospitality, or nursing.

Cancer on the 11th: you are the mum friend. you have dreams of being loved and nurtered by those you care about, you crave affection.

Cancer on the 12th: you hide your emotions, these are what scares you most, as you dont even understand them yourself.

Leo on the 1st: you come across as confident, loud, and bold. people gravitate towards your boldness.

Leo on the 2nd: you have over the top taste, and love luxuries of life. You value people and things that give you the most affection and praise.

Leo on the 3rd: you might have a loud, warm voice. you might have a very fun, and full relationship with your siblings.

Leo on the 4th: likely the golden child of the family, your family likely adores you and showers you with praise. alternatively you could of had a lot of pressure to perform and meet high standards of your parents and been more of a trophy than a child.

Leo on the 5th: you might enjoy the performing arts, and/or music, you might be very into performing for others in your spare time.

Leo on the 6th: your routine is very egocentric, you do things on your terms to suit yourself. you need to have fun in your day to day life. blessed with good vitality, health wise!

Leo on the 7th: you attract bold, egocentric, and life of the party type romantic partners.

Leo on the 8th: you are a lion/lioness in the bedroom, and demmand to be praised and have all attention on you!

Leo on the 9th: you might be very religious and/or spiritual! you might study performing arts, business, or legal studies.

Leo on the 10th: your work collegues see you as someone of high authority and noblbility. you may have a career as a lawyer, actor, politician, ceo, or entreprenur

Leo on the 12th: you hide yourself from others, as you aren’t really evern sure of who you are, this scares you.

Virgo on the 1st: you come across as a bit standoffish, intellegent, and practical. People come to you for real no bullshit advice.

Virgo on the 2nd: you are smart with your money and know how to budget. you value practicality and logic over everything.

Virgo on the 3rd: you might have a soft but stern voice. your relationship with your sibling might be a bit cold, or maybe just avergae.

Virgo on the 4th: your family might have been strict and/or very traditional upbringing. You may have felt a lot of pressure to stand up to perfectionistic expectations.

Virgo on the 5th: may like to write and journal in your spare time, you might also love to excersise and find healthy recipes.

Virgo on the 6th: very organised routine day to day, you love structure!! very health concious, you make good healthy choices and your body rewards you for this.

Virgo on the 7th: you attract very detail oriented, perfectionsts as romantic partners, who have a knack for picking you apart and wanting to better your life.

Virgo on the 8th: you might keep your thoughts to yourself. you are likely to be very kinky and sexually expressive.

Virgo on the 9th: you love to study!! you might go on to study journalism, media communications, history, health, or even medicine.

Virgo on the 10th: your seen as very organised and together in the workplace, your collegues can always count on you. you may have a career in naturopathy, medicine, health care, nursing, journalism, or communications.

Virgo on the 11th: a very wholesome friend, who would bend over backwards for others, you put your friends before yourself always.

Virgo on the 12th: you hide your thoughts and ideas, these are always changing and seem almost out of reach for you and this scares you.

[redrobin-detective]

the only ghost in Amity Park

Continuation of Half Of

______________________________________________

Only in Amity Park did the revelation that a local teenager was sorta, kinda a ghost just blow over in a few days. Sure, people still stared at Danny Fenton as he walked by and everyone was still wondering what exactly he was, but overall life had moved on. Star sighed to herself as she organized her notebooks, waiting for class to begin. Just another day.

Star herself really didn’t want to get involved in whatever was going on with Danny. She didn’t like him before he was a celebrity and didn’t plan on starting anytime soon. While Paulina still relentlessly, and vainly, pumped him for information on her dead boy crush, Phantom and he and Dash formed some weird macho bond or whatever, Star avoided him. He’d given her the chills since the day he’d walked into Casper High. When Danny’s secret had been exposed mid-attack, Star hadn’t been surprised. She didn’t need some ghost to tell her that there was something deeply, unsettlingly wrong with Danny Fenton.

Danny didn’t seem particular bothered, by his inhuman nature or by suddenly having his secret exposed. If anything, the nerd looked more relaxed than ever. Star had been watching him, they all had, but Fenton kept his ghostly antics to a minimum when in public. The occasional flash of green eyes when emotional, a grin of sharpened teeth. He made Mikey’s locker lock intangible the other day when the kid had forgotten his combination and he floated down the stairs instead of walking sometimes. It had been a week and it was  frightening how quickly such strangeness had become almost normal. 

“Alright kids, phones and notes away we’re starting class with a pop quiz. Hope you’ve all kept up with your weekly readings,” Faluca announced cheerily. The whole class, including Fenton, moaned and packed up their bags. Star supposed being an undead being haunting his own life didn’t make him immune from normal human problems. She was biting her lip trying to remember which antibody caused allergic reactions when she got an uneasy feeling. She looked up and was not surprised to see Danny Fenton looking around too. It had been a solid week without ghost attacks, looks like Fenton’s supposed vacation time was up.

Star stopped her writing and adjusted the bag at her feet to prep for evacuation. She briefly wondered what Fenton would do, what he could do? Did he also hunt ghosts, like his parents? Like Phantom? There were no blasts, no screams, no monologues but the dread increased when a ghost shield descended over them. Actually, it looked like it was just covering their classroom. Now everyone was looking up from their quizzes and out the window at the flickering, green shield.

“You’d think the administration would’ve warned me we were going to do a drill,” Faluca said but his voice was hesitant. Clearly this wasn’t planned so despite the lack of alarms, there was a good chance this was real. “Pencils down for the moment while I figure out what’s going on.”

“Mr. Faluca, I need to go,” Danny said, raising his hand. Star was so used to hearing the request she almost ignored him but the dread curling in her stomach made her look again. His face was pinched, sharp and his eyes burned with an icy fury like a sudden storm blowing in without warning. 

“Mr. Fenton, I don’t think...” Faluca murmured uneasily. Danny frowned harder.

“It wasn’t a request, actually,” Danny said roughly as he stood up and began walking towards the door. He was almost there when the door slammed open and Fenton had no less than 3 ectoweapons pointed in his face. A few kids jumped back in alarm but Danny held his ground as half a dozen Guys in White agents entered the room and surrounded him.

“Spectral scum formerly known as Daniel Fenton, you’re coming with us,” one of the agents said. 

“Danny not Daniel and it’s still my name,” Danny quipped, eyeing each of the government officials and their weapons. “And no, I’m not. I’m still alive, somewhat anyway, so I have rights. The courts backed me up.”

“Everyone who signed for your freedom doesn’t know ghosts like we do,” Another agent said so forcefully, some spittle flew out of their mouth and hit Danny’s cheek. Star watched it freeze and fall away the instant it hit his skin. “Your kind are too dangerous to wander around, you need to be contained and eliminated. Don’t worry, your parents will receive a sizable check as recompense.”

“I’m the one who needs to be contained?” Danny said slowly, evenly but there was a static to his voice that caused the hairs on the back of Star’s neck to rise. When she breathed out, she saw her breath was misting. Everyone’s was as the room temperature continued to plummet. “When you come in here and take hostages to threaten me?” Danny hissed, he took a step forward and his eyes took on a neon green glow. “You didn’t come to my home or on the streets, you came to take me in the middle of biology when I’m surrounded by civilians, kids.”

“You delude yourself into thinking you’re still human,” another agent scoffed. “Everyone knows ghosts are weaker when giving into their obsession.” Danny laughed, it was loud and mocking and like fingernails running down a chalkboard. Faluca, stuck in between Danny and the agents, was white as a sheet and gripping his desk like it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing.

“You know nothing,” Danny hissed, his voice barely recognizable as human. His hair and shirt floated in an invisible but angry breeze. Frost crawled up his arms and his face. Various ecto alarms were ringing on the belts of the agents and they started to look a bit nervous. He looked nothing like the kid who, minutes before, had clearly been struggling with their bio quiz. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with. You cannot come into my haunt and threaten my people to get to me. Protecting what is mine will always make me stronger!” 

“This whole town is constantly under attack because of things like you!” One particularly brave agent said even as a few others had backed up. “Amity Park is on the verge of collapse because of all the ghosts!”

“There is only one ghost in Amity Park,” Danny said, he tilted his head, his black and white hair dangling in his face as he gave a sharpened smile. “There is only me and the ghosts I allow, ghosts who know the rules, who respect my authority here by keeping damage to people and property down. I am the only ghost haunting this town and why do you think that is?” One agent threw down his gun and ran through the open door.

“You’re-you’re a monster!” Another woman shouted, shaking as she stepped back before fleeing.

“I’m not the one who needs to threaten innocents to get to their target,” Danny sneered. “It’s a good thing you did though, I wouldn’t hold back if I wasn’t worried about collateral.” Another three agents turned tail and ran. Until there was only one left. His gun was still trained on Danny but his hands were shaking. 

“You don’t scare us,” the agent trembled through the obvious lie having been abandoned by his comrades. “We’ll get you monster, if it’s the last thing we do.”

“Looking forward to it,” Danny drawled sarcastically as some of his horrifying aura dissipated along with the freezing grip on the room. Within moments Danny has settled back into more human form. While he’d been angry before, now he looked almost bored. At no point had he seemed afraid. 

“You take your people and your equipment and you leave Amity’s borders by sunset tonight,” Danny declared resolutely. “If you have continued problems with my existence, you take it up with the courts. We settle this as humans but if you treat me as a ghost then I will fight back like one.” His eyes turned green again as a threat. As a promise. 

“I don’t take orders from spooks!” The agent shouted, securing his finger on the trigger and preparing to fire. Star had ducked to avoid the blast so she missed exactly what happened. All she saw was the green glow and heard a strangled scream from the agent followed by a series of thumps. By the time Star had gotten back into her seat, Danny was aggressively pulling apart the ectogun with his bare hands. There was no sign of the agent and, around them, the ghost shield fizzled away. 

“Jerks,” Danny grumbled, kicking at the remains of the ectogun he’d destroyed. “Sorry about that, Mr. Faluca. I knew they’d cause problems but I didn’t think they’d come to school.” Their teacher stared at Danny like a rabbit facing down a lion. “You okay?”

“Fine, Mr. Fenton, just fine!” Falcua grinned in a high pitched voice. “Shall we get back to our quizzes?” The bell rang just then and Danny did a little fist pump.

“Tomorrow then? After I get a chance to study more?” Danny asked with puppy dog eyes. It looked wrong on his face that had just threatened the government with bodily harm. Faluca just nodded dumbly, not sure what else to say. “Yes! I’ll pass tomorrow for sure. The attention kinda sucks but it does come with some perks.”

He walked back to his desk, ignoring the wide-eyed looks of the class when he stopped and gasped, his breath fogging in front of him. His lips pursed again with annoyance. A few people jumped in surprise as the Box Ghost, a familiar annoyance, poked his head through the wall.

“Child! Your requested reprieve is up and the Box Ghost is here to cause insurmountable square shenanigans!” He laughed heartily, stopping when the room temperature dropped again. Danny didn’t even turn to face the ghost. 

“Your watch is off, Boxy. I have another 10 hours before I have to deal with you annoyances again,” Danny growled. “I’m feeling good right now, take advantage of it and leave in one piece.”

“Uh right okay then,” the ghost stammered, sinking back into the wall. “See you tomorrow.” Danny cracked his neck before he walked to his desk, grabbed his things and walked to the front of the room.

“Late bell’s gonna ring any minute, you guys should hurry if you don’t wanna be late,” Danny said as he left. Falcua’s strength gave out as soon as Fenton was gone and he hit the floor, one hand clutching at his chest.

“Jeepers,” Mikey surmised appropriately before stuffing his things in his bag and leaving as well. Star watched everyone loosen up themselves and begin gathering their things to leave. No, she would never like Danny Fenton but he and his ghost weirdness was just part of the deal now, whether they wanted it or not. Such was life in the most haunted city in America which was only haunted by a single ghostly entity.

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: Kofun Voss x male reader

req: no | wc: 2.55k | fix-it fic, domestic fluff, parenthood

summary: The escapades of Asav Voss, the newest addition to the Valier tribe and the Voss family.

warnings: none that I can think of.

a/n: is this the first of its kind? (kofun fic) probably not. would it be the first on AO3, if I posted on AO3? yes, last time I checked.

spoiler warning!

Paris and Toad live!!! because I said so!! and I can!

When the child was finally born, Kofun didn't know what to think.

Did he even want a child? The answer was a clear 'no'. He was hardly eighteen! However, as he stared down at the newborn bundled up in soft furs and in his arms, he knew his duty was set out ahead of him.

This was his kid, his very own, born of his mistakes. It wasn't his fault. He shouldn't live a life without his real father just because of his birth's conditions.

He's crying. It's so loud.

"Paris." He tugs at the woman's sleeve. "Help," An awkward pause follows as he fully registers his duty. To care for the child, his son. "me."

"What?" She answers quickly. "What is it?"

"Why is he crying?" Kofun asks. He's so very helpless. He doesn't know the first thing about taking care of a kid. "How do I make him stop?"

Paris laughs. She laughs. Kofun's eyebrows furrow and the desperation in his face shows more and more by the second, not that she can see it. So he has to wake her from her laughter verbally. "Paris?"

"All babies cry when they are born." She explains, laughter sprouting at the very edges of her voice. "The crying expands their lungs."

"Oh." Kofun bites his lip, staring back down at his son. He'd never read such a thing in a book before, and he's read many books; but Jerlamarel didn't leave a book on human offspring and parenting behind when he abandoned him and Haniwa. His confusion was valid.

He falls in a trance as he stares. Thoughts devour his head, emotions as well. He knows Paris can sense them. Regret, fear, dread. He doesn't even notice she speaks again until she raises her voice.

"What will you name him?"

He doesn't know. He hadn't thought about it.

His father, Jerlamarel, had named Kofun after something ancient, something more ancient than even the old world: Kofun tombs of the Kofun period of Japan, and then he had named Haniwa after the clay sculptures around the tombs.

He thinks about what his real father, Baba, would've named him. It would've been something Alkenny. He thinks about his tribe's former members, the ones that had died protecting him: Arca, Matal, Ilun, Sinjay. What follows all those names, names he will never forget, is a new one. It follows like God bone chain; set out in a line, uniform, and permanently joined together.

"Asav." He says. "His—Your name will be Asav."

When a child was born to the Alkenny, they were raised not only by the parents, but also by the entire community. If Jerlamarel had left books about human offspring, they would've stated that this kind of communal raising had been proved effective. But still, the old world children were raised by only two parents, and so were the Payan children.

Kofun didn't want this for his son. Regardless, for the boy's first two years, Asav was raised by the Voss family. His parents and Paris had been great help, and Haniwa a good aunt.

This was a group of people, but Kofun didn't consider it a community. The family was tight-knit. Asav would only come to know a monotonous experience; a harmonious monotony indeed, but a monotony nevertheless.

So, after much planning, Kofun proposed an idea. He would raise the child with the Valier tribe.

The idea was immediately denied.

Baba said he wasn't sure if Kofun would be safe, but the Valier aided them in the war against Trivantes and had nurtured Bow Lion back to health. If there was anything Kofun was sure of, it was that Baba trusted the Valier.

Maghra believed she had to have a part in Asav's upbringing. Without her, Asav wouldn't have a maternal figure. But how much of a mother could Maghra be? She was the queen of Paya, and the people depended on her. Her duty laid with them, not raising the child product of the previous queen's manipulation.

Haniwa understood her brother's decision. But she didn't want to be separated from him. The twins' separation always meant something bad. For example, the witch-burning festival and Trivantes, both of which had led to one of the twins' kidnappings. Kofun insisted that the conditions of this separation were different, which forced Haniwa to see the truth.

Paris assured them all that Kofun would be fine. All her dreams of the various futures promised good results for the communal upbringing. Besides, for the past two years, she had taught Kofun everything she knew about raising children.

All the same, nobody wanted to see Kofun go.

In a last cry of desperation, Maghra stated that she didn't think Kofun was ready to raise a child on his own. He wouldn't be alone, though.

He had you.

The Valier community welcomed Kofun with open arms. They respected Baba Voss, and he was Baba's son. They loved Bow Lion, and she was of the same tribe as Kofun. Soon, they would come to love and respect Asav and his father.

But who was to be Asav's second parent? A community could only teach so much, and so could a single father. The natural scope of the role fell upon Kofun's partner.

For two years, Asav had only seen you a handful of times. For two years, Asav was handed from one person to another. From Kofun, to Paris (and Toad), to Haniwa, to Baba, to Maghra; and sometimes he was handed off to you.

For the next years of his life, Asav was mostly handed to and handled by two. Kofun and his lover.

Naturally, Asav grew an attachment to the two of you.

To Kofun, his name was Kofun and your name was (y/n). To Asav, Kofun's name was dad and your name was papa.

Asav was born much like any other child, albeit smaller. He had ten fingers and ten toes, all the correct size; two arms and two legs, both proportional; a chest and a belly, his button was an outie. And, alongside all of that, he had two functioning eyes.

Ever since he was little, Asav knew he did not share this ability with the majority of his peers. He knew that there were three of them that could see back in Pennsa: his dad, his aunt, and himself. But ever since they moved to Valier, it was just the two of them: father and son. Sometimes he forgot it was just two.

"The God flame has a sister that comes out to play at night." Asav mentions one night in your sleepy embrace.

"Does she?" You question, nuzzling your nose into his hair.

Asav laughs, your movement having tickled him. You had learned of it early on and had used it to tease him since. "Yeah!" He exclaims.

"You know, the God flame also goes by another name, Asav." Kofun says, pulling him closer to his chest.

"Really?" Being the ever curious child, Asav asks, "What is it?"

"The sun." His father replies. Before he can follow up with the sun's sister's name, Asav interrupts.

"What? No, that's my name. I'm your son."

You laugh, "Those words simply sound the same, Asav. Like gate and gait, remember?"

"Oh!" He gasps out, "Yeah! Wait… what did gait mean?"

You didn't know which one he meant, so you reply with an answer to either possibility. "We keep a fence around the crops so that the animals won't trample them, the entrance to that is the gate. Gait is the way someone walks. For example, I can tell who's coming by their gait, especially your father's."

"Hmm." Asav hums as he thinks. "That's silly of you! Why don't you just see who they are? Dad has brown, long hair and marks on his cheeks. Aunt Bow has brown hair too! And the prettiest blue eyes."

"Asav…" You mutter.

To save you from explaining for the umpteenth time, Kofun distracts him, "(Y/N) has blue eyes too, you know." He kisses your temple.

At that, Asav shifts to lay from one of his sides to the other, facing you now. He looks you in the eyes and hums. "Mm, I dunno, dad. They look purple to me."

"They change colors depending on the light."

"Woah!" Asav exclaims, "That's so cool! Do mine do the same?"

"Sure they do."

"One, two, three, four, five…"

One morning, Asav had asked you to take him along for your daily duties at the Valier tribe. The stubborn boy wouldn't take no for an answer.

Kofun, knowing that your duties were far harder one-handed, not to mention without sight, offered to take Asav around instead. Still, he persisted. Not only did he demand to be with you for every task, hard and grueling as you painted them out to be, he also demanded to be carried around.

For being raised over half his life away from the crown, he was acting like a spoiled prince. He was your prince, anyway. Regardless of the fact he was of royal blood.

You feel each plant's fruit, feeling their hardness or mushiness and their size. "Six, seven–"

"Twelve." Asav says with a grin. You may not be able to see his joy, but you can hear it in his voice.

"Twelve what, Asav?" You question.

"Twelve fruits that are still growing." He replies.

"And how many ready?"

"Three."

You hum, pleased. Although there were a total of twenty fruit plants growing, he had identified the majority. You were proud. "Well done, Asav. Could you tell me which planter has ripe–"

"And five mushy ones!" Oh. Overripe, shoot.

"Point them out to me, Asav."

"Okay! Ripe fruit in…"

Asav enjoyed making people happy. When the laughter wrinkled the edges of their eyes and their lips turned to smiles, he felt accomplished, and accomplishment made him feel happy. Of course, he also enjoyed feeling happy. He loved the feeling of it, bubbling within his chest and bursting out in the form of laughter.

Due to his sight, Asav had discovered the concept of 'pranks' early on. For example, the tribe tinkerer. She was in charge of making new walking sticks and mechanisms to solve the tribe's problems. Sometimes, when there was no problem, she simply enjoyed making something new.

In a world of darkness, everything was arranged in a specific order. No item was to be left out of place, else it is lost to the darkness.

Asav started by moving the saw. He knew, through observation, that the tinkerer would start there.

As she reached for the saw, she felt nothing but thin air. She scratched her head. "Hmm, where is it…" When alas she found it, she moved on with her project.

Asav saw her reach for the nails, so he moved away the hammer silently.

She scratched her head and sighed, "Was I drunk last night?" She asked herself. Asav didn't know what the word meant, so he made a mental note to ask later.

The cycle continued on. When the tinkerer reached for one item, Asav moved the instrument that was related to it.

Once the project was finished, Asav revealed himself.

"Hey, little man!" The tinkerer coos, bringing Asav up to sit on her lap. "Do you wanna check out my new project?"

"Actually, I already saw it." He proclaims triumphantly.

"Oh, really?" She asks.

"Yeah! I've been here all along!"

The tinkerer gasps dramatically, smacking her cheeks with fierceness. "No way! Was it you that moved all my tools?"

He giggles, "Yup!"

"You little rascal!" She gives him a noogie, and Asav shouts at the harmless burns that the movement brings to his head.

Most of Asav's pranks didn't cause any harm. They were a matter of slight annoyance, if anything. And, after being discovered, nobody could get mad at the youngest Valier. The kid was simply too friendly and energetic to be bothered by.

But like every little kid, sometimes Asav doesn't know when he's taking things too far.

Asav is an observer. He recognizes habits within the Valier tribe, like where most things are located, when certain people come and go from their homes, and how hunters prepare for the hunt.

Most of all, he notices the tapping of walking sticks around the tribe and their pattern. Tap, tap. Side to side motion.

When he catches sight of you, a plan quickly forms in his head.

Once you finally reach the spot where he hides and your stick lifts for the next tap, he takes the tip of your walking stick and yanks as hard as he can with his little body; which is apparently too much.

"Ah!" You shout as you make your descent to the floor.

Asav giggles as he watches you fall. The shout catches passerby's attention, causing a small circle to form around you. "(Y/N)?" They call and snap their fingers, trying to find you.

Kofun pushes past the crowd. "Asav?" He has little time to figure what's going on before he helps you up.

"Careful." Along with you, he grabs your stick that had also fallen and aligns it correctly. He snaps his fingers so you may locate it yourself. "Are you alright, my love?"

"Yes, yes. Just a little tumble." You assure him and the crowd, who begin to leave.

Kofun, however, is not convinced. "Are you sure?"

You kiss him on the cheek to soothe his concern. "Yes. You can see, Kofun. And if you use that sight, you might notice there's not a scratch on my body."

He sighs, "Alright."

Meanwhile, Asav watches. He observes the situation, noting his dad's concern and his papa's effort to stand. "Dad?" He calls.

Kofun's attention turns to him again. "Asav. Did you see what happened?"

"I–" He's scared to admit it. "I did that."

"Oh, Asav." Kofun says disappointedly, parting from you to tap his son on the top of the head. "We don't do that. You could've harmed (y/n)."

"I didn't know!" The boy exclaims.

"It's alright," Kofun sighs, giving him a little hug. "as long as you apologize."

Asav quickly rushes forward, wrapping his arms around your thighs and burying his head into your belly. "I'm sorry," He stares up into your eyes, hoping you can see the regret in his own. "papa."

Instead of patting him in the head and accepting his apology or reprimanding him and frowning, you gasp. Behind him, Kofun gasps too.

"What?" Asav asks, confused. "What did I do?"

"Asav…" You say, drawing his attention back to you. "What did you call me?"

"Papa." He replies, simply. He quirks his head to the side. Was that not who you were? The God flame had two names, God flame and sun. Didn't you have two, as well? (Y/N) and papa?

"Aww." You coo, bringing Asav up in your arms. "Asav, am I your papa?"

"Yes." He affirms, though still confused. How could you not be?

You kiss him on the forehead. "Thank you."

"For?"

You chuckle, "Don't worry about it."

Kofun joins in, squishing his—your son between the two of you and pressing a swift kiss to your lips. Asav voices his disgust, but the both of you ignore him. "Then who am I, Asav?" Kofun asks.

"Dad."

Dad and Papa, taking care of little Asav.

[momokos-world]

A Gaggle of Children

-part 1-

Author’s note: this idea originally came from this post.

Oh god, it was like an infestation. Everywhere they looked there was a child. Like a colony of roaches. And they were all collectively calling them (parental term)!? What the hell was going on. A tug on their pants brought them out of their thoughts. “Eomma? Where’s Appa?” There was no mistaking that silver hair. If the octopus plushy wasn’t a giveaway then cowlick and beauty mark was. The child was quickly shoved out of the way by a loud green haired punk (affectionate). “MOTHER! WHERE IS WAKA-SAMA!” Seems this little bugger has it in his genes to be a Malleus stan. The silver haired baby let out an oof at the push before glaring at the boy. A guttural war cry rang through the air before the octomer (currently a human baby) swung her plush like a battle axe and knocked the green punk over. Two little lion cubs see what’s going on and jumped right in on what they saw as play fighting. Poor mc was just on their way to make a bunch of dumb name tags with ADeuce and make everyone wear them. Mc quickly separated the children and chided them for trying to beat the ever loving shit out of each other. “Hey hey hey! Don’t hit each other! That’s not nice!” The children quickly separated, looking guilty and taking the scolding from their (parental term). Mc sighed “Listen, uhhhh…” they looked at the green haired boy, not knowing what his name was. He quickly caught on and said shouted his name. “MY NAME IS ANYANG MOTHER!” Geez this kid was loud. They cleared their throat “Of course. Now, Anyang, you can’t just push people out of the way for no reason. That’s very rude and you might hurt them.” Unexpectedly, the boy took it in stride as if he were given a command as a knight. Mc then turned to the little octomer who’s eyes were brimming with tears as she squeezed the life out of her plush. “Eomma! You said you would stop joking about this! My name is Mun-Eoui!” It took everything in Mc to not cackle. Who the fuck names their child octopus? (Mc has yet to realize that it was them). They shook there head in disappointment. “Eoui, you can’t just battle ram people, that’s mean.” The little one pouted and looked at the floor grumbling. Now the lion cubs, one of them was snickering at the two children being chided by their mother whilst the other looked smug. However, whatever smugness they had was quickly dropped as they were the last ones scolded. After they wrangled in the little ones, they got a bright idea. ‘You have the supplies, give them name tags!’ And thus, a line of children began to congregate. All of them proudly showing off their name tags to each other and bragging about it. A small tug on their pant leg caught there attention before a small voice asked, “Bibi, can you pick me up?” How could mc say no to those big eyes and little hyena ears. Oh sweet little Kamari. Mc complied, picking up the small boy and placing him on their hip. At first, it was only a few other children who noticed and asked to be picked up too. And then it was half, then three quarters of the group, then all. Oh my god there are a bunch of tiny voices now arguing about who their parental figure should be holding. Quickly mc whipped out their phone, trying to text the first year group chat but ended up absolutely FUMBLING and ended up texting the dorm leader group chat (which Malleus was not invited to but Lilia was). The text they sent? Oh yeah! ‘Heob me im goibg to die’ they meant to put cry but oh well. Close enough. And then their phone began blowing up, not that they could see this since the object has long been knocked out of their hand as toddlers climbed up their body like they were on Mount Everest. And wow, Mc was so incredibly impressed. How the hell does Vil sprint in those stilettos? Oh? And is that Idia Shroud actually running? Wait why does he have a bat? And- OH GOD! RIDDLE LOOKS LIKE HE’S ABOUT TO GO INTO CARDIAC ARREST! Why the fuck was everyone here, Mc SWORE they only texted their little first year group. Speaking of first years, was that Sebek that just screamed bloody murder?

[purple-goo-writes]

Where on Earth is MDC?

Chapter 1 

Richard “Dick” Grayson with all his 10 year old intelligence and circus know how was pretty sure of one thing and one thing only- there was no way his guardian, Bruce Wayne, was married. He may have grown up in a circus as an acrobat and wasn’t schooled the way kids were normally, after all most kids don’t have a circus clown teaching them math or a Lion Tamer teaching science- But he was not an idiot! Plus he was Robin! He helped Bats solve some pretty tough cases. He wasn’t letting Bruce try and pull the wool over his eyes! There was no way that Bruce Wayne was married-except maybe married to his work as a vigilante.

For one, Dick has never seen or heard evidence that Bruce was married or seeing someone in the whole two years he has been living in Wayne Manor as Bruce’s ward. Sure, Bruce claimed that his lovely wife was a globe trotter like her grandmother and rarely came home to roost due to how busy her schedule was... Dick called elephant-dung on that. There is no way some socialite would be out exploring the world when they could be hanging off Bruce’s arm gossiping at all the galas and parties Bruce had to hold for his business. Though he is only guessing that this is how high society women act due to only seeing this behavior from Bruce’s investor’s wives, dates and daughters. 

He does find it odd that no one comments on Bruce never bringing a date to his own galas or other social functions. And that everyone when meeting Bruce glance at the odd silver ring Bruce always wears in place of a wedding band before giving those weird sympathy looks and subtle glances amongst themselves. Adults seemed to have their own language when it comes to greeting each other that Dick hasn’t been able to decipher yet. Though the Not-Wedding Ring doesn’t always detour the newer social climbing women from flirting with his guardian or trying to seduce him. Dick has been used many times as a human shield against said women and has come to accept/resent his fate.

Two, the young Robin has never seen so much as a tiny photo of the so called Mrs. Wayne! There are no portraits or photos in the manor that he has seen. While Alfred assures him that Bruce carries on with him every where, Dick hasn’t ever seen it not even after slipping away with Bruce’s wallet, just like Jackie taught him to do with the really rude patrons that came to the circus when he was younger. He made sure to return the wallet! He just wanted to see if maybe Bruce had a tiny photo in there like he had seen other men do, like how The Strong Man carried pictures of his husband and children around in his wallet. But, there was no picture in the wallet except for the one of him, Alfred and Bruce together in a family photo. When he saw the photo, Dick had teared up cause this meant Bruce did see him as family and not as an charity case like everyone at the Academy liked to say he was. Alfred claimed that the Misses was simply too busy to pose for a portrait to be painted and always preferred to be the one taking the photos anyway. While Alfred has never lied to him, Dick is still not convinced.

And three, Dick couldn’t find any mention of a Mrs. Marinette Wayne anywhere! Not even with the Batcomputer! All he could ever find was the latest travel logs of some woman named Marinette Dupain-Cheng, also known as the fashion designer MDC. Sure there were odd newspaper clippings now and then speculating when Mrs. Wayne would be returning from abroad. But those were not concrete evidence of her so-called existence! Honestly, it was starting to drive Dick up the wall with not being able to find anything about or on his guardian’s absent wife! 

The ten year old was this close to throwing a tantrum like no other in demand to get answers. How was everyone convinced that Bruce was married? If he was, then where in the world was Mrs. Wayne?! Cause, Dick would really like to meet her. If only to shut up the voice in his head that was worried that if She was real that she would have Bruce send him away. After all a Circus Freak didn’t belong in High Society. Though Dick was starting to worry if Bruce was really a widower and his way of coping with the grief was to pretend that his wife was still alive and just on an extended road trip...

Though if that was the case then why would Alfred go along with it? Maybe Dick needed to go take a look in the Wayne Family Cemetery just to make sure...

Dick was broken from his musings by Alfred coming into the Manor’s library and clearing his throat, “Master Richard, Master Bruce wishes to see you in the Family Parlor Room. There is someone here he wishes for you to meet.”

That puzzled the child sidekick, but he simply shrugged and nodded, “Alright, Alfie!” Before hopping up from his chair and leaving the book he had been reading in the seat as Dick darted out of the room excited to meet someone new. Maybe it was one of Bruce’s lawyer friends again! Like Dent, who was nice and for some reason liked to comment on how much Dick looks just like Bruce in that odd teasing tone all of Bruce’s actual friends use when they learn he took Richard in. Honestly, Dick isn’t sure what is so funny about the fact that he looks like Bruce. Genetics are weird and he still refuses to try and understand them. 

When Dick skidded into the Family Parlor Room, he was not expecting what happened next. Not at all. Because before Dick could even ask Bruce who was there, the ten year old was being swept up in a flurry of chiffon and lace as a lovely French accented voice started cooing over the tiny child in her arms. Dick would forever deny the startled squeak he let out and the fact that he blushed as red as his uniform top when he managed to get a good look at his captor. The person holding him could only be described as a heavenly beauty with long silky black-nearly blue hair and bright expressive blue eyes that exuded motherly love whilst she held him close in a gentle hug. Her smile made Dick think of the sun shining out from the clouds after weeks of rain and it radiated love, love that he could tell was aimed at him even though they had just meet. It reminded him so much of his own mother’s smile that Dick had started to tear up.

“Hello, ma petite colombe, it’s so lovely to finally meet you,” the heavenly being cooed at him, gently cradling the child closer with a gentle smile, “Bruce has told me so much about you. I’m so glad I can finally welcome you to the family.”

Marinette simply held her son, yes her son because even if he was not adopted yet Marinette already loved him like her own, close as the little boy broke down and started crying as he clung to Marinette returning the hug. She could tell he was relieved that she accepted him, honestly she warned her silly husband that Dick may be worried about her not liking him. Really, her silly love was just as silly as her Papa at times. She shook her head and tugged Bruce into the hug as well, so that he could reassure their little dove that they loved him and he was welcome in their family and home. Mari loved Bruce, but he was sometimes slow on how to approach emotional situations.

[jovialjuggernaut-draws]

Riddlebat

But it's Eddie trying to bond with his extended family. You know, Eddie trying to relate to Alfred or Damian or Stephanie.

"So, uh... How are things at... school?" Edward guessed, trying for a conversational tone and ending up somewhere closer to 'cornered photographer facing off against a hungry lion'.

The feral little child stabbed his knife into the margarine harshly, giving Edward a scare, and smeared the condiment across his steaming crust of fresh bread slowly, somehow making even that seem threatening. "Enlightening. We began dissecting frogs in science class today. You'd be suprised how similar to humans' their organs can look."

Creepy kid. Edward sipped his coffee, like the fragile little mug would keep the kid from leaping at him. "Oh, really? Sounds fascinating. Any other cool new facts?"

"Cut the bullshit, Nygma," Little Wayne Junior sneered, striking the table with the butter knife. The blunt, serrated edge had never looked so menacing.

"Would your butler let you say-"

"I know about your dalliances with my father. You know I don't approve. Why are you still here?"

"What? Dalliances? Who says dalliances anymore?"

"You're a distraction and a corrupting influence. What are your real intentions with him?"

Being pointed at with a magarine-slathered knife wasn't Edward's ideal way to start the morning. He sighed heavily, slumping into his chair and letting the coffee tap down to its surface. "I know it's hard for you to believe, but I do genuinely love him."

The knife lowered just a bit. The hellspawn's furious expression twisted in confusion.

"Being around him is fun, it's exciting. He gets me, which is more than I can say for anyone else. I'm never at a loss for new puzzles to piece together when I stick around him. I love him, and my intention is to stay by his side, as long as he'll let me." Edward stood, pushing his untouched plate of food away. "Now, if you'll excuse me..."

He made his way out of the kitchen, head held high, despite the gaze he still felt drilling into him.

"I can respect that," the little demon's voice mumbled, catching him just before he left.

Edward paused, glancing over his shoulder. Damian was still facing his plate, like he wasn't talking to Edward at all.

"I suppose I can understand if you want to stick around. My father is an impressive man, after all. Just remember- If you do anything to cause him harm, you'll have my blade to answer to."

"Understood. Very gracious of you, little master."

Damian clicked his tongue impatiently. Edward made his exit before he could stoke that fiery temper again. Like father like son, eh? Maybe he wouldn't be hunted down and gutted by an army of children, after all.

Just maybe.