#took yesterday off for class registration

[strawberri-syrup]

pros and cons of shit weather: pros- i dont have to work. cons- i dont get paid

[womanofwords]

STEM Kids Shenanigans (Chapter 4)

Chapter 4: Spice

Layla Ismail was eating while surrounded by chaos. Her father was asleep on the sofa, her grandmother was banging on the bathroom door for her older sister, Aaliyah, to get out, and her mother was making breakfast. Her younger sister, Miriam, was already dressed and watching videos on her iPad. “I’ve been ready for ages!” she moaned.

“Yeah? Good for you,” Layla snapped, eating faster. Time was running out, and if it wasn’t for the fact that she was already dressed, she would be freaking out so much more. She did a mad dash around the house to grab schoolbooks and stationery when her mother approached her.

“Layla, Miriam, get to the car,” their mother said, walking to the car.

“Are you really going to wear those?” Miriam asked, pointing at the house slippers that her mother was still wearing.

“I’m not even going to leave the car,” their mother dismissed. “Why do I need proper shoes? You two need proper shoes because you’re going to school. Stop nitpicking and get. In. The. CAR!” Miriam and Layla got in without argument. Layla got dropped off first, because her school started earlier.

“Bye! I love you!” she yelled, ignoring the giggles from other students as she rushed in. She met Angelo on the way.

“You’re running late, too?” he asked.

“Yep,” she said, relaxing once she was inside her form room. What they saw made them want to be sick.

Melanie Sainsbury was in their registering class.

“Why are you in my registering class?” Melanie asked.

“We got transferred,” Angelo said.

“Why are you everywhere I go?” Layla spluttered. “And why didn't we see you yesterday afternoon?”

“I was at the weekly prefect meeting during Wednesday registration. And just so you know, I’m not happy about this either. Why are all of the school troublemakers being directed to me?” Melanie complained.

“Why do you think we’re troublemakers?” Layla snapped. “We haven’t done anything!”

“You haven't done anything yet,” Melanie snottily clarified. “But I’ll be watching you. I’ll be watching all four of you.”

“I'm sure you will, honey,” Layla said, as she and Angelo took their unofficial seats at the back of the room with Dante and Yujin. All four could feel Melanie's eyes drilling into their backs.

“Good morning, class,” Mr Oluwatola said, setting up a laptop to do the register. Melanie immediately put up her hand. “A question already, Melanie? Isn’t it a little early for that?”

“Is this the designated registration room for all the troublemakers?” Melanie asked. “Since we’re getting an influx of . . . suspicious people.”

Mr Oluwatola looked at Melanie with confusion. “Who are you talking about?”

“The delinquents at the back,” she said. Everyone turned to look at the STEM club members, who wanted to shrink away into nothing.

“Miss Sainsbury, those four students are the only members of the newly formed club for science, technology, engineering and maths,” the form teacher said. “They have done nothing wrong.”

“Not yet,” Melanie grumbled. “Luckily, I’ll be keeping an eye on them.”

“Keeping an eye on us? You just keep bursting in on our meetups and asking us what we were doing!” Dante blurted out.

“Melanie, you did that?” Mr Oluwatola asked.

Melanie huffed and rolled her eyes. “I-I was under the impression that they were egregiously breaking school rules.”

“She said we were making robot hands to exploit the human nervous system,” Layla said. The other students laughed, and Melanie felt her face turn red with helpless fury and humiliation.

“We just want to talk about science in peace and she won’t stop pestering us and calling us troublemakers,” Dante sighed.

“I see,” Mr Oluwatola said, looking between the STEM kids and the accusatory prefect. When the bell went, he pulled Melanie aside. “Melanie, what you’re doing is harassment.”

“It’s not harassment, I have concerns!” Melanie whined.

“Unfounded concerns.” Mr Oluwatola fixed the pretentious prefect with a glare. “You need to drop this.”

Melanie sighed. “Yes, sir.”

But she was lying through her teeth.

(PAUSE)

The topic of discussion of the meeting was a new place to hold the meeting. "We really need a new meeting place,” Yujin sighed. “I’m sick of Melanie.”

“I know,” Dante said. “I’d offer my house, but my brothers are in there and they’re loud and annoying.”

“I’d offer my house, but we’re still unpacking. My dad’s super embarrassed and says we can’t have people over until it’s presentable,” Yujin sighed.

“My house is full of people. We won’t get a moment’s peace,” Layla sighed.

“I bet my parents will let me have friends over,” Angelo said. “They’re gonna be super embarrassing.”

“Will your sister be there?” Dante asked.

“Yeah, of course she will. She’s three years old, where else will she be?” Angelo asked.

“Yes! She’s adorable!” Yujin squealed.

“Once you’re done playing with my little sister, do we get to discuss actual science stuff? I want to find ways to get back at Melanie,” Angelo replied. “I was thinking maybe we actually started making some of the inventions she thought we were making?”

“And where would we make these inventions, your own lab?” Layla snarked. Dante and Yujin laughed.

“Kinda,” Angelo said. That shut them up.

“I was joking, you have a lab?” Layla gasped.

"It's not a lab, it’s a workshop in the basement. My parents have a designated space for me,” Angelo said.

"Angelo, are you rich?" Yujin asked.

“Kinda,” Angelo said.

“How are you not the coolest kid in this school?” Dante blurted out.

“I’m a giant nerd," Angelo replied. “No amount of money is making me cool. I’m beyond help.”

“So you’re the same sort of uncool as me,” Dante replied. “We really should have been friends earlier.”

“I know!”

“Boys, boys, this is adorable. But can we actually start inventing stuff that’ll make Melanie wet her pants and pull her hair out?” Yujin asked.

“Yujin, getting bold! I like the new confidence!” Angelo replied.

"We’ll need something innocent. Something . . . biological,” Yujin theorized.

“Like plants!” Layla suggested. “I spent the entire summer doing an experiment on peppers and how spicy they are depending on how much they are watered.”

“Great!” Dante said. “Something quiet that has nothing to do with Melanie!”

Layla grinned while she adjusted her hijab. “Who said anything about there being no Melanie?”

(PAUSE)

The next STEM meeting, Layla wowed them all with chicken tenders and three different bowls of dip. “Lady and gentlemen, behold the gambit of spices I have prepared for you!” she announced, as her new friends looked on with awe. “I have a theory that the less you water spicy peppers, the spicier they are. The spicy dip bowl on the left was made from the peppers that I watered the most and should be the least spicy. The spicy dip bowl in the middle are from the control group that was watered as per the instructions, and the spicy dip on the right was made from the peppers that I watered the least.”

Angelo was already getting a napkin. “We get a theory to test out and food? Cool!”

“It’s gonna burn,” Dante giggled. That was all it took to summon Melanie.

“I knew it! You’re going to commit arson, aren’t you?” she snapped.

“Relax, Melanie, we’re doing an experiment,” Layla explained. “It’s about peppers and how spicy they are depending on how much they were watered. My theory is that the peppers that are watered the least end up being the spiciest.”

“Ha! That’s how I know that you don’t know anything about plants or science!” Melanie scoffed. “Surely, if you’re not watering them as much, they should be less spicy because they’re malnourished. How did an idiot like you ever pass the tests?”

“She’s not an idiot!” Angelo snapped. “Why do you even come here when you have no respect for us?”

“I have my suspicions about you four.” Melanie looked them up and down. “Then again, maybe I don’t need to worry. You aren’t capable of being even a minor nuisance. Now, where is the spicy dip made of under-watered peppers?”

“Far right,” Yujin instructed. Melanie smirked at them as she strode over to the unassuming box of chicken tenders and rooted around until she got the biggest one she could. She took her sweet time covering it in dip before she took a big bite.

“I was right. I don't feel anything at all!” Melanie mocked, although it didn’t have the effect she wanted it to because she was talking with her mouth full. “You can take your little hypothesis and shove it right - oh.”

“Has the spice kicked in?” Dante asked. “It looks like it has.” Melanie’s face had turned red, which didn't go well with her shoulder-length brown hair.

“I need to go,” Melanie grunted, as she dropped the chicken tender into the trash and ran like hell to the nearest place to get water.

“I didn’t think she could run that fast,” Yujin mused.

“I didn’t think anyone could run that fast!" Angelo laughed. “Layla, that was awesome!” He, Dante, and Yujin applauded while Layla bowed like a comedian.

“Thank you, thank you! I’ll be here all week!” Layla replied, alternating between bowing and curtsying. “All in favour of thinking of inventions while eating chicken tenders, say aye.”

“Aye!” they chorused.

(PAUSE)

While the members of STEM club ate chicken tenders and talked about invention ideas, Melanie rinsed her mouth out with water for the fifth time and seethed. Those delinquents had humiliated her. And the worst part was, nobody would believe her about them being bad kids. What would her parents say if their perfect daughter couldn’t do her job as a prefect? It was her job to watch over the other students, and she would do that no matter what.

Even if the other kids called her Snitch Sainsbury.

Even if the teachers said she was going too far.

Even if the other prefects called her crazy behind her back.

And even if she couldn't prove it.

To read the other parts of this fic, see Masterlist.

[blog-reflection]

One / Four - Screaming Lights

[Phone vibration]

It is 8 o'clock in the morning. I got woken up by my phone buzzing somewhere in my bed. I was unable to figure out the exact location of it, which led me to believe that it's buried under my pillows. It took a while but I did managed to grab my phone. The screen displayed 8:50 in the morning which meant that I've been looking around for a solid 5 minutes. I turned off the alarm and glanced towards my tablet. This tablet is the most important thing in my life. I mean, I have everything on it. Time table, Backups from almost everything, my passcodes, the support Mail for the registrations, you name it. I opened the time table which had one thing scheduled for today. Registration.Great, I couldn't think of anything more fun than to register dozens of students that are attending the school all over the UK south side. Well, seems like I have some stuff to do, so better get started right?

I unwrapped myself out of the blanket, grabbed an oversized shirt and walked downstairs. Mildret was already at work, so I had time for myself. I put on my headphones,and fired up my spotify right before I opened the app for the registration. I realized I haven’t had a proper meal since I’m back from my grandparents, so I decided to make myself some breakfast. I danced through the entire kitchen while mixing the batter for some pancakes, including me almost letting loose of the bowl and spilling batter everywhere. But I saved it, more or less in a gentle way, but I kept the mess low. I spilled the batter in the buttered pan and baked them till they were soft and golden. Pancake after pancake was flying through the kitchen until one after another was piled up on the plate. I opened all the cupboards panicking that we’ve run out of syrup. That was when I found the syrup which I dropped down onto my pancakes. I also reached for the blueberries to finish off the plate. I went upstairs and left the mess in the kitchen for later.

At my room, I shut the curtains and turned on my fairy lights while eating my pancakes and registering people on my bed. Today I worked on Truham Grammer and Higgs. It's weird to read those names all over again when you stayed in that school for about 2 years. I can picture almost everything. I dropped school after year 13 and started working in jobs that are even more cruel than the one I have right now. Jesse was the one who gave me this very job, which I’m really thankful for. I was bragging how much I've hated all the jobs before and personally I think they just got annoyed. They have known I'm pretty good with keeping everything in order and signing stuff up so they asked around. Turns out no one wanted this job so they were quite desperate to have someone who works for them. On the bright side, I can work from home and I have chances to get to all southern schools in the UK if I can't do it from home. The salary isn't amazing but I have my own cloud that I can do the way I want. 

I also managed to program my second tablet only for this, while the other is my “private” one. In case it wasn’t obvious, yes I freaking love touch displays and couldn't imagine anything else or working with anything else. It allows me to easily set up everything without spending ages on one single person. 

I wonder. How are days at Truham now? I know that they've struggled to find a new headboy after the last one. I know that because they wanted me to be the follow up. But since I already knew that I wouldn’t stay for my finals I had to say no. And yes I’f I wouldn’t change schools I would like to be headboy. As headboy you can at least feel like you have some influence on what happens around you. I glanced at my clock on the wall, 11am. Usually, I would already finish one class but today I’m rather slow. I don’t know why though. I assume this has something to do with what happened yesterday. I still can’t believe that she made such a big thing out of it. Well anyways, getting stuck on thoughts about her won't make me work faster. I decided to call it a shot and get back onto Royal Holloway, one of the prettier places. Royal Holloway feels like an Elite University while looking like it belongs in a fairytale. The registration is already done but no matter how hard I try I still can’t get the liberty sorted. Royal Holloway features a massive, and relatively new, liberty building right in front of the founder’s building. This year, they included a new access app combined with chip-entry. It’s pretty and modern, but apparently it’s not working. Multiple students and faculty members claimed that their entry chip doesn’t work. It’s not *that* big of an issue but it can be really annoying. Mostly because the faculty members in the liberty have to be ready to open the doors for anyone who can’t get in.  However, Julie Sanders, the principal of the school, mentioned that “it is a big security issue, which has to be dealt with as soon as possible”. I understand her, and she’s more than right. It's just not an easy code. I mean I could just walk right to the tech student’s but then I’d be depressed. I want to achieve the goal myself, no matter how hard I try. I told her it’s going to take some time since the stuff we use is hightech and difficult to mess with, which she understood. But I promised her that it’s done by Christmas-Break! She did not like that timeline since it’s still 3 months but I try to get it done earlier. 

I booted up the access app and streamed it to my monitor, which is also usable by touch. Lot’s of numbers and lights that scream in an unknown language something like “help me” and “end my suffering”. I bet that some of these sven send out morse code which literally translates to that. It’s like taking a look into what could be a digital version of a brain and I wonder. Do I have light’s in my head that scream and blick all the time? I cough because I was laughing at my own imagination before taking a closer look. Who am I kidding? I have no Idea what this is, nor what I’m doing or supposed to do. All I do is look up youtube and copy them step by step. But at this point in time, I gave up. I emailed the support and have been waiting for an answer ever since. I turned off all the tech stuff and took a look out my window. It was a nice gray and cozy day, perfect for a cup of tea. I went downstairs to get the kettle on fire, when I realized that the kitchen is still a mess. I fired up the kettle and started cleaning. It was at that very moment, I noticed Mildret arriving. There are multiple things that could happen now.

She comes up and murders me

She starts yelling

She cries and walks outside

She doesn't care and just walks back to the living room 

Just chucks something at me.

I was surprised when she just didn’t give a damn and went upstairs. I mean she gave me the look of a really disappointed mother but that’s it? That’s when all of a sudden, I hear loud noises coming from upstairs.

What the hell is she doing?

[kentucky-daisey]

My coworker quit and officially finished up last week and, like, I knew I'd be picking up a lot of his work until they hired someone new, but I didn't realize how much until I had a meeting with my manager and she was going over a bunch of upcoming deadlines and ongoing tasks. And I think I might die? Because it's suddenly becoming very clear that neither she nor my director will be taking on any of his work. It's all going to be me. Partially because I don't think they know how to do most of what he did (I trained him) but also because she didn't even pretend to take things off my plate.

I'm effectively doing two people's jobs with no pay raise and it's only Wednesday and I'm usually pretty busy but it's been steady work for for the last week and a half straight and I feel like I might be losing my mind. And I've managed but the instant something unexpected comes up I'm fucked.

I have to arrange exhibitions and panels for two different programs that will be attended by major donors (this Friday and next Friday) as well as send placement offers and cancellations for the Fall, which means updating our internal schedule and update and send faculty their schedules, process payroll, edit a slideshow to send to faculty (we have a big orientation at the beginning of September and they've only just picked the date), contact applicants for one program (two parents yelled at me for this today), organize applications for another program, start planning for my own class, and rep our department and give tours at a registration fair that both of my bosses will be out of town for. Oh, also our gallery and 30+ plinths were redone and my and left in the gallery and my boss told the COO who managed all that that we'd (me) put everything away. The plinths are stored in a shelving system. I exercise but weigh maybe 125 on a good day. I can't lift them. I told my boss I wouldn't be able to lift them on my own and it's like hadn't even thought about it. I had a parent yell at me yesterday for not accepting their kid into a program and I had to tell them I never got their application. Two other parents (of the same kid) yelled at me today because I didn't accept their kid into a program because he's two years younger than the minimum age. Our director insisted on doing the write ups for the two receptions (which I've done the last two years) and then left of vacation without doing any of it. So I had to do it in a single day because Marketing needed to send it off to the printer by the end of that day. When they brought it up, my manager was basically like "well, we'll have to wait for him to get back", to which I said "it needs to get done, so I'll just do it". And when the proofs came back for the director and I to edit I didn't even wait for him to respond. Neither did Marketing. I gave them what they need, they said good, and my director came in after the fact with a "looks good!".

Fuck. This is the forth time this has happened in this job, me doing someone else's work after they quit, and they've said they'll hire someone for the start of Fall, but I'll believe it when I see it. It took them six months to hire the guy who just quit. I literally overheard my manager tell my director they didn't have any good candidates.

What makes it worse is we had a meeting a month back about how they wanted me to do more coordinator work, because that's my role. But now I'm both the coordinator and assistant because assistants are paid so shit they never stick around.

I might actually lose it.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Gavin’s 2021 Birthday R&S

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for an R&S which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ This was released on 24 July 2021 ]

[ Chapter One: Model Aircraft Competition ]

The cicadas outside the window are clamorous, and the dark green trees cover the blazing sun, casting shady and cooling patches.

This is an incredibly ordinary late afternoon. The summer vacation is about to arrive, and the classroom is filled with the buzzing chatter of students, as rowdy as usual.

Gavin is asleep on the seat next to the window. Sunlight passes through the crevices of leaves and linger on his shoulders, bright and indolent. However, he isn’t actually sleeping, and the conversation between his deskmate and the student in front of him drift to his ears clearly.

“Hey, are you going for that model aircraft competition the teacher mentioned a few days ago?”

“I heard all the middle schoolers in our city will be participating. Those who get prizes will have extra marks, and the person who gets first place can visit the Aviation Headquarters!”

“Then again, you’ll need the capabilities to win. If you're participating, I’ll watch.”

“Hehe, you speak as though the person who lags behind in every subject can bag a trophy.”

The two of them attack each other with taunting remarks. After lapsing into a moment of silence, they suddenly turn their gazes to Gavin simultaneously.

Gavin’s deskmate pokes his arm and calls out to him.

“Gavin, you aren’t asleep, are you?”

The figure wearing a blue and white school uniform remains plopped on the desk, unmoving. A slightly muffled response drifts from him.

“What is it?”

Gavin’s deskmate and the student sitting in front of him look at each other, then speak excitedly.

“Do you know about that recent model aircraft competition?”

Gavin lets out a “mm”.

“Aren’t you going to participate?”

“We had a discussion about it, and felt that in the entire class, you’re the only one with the capabilities to win a prize. The others are just a bunch of useless troops, and they’d be of no use even if they went.”

Gavin stirs slightly. His deskmate looks at him with anticipation. In the end, he simply cushions his head using the other arm.

“Not interested.”

“Huh?”

His deskmate stares at the back of his head in utter disbelief.

“Your dad’s a military officer, and you’ve seen more real planes since young as compared to the number of models we’ve played with. This competition is basically made for you.”

Gavin doesn’t respond. In the sunlight, a few strands of hair on the back of the youth’s head stick up disobediently, clearly showing that he isn’t in the best of moods.

At this moment, the dismissal bell rings. Along with the cheers from students, the classroom erupts into a state of chaos.

Gavin finally sits up. After stuffing the English book he used as a pillow into his sling bag, he turns around and leaves the classroom.

After the figure vanishes at the door, Gavin’s deskmate turns to the student sitting in front of him, expressing puzzlement.

“Why do you think Gavin doesn’t want to participate? A few days ago, I saw him at the bookstore outside school buying an Aeromodelling Atlas.”

The student in front of him shrugs, signalling that he has no idea.

“Maybe he got bored.”

[ Chapter Two - Proof ]

When Gavin reaches home, his mother has yet to return.

Placing his bag down, he suddenly notices a new post-it note on the fridge. On it, there’s a menu written in delicate handwriting: Stir-fried tomato and scrambled eggs, fried stuffed tofu, stir-fried duck with pineapples.

There’s a smiley face drawn on the last line, and the words “The dishes Little Gav loves to eat” are written at the side.

Only then does Gavin remember - his birthday is coming.

Every year, his mother would start preparations way in advance. It’s as if in her eyes, this particular day is even more worthy of celebration as compared to all other festivals.

And this year is no exception.

The post-it note is a little crooked. Gavin uses a fridge magnet to straighten it, then returns to his room.

The small room is covered with traces of youth. There are posters of basketball celebrities on the walls, and there's a globe and a few books on the desk.

After hesitating for a while, Gavin pulls open his bag and takes out a pamphlet. On it, there’s information pertaining to the model aircraft competition.

He reads the information seriously. A breeze blows the the white curtains, and the lights and shadows of dusk outline the youth’s straightened back profile, casting specks of light on a book. The words “Aeromodelling Atlas” can be vaguely seen. 

While reading, he suddenly recalls the words his deskmate said-

“Your dad’s a military officer, and you’ve seen more real planes since young as compared to the number of models we’ve played with. This competition is basically made for you.”

His grip on the pamphlet abruptly tightens. Gavin rolls it into a ball and tosses it on the table, getting up in frustration and leaving the room.

Everything in the living room is clean and tidy. The school uniform he had changed out of is drying in the balcony. The large uniform drifts with the wind, and the air is filled with the fragrance of soap.

Even though there are clear traces of diligence and attentiveness, certain things can still be seen.

Model robots and clay crafts are displayed neatly on the left side of the built-in cupboard. However, there’s nothing on the right side.

All the cups and plates form a complete set. However, one cup is placed upside down on the cup rack. Although it has been a long time since it was last used, its owner wipes it spotlessly every day.

It’s as if the person she’s waiting for has always been around. Disappointment has repeated itself in endless cycles, but she continually harbours hope.

Gavin ignores such traces. He walks over to the fan in the living room, furrowing his brows as he squats down.

This fan has been spoilt for several days. Each time it’s turned on, it releases a strange clacking sound, akin to a heavy wooden door being pushed open with great effort.

-

When Wardia steps in with a bag of groceries, she sees Gavin half-squatting and studying that fan which has been broken for numerous days.

She calls out to Gavin.

“Little Gav, the fan is spoilt. I’ll ask a worker to fix it tomorrow. Don’t mind it.”

“When you called yesterday, the worker said that he wouldn’t be free these days. He probably won’t be able to drop by tomorrow either.”

Gavin pushes the outer shell of the fan lightly, and the white netted cover stirs gently, letting out a muffled buzz.

“No need to call for a worker. I can fix it.”

Wardia is stunned for a moment. Then, her eyes crinkle into a smile.

“When did our Little Gav become so incredible?”

Gavin stands up, his tone very certain.

“Leave it to me.”

Wardia casts a contemplative glance at Gavin. He’s going to be 14 soon. At this age, children tend to think about a lot of things, and may be exceptionally sensitive in certain areas.

Since a particular point in time, he had already been working hard and learning how to become a man with an indomitable spirit.

She can only nod.

“Okay. Mommy bought green beans today. I’ll prepare you a cooling soup later to alleviate the summer heat.”

With this, Gavin responds by heading to the kitchen to get a bowl to soak the beans for his mother.

The green coloured beans are immersed in water. Some float and some sink, and their colours are clear.

Wardia looks at Gavin. After a moment of hesitance, she speaks in a light-hearted and leisurely tone.

“Little Gav... Daddy took up an urgent mission recently and was sent to a very faraway place. He might not be around for your birthday this year again...”

“Mm, I’ve got it.”

Gavin’s tone is very indifferent. It’s as though whether that person returns or not has nothing to do with him at all. Wardia wants to say something, but after opening her mouth, she turns around, forcefully suppressing her emotions. 

Gavin carries the bowl with both hands. When he sees his mother’s back, he suddenly grows quiet.

Why harbour hope when one clearly knows the ending?

After dinner, Gavin returns to his room. The pamphlet is still on the desk. He pauses for a moment, then reaches out to pick it up.

He’s going to be 14 years old soon.

Becoming one year older is something his mother looks forward to even more than he does. Because of this, she feels even guiltier with every year of his father’s absence.

Even though he knows he doesn’t need that person to wish him a happy birthday, he hopes that his mother can be a little more genuinely happy on his birthday.

Gavin makes a decision.

He smoothens the pamphlet on the desk. In a serious manner, he fills up the registration form on the back with his name. When he sets down the pen, his eyes sparkle with a certain determination.

He wants to participate in the model aircraft competition, and he wants to get first place.

He wants to use something he likes to prove to that person that he has already grown up, and has become even more incredible than he imagined.

“I’m going to prove to you that I can still do it without Evol.” He repeats resolutely once more.

If that person left this house back then because of how small and weak Gavin was, he’d definitely have a slightly different answer when he sees the current Gavin.

He’d definitely want to... return and see this family.

[ Chapter Three - Wings Waiting To Fly ]

Aeromodelling books and scattered materials are piled up in Gavin’s room. When Wardia enters while carrying chilled green bean lily bulb soup, she sees Gavin sitting cross-legged on the floor, using a vernier calliper to measure the wingspan.

Wardia carefully steps across the spare parts, placing the bowl on the desk.

“Little Gav, why are you so diligent in this competition? You’ve been fiddling around in your room for several days.”

Gavin wipes sweat off his forehead.

“This is a really large-scale competition. The teacher says that the person in first place will get to visit the Aviation Headquarters. I want to have a look.”

He’s determined not to tell his mother the true reason.

Wardia nods, giving him a “work hard” gesture.

“In that case, Little Gav must continue working hard and strive to be a guest at the aviation base.”

Wardia pauses, then looks at Gavin seriously.

“But Little Gav, even though this is a very rare opportunity, you must remember that no matter what happens at the end, Mommy will be happy for you. Because I know that you’re doing something you like, that you’ve worked hard, and have obtained happiness in the process. And that’s enough.”

Gavin nods.

“I know.”

“Oh yes, Mommy also wants to use this chance to discuss your birthday plans with you.”

Wardia grins while posing a question.

“What does Little Gav want as a birthday present this year? And what kind of pattern do you want your birthday cake to have?”

“Do you want to invite your classmates over to celebrate with you?”

Wardia prattles on endlessly as she counts the plans she has for his birthday on her fingers. That pair of beautiful eyes are layered with gentleness, but also hide a twinge of guilt.

It’s as though she’s exerting her all to ensure that other aspects are done even better to make up for that guilt.

After Gavin ponders for a while, he shakes his head.

“I’ve already grown up, so there isn’t anything I specially want as a birthday gift.”

“I just want Mommy to always be happy.”

When Wardia hears Gavin’s words, she’s taken aback for half a second. Her eyes stir slightly.

After this, she walks over to hug Gavin gently. Gavin has no idea why his mother is suddenly doing this, but he puts down the blueprint of the aircraft wing, reaching out to return his mother’s hug.

Wardia speaks softly yet resolutely.

���Little Gav, even if you become an adult in the future and become a man with an indomitable spirit, your birthday is still an important thing.”

She pauses.

“Because this day doesn’t just belong to you. It also belongs to everyone who loves you, and the people who have prepared and looked forward to this day for a very long time.

After his mother leaves the room, Gavin looks at the blueprint of the plane which is just beginning to take shape. He repeats what his mother said softly.

“It also belongs to everyone who loves you, and the people who have prepared and looked forward to this day for a very long time...”

Those clear eyes seem to be filled with an even greater determination to win the prize. He picks up the vernier calliper and continues measuring the wingspan.

[ Chapter Four: Heading In Another Direction ]

There’s only one week till Gavin’s birthday.

That huge pile of materials in Gavin’s room has turned into a beautiful white plane with blue wings and smooth lines.

At the competition venue, that white aircraft model ascends, spins around, flies upside down, and lands under Gavin’s control. Everyone is astonished at how perfect it is.

Without any reservations, Gavin wins first place.

The person handing out prizes is a certain officer from an aviation base. He places a small plane-shaped badge into Gavin’s hand.

“You referenced the air freighter Y2251 for the style, didn’t you? I could tell from a glance.”

Gavin nods, and the officer pats him on the shoulder.

“You reconstructed it very close to the original. Being this outstanding at such a young age, I believe your father will definitely be proud of you when he knows about this.”

Gavin lifts his head sharply, staring at the officer.

“Do you know him?”

The officer who handed him the award chuckles.

“I met him at an international meeting in the past. He’s a very outstanding soldier.”

Gavin doesn’t speak further. He lowers his eyes, tightly gripping that badge which symbolises the sky.

-

At night, Gavin sits at the edge of the window, lifting the small aviator badge to his eyes, staring at it meticulously under the moonlight.

The badge isn’t large, but the wings on it have been engraved vividly. It’s as though in the very next second, it could break free from the heavy fetters of metal, flying freely towards the horizon.

Gavin looks at it for a very long time, then reluctantly shifts his gaze away from the badge.

The summer evening breeze passes by his lapel, bringing with it a cooling and refreshing scent. The trees in the courtyard are very tall, and the sprigs of blossoming plants stretch to the edges of the window, touching his ankle.

This is the first time he has attained honour based on his own strength. Does this mean he now possesses the strength to be acknowledged by others?

He looks at the badge. Finally, his eyes crinkle into a slight smile, unintentionally revealing the wilfulness and pride that a youth should have.

Using his hands to support himself on the edge of the window, Gavin turns around and leaps back into his room. He locates a plain white envelope from his drawer, then picks up a pen. On the address line, he fills in his father’s current location, then stuffs the badge into the envelope solemnly.

After hesitating for a while, he scrunches up the envelope slightly. A few creases immediately appear on it.

Only after he leaps over the wall and heads out to slip that envelope into a mailbox at the corner of the street does Gavin release a soft sigh of relief.

This is a proof of pride, and it’s also an invitation from a youth. 

An invitation for the person whom his mother cares about to return to this place, and spend a birthday together which could constitute a “reunion”.

Gavin stands in front of the mailbox, lifting his head to look at the star-studded sky.

Tonight, the Milky Way seems to be brighter than in previous nights. Sagittarius emits a resplendent light, and the bow formed by stars points towards an unknown, faraway place.

[ Chapter Five: Indentations of Growth ]

On the early morning of Gavin’s birthday, Wardia cooks him a bowl of longevity noodles, and there’s even a soft-boiled egg burrowed underneath the noodles.

“Happy birthday, Little Gav.”

“From today onwards, you’ve grown one year older.”

His mother smiles as she says her well wishes to Gavin. After he’s done eating the noodles, she holds out a measuring tape.

“Shall we measure how much taller our Little Gav has grown this year?”

“...okay.”

Gavin is slightly resigned but accustomed to it as he stands next to the pole in the corridor. 

Right now, he has already grown much taller. In a serious manner, Wardia uses a pencil to draw a mark near the roof of his head.

“Our Little Gav has grown much taller. Wow, one, two, three... four centimetres.”

His mother keeps the measuring tape and Gavin steps away from the pole. There are numerous deep and light indents on the white body of the pole - traces that witness one boy’s growth each year.

"Looks like I won’t need to measure you next year. Little Gav has already grown taller than Mommy.”

Gavin immediately cuts in, his tone extremely certain.

“I’ll protect Mommy.”

Wardia taps Gavin’s forehead lightly.

“Mommy doesn’t need to be protected by Little Gav. Mommy will protect Little Gav. I’ll celebrate your birthday with you every year until you grow up.”

“What will happen after I grow up?”

His mother grins as she turns around and enters the kitchen. Her gentle voice drifts to Gavin’s ears, and sounds a little hazy.

“After you grow up, you’ll meet someone like Mommy who is willing to celebrate a lifetime of birthdays with you.”

While his mother starts busying herself to prepare Gavin’s birthday feast, Gavin decides to fix the fan in the living room.

With the successful experience of aeromodelling, Gavin picks up the instruction manual and fixes that clanking fan very quickly.

The fixed fan starts rotating to and fro in a leisurely manner, releasing a cooling wind. Gavin closes his eyes to feel the breeze, and his hair is blown up, fluttering messily.

“It’s fixed.” Gavin opens his eyes, turning his head to look at the time.

Noon passed not too long ago, and it’s still very early.

Gavin thinks for a moment, then heads into his room to retrieve the model aircraft. He sits on the steps of the courtyard.

A chunk of paint on the model aircraft cracked a few days ago. Gavin holds a small brush, slowly giving a fresh coat of paint to the tailplane.

The cicadas on the trees are noisy as always, and the brilliant sunlight filters through the leaves, falling on Gavin’s face.

While using the small brush to mend the plane with layers of paint, Gavin occasionally lifts his head towards the nearby door.

Judging by the time, he should still reach today, no matter how late it is.

Birds soar in the sky, and the sun continuously shifts to the west, until it brings twilight with it, turning into a semicircle about to be swallowed up by the horizon.

Gavin sits on the steps for a very long time, from noon till late afternoon, and until the beautiful lines on the model aircraft have been mended, laying beside him quietly.

Yet, that door doesn’t get pushed open.

A few leaves are blown by the wind, and they fall on the wings of the model aircraft. Gavin reaches out to pick the leaves up.

He grips the leaves in his palm, lowering his eyes and thinking about something unknown to anyone else.

With a sudden creak, the sound of a door opening drifts from afar, and footsteps land on Gavin’s ears.

Gavin instantly straightens up, but he quickly faces away.

The tender dusk envelops him, illuminating the slightly upturned corners of his lips.

[ Chapter Six: A Heart of Well Wishes ]

The people who pushed the door open are his maternal grandfather and grandmother.

Carrying a birthday cake, they brim with smiles as they walk towards Gavin.

His grandfather grabs Gavin into a hug.

“We wish our Little Gav a happy birthday.”

His grandmother lifts the cake, waving it at Gavin.

“Grandpa and Grandma specially bought a cake to see you, and to celebrate our Little Gav’s birthday.”

“Thanks, Grandpa and Grandma.”

Gavin receives the cake from his grandmother and heads towards the living room with them. Before walking up the steps, Gavin casts another glance at the door.

The door remains quietly caged in twilight, waiting alongside Gavin.

But even until the evening grows dark, it is never pushed open again.

Wardia notices Gavin’s abnormal silence. When she follows his gaze and looks at the door outside, she realises something.

However, Wardia doesn’t say anything. She simply pauses, then is full of smiles as she opens the cake box.

“Here’s wishing our birthday boy a happy 14th birthday!” His grandparents grin while singing the birthday song.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you...”

After singing the birthday song, his mother looks at Gavin, speaking gently.

“Go on and make a wish, Little Gav.”

Gavin stares at the cake and remains silent for a while. Then, he speaks quietly in his heart.

It’s fine if that person doesn't return. It’s fine if he isn’t acknowledged. Anyway, he has celebrated his birthday today, and has grown one year older.

He can fix a fan for his mother, and can use his strength to protect this home.

So-

It’s fine.

-

After dinner, the family sits in the courtyard to enjoy the cool air.

Hearing from his mother that Gavin won the first place in the aeromodelling competition, his grandparents are extremely surprised.

“Little Gav is truly incredible. Isn’t it really difficult to build models? What reward would you like? Grandpa and Grandma will give it to you.”

“There isn’t anything I want as a reward.”

However, his grandfather is very stubborn.

“You’re still so young. How can there be nothing that you want? Just suggest something, and treat it as a gift from your Grandpa and Grandma.”

At this appropriate time, Wardia cuts in. “This is a well wish from your elders, so just accept it.”

Gavin lowers his eyes and thinks for a moment. Then, he lifts his head and responds softly.

“In that case, I want our family to be like this every year in the future.”

He pauses, his eyes carrying within them slight warmth and ease.

“We’ll eat cake together, talk together, and sing the birthday song together.”

"That’s such an easy feat. Every year in the future, Grandpa and Grandma will bring a cake and celebrate Little Gav’s birthday with your Mommy.”

“It’s a deal.”

The evening breeze blows past gently, blowing up stray hairs in front of Gavin’s forehead, revealing a pair of clear amber eyes. He turns back to the courtyard and watches as his grandparents and mother engage in small talk and laughing to their heart’s content.

This is a complete family which has been mended with love, and it has much warmth and many things to look forward to.

It encases the youth’s heart, enabling him to not feel lonely at this moment.

The Milky Way is as magnificent as always. Beneath the brilliant star-studded sky, the tree which has been growing in the courtyard for a very long time stands quietly, as though it would remain this way every year.

Cheri’s Reflections:

Imagine if the letter wasn’t sent because Gavin forgot to put stamps LOL T^T

Not-so-fun fact: Wardia died when Gavin was 15, so this is the last birthday they spent together...

And MC not reading his letter back in Loveland High and leaving him waiting for hours hurts even more now because it probably reminded him of how he waited for his father to no avail

✈️ Spreading Wings Date: here

✈️ Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

It Was You (Part Four)

A/N: Jensen and Y/n are childhood best friends. When his agent informs him that his image could use some improvement for a role, will she help him? Or will her feelings get in the way?

Read Part one, part two, and part three here (masterlist forthcoming)

A holiday (Christmas centric) Jensen x Female!Reader Best Friends to Lovers series for @spnchristmasbingo​​. This chapter and others will fill the square of ‘fake dating’. Un-beta’d, so all mistakes are mine. Header created by me with images from Google. Chapter word count: 3446

Series Warnings: cursing, angst-ish at times (if you squint), but mostly all the fluff.

I consider this an AU, as Jensen is single in this fic. This is completely a work of fiction, and I wouldn’t want his reality to be any different, this is purely for entertainment.

Jensen woke to his cell buzzing on his nightstand, reaching blindly to silence the pestering noise. Lying on his back, he quickly peered through one half opened eye to see what all the fuss was about. Seeing it was Stacy, he hit the side button to reject her call, vowing he’d return it after ten more minutes of sleep. As he rested his head back on the pillow, you stretched slightly and rolled to face him as you slept, reminding him of how he’d carried you to his bed last night. You reached for him and pulled yourself under his arm to cuddle against him, throwing a leg over his as he laid on his back. He loved waking up next to you, no matter where it was. You’d shared a bed multiple times in your long friendship and he’d never felt as rested as when you were next to him, even if the vacancy was filled by someone else.

Jensen let his mind wander to what it would be like to wake up to you every morning, to take your friendship and turn it into something more. He would be lying if he said Y/n hadn’t been the first person that came to his mind when Stacy mentioned him settling down, and almost choked on his coffee when she agreed to be his pretend girlfriend. When he was young, he’d always just seen you as his best friend, but when he left for L.A. after his eighteenth birthday, the absence made him realize how much he’d loved you for so many years. It was a fondness that grew out of the shared intimacy and a longing bloomed within him, and it was no secret to him why it hadn’t worked out with anyone else. They weren’t you – they didn’t laugh like you. They didn’t touch him like you. They didn’t care for him in the way you did.

Since you’d moved to Vancouver, each time he’d get the nerve to bring his feelings up to you, you’d either be seeing someone or mention once again how much you valued his friendship. There were moments when he thought you may feel something for him to, between the lingering touches and occasional yearning gaze. When the time came, though, he’d always let his fears of losing you get in the way.

As you moved against him, trying to get closer to him in your dreaming slumber, his grip tightened around you to bring you to the spot no one else could seem to fill. You threw an arm around his waist and nuzzled into the crook of his neck, your warmth seeping through him as your breath fanned across the tender skin. Jensen buried his face in your hair, inhaling a mixture of you and the floral scent of your shampoo, content to savor the moment where he could pretend that it was real, that maybe you wouldn’t scurry away when you woke to find yourself there.

You began to stir, breathing deeply and opening your eyes. You pushed against him slightly, just enough to peer up at him through your lashes.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Jensen whispered, searching your eyes for a long moment. He could have sworn he saw it, that fleeting passion that he could have sworn was intended for him. His eyes flitted to your lips, plush and full and slightly agape. It would be a dream to mold his mouth to yours and feel you let go. Your skin would feel like silk beneath his fingertips and he would savor every touch.

You seemed to study him, almost searching your brain for some sort of recognition.

You were in a blissful fantasy before you woke, wrapped in Jensen’s arms as he pinned you beneath him, nipping and licking at the exposed skin of your neck. In your hazed mind, you could still feel his delicious weight on top of you as he ground against you, and the burn of his scruff still tingled across your chest as he kissed down your body. His touch still ghosted across your skin but left no trace as your eyes opened slowly to be met with his emerald ones. It took your foggy, drowsy mind a moment to realize that you were no longer dreaming, but the fire in your core was still lit ablaze.

His eyes were filled with fondness as he looked down at you. Finding yourself in his arms as you woke still felt like a dream as your heartbeat rapidly sounded in your chest, until he began drawing patterns on your upper arm with his thumb. Your head rested against the swell of his shoulder and you could feel his stomach rising and falling with breath beneath your arm. He shifted a bit and you realized that your leg was tangled with his as your hips and body angled towards him.

“Y/n? You okay?” Jensen breathed, flitting his eyes between your eyes and lips as you stared at him, still playing catchup in your brain. He sucked in a breath when you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, still silently searching his features. He could do it – he could kiss you. He could feel every curve in his hands and feel every breath if he took the chance, and the way you were looking at him, eyes darkened with want, he began to lean forward, slowly and tentatively.

Jensen’s tongue ran across his plump lips and continued to trace small circles on your exposed skin before moving his hand to your hair. This wasn’t for show, and the weight of the intimacy bared down on you as he moved towards you, aiming for your lips.

As soon as your eyes fluttered closed, Jensen’s phone began to ring. His eyes snapped open with annoyance as he stared into yours. He didn’t want to pick up – whoever it was could go to hell right now, but when you smiled and told him to, he sighed heavily and grabbed his cell, seeing that it was Stacy once again.

She could usually take a hint, so this must’ve been important. Jensen gave you a sympathetic smile and pressed the button to answer.

“Hello?”

“Jensen? Good morning, it’s Stacy.”

“Yeah, how are you?”

“I’m great. Have you gotten the chance to check social media this morning? There’s some great stuff floating around about you and Y/n already. Apparently some paps got some photos of you two in town yesterday so gossip is buzzing.”

“Oh, that’s… good?”

“It sure is!” Stacy exclaimed, which you could hear from your spot, still tucked beneath Jensen’s shoulder as his grip on you never loosened. “Great job, you two. This is going well already. Keep up the social media stuff, but I wanted to warn you before you guys headed to the airport that there would probably some cameras around.”

Jensen’s eyes went wide, “The airport… right.”

“Yeah, I wanted to catch you before you got in. Are you about to leave? Your flight is in 3 hours.”

He snapped his head to face you as you realized what that meant, looking at him with a panicked expression. You needed to get your ass up and go.

“We’re about to leave soon. Cliff should be here in, uh,” Fuck, it’s 9:00. “20 minutes to get us.” He said, more to you than Stacy as he grabbed his watch from his nightstand when you rolled off of him.

“Alright, well you guys have a safe trip. I’ll be in touch soon!” her chipper voice echoed through his receiver before it clicked and ended the call. You were dashing around the room, gathering your sweater, shoes, keys, and phone before you had to run to your apartment to change and grab your packed suitcase, allowing Jensen to do the same. As you made your way to the door, Jensen called to you, still in his pajama pants and tight v-neck with his hair was gloriously tousled.

“We’ll continue this later?” He proposed, his voice deep and smooth.

You paused in the doorframe to respond, arms laden with your belongings. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and grinned, “I’d like that.”

He sighed a breath of relief through his smile before rushing to the adjacent bathroom to take a quick shower.

It was December 22nd, and the airport was going to be insanely packed, but between Jensen’s security needs and first-class tickets for the two of you to Austin, you were able to get priority registration and pre-checks.

You hurried quickly to your apartment, pausing momentarily when you shut your door to run your fingertips through your hair and calm your swirling thoughts. There was no question that he was going to kiss you, at least from your perspective. Could this really be happening? With a smile and a pounding heart, you ran to your bathroom to brush your teeth, freshen up, and change, opting for black leggings and a thick shawl. You threw some last-minute items in your makeup bag and slung it over your waiting suitcase, grabbing your scarf, sunglasses, and purse and you were ready to meet Jensen outside.

Cliff and Jensen met you at the waiting SUV and loaded your luggage into the trunk, Jensen sliding in beside you in the back seat. It was a short ride to the airport and was mostly spent with Cliff briefing Jensen of the security protocols he would be taking once you arrived. He was already prepared for the possibility of paparazzi being present and would be sure you had a clear path to the entrance.

With about five minutes until you arrived, Jensen leaned in to whisper, “Would you be alright with holding my hand? You know, when we go in? F-for the cameras?” he asked, his eyes hopeful and nervous.

Your smile faltered as he said the last bit, worried that maybe the arrangement was still at the forefront of his mind. Until he added, “Or, if you just wanted to.”

His features softened as the smile returned to your face and you agreed. “I mean, ya know… I’d be alright with it.” He said in a teasing fashion, puffing his chest as you giggled. Sliding his hand across the leather seat, he brushed his fingers across yours before entwining a few. Your cheeks began to tingle and your heart swelled within your chest, a feeling present that you’d never experienced before.

Jensen couldn’t get the image of you from this morning out of his head. Each time he closed his eyes, he saw you beneath him, biting your lower lip. It was driving him mad and he was more than sure you were going to kiss him back. Now, though, he was kicking himself for answering that phone call. He was kicking himself for not pulling you into his arms as soon as he hung up.

A short moment later and you were pulling up at the entrance, not entirely surprised to see a few people lingering around the pillars with cameras in their hands. It was a popular spot for folks in their profession, hoping to snap a few shots of celebrities boarding their flights and since the movie and television studios had just recently shut down production for the holidays, their odds increased of getting a good photo to sell.

“You ready?” Jensen asked, squeezing your hand as you stared out towards the building.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, “Yeah.”

“Hey,” he urged, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, alright? Cliff and I will be right here.”

You gave him a small smile, but deep down it wasn’t only safety you were concerned about. You knew that once photos surfaced of you and Jensen, the rumors would spread fast. Now, though, there would be some truth to them, or so it seemed.

Cliff exited the car and grabbed both yours and Jensen’s suitcase from the trunk before opening the passenger’s side rear door, allowing Jensen to step out. As soon as he did, loud clicks and a whirl of footsteps could be heard, with people surrounding the vehicle quickly. Cliff stood like an intimidating brick wall and bellowed at them, which made a few of them move back a few steps.

When Jensen turned and offered his hand, you put your sunglasses on and grabbed your bag, hearing the furry of camera shutters increase rapidly. Clearly, they were very interested in who Jensen was bringing with him.

You slid across the seat and took his extended hand in yours. When he helped you shuffle out of the vehicle, he laced a few of his fingers loosely with yours once again and made his way through the crowd of shouts and flashing lights, each of you pulling your suitcases as Cliff led the way. One reporter asked Jensen who his guest was, which made you laugh a bit. Another asked where you were headed, but those were the only few that you could make out in the chorus of questions. He waved graciously as he pushed passed them, continuously checking beside him to make sure you were alright. Jensen’s hand tightened around yours and he looked at you through his darkened glasses, giving you a grin. When you returned his smile, you realized that it may be for show, but he never dropped your hand even after the cameras were behind you.

Cliff said his goodbyes when he ensured that you made it safely to the TSA pre-check. He would be heading home soon also, but his flight was a red eye that night so he would have time to pack himself. He gave you a fleeting, knowing look as his eyes casted down to yours and Jensen’s entwined hands, the tiniest smile adorning his lips.

After going through the security check, you and Jensen explored the shops at the airport and grabbed a coffee before taking a seat at your gate with fifteen minutes to spare before they began boarding. A few fans approached him and asked for an autograph or photo and he was polite and chatted with each of them as you smiled from the sidelines. He was always so gracious with the people he met, and it made you a bit proud. It was just another way that he’d proven to stay true to who he was even now that he was recognized almost everywhere he went. It had taken a bit of getting used to when it began and now his fans were calling you by name. When he and Jared were together, there was no stopping the barrage of passersby.

The few people gave you a wave as you sat next to him and you offered to take their photo for them before they ran to their own flights that were departing soon.

Jensen beamed as he waved them goodbye before turning to you, “You know, I’m not sure I’ll ever get over that.”

Laughing, you commented, “Well, I can’t blame them. They get excited seeing you in the ‘wild’.” You joked.

He sat back and stifled a yawn before taking a sip of his coffee, “You okay? Are you tired?” you questioned.

“Oh, yeah. I’m good. I’ll be fine once we get on the plane.”

“Yeah, I know. You’ll be asleep before we reach the end of the tarmac.”

You were jealous of his ability to sleep on planes, but since he began traveling so much he learned to get some shut eye where he could and now the whirl of the jet engines was a lullaby to him, almost putting him to sleep instantly.

“Well, if you snuggle with me, I’ll be a goner, for sure.”

He gave you a suggestive look and wiggled his eyebrows. Before you could respond, the attendant began to call rows for boarding, meaning you and Jensen were some of the first needed to get in line.

He stowed both of your bags in the compartments when you found your seats, opting to give you the window and asking for an extra pillow or two from the attendant. When you sat, Jensen leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Two o’clock.”

You turned to view what he was talking about, knowing that he was signaling you to look in a specific direction. Sure enough, in the row directly behind you to the left, there was someone with a phone pointed in your direction, seemingly hoping to get a photo of Jensen. This meant the two of you couldn’t necessarily talk freely during the flight, especially about what happened that morning, as many people were in earshot.

Giving you a small smile, he reached for your hand after he’d buckled in, clasping it in his as the plane roared down the freeway and took off towards Austin.

Sure enough, Jensen fell asleep against your shoulder about a half an hour into the flight, so you quietly ordered a drink and a snack and caught up on some Netflix on your phone, gently plugging your headphones in your ears so that you wouldn’t wake him.

You were lucky to have a direct flight into Austin, and Jensen woke up about an hour before you landed. You laughed and chatted about random things, just passing the time until the wheels touched down. He held your hand once again as you exited the airport, his fingers searching out yours expectantly and gripping them tight. He began to scan the crowd for Jared, who smiled widely and waved frantically when he caught sight of you as he towered above everyone else in his surroundings.

As he drove you through the streets of Austin to his home, he caught you up on the details of the party tonight, “Gen decided she wanted to do an ugly Christmas sweater themed party, so she grabbed you both one to wear. Don’t blame me, she and the boys picked them out.”

“Oh goodness…” you commented. “I hope Gen looked out for me a little.”

Jared threw his head back in laughter as Jensen looked at you from the passenger’s seat, turning his head to shoot you a look of yeah right as you sat in the back.

You were met with hugs from the Gen and the littlest Padaleckis as soon as the car pulled in the driveway and Tom whisked you away to show you the drawings he’d made for you and Uncle Jensen.

“Hi to you too!” Jensen shouted as they ran inside, pulling you by your hands to follow as you turned to stick your tongue out at him. They loved him, truly, but he was all but forgotten when you were there with him. He waved you off and rounded the car to grab your bags, Jared popping the trunk and helping.

Jared clicked his tongue and pressed, “So… Things are… different?”

“What do you mean, man?” Jensen retorted, feigning innocence.

“You and Y/n. There’s something there that wasn’t there before.”

Jensen sighed, but couldn’t help the smile that bloomed against his cheeks as he ran his hand along the scruff of his jaw.

“Or,” Jared interjected. “Or maybe it’s something that’s always been there?”

Jensen looked at his best friend with a bit of worry in his eyes, feeling as though he’d just been caught. Jared had always known how much you cared about each other and had his suspicions that you each had more feelings than you were letting on, but Jensen had never confessed it to him in all the years he’d known him. It was the one thing they didn’t share, partially because Jensen knew he’d never hear the end of it and Jared would try some sort of scheme to get them together. If it happened, he wanted it to happen organically, not because of the meddling of his 6’4 goofy-puppy co-star. The truth was, though, Jensen was still afraid of ruining your friendship. He never wanted to lose you, ever.

Jared noticed the energy his friend was giving off and tried to offer him a bit of solace, “Hey, man. Not to worry. You two have always been together, just not together. This may have started as an arrangement, but maybe it’s just the open door you both need to explore your feelings? Maybe this is the way you two stop dancing around each other. Maybe this is the push you needed.” He clasped his hand on Jensen’s shoulder and gave him a reassuring smile, his lips curling on one side before he shut the door to the garage.

Jensen thought about his friend’s words, a new sense of courage blossoming within him and making his heart stammer and swell.

“Yeah, maybe.”

To be continued...

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Tags below (if your tag is strikethrough, it wouldn’t let me use it):

It was you

@440mxs-wife​​ @cookiechipdough​​ @greenarrowhead​ @peaches007​ @transparentparadiseglitterzombie​ @thevelvetseries​​  @urmbecky​​

Forevers:

@acortez82​​ @adoptdontshoppets​​ @akshi8278​ @atc74​  @berrygutz @blackcherrywhiskey​​ @busybee612​ @caitsymichelle13​ @daydreamingintheimpalareturns @deansbabymomma​​ @deansenwackles​​ @deanssweetheart23​​ @deanwinchesterswitch​​ @empyreanwritings​​ @geeksareunique​​ @gh0stgurl​​ @heyitscam99​​ @hhiggs​​ @huntersbunker @jackburtonsays​​ @janicho88​​ @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @jfrank1048​​ @jotink78​ @maddiepants​​ @mogaruke​​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​​ @nerdstackular​​ @nerdysandwichqueen​​  @okay-okay18​ @our-jensen-ackles-love​​ @prompt-and-circumstances​​  @samsgirl93​ @sandlee44​​ @sister-winchesters99​​ @snffbeebee​​ @spnbaby-67​ @supernatural3002​ @titty-teetee​​ @topthis808​ @tardis-is-mine​​ @torn-and-frayed​  @tranquility-or-chaos​ @weepingwillowphoenix​​ @winchester-writes​​  @wwaywardwinchester​​ @xtina2191​

Jensen Only

@mrsambroserollinsacklesmgk​​

[royadventures]

april 1st, 2022--4:42pm and just remembered it's april fool's

previous log

i left off on march 27th. that day, T and i both felt sick during the day. later, i realized i just had a headache because i was thirsty. nonetheless, we went to the sameE café ^-^

we first took a look at the md floor (merch floor) downstairs. they had a whole treasure section! a ton of treasure stuff left from the DO TREASURE exhibit that i couldn't go to 'cause i don't have my arc ;-; (alien registration card aka id card for foreigners).

we had our drinks upstairs. the yg café is very white and futuristic while remaining simple--it isn't super colourful/full of stuff. there is a huge screen playing snippets of yg mvs, a balcony where you can sit outside, and also a window facing the yg building if you want to look out while eating.

p.s.! it's a card-only spot! no cash!!

the creme brulee donut was so good :") althp the mocha i got was not very to my liking.

T was really not feeling well so we headed home, but i remember not feeling so well, either. not physically, but mentally. i think i had reached my breaking point after my friend wasn't texting me back.

it got so bad to a point where i was genuinely holding in tears on the subway home.

there was a Jonghyun birthday ad in hyehwa station (which took me by surprise because there aren't really ever any kpop ads in the station nearest us). seeing him and his song, i'm sorry, coming on shuffle made the tears very risky of overflowing. so, T and i only had time to quickly rush in and out of daiso, buy covid tests (just in case!) and get some food for T.

Jonghyun is a reminder for me that loneliness is temporary, that i'm not alone, for reasons i won't explain here. seeing him when i felt so lonely truly sent me over the edge. he came to me when i needed him the most :")

at home, i cried it out, took a covid test (negative!!) and ate some food. i spent most of the night in my room, just relaxing and recovering.

quite frankly, i don't remember what happened on the 28th. i usually take photos so i can remember what to write here, but i genuinely can't recall. i know i did my 9am class online that day, just in case, but felt better and went to campus for my other classes. then, i returned home and had another simple day?

march the 29th, i went to the yg cafe again by myself after class. i felt as though i wasn't able to enjoy it to the fullest when i went with T, so i went alone this time! i felr super happy to be going. i stayed there for 3 hours, studying in the balcony. the weather was so nice!! the pistachio butter donut and choco latte that i got were also heaven.

it was less busy there than when i went with T, so i enjoyed it a lot before returning home. i think on this day, i made a late-night (9:30pm T.T) run to the nearby 7eleven to buy jjapaghetti :P it hit the spot!

march 30th was Eunwoo day. T had tested negative for covid 4 times and felt it was safe to go to class, so after class, we went to hongdae to scope out some cupsleeve events. they were cute but supee pricey for the limited freebies... prolly cause it's Eunwoo T.T

(photos will be posted separately b/c i'm at photo limit again!)

we (T) were starving, but all the food around us was super pricey. still, we settled on chicken (₩20,000 per person T.T) and ate to our heart's content! it was pretty damn good... worth the price i guess? it was a more high end, classy spot, so maybe that's why it cost so much.

we then returned home and rested up!.. only after having bingsu :D we tried the chocolate cookie oreo monster... or something and were disappointed. it was choco powder, oreo and whipped cream. not good.

here's my bingsu ranking so far, best to worst:

matcha

strawberry

mango

tiramisu

oreo monster

march 31st, yesterday, T and i went to hongdae (again TT) to see a pomeranian café she's been wanting to go to. it was hella sketch, not even a café 'cause the drink system was weird (you order on a screen and can't even see how/where it's made), it smelled bad and the building looked run-down. waste of ₩12,000, but the dogs were cute, i guess. super, super, super sketch tho.

then, we went to a harry potter café (T kinda day! she likes harry potter). it was 4 floors and very dim, full of random paintings of old european people, super pricey, but oh well! the harry potter soundtrack was on loop, one of the floors was full of couples cause beds were used instead of tables/chairs, and idk...

we then ate at ichimen which was a highlight for me!!! 8,000 won for some yummy ramen, rice, and side dishes of your choice (kimchi or pickled radish). if you don't know, it's a spot famous for eating alone when you're on work break. you can open up a wal between you and who's next to you, sit at a counter, eat up, and leave. there's one menu and you just choose the level of spice.

we headed home after that :>

i'm sorry if this has been rushed so far ! maybe i'll come back and edit? probably not T.T i just wanna leave this café so bad but wasn't letting myself 'till i was done writing, heh.

i've been solo today but have had fun! i'll write about it later~ also, ptg is tomorrow!!!!

next log

[syrinxsilenus]

You’re Mine

Summary: Ryoma and Sakuno are dating for three years. Everything seems going well and they're going strong until a transfer student from America suddenly appeared and shake their relationship foundation. "So you drunkenly set me up with some girl when I was four? How can you be so crazy oyaji!"

You're Mine

Written by: SyrinxSilenus

Chapter 1: Ryoma has a fiancee?

Sakuno couldn't believe that it had been three years since she and Ryoma had started dating. Sometimes she couldn't help but still questioned herself if everything that had happened was real or she had been trapped in a very realistic dream for so long.

Who would even think that Ryuzaki Sakuno, a plain, clumsy, and directionally challenged girl would have the Prince of Tennis, Echizen Ryoma's interest?

Four years ago…

She couldn't understand the significance of Ryoma giving her his red tennis racket before he left for America in their first year in middle school.

Sakuno had been confused because she knew the racket was precious to Ryoma and that he didn't just let anyone touch it. At the same time, she felt exhilarated, like wild butterflies were fluttering inside her belly.

Sending Ryoma off to America for the second time hadn't lessened the ache in her heart, but Sakuno knew that the world needed to discover Ryoma's tennis. She believed with all her heart that he would be number one.

Sakuno was still depressed even a week after Ryoma's departure. Not seeing him in the court felt as if a big part of her had been ripped off. So imagine her surprise when she had suddenly received a letter from Ryoma containing his current address in America.

Overwhelmed with happiness, Sakuno had squealed and jumped in delight and muttered about things that she wanted to write to him in a daze.

She had sent him letters every week since then. Informing him of everything that happened to the senpais and her life. To her surprise, Ryoma actually wrote back whenever he could. Although his letters were short and direct to the point, Sakuno didn't care at all. She was just happy that he had bothered to reply.

Exchanging letters with him made her feel like he hadn't really left and that they finally had some sort of connection. A year passed by so quickly and she was finally entering her final year in middle school. That was when he returned.

One morning, when she was hurrying out of the house to go to school, she almost had a heart attack when she saw him leaning casually beside their door with his hands tucked inside his pockets. A tennis bag on his shoulder and his signature fila hat on his head.

Sakuno had gaped at him like he had grown three heads before he finally looked at her.

"Yo, Ryuzaki," he had greeted her as if he hadn't been gone for more than a year.

She didn't know what possessed her, but the next thing she knew, she was already wrapping her arms around his neck as she cried happy tears. She hadn't imagined that from then on, the two of them would be inseparable.

She couldn't remember how it started, but they slowly transitioned from mere acquaintance to close friends.

She, a dense idiot like no other, hadn't thought much of it until one of their schoolmates tried to ask her out on a date and Ryoma had launched a deadly twist serve towards the boy's face.

He spat out a spew of angry words that she couldn't remember aside from: "She's mine. Don't touch her."

Utterly flabbergasted, Sakuno just stood there, mouth wide open like a fish out of the water until Ryoma grabbed her hand and dragged her to the rooftop.

When she came to, Ryoma had already trapped her with her back on the wall, his arms on either side of her head as he leaned his forehead on hers, demanding her to go out with him.

Still reeling from everything that happened, all Sakuno could do was to nod frantically with her eyes as wide as dinner plates.

She squeaked a high-pitched, "Yes!" and Ryoma smirked in satisfaction.

It took her the whole day before everything sank through her and she ran inside her grandmother's room to scream, "Ryoma-kun asked me to go out with him! And I said, yes! Hoeeee!"

Sumire laughed at her, saying, "Took you long enough to realize that? You're staring at Ryoma in a daze since the tennis practice started and he even walked you home, holding hands."

Sakuno let out another squeak, sounding like a dying rat as her face shifted to different shades of red. That night she hadn't had much sleep as Ryoma invaded her thoughts until morning came.

That confession happened three years ago.

Now, here she was, staring at the blackboard as their homeroom teacher blabbered about a transfer student from America.

Sakuno blinked as Tomoka kicked her desk lightly, pulling her out of the memory lane.

"Psst, Sakuno, Nami said that she saw a blonde girl in the registration office earlier and that she's so pretty like a supermodel. Looks like she's our new classmate," Tomoka whispered beside her.

Blinking twice in confusion, Sakuno tilted her head to the side, "We have a transfer student?"

Tomoka looked at her in disbelief just as someone started chuckling behind her.

Sakuno blushed in embarrassment and Tomoka rolled her eyes while the person behind her lightly tugged one of her braids.

"Neh, off to dreamland again?" She could practically hear his smirk.

She ducked her head to hide her flustered expression. "Mou, stop teasing me, Ryoma-kun."

"Heh, whatever do you mean, Sakuno?" Ryoma replied, amusement was clear in his voice while he continued to twirl her braid in his hand.

She wondered what kind of obsession Ryoma had with her hair when he told her a long time ago that it was too long. Also, he loved to bury his nose on the crook of her neck or the top of her head. He was so weird sometimes.

She heard Tomoka giggling beside her and she pouted.

"Yu-san, please come in and introduce yourself."

Their attention was brought back to the front as a beautiful girl entered their class. Her straight blond hair danced gracefully as she walked with model-like strides. The beauty smiled charmingly, earning murmurs from the class

'So pretty…' Sakuno thought as she observed the new transfer student.

The girl had a pair of beautiful forest green eyes, a cute pointed nose, and red lips – obviously painted with lipstick. Her eyelashes weren't as long as Sakuno's, but they were long enough to enhance her big eyes. Her eyeliner was thick and obvious, but they made the green in her eyes even more prominent. Her school uniform looked so fitting that her beautiful curves were shown so clearly along with her perfectly shaped legs.

Sakuno squashed the sudden urge to check her own legs.

'Tomo-chan said mine are to die for, but she's probably just trying to cheer me up. Mou…'

Sakuno liked to observe beautiful girls in general, not because she was envious, but it was because of Tomoka's habit of pointing out their looks. Though in Sakuno's part, she focused more on the beauty they tried to conceal or seemed unnoticed by others.

She had always been down to earth, always looking for the best in people. That was why Tomoka always scolded her for her naivety, but she couldn't just change her views in one night. So it was a shock to her when she suddenly felt a twinge of envy towards the transfer student.

"Oh my god, Sakuno! She's staring at Ryoma-sama!"

Especially when Tomoka hissed that beside her.

Ryoma continued to twirl Sakuno's braids as their homeroom teacher rambled on and on. His girlfriend's attention was back to the front but his mind was elsewhere. He just wanted for lunch break to come faster so that he could spend a private moment with Sakuno.

He was getting bored again and sleep was starting to draw him in. He yawned as he rested his cheek on his desk, putting one of Sakuno's braids on his nose like a mustache for him to smell.

'Strawberry.' He really liked Sakuno's shampoo, although it lacked another one of her natural scent – vanilla – it still didn't fail to lull him to sleep all the time.

'Is homeroom not over yet?' A yawn escaped his lips for the second time.

'It's so quiet here...wait, quiet? Since when did my classmates learn to shut up?'

Suddenly awake, he slowly lifted his head to check his surroundings only to find all of his classmates staring at him.

Ryoma raised an eyebrow as they started murmuring while flickering their gazes from him and to the blackboard.

Utterly irritated, he followed their gazes only to blink in confusion as an unfamiliar girl stared back at him with so much intensity Ryoma was tempted to glare back at her.

"Psst, Echizen, do you know this chick?" Horio whispered beside him.

"No," Ryoma smoothly replied with his forehead creasing.

"She's looking so intensely at you, as if she's stripping you off your clothes," Horio added, snickering.

Ryoma glared. "Shut up."

"Umm, Yu-san. You have to introduce yourself," Ms. Kanagawa reluctantly stated, shifting her eyes nervously between her and Ryoma.

The girl eyed their homeroom teacher for a second before she returned her gaze back at him, fluttering her eyelashes.

Ryoma cringed internally. He hated girls like that.

"I'm Yu Reina, 17 years old. I'm a Japanese-American and we just moved here from Los Angeles yesterday. Please take care of me," the girl introduced herself, bowing politely.

'Yu Reina? Why did that sound familiar?' Ryoma thought as he scratched his head. The girl was still staring at him which unnerved him so he laid back his head on the desk and put Sakuno's braid on his closed eyes.

"Why did you move to Japan?" Ryoma heard one of his male classmates asked.

"I returned here to claim my fiancé since it's due time we meet each other again."

Gasps echoed around the room, but Ryoma was back to being sleepy.

'Sakuno's hair really smells so good.'

"Is your fiancé here in our class?"

'What bento did Sakuno cook for us today?'

"Of course."

Ryoma could vaguely hear the murmurings intensifying around him, but he was so close to succumbing to unconsciousness that he just ignored them.

"WHO IS HE!" Horio's annoying voice jolted him out of his drowsiness and Ryoma raised his head to glare at his loud teammate.

He lifted his foot to kick Horio's desk when someone suddenly stood in front of him, blocking his view of Horio.

Annoyed, Ryoma glared at the person who interrupted his little revenge when the smiling face of the transfer student greeted him.

Ryoma glared at her. "Oi, move out of the way," he demanded but the girl appeared not to hear him as she just continued to smile at him.

The classroom turned eerily quiet. Ryoma shifted his gaze to his girlfriend only to find her staring at the transferee in disbelief.

"Ryo-kun, it's been a long time," the unknown girl said.

Ryoma narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell are you?"

The girl giggled. "Don't be like that. We spent a lot of time together when we were little, you can't possibly have forgotten about me."

His annoyance increased. "No. I seriously don't know you. Now move out of the way," he demanded.

"Ryoma-kun…" he heard Sakuno murmur. There was something in her voice, something that he didn't like and made him feel alarmed.

"Sakuno?" He asked and was about to touch her shoulder when Sakuno's loud-mouthed best friend suddenly stood up.

"Are you saying that Ryoma-sama is your fiancé!? Don't kid us! Ryoma-sama is already dating someone!" Osakada screamed, looking red in anger.

His eyes grew three sizes larger and he immediately backed away from the girl as if she was carrying a deadly contagious disease.

The transferee frowned. "That can't be right Ryo-kun. Our engagement has long been arranged. You can't have any other girl but me," she said, staring at him in accusation.

He didn't like the way she was looking at him. No, it's not just that. He simply didn't like her ever since he saw her earlier.

"Shut up. I don't know you nor am I engaged to anyone yet," Ryoma stated firmly, eyeing Sakuno who was staring down at her lap.

"But Ryo-kun, I'm not lying! We were always together when we were kids–"

"Tennis," he interjected, making the girl stop in her sentence.

"Tennis is what I have done since I was a kid. I didn't have time to play around with toddlers so quit your nonsense."

"No! I'm your fiancé! Ask your parents! They know about it," the girl insisted.

Ryoma was about to spat something nasty when their homeroom teacher cleared her throat.

"Yu-chan, Echizen-kun. You should talk about personal matters after school. We should all calm down and sit now."

The transfer student stared at him in frustration before she huffed and crossed her arms.

"We're not done yet," she declared before she marched towards the empty seat in front.

Ms. Kanagawa cleared her throat again. "I'll be checking your attendance now," she said as she started calling out names.

Ryoma barely paid attention to her. He was focused on his girlfriend who was facing the front, neither looking nor saying anything to him.

Somehow, Ryoma was engulfed with a sudden feeling of fear. He didn't do anything wrong, but with what happened, he was worried that Sakuno would…

He suddenly stood up. "Sakuno's not feeling well, Ms. Kanagawa. Let me bring her to the clinic."

Sakuno jolted. "W-What?" she blurted out, blinking at him in confusion.

Ms. Kanagawa gazed at Sakuno worriedly. "You look pale, Ryuzaki-chan. Very well Echizen-kun, make sure she doesn't collapse on your way there," she said as she pushed her eyeglasses up her nose.

Ryoma inclined his head before he gripped Sakuno's hand and stared hard at her, demanding her to just go with the flow.

His girlfriend sighed as she stood up and let him guide her out of the class. He could feel everyone's eyes staring at their backs, but Ryoma couldn't care less.

Sakuno was quiet as they walked, even when he guided her to the opposite direction of the clinic and led her to the rooftop instead. Ryoma squeezed her hand as he felt his heart start to beat faster.

'Is she mad?'

He and Sakuno rarely argued since they started dating. She was always so understanding that sometimes, he was the one who felt guilty whenever he did something wrong.

The only time she got mad at him was when he stubbornly insisted to attend tennis practice even though he had a fever. It was the first time Sakuno yelled at him. Ryoma hadn't felt that kind of fear since his mother caught him skipping classes with Momo and Kikumaru-senpai once.

Since then, he was cautious of making Sakuno mad, but she was too kind that she would just stay quiet and let him scold her whenever they had a disagreement.

Now though, this was a different matter. Ryoma knew that Sakuno had low self-esteem and was extremely selfless, so he was afraid that she would...break up with him just because some girl claimed to be his childhood sweetheart. He was afraid that Sakuno wouldn't fight for him and just surrender to the other girl.

He shut the door of the rooftop as they arrived and faced his still quiet girlfriend who was looking down on her feet.

"Sakuno…" He didn't know what to say.

He was getting frustrated when his phone rang and he answered it without looking at the caller's ID.

"What?" he spat out.

"Oooh, you don't sound so happy seishounen." His perverted father's singsong voice greeted him, making

his irritation skyrocketed.

He eyed Sakuno, not letting go of her hand as he answered his father. "Oyaji, what do you want? I'm busy–"

"This is about Yu Reina, you brat! She might go to your school to–"

"Too late, she's here. She invaded my class and caused me a lot of trouble. What is she spouting about, some stupid engagement?" He noticed Sakuno looked up at him. Their eyes met.

He squeezed her hand one more time before he shifted the phone to loudspeaker.

"Ah… that. It happened when you were still four. Mr. Yu and I are buddies, y'know. So we joked around about marrying you and Reina-chan together since she was always following you around, and ah...we were kinda drunk and things just happened..."

"And?" Ryoma prompted, his temper rising by a minute.

"So...we signed a written agreement..."

Ryoma heard his father's nervous laugh on the other line and his grip on the phone tightened.

"So you drunkenly set me up with some girl when I was four!? How can you be so crazy oyaji—Oi, Sakuno! D-Don't cry." He frantically let go of her hand and wrapped his arm around his girlfriend, rubbing her back as tears started rolling down her cheeks.

"Oops, so Sakuno-chan's there. Hehe, sorry seishounen. I think there's a misunderstanding about this agreement so you should bring Sakuno-chan here and we can discuss this properly later. For now, you should...comfort your girlfriend or you'll end up being sing–"

Ryoma dropped the call and returned his phone to his pocket as he lifted Sakuno's face up to meet his eyes. Her nose was turning red now; he hated it when she cried.

"Sakuno, I–"

"A-Are you g-going to b-b-break up–" He didn't let her finish her stupid question as he abruptly claimed her mouth in a searing kiss.

Sakuno clutched on his uniform as he gripped her hips tightly, backing her up to the wall.

"R-Ryoma," she murmured against his lips as he heatedly kissed her, making her whimper. Reluctantly, he moved away from her to gaze deeply into her brown eyes.

"Don't start spouting nonsense. We're not breaking up. You hear me?" Ryoma firmly stated, eyes never wavering from Sakuno's.

"B-But what about y-your engagement? Nanjiroh-san said that they signed an agreement and–"

Ryoma shushed her frantic mumblings with another kiss that ended in three seconds. Kissing her was the best way to shut her up whenever she started to babble.

"Don't worry about unimportant things. I'll have my idiot father fix his own stupidity. There's something wrong with that agreement. If you're going to insist about that stupid engagement, I'm hauling you to Hong Kong to get married," he seriously said, causing Sakuno's cheeks to redden.

"Mou, Ryoma-kun, stop joking about something like this, I–"

"I'm not joking," he scowled at her, feeling insulted, "I will definitely marry you if they force me to be with that girl, and not even Ryuzaki-sensei can stop me."

Sakuno blinked at him in surprise as her grip tightened on his shirt. "Y-You won't leave me f-for her?"

Ryoma leaned his forehead against her, looking straight at her brown eyes. "Never."

A single tear rolled down her cheeks and he wiped it with his thumb as he slowly descended to kiss her again. Gentler this time. The familiar fluttering in his stomach returned full force as Sakuno's soft lips brought him to a sea of explicable sensations that made his instinct take over his body.

'Like hell we're breaking up!' Ryoma was a selfish person. He was aware of that all this time. If he wanted something, he would have it. Ryuzaki Sakuno was no exception. 'She's mine!'

His hand expertly unbraided her hair, letting it cascade like a waterfall on her back as he weaved his fingers through her silky strands.

His mind shut down as the smell of vanilla and strawberry invaded his senses, making him forget about their problem, where they were, or his own name.

He softly nipped on her lower lip before slowly releasing them, panting slightly while his fingers ran down her side. He felt her shudder from his touch as her grip tightened around his neck, but her fingers on his hair were gentle, lightly combing through his dark tresses.

"W-What are we going to do n-now?" Sakuno muttered, looking straight into his eyes with a worried frown on her cute face.

The redness on her cheeks looked darker than before and her eyes looked a bit glassy. She was definitely quite frazzled. It was a wonder she still managed to ask him a question.

Ryoma rested his forehead on her as he let out a deep sigh. "We need to talk with my father first."

His girlfriend nodded slowly. "I-I don't want to get back to class," she murmured.

He grinned and chuckled a little in response.

"What?" She asked with a pout.

"This is the first time I hear you suggest we skip class," he said between chuckles.

Sakuno hit him lightly on the chest. "It's not funny! It's just...just–"

Ryoma buried his face in the hollow between her neck and shoulder whispering, "Okay" under his breath.

He sat down and leaned his back on the wall with Sakuno sitting on his lap, resting her head on his chest as he placed his cheek on top of her head.

The wind blew softly, rustling their clothes and Sakuno's hair as the smell of vanilla and strawberry wafted through the air, lulling Ryoma to sleep as his arms tightened around her petite body.

That was where they spent their time until lunch arrived.

To Be Continued...

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13871251/1/You-re-Mine

[187days]

Day One Hundred Fifty-Seven

My seniors wanted to have class in one of our outdoor classrooms (big tents with chairs, tables, and wifi access) today, and, at first, this seemed like a brilliant idea. Buuuut then it got super windy, so we gave up and went back inside. It actually happened both blocks.

But, hey, we got a bit of fresh air, and that’s nice. 

I started class with what I hope was a helpful and practical assignment; students had to do some research about voting in whatever state they plan on voting in during the next major election (November 2022). For some of them, that’s NH, either because they’re staying here or planning on voting by absentee ballot, but for most of them it’s somewhere else. So I asked them to look up how to register, whether the state has same day registration, whether there’s a voter ID law, how to request an absentee ballot, if the state’s considered a swing state, which party controls the state government, stuff like that. 

That only took about twenty minutes, and afterwards I shifted the class’ focus back to where we left off yesterday: state policymaking in NH. We have a guest coming to class tomorrow; one of the youngest state reps lives just a few towns over, and my student are intrigued by the fact that he’s so young, so I asked if he’d come up and chat with them. So today we brainstormed some questions they could ask, and I also introduced an upcoming essay assessment. Students have to research a state legislator and analyze his/her efficacy as a policymaker. 

I had a bit of time leftover in each block, so I gave it to students to start that essay, study the unit vocab, work on the B/C calculus work so many of them have in addition to my coursework, whatever... Oh, and because one of the fun Teacher Appreciation Week traditions at my school is “teacher superlatives,” I half-jokingly insisted that my students should vote me as “most likely to win a rap battle.” I miiiight have rapped “Guns and Ships” from Hamilton to help my cause. Maybe.

The wind was still pretty fierce during practice, and my skin feels windburned now, but it’s all good. My sprinters did flying 30s (30m dashes after a 20m acceleration up to full speed), block starts, and relay passes. It’s a quick, hard workout, and it went really well. I think we’d all like some better weather tomorrow, though! We’re supposed to get it, too, so fingers crossed!

[heycallmeladytypewriter]

The Call of a Siren- Chapter Four

Chapter One / Two / Three

A/N: Here is the promised longer chapter! You'll notice I changed some minor things, something I will occasionally do as most writers. Once again, if anyone is interested in beta reading please DM me! Enjoy!

I don't own My Hero Academia. I only own my own characters and the story I create within Horikoshi's masterpiece of a world I'd love to live in.

The next day was more of a normal school day. Well, almost.

Present Mic was going on and on about proper grammar of the sentences he would write and adjust on the board for fifteen minutes before Delia zoned out. She didn’t get much sleep as yesterday’ s fitness tests scores bothered her still. She was second to last which only reminded her of her lack of experience using her quirk. Once again, she felt frustrated being raised in an ‘anti-quirk’ home. Everyone else except Midoriya and herself had years of training and time to figure out their abilities but at the very least Midoriya had All Might. She had no one.

“Oi brat! Stop doing that!” Angry boy hissed in her ear. She jolted in her seat before realizing she was rapidly clicking her pen - a habit of hers when deep in thought. Delia lifted her pen slightly so he could see it and clicked it a few more times aggressively before putting it down on her desk.

Then he kicked her chair leg a bit when Present Mic turned around to write more sentences on the board. Bastard.  Just another happy reminder that she sat in front of Bakugo which was already proving to be the pain in the ass she figured it would be when assigned. She curled her hands around the edge of the desk to prevent from turning in her seat to kick him in the shins.

She was practically bouncing to get out of her seat for hero training just to get a break from sitting in the same room for the past few hours. That was one thing she probably wouldn't come to love- staying in the same classroom for multiple classes rather than back home she would change classrooms with each subject - something she liked due to stretching her legs, changing seats, different people, and getting away from the asshole who kicks her chair when she annoys him.

“ I AM HERE!” All Might rushed in with his booming voice, “COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A HERO!”

Everyone immediately sat up in their seats in excitement that the number one hero was...well coming through the door like a hero! The class practically jumped out of their seats they were so excited.

“I can't believe it's really All Might.”

“So he really is a teacher! This year is gonna be totally awesome!”

All Might marched right over to the podium as the class took in his choice to wear his Silver Age costume which was pretty cool. He announced that he will be teaching ‘Hero-ing 101’ and that today he was starting off with battle training.

“Fight training!” Bakugo growled out excitedly while Midoriya countered with a nervous “Real combat?”

“But one of the keys of being a hero is looking good!” He swept his giant arm towards the wall expanding with numbered briefcases. “These were designed for you specifically based on your Quirk registration forms and the requests you sent in before school started. So everyone grab your assigned cases by your number and get to the locker rooms! Meet me at Training Ground Beta!”

The girls around her were chatting away while opening their cases but Delia sat with it in her lap for a few moments.

“Wow, you guys look great.” Delia said to the girls. Momo Yaoyorozu was dressed in a simple red leotard with a chunky yellow utility belt and short red boots. Mina Ashido gave her a twirl in her new costume of a cute camo-like body suit of teal and purple with a short cropped fuzzy jacket. It was random out of context but given what little she had seen of the bubbly girl - it weirdly worked. Kyoka Jiro rocked ripped jeans, a long coral shirt, black jacket with a popped collar, and what looked like giant chunky boots with a speaker in them. Tsuyu Asui was a ‘frog’ personified in a black and green suit with webbed feet and giant goggles on her head. Lastly, Ochaco Uraraka looked like an adorable astronaut in her pink and black suit with her cute oversized boots and wrist accents. Yaoyorozu smiled at her compliment, “Thank you. Why aren’t you getting dressed?”

“Are you nervous, Bell?” Asui asked her, looking concerned.

Delia pulled on her neck, “A bit, yeah. But I’ll be fine.” Ashido let out a small squeal and nudged her, “Well then put on your costume! We wanna see you looking great with us!”  

Delia bit her lip before clicking open the clasps to reveal her new costume she spent months trying to create. Blowing air out her cheeks, she stood up and placed it on the bench to start dressing. “Here goes nothing.”

“They say that clothes make the pros young ladies and gentlemen, and behold, you are the proof!” All Might stood a few feet ahead of them as they entered Training Ground Beta. “Take this to heart. From now on you are all...heroes in training!”

Everyone was checking out one another's costumes as they walked. The guys looked great except Mineta’s looked like he was in a diaper so that was an odd choice. When she saw Midoriya run out she almost facepalmed. Way to be obvious dude. The simplistic green and red design was fine but the hood part of it resembled too much of his all time favorite person. Her eyes kept scanning until it landed on the person practically foaming at the mouth to start.

If she had to be honest with herself, she would say he had one of the best costumes but she wouldn’t tell him that. He wore a tight tank top with a large orange ‘X’ in front, a belt with what looked like grenades on the side, some hardcore knee pads, then down to some heavy duty boots. The giant grenade gauntlets hooked on each arm looked heavy so she hoped he could take them off in a tight spot. She let out a small snort... Of course the boy with anger management problems would resemble a human grenade.

Biting her lip, she looked down at herself wondering if her costume matched her the same way. She pulled her hair up in a high ponytail mostly for practical purposes. She wore a high collar but sleeveless open shirt that was hooked to her by a small silver belt under her chest. She was wearing a silver strapless swim top underneath as well as black small swim shorts that could be seen as well because her thick skirt was cut into three large panels- two on each hip covering her sides and partly her backside and then one straight down the middle with a medium silver utility belt fastening it to her person. One of her favorite pieces was her, as she liked to call them, her ‘ass kicking boots’ that went to midthigh and had thick non-slip soles and a slight wedge heel. Plus, they were pretty with their silver intricate designs.  She also had silver gauntlets on her arms. The coolest feature was her water storage system. In the event, she was without any water near her to use her quirk she had compartments built into her suit. Every silver accent and design on her clothes like her boots, shorts, belts, and gauntlets were made of some ridiculously strong but flexible material that was hollowed and filled with water that she could pull from or store for emergencies. It wasn’t a massive amount but was enough for a quick emergency whip or two. Plus, everything was in a shade of dark azure blue. She felt like a water warrior.

Momo Yaoyorozu came over to her and knocked her with her hip, smiling. “Told you. You look great and it seems some others are taking notice.” She subtly nodded off the side where Angry Boy was standing diligently. Delia frowned because she had no idea what she was talking about but before she could open her mouth to say that she heard weird breathing down behind them.

“God, I love this school.” They turned to see Mineta standing way too close and way too happy.

“Okay, that’s just wonderful. Go love the school from over there, please.” Delia pointed to the group of others gathered a couple feet away. Yaoyorozu even went as far to actually ‘shoo’ him with hand gestures like he was a bug. That had Delia cracking up which prompted Momo to start giggling with her as he trudged over to the other group when All Might cleared his throat to signify class was starting. The class promptly lined up to face the number one hero.

“Now that you're ready, it's time for combat training!”

______________________________________________________

As they got settled in the monitoring room, she introduced herself to her partner for the exercise today. She spotted him a few feet from her in a martial arts costume and noted that he was the kid with the really big tail. Delia walked right up to him and stuck her hand out, “Hi, I’m Delia Bell. Looks like you’re stuck with me today for the ‘mission.’” She used air quotes for that last word jokingly.

“Oh hey! I’m Mashirao Ojiro. Happy to be stuck with you.” He joked back. “So I think we should watch this first run and get some idea of our strategy, sound good?”

“Agreed.” With that, they turned to the screen as the first mission started. Unfortunately, her excitement abated because she had a really bad feeling considering who was involved in this group as Midoriya and Uraraka walked through the building.

After a few turned corners, it started...then never really stopped. The class was on the edge of their seats after Midoriya laid Bakugo out flat on the floor and declared his hero name, “Deku.” Despite the escalating situation, Delia smiled proudly as Midoriya basically gave Bakugo the finger as he took back the name that was used to hurt him and stood his ground. Unfortunately, this only encouraged Bakugo to continue with full force. Midoriya then used his impatience to trick him again with the capture tape they were given before the match and ducked under another explosive punch before running down the corridor.

“The little guy’s really good!” The boy in a yellow bodysuit standing beside Jiro commented.

“He’s holding his own and he hasn’t even used his quirk yet!” The boy dressed in what looked like a tape dispenser helmet (?) said impressed.

We watched as Midoriya ran from Bakugo until he was completely lost to him. Bakugo began to yell furiously, “DAMMIT! You were tricking me for years by acting weak! Bet you’ve been laughing behind my back, huh?” If this idiot only knew…

“Come out and face me you coward!” Bakugo was blowing up doors left and right but walking with such arrogance, Delia was surprised his giant sized ego could fit through the door.

Meanwhile, Uraraka finally reached Iida who again proved his intelligence by hiding everything in the room that she could possibly float and use against him. She snickered when she heard Iida’s ‘evil voice’ while calling Uraraka a ‘do-gooder,’ What a dork.

“That isn’t a bad idea really.”

“What is? Hiding everything?”

“Yeah. Something to take a mental note of and I also think maybe we should try sticking together and allowing the ‘do-gooders,’ ”Delia again snickered at his impression of villain Iida, “to come to us on our home turf.”

She nodded, “Sounds like a plan to me.”

They both turned back to the screens to see Midoriya had found Bakugo who was now smiling which probably was a bad sign. “ Since you’re such a stalker, by now you probably know how my Quirk, Explosion, works. I secrete a nitroglycerin-like sweat from my hands and make it blow up. Imagine what I could do if I had a lot of it. “ He stood back into a lunge with his arm extended to the boy across from him. Oh, no . “That's right, these gauntlets aren't just for show. I’ve been storing my sweat for one monster blast.” Okay, One: Ew. Two: Mega Oh, no.

“Young Bakugo! Don’t do it! You’ll kill him!” All Might yelled into his microphone that she assumed was connected to their ear pieces.

“ He’ll be fine as long as he dodges !” Bakugo yelled right back and pulled the pin.

Delia’s hand went out to Ojiro's arm next to her as if to brace herself from what she just witnessed. He didn’t push her off as he too stared in horror at the screen.

“Whoa, whoa! This is fucking nuts!” Kirishima called out as the whole building they were in shook from the blast.

“Come in! Come in, Midoriya!” All Might was all but pressed against the screen as the dust cleared and we saw a giant hole where the walls and windows once were in the room. The class collectively sighed in relief when we heard a weak, “Is that even allowed?”

Then this goddamn psycho came out of the smoke and laughed. Laughed!

“Go ahead. Use your stupid Quirk on me, Deku.” He crouched low and smiled that disturbing smile again. He almost looked unhinged. “Even if you use everything you’ve got, you’ll never beat me.”

“Sir, isn’t this getting outta hand? That Bakugo is getting real crazy. He’s gonna kill ‘im!” Kirishima voiced Delia’s exact thoughts. The class all nodded in agreement and looked at their teacher expecting him to follow suit and shut this down.

“Not so.” Sorry, what? “Bakugo. Use that stored-up power again and I’ll stop this fight. You’re team will lose.”

“ Huh? ”

“To employ such a strong attack indoors is inviting the destruction of the stronghold you should be protecting. That’s a poor strategy, whether you’re a hero or a villain. The penalty would be a massive loss of points.”

That resulted in an angry yell before he rushed Midoriya who was talking to his partner. It seemed he had a plan though she couldn’t even see how at this point especially how her floating herself to the weapon earlier didn’t work against Iida’s speed. Midoriya threw a punch but Bakugo, in an amazing amount of speed and skill, flipped mid-air using a small blast and counter attacked from behind to hit Midoriya right in the back with a strong explosion.

“He doesn’t come off as a guy with strategy. But he’s actually quite intelligent.”

Ashido, Kirishima, and Delia took their eyes off the battle for a moment to look at the boy half covered in ice. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“He changed his trajectory while in midair and using a blast that doubled as a smokescreen. Very clever.”

Yaoyorozu chimed in with noting his ability to understand the physics of the situation and his Quirk. Denki Kaminari, whose name she remembered only due to that Mr. Aizawa had already used it so much in a day and a half because he was a high school five year old, moaned, “Ugh, Bakugo is uber talented. I hate it.” Delia pressed her lips together because while she agreed with her classmates on Angry Boy, she was still horrified by his behavior as he continued to beat the hell out of Midoriya. This oh, so intelligent and talented boy is basically throwing a tantrum and he had the nerve to call her ‘brat.’

“This is hard to watch! All he has to do is wrap tape around him, not kill him.” Ashido cried out.

“Bakugo is certainly acting like a villain.” Tokoyami responded.

“I thought Midoriya was pretty amazing at the start of the fight, but he’s completely outmatched in terms of combat power. Not to mention, Bakugo seems like a natural at all this stuff.”

“Give him a chance.” Delia said sharply. Kaminari looked at her surprised as her tone was with more bite than she intended. “Sorry. But give him a chance.”

Delia turned back to the screen once again and saw the boys facing off again but near a different set of windows. They exchanged words then lunged at one another but this time it was different. Midoriya was finally using his Quirk and Bakugo’s hands started sparking up as well.

Delia gripped her arms harder, “All Might…”

“They’re gonna kill each other! Sir!”

The Pro hero said nothing but gripped his tiny microphone hard enough it should've been in splinters before speaking into it, “Both of you-”

“Uraraka, now!” The class looked up at the video feed of the others and the brunette grabbed hold of a pillar. All of a sudden, Midoriya punch for Bakugo went upwards creating a giant amount of force to break the ceiling above as he took on Bakugo’s explosion head on. “SMASH!”

His punch created massive amounts of debris for Uraraka to use and she used the pillar she held onto as a bat and swung the floor pieces at Iida. As he was distracted in fending off the debris, she floated herself over to the weapon thus winning the mission.

The class was entirely silent as All Might declared the hero team the winners. Was this really a win?

After a few moments, she heard Ojiro say, “Okay...we aren’t going to do that.”

_________________________________________________

“Match two! Team B will be our heroes! Team I will be the villains!”

As Ojiro stretched, Delia pulled out some water from her belt to form a whip. “Hey, I’m going to hide behind one of the pillars near the door so I can surprise them.”

He nodded, “Good idea.”

The buzzer went off.

As they braced themselves for the heroes, it turns out Shoto Todoroki had different ideas. All of a sudden, the whole room was covered in freezing ice. Her boots were stuck in ice and as she peeked around the corner of the pillar so was Ojiro's. Damn. I didn’t think he had power like this!

“This Quirk is insane.”

She may be stuck but she still had her whip which she kept moving to prevent from freezing. They both stilled when they heard footsteps.

“Pry yourself up if you want, but it might be hard to fight me with no skin on the bottom of your feet.”

“Good thing I wore boots then!” Delia kicked herself free and lashed her whip around Todoroki’s right arm which wasn’t covered in ice. His eyes widened slightly before freezing her whip around his arm but she had another one at the ready that grabbed his arm again and tugged as if to throw him back but he had stuck himself to the floor with his left side. Before she could react, he covered her body from the chest down in ice preventing Delia from doing anything more.

“The hero team winnnnnns!” All Might announced over the loudspeaker.

“Fucking dammit!” She muttered as she tried to break free of the ice. But she didn’t need to as Todoroki suddenly emitted enough heat to defrost the whole building, Ojiro gasped, “Heat, too?”

Delia scrunched her face as everything was now wet which would’ve been great if the fight was still going. “It’s not your fault. We’re just playing on different levels.” Well, damn. Thanks so much. He said it so mildly and without emotion as if it was as simple of a fact that two plus two equals four. For some reason, she couldn’t find her anger at it because he was right. Delia felt deflated as he walked right back out the door he came in. Ojiro shrugged at her, “It’s the second day. We’ll get it next time.” She attempted a small smile at his effort to not seem upset on how quickly that ended. She gathered some of the water on the floor and refilled her tanks before walking out with her partner.

They settled back in the screening room as each battle went on. Delia took the time to see everyone’s Quirk and was impressed by how power heavy the class seemed. Acid, shadow, hardening, tape, energy beams, and it went on which was great to watch but definitely put even more attention on how short her and Ojiro’s battle went. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bakugo far from the group with his gaze on the floor and teeth gritted. He was not taking this well. Maybe I wasn’t far off in the unhinged part from earlier...  

Delia was half tempted to see if he was alright, which she obviously could tell he wasn’t, but pulled herself back as she did not like how he was in his battle in the slightest. The urge never went away as her classmates continued the missions and she kept one eye on the screen and the other on the boy looking on the verge of a crisis in the corner.

Finally, everyone had battled and class was dismissed with a quick congrats speech in from their teacher then an even quicker exit as he zoomed right out. Delia figured it was because he was losing his stamina at holding his form.

_____________________________________________________

Back in the classroom, Delia was putting her books in her bag when she heard the door open.

It was Midoriya who looked much better than when she saw him last. A bunch of the class ran to meet and introduce themselves to him which was a nice change of pace for him, she assumed. She doubted he was very popular in his last school considering how he and Bakugo came from the same school.

“Tokoyami! Stop using that desk as a chair!” Iida walked determinedly to the boy sitting on his desk while he talked to her former mission partner and Jiro. Jiro put her hand on her hip and said, “Dude, you need to chill.”

Ojiro pointed at him, “You’re carrying a lot of tension.”

Iida slumped forward in defeat as she walked over to the small group, “No one understands.” Delia swung herself on the desk next to Iida which caused them to laugh as she put her hand on his shoulder with comfort and some slight mocking, “It’s okay, Iida. Someday they’ll learn proper manners and respect.”

He sighed and nodded before turning to her, “Yes, well uh - Oh, c'mon!”

Delia giggled and swung her legs like a child, “I said they would. I didn’t say I would too.” She giggled again when the blue haired boy pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation before walking away.

“Hey, Bell.” She looked up from laughing at Jiro. “Yeah?”

“Is that a My Chemical Romance button on your bag?” Delia looked over to her desk with her various buttons and stickers on the side of her bag.

“Yes, it is. You a fan?”

“Major.”

“I listen to them occasionally as well.” Tokoyami threw in. Jiro grinned, “Nice to know some of us have some taste.” Ojiro scratched the back of his head, “Well, I guess I have none.”

“It’s alright. We’ll just have to educate you!” Jiro elbowed him gently. Delia looked at her watch then hopped off the desk, “Oops. I have to catch my train!”

When she ran outside, her eyebrows raised as she saw that Midoriya and All Might were staring off into the distance. Delia waved at them, “Feel better, Midoriya. Have a nice night, Sir!”

Running down the hill, she flew up to Bakugo and found her feet slowing a bit. They looked at each other for a moment and Delia opened her mouth to say something before she thought better of it and continued down the hill to catch her train home.

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 9a

Warning, if it hasn’t been obvious in the movies there is Nazi symbolism within the First Order. I will expand on this much more throughout the story. If this is something that bothers you, please just exit the story. The author does not condone any Nazi ideals, this is just for fictional uses only.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

Originally posted on my Ao3 Crystallclover (If you can’t find it here)

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7a | 7b | 8 | 9b

I really enjoy everyone’s feedback. It makes my day to know you all are enjoying this story so far. There is still a lot planned for the future. I said this is slow-burn, it is don’t worry. Let me know what you think in the comments.

Chapter 9: Packing Up

Summary: “Your theory about possibly being matched with aliens? Well, he isn’t exactly an alien, he is a part of the First Order. When they found out who I was matched to I was immediately escorted here.”

_______________________________________________________________________

You were alone for a moment, you swore you could almost hear Kylo talking to the general on the other side of the door. He sounded harsh. You hear his footsteps walk further down the hall.

The door opens and the general walks in with the tree junior officers trailing him. He stepped back and let the junior officers quickly clean up your and Kylo’s lunch. “The Supreme Leader has made me in charge of your safety. He also said I am to take you where ever you would like to go.”

You nodded. Just now you realized you never messaged Hayden or Carter that you had been escorted, in fact, you had yet to check your phone.

You pulled it out of your back pocket and saw that you had 30 messages from Carter and Hayden and 15 missed calls. They were all asking where you were, if something happened, if you were all right and if you were being interrogated.

You decided to call Carter. “Excuse me, General, I need to make a phone call.”

He nodded and stepped out of the room leaving you alone. You dialed Carter’s phone number, it rang twice before they picked up.

“Oh my god Y/N! Are you all alright? We have been trying to get a hold of you for hours now,” their voice was laced heavily with concern.

“I know. I’m alright, everything is fine. Actually, it’s better than fine, but I don’t know if this is how I want to explain it. I’m safe, I’m in Washington D.C.”

“Wait I’ll put you on speaker. You will explain everything,” you heard Carter switch the phone to speaker. And heard Hayden clear his throat.

“Hayden, you were right,” you said with a light chuckle.

“Sweet! Wait right about what,” he asked not remembering.

“Your theory about possibly being matched with aliens? Well, he isn’t exactly an alien, he is a part of the First Order. When they found out who I was matched to I was immediately escorted here,” you paused second guessing if you should reveal who Kylo is. “He is a high ranking officer, so it looks like I’ll be joining them.”

“Wow, Y/N we are so happy for you. I’m guessing you’ll probably leave when they do. Are you coming home tonight?” Asked Carter.

“He said I’ll be joining him on the ship tonight and that I will be able to come back down tomorrow,” You glanced at your watch. 3:30 PM, the suttle ride itself only took an hour and a half to get you from Toronto to D.C. You should have enough time to go back grab some things and be back in time for the nightly public First Order address. “I know you guys have more questions but I have to go.”

“Bye, be safe my dude,” said Hayden.

“You know we love you and want you to be happy, just call us when you can,” said Carter.

“I know and I love you guys too,” and with that, you said your goodbyes and you ended the call.

Unsure of what to do you walked over to the door opened it and stuck your head out. You could see the general down the hallway talking to some other First Order officers and people whom you assumed to be White House staff. You called to him, “General?”

He turned and started walking towards you. You now exited the room. “Yes,” he asked.

“Your orders were to take me anywhere that I would like to go, correct,” you asked.

“Correct, I am assuming you have made a choice,” he responded.

“I was wondering if I could take a shuttle back to Toronto to gather some of my things? I’m hoping to return before the nightly public address.”

“That can be arranged,” with that he looked over his shoulder to one of the junior officers who left immediately to make the arrangement. “Of course because I have been tasked personally with your safety I will have to escort you.” And with that, the junior was back and informed the general that there was a shuttle ready. He nodded and they excused themselves. He gestured for you to once again follow him and you were off to the shuttle.

You exited the White House and were once again aboard the shuttle, “This is a Xi-class light shuttle. It is mostly used for ferrying on planet surfaces and transporting freight. Not, that I expect that you will remember this right now, but if you are to be Supreme Leader’s consort then you will be expected to know these things.”

You looked at the general slightly shocked. This wasn’t something you had thought deeply about. You were now about to literally give up your whole, albeit boring, life for a man who was in charge of a military regime. You didn’t want to be in the spotlight. You just wanted to be loved and to love.

Both of you buckled in facing each other, “Would you like me to prepare some education videos for you? You have much more to learn than the average First Order planet citizen,” he said while working on a datapad.

You just nodded your head and he handed one to you, “This video is outdated but contains lots of good information and background knowledge for you,” responded the general.

He pulled up a video titled “First Order” by The Templin Institute. This one was much shorter and was just under ten minutes. This video gave you an idea as to who the man Kylo killed in order to receive the Supreme Leader position. It also gave you more information as to how the First Order came to be. When you glanced up after finishing the video the general used his datapad to send you another.

This time it was a speech given by the general himself from Starkiller base, “The First Order: Last day fo the Republic.” The video was intimidatingly impressive, it was similar to the speech he gave yesterday, but this time it caused the destruction of an entire star system, the New Republic’s capital.

“What did you think,” he asks as you can see the smug look on his face.

“It was intimidatingly impressive. An entire system gone in a matter of minutes.”

He was pleased with your answer as he sent you a news release from the First Order. “The Voice of the First Order: Issue 23.” Ironically the first one being about propaganda, avoiding Resistance and the New Republic propaganda and where a First Order citizen my uncover the truth.

Lastly, he sent you a bunch of articles talking about the different transport ships that were standard issue within the First Order.

The pilot spoke to the general informing him of the arrival back at the registration station. You handed the general back the data pad. You both unbuckled and stood to exit the shuttle.

“General, if you don’t mind I need to take my car back to my apartment to get my things,” you said to him.

“Yes, one of the ancient wheeled vehicles. I suppose we will have to return it. How many passengers can you fit,” he asked almost disgusted by the idea of having to ride in a car.

“Not including the driver I can technically seat 4, but only three comfortably as it is a sedan,” you replied.

“This will probably be the only time you will be allowed to drive one of those death machines again, but we will take three troopers with us for protection,” he said. And the thought of never driving again made you sad and curious as to see what freedoms you would be allowed. The general ordered three troopers to escort you two your car. “We will have the shuttle pick us up from your apartment to make things easier upon departure.”

With that, you got into your car. The general still seemed to be disgusted with it, even though it was clean. The three troopers struggled to sit in the back as they were too large for the seat. Once everyone was settled and buckled you were on your way to your apartment. It was not a long drive and for once all of the lights were green when you got to them.

Parking in your ramp you all got out of your car and approached your building's elevator. The troopers were making sweeps of the area and the general followed confidently behind them and all of them behind you. The elevator ride is awkward, even more so than the car ride. You reach your floor and you unlock your do, but be for you enter one of the stormtroopers moves you out of the way. They enter and sweep your tiny apartment.

You moved to follow them in as did the general. “I thought the people of your planet were supposed to have large dwellings,” he said commenting on your small apartment.

This made you a bit ticked off, and the fact that they were all wearing shoes inside and tracking dirt in. “Why would I need a larger apartment when I live alone?”

The general just hummed in response. You went to your closet and gathered your duffle bag and your backpack. You began packing all of your clothes and your toiletries knowing this could be one of the last times you would be back at your apartment. Packing didn’t take very long. You grabbed your work tote and filled it with your laptop, planner, notebooks, and chargers. You also grabbed your favorite coffee to-go cup and water bottle. It only took about 15 minutes to pack everything. “Is there anything I can get you? I have water, tea, coffee, and various fruit and snacks.”

The general shook his head in response and the troopers gave no sign of acknowledgment. And with that, your life was packed and ready to be moved again.

“This is everything I need, we should be able to go now.”

The general nodded to the troopers and you made your way down to the main entrance of your apartment building. Once again you boarded the shuttle.

[handeaux]

Cincinnati’s 1884 Election: What A Riot!

If you think this year’s political campaigning is contentious, you might be amazed by Cincinnati’s 1884 election – it was a real riot.

In 1884, Cincinnati was ruled by a mostly Democratic political machine. The ringleader – he wasn’t quite a “boss” – was the publisher of the Enquirer, John Roll McLean. The machine controlled the courts, the police, patronage jobs and even elections. For years, the Democratic organization in Cincinnati flagrantly encouraged fraudulent elections.

Most Cincinnatians have heard about the Courthouse Riot of March 1884, but few remember the other riot that year. It was, in many ways, an echo of the more famous spring rebellion. The Courthouse Riot inspired the Cincinnati upper class – capitalists, businessmen, clergy, professionals – to mobilize for better government and honest voting. This progressive groundswell inspired the local Republican Party to break a decade and a half of Democratic control. Cincinnati citizens organized an Honest Election Committee which invited a force of United States marshals to supervise elections of 1884. Cincinnati businessmen backed the committee. The Federal government (Republican at the time) paid for 700 marshals to assure accurate balloting.

Ohio elections were ripe for corruption and vote tampering. In 1884, Ohio did not require registration or proof of residency to vote. Prospective voters went to the polls, announced their residence and – if they lived within that precinct – were allowed to drop a ballot in the box. At least that’s how it was supposed to work.

In practice, Democratic functionaries staffed the polls and controlled the vote outcome. Lot Wright, United States Marshal for Southwest Ohio, described some of their methods in a letter to his superiors in Washington, asking for help in the autumn elections of 1884:

“All methods that can be thought of are resorted to. The colonization of voters, repeating, refusing to let men vote who are entitled to vote, intimidating, counting improperly, recording the count reversed what it ought to be, improperly certifying, stuffing, changing ballots, buying votes, and last, but most infamous of all, scratching with chemicals (in place of ink), which at first is not detected by the voter [disqualifying the ballot].”

In those days, Ohio elected congressmen through a special election in October. Wright asked for special deputies to monitor the Congressional election on 14 October 1884. The national Republican Party pressured Marshal Wright into making the request and then raised funds to hire an additional 700 deputies and to ship 600 brand-new bulldog revolvers to Cincinnati. Wright and his deputy marshals served under the authority of the federal election supervisor, William Howard Taft. In his 1939 biography of Taft, Henry Pringle describes the disaster:

“[The marshals] were to take their posts at the polling places and keep the peace. Taft hoped, he said in his official announcement, that they would ‘encounter no opposition, especially from the municipal or county authorities.’ This was a hint that the police, controlled by the Democratic city administration, might get tough. If opposition came, however, Taft’s marshals were to ‘treat them as you would any other citizens committing crimes against the United States and have them arrested.’ The inevitable result was bloodshed. A Negro was slain, apparently without reason, by one federal marshal.”

It is impossible to tell, looking back 136 years, whether Lot Wright’s armed deputy marshals ensured a fair election. Rumors claimed that Cincinnati counted 7,000 more votes than the city had voters. It is entirely possible that all the marshals did was replace Democratic thugs with Republican thugs. That, at least, is how the (Democratic) Enquirer [15 October 1884] saw it:

“The history of yesterday’s election in Hamilton County will forever remain a foul blot upon the fair fame of Ohio’s metropolis. Such scenes were witnessed at the polls as brought the cry of shame from every honest man. Riot and bloodshed held sway at many of the precincts, while intimidation was practiced on all sides by the paid hirelings of a Republican National Government.”

The Republican Cincinnati Commercial Tribune [15 October 1884], of course, saw things differently:

“The election yesterday was a Waterloo for the local and State Democracy, and that in spite of their preparations for fraud and the most flagrant outrages on Republican voters, white and colored. In spite of the best work of the Deputy Marshals the Democratic police perpetrated some of the most foolhardy outrages and, in defiance of all warnings, put themselves in direct offense with the Government of this country.”

Throughout the day, skirmishes between the sheriff’s deputies (Democratic) and the deputy marshals (Republican) erupted into melees, often involving gunfire. According to the Enquirer, chaos was widespread:

“In the lower precinct of the Sixth Ward several hundred [deputy marshals], all colored, blocked the street and fired off their revolvers at random. Respectable people were insulted and mistreated. In the Eighth Ward it was only by a superhuman effort that the liquor-crazed deputies were driven from the polls, after having fired a volley into the crowd. The scene was repeated in the lower precinct of the Fifth Ward, while in Precinct A of the Eighteenth  Ward the imported thieves took possession of the polls and installed three Republican Judges, thus leaving the Democrats without representation.”

Despite all of the combativeness and outbreaks of gunfire, only one death resulted from the competition between parties. Two armed poll watchers, one of the sheriff’s and one of the marshal’s, both African American, argued over access to a polling place in the Eighteenth Ward and the deputy marshal shot and killed the deputy sheriff.

The Enquirer, vehemently opposed to integration or equal rights for African Americans, used the election conflicts to promote its racist vision of savage Blacks insulting their white superiors.  Here is the Enquirer’s front-page commentary:

“It was indeed humiliating to honest men to be compelled to crowd through a dirty, smelling crowd of ignorant negroes, who invariably kept their clubs and revolvers exposed, in order to exercise their rights of franchise.”

When the presidential election came around in November 1884, both sides stood down – somewhat – and there were fewer incidents of riotous behavior. Nevertheless, a Republican poll monitor stabbed a city policeman, gangs of Democrats attacked any Black voters attempting to cast ballots, a Covington “floater” brought in to illegally vote was murdered, and a Cincinnati police sergeant shot and killed a man who refused to leave a polling station.

Democrats took office in Washington that year with the election of Grover Cleveland. The new administration immediately launched an investigation of Marshal Lot Wright. The blatantly prejudiced inquest found so much blame on both sides that they ended up slapping Marshal Wright on the wrist for sloppy expense accounts and not much more. Still, Wright was replaced by a Democrat as Marshal for Southwest Ohio.

[antpernas]

11/12/2020

today was a ROLLERCOASTER and i still dont know how to feel

so originally i woke up at 1 am and i couldnt fall back asleep (i think its bc of the nap i took yesterday) so after about 3 hours of trying to doze back off i just got up and decided to go to the beach to watch the sunrise! i ended up going to the beach with a friend and we did it together it was great B) but THEN.... things went horrible

i got in the water to test out my new snorkel mask (the water was choppy as shit and it was impossible to see but i just more wanted to make sure that it fit my face and kept water out.... after about 30 minutes of swimming with it on i went to get out of the water and RIGHT AS I GOT TO THE SHALLOW PART A WAVE HIT ME AND KNOCKED THE GOGGLES OFF OF MEEEE

long story short i lost my goggles that i had just bought three days prior and it was my first time using them yes im very sad :( i ended up going to buy a replacement but it still hurts im grieving

BUT after that me and my friend went to get breakfast and that was chill :) after that i tried to get a covid rapid test and it was fine until i got my results back and they said they were inconclusive so now i have to go back and get tested again just to see if i have it still UGHGSUDH 

after that i went home and showered and stuff and then i went to help my mom with workkk after that i got home and had my smoothie and practiced some piano :P then i had a cute little facetime date with a twitter mutual and then i used my dildo like 298397 times and its been a WHILE since i played with my ass so that was nice

now its 2 am and i have to call registration about withdrawing from a class when i wake up tomorrow bc this shit is AKSFKDFsdkgh ok toodles!!

[loudlytransparenttrash]

Yesterday marked the 8th anniversary of the death of Trayvon Martin. Oak Park and River Forest High School students walked out of class and marched down the street wearing ‘We are Trayvon’ hoodies before returning to the school where they blocked the main hall’s entrance, chanting they will not leave until their “racial equity” demands were met by the mayor, which included removing police officers from schools and to mark February 26 a day for black victims of police violence. “We don’t need more police or a new police station. We need more resources for the youth of color here. We demand resources go to us.” 

Black activist groups and figures such as the The King Center, Black Lives Matter, The Breakfast Club, BET, Common, Kerry Washington, Al Sharpton, along with numerous politicians joined to remind everyone on Twitter that Trayvon Martin was murdered for being black. It blows my mind that even after eight years, nobody seems concerned with the actual facts or the law. It’s obvious how content they are to combine misinformation to reach their own ridiculous conclusion, which is then used to justify their own racism and hatred.

From the very beginning, it was obvious the media and activists were setting up a bad situation by portraying the incident as racially motivated, once that seed was planted, all reasoning was gone. George Zimmerman was already guilty no matter what the evidence showed. Trayvon was black, Zimmerman wasn’t, therefore it just had to be racism and anything that goes against that assertion is further proof of racism. I would bet anything that those high school students and every other race baiting activist using Trayvon’s death as a racial political play haven’t heard the facts that make up their entire misleading narratives. Here they are, make up your own minds.

The Hoodie Narrative

In trying to turn the case into a racial narrative, the initial burst of publicity and activism turned on Trayvon wearing a hoodie. The Hoodie has become the symbol of protests, based on the assertion that Zimmerman found Martin suspicious because he was wearing a hoodie. But transcripts of the 911 call shows Zimmerman mentions a hoodie only once, and only in response to a question by the operator as to what the person was wearing. The dispatcher asks, “Did you see what he was wearing?” which Zimmerman replies, “Yeah a grey hoodie, either jeans or sweatpants and white tennis shoes.” That’s it. 

That didn’t stop Michigan Governor Jennifer Granholm wearing a hoodie, the “Million Hoodie March,” Harvard law students wearing hoodies with a sign “Do we look suspicious?,” Congressman Bobby Rush appearing on the House floor in a hoodie, the Hoodie March in Washington, the Miami Heat in hoodies. The hoodie has come to symbolize alleged racial profiling by Zimmerman, yet the narrative is not based on any known facts connected to the shooting. While Martin was wearing a hoodie that night, there is only assumption that Martin was considered suspicious by Zimmerman for that reason. 

Even if he was, that’s not racial profiling, unless only black people wear hoodies? There had been eight recent burglaries within the gated community and residents reported dozens more attempted break-ins. It was at night and Zimmerman told 911 that Trayvon was acting suspiciously walking around looking at all the houses. Considering a search of Trayvon’s backpack at his school showed it to contain a dozen pieces of women’s jewelry, including silver wedding rings and earrings with diamonds, as well as a screwdriver, why can’t we even consider the possibility that Trayvon was acting suspiciously and the Neighborhood Watch leader was just doing his job?

The Racial Narrative

The only narrative we ever hear from activists is Trayvon was followed and shot because he was black. That’s as far as their logic meter expands. It’s based on multiple falsehoods, most particularly the NBC News doctoring of police audio in which it falsely made it seem as though Zimmerman said he was following Trayvon because Trayvon was black. But that’s not what happened. Zimmerman only mentioned race when the police operator asked about race. The dispatcher asked “Is he white, black or Hispanic?” and Zimmerman replies, “He looks black.” This is the only mention of race.

There also was the claim that Zimmerman used the term “f**king coons” on the police tape. The activists have used the alleged racial epithet endlessly to paint this as a racially motivated hate crime. CNN had to backtrack after the audio was enhanced and experts gave their analysis after CNN originally stated that Zimmerman said “f**king coons.” In the official affidavit by State of Florida investigators, they concluded Zimmerman used the term “f**king punks” when referring to the recent break-ins by teenagers. 

The biggest thing that nobody wants to talk about is the FBI investigation that found no history of racism in Zimmerman’s past. Zimmerman had earlier angrily spoken out against the beating of a black homeless man and started a local initiative to help him. Zimmerman and his wife had tutored black children, he was a registered Democrat and voted for Obama. To further push the ‘white supremacy’ narrative, Zimmerman is persistently portrayed as white, even though he’s listed as Hispanic in his voter registration and he’s very clearly Hispanic, have they even seen him? Yet, he is painted as a white supremacist who assassinated an innocent black male for no reason other than Trayvon was black, it’s this myth that's generating all the hate, violence and division. 

Oh, and there was also widespread claims in the media that neo-Nazis were patrolling the neighborhood where the shooting took place, but of course Sanford Police ruled this story out immediately. 

Zimmerman Disobeyed Police Instructions Narrative

They say George Zimmerman supposedly was told by the police dispatcher not to leave his car, but did so against police instructions. This allegation is used to claim that the entire confrontation was Zimmerman’s fault, and had he merely followed police instructions, nothing would have happened. Zimmerman was not in the car at the time of the comment “we don’t need you to do that.” The 911 transcript proves at no time was Zimmerman ever told to stay in his car. Trayvon had become aware that he was under observation and started circling Zimmerman’s car while Zimmerman was inside talking to the police. At about the two minute mark, Trayvon runs. When Zimmerman did exit the vehicle it was in direct response to the dispatcher asking him the direction of Trayvon’s travel.

When the dispatcher asked if Zimmerman was still following the direction that Trayvon ran, Zimmerman said yes, the dispatcher said, “we don’t need you to do that” and Zimmerman replied, “OK.” There is not a single piece of evidence, none, that Zimmerman continued to follow Trayvon after this point. In fact, in the audio, he continues calmly talking to the dispatcher, telling him his phone number and even saying, “I want to get out of here, I don’t know where this kid is,” all without any sign he was chasing after Trayvon. Trayvon had more than enough time to achieve the safety of his father’s girlfriend’s condo had he truly been fleeing from a frightening Zimmerman. Instead, it was found that Trayvon launched an attack on Zimmerman from behind as Zimmerman was waiting for the police to arrive. 

Stand Your Ground Narrative

Despite constant outrage over Florida’s Stand Your Ground law being used in the trial, calling it a “license to kill,” it was never used by Zimmerman’s defense. It made sense for Zimmerman not to rely on SYG, because Stand Your Ground would only be relevant if Zimmerman had a route of exit, but the shooting took place while Zimmerman was on his back on the grass, his head having been pounded on the pavement and being beaten relentlessly by Trayvon. Witnesses say exactly the same thing. Trayvon was on top of Zimmerman, beating his head into the ground as Zimmerman was screaming for help. Activists claim that it was Trayvon calling for help, but it’s been long confirmed that it was indeed Zimmerman crying for help. Zimmerman had a broken nose, two black eyes and cuts to the back of his head where Trayvon slammed Zimmerman’s head repeatedly into the ground. Zimmerman’s back was also wet and covered in soil. Activists argue ‘but Trayvon was just a kid and Zimmerman was an adult,’ that’s why they only ever use photos of Trayvon as a kid, they don’t want you to know that Trayvon (6’2″) was much larger than Zimmerman (5’8″) and was in far better physical shape and condition. 

Forensic analysis demonstrated that the trajectory of the single shot fired and burns on Trayvon’s sweatshirt were consistent with Zimmerman being on his back with Trayvon hovering over him at the time of the shot. Since Zimmerman was pinned to the ground, he didn’t need to invoke Stand Your Ground because there was no reasonable means of avoidance. While the jury instructions did contain language similar, the SYG statutory protection itself was never invoked.

Bottom Line - The Jury Got It Right

Every piece of material and evidence was considered in court including crime scene evidence, witness statements, cell phone data, reconstruction analysis, ballistics reports, medical and autopsy reports and depositions. The verdict came as no surprise to those actually following the evidence. It came as a shock to those who bought into the racially charged false narratives, evident by the eruption on social media, the mass rioting, the outbreak of violence and the eventual beginnings of Black Lives Matter who carried these fabrications and deceit into the Michael Brown case and have since continued to glorify and martyr criminals in their efforts to whip up hate against the police, whites and America. At least it takes the attention off the staggering rates of crime and black lives being murdered that activists can’t blame anyone else for. (1, 2)

It’s sad that cases like Trayvon’s is used to teach black children that they must live in fear and anger because racism and white supremacy is everywhere and that at any point they can be killed, all because they’re black. It’s child abuse. Of course we can mourn Trayvon and remember him, but let’s not use him as a radical race movement’s martyr. Protesting against myths ruins the legitimacy and integrity of any future protest against real racism. If we need to keep fabricating and twisting stories to prove that we’re being hunted and oppressed, shouldn’t that be evidence of the opposite? Shouldn’t it be a good thing that Trayvon wasn’t actually killed for being black? Unfortunately, too many will say no, which perfectly sums up the mental imprisonment and why nothing will ever change. 

[phoenixfeatherquill]

Endgame (2/10)

Chapter 1

It was like something out of a movie.  Mai Valentine stood in their doorway.  As usual, she was dressed to the nines—tall knee high boots, leather jacket, a corset.  It was drizzling outside but her long blonde hair remained voluminous.  Her cheeks were wet, but whether it was tears or rain, Serenity couldn’t say.

Joey seemed to be at a loss for words.  Serenity couldn’t blame him.  Since Joey and Mai had separated, he hadn’t heard from her at all—no letters, no phone calls, nothing.  And she knew Joey worried for her and quietly Googled for any kind of mention of her in the dueling world.  

But here Mai was, back in Domino City…staring at her brother with a kind of yearning and sadness that broke Serenity’s heart.

“Come out of the rain,” Serenity requested.  She pushed past her brother and took Mai’s arm, gently leading her inside the apartment.  She grabbed her brother’s arm too and led them both to the breakfast table.  

“Here,” She poured Mai a cup of coffee. “Oh, Mai, you’re soaked through. Give me your jacket. I’m going to bring you a blanket.”

Watching his younger sister fuss over Mai seemed to shake Joey out of his stupor, but only slightly.  He poured himself a cup of coffee as well and turned off the stove.  Mai watched him and cleared her throat a few times.  She couldn’t seem to say anything to him though and eventually she resorted to staring at her coffee.  

Serenity returned from her bedroom and wrapped a thick quilt around Mai’s bare shoulders.  She glanced up at her.

“Thank you, Serenity,” Her voice was low. “It’s good to see you again.”

“You as well,” Serenity smiled.  Joey realized with a jolt that his sister had her jacket.

“Um—where—where are you going?” His voice became strangely high-pitched.

“Just going to go out for a little bit,” Serenity said pleasantly. “I’ll be back soon. Mai, Joey made a fantastic breakfast. Have some pancakes. Drink more coffee, it will warm you up.”

Before Joey could protest, she quickly exited their apartment.

It wasn’t raining very hard.  Mai must have been standing outside their door for quite a while to be as drenched as she was.  Serenity shivered a little and belted her pink jacket tightly.  Now that she was out of the apartment, she wasn’t really sure where to head to next.  The grocery shopping was finished and she didn’t have classes on the weekends.  

She texted Tea to see if she wanted to go shopping or get brunch.  Tea replied quickly and told her regretfully that she was tied up helping Yugi all day.  His grandfather was expanding their little shop and they would be moving boxes for hours.  

Serenity thought about offering to help but ultimately decided against it. She considered her other options and ruefully wished Duke and Tristan didn’t have designs on her—it would’ve been nice just to hang out with some friends.  

It was with utter aimlessness that she ended up at Kaibaland.

She blamed happenstance and the article she read in the paper.  She did not particularly want to run into Seto Kaiba after she humiliated him over a game of chess.  Joey would’ve wanted to gloat, Serenity just wanted to forget the event.  Chess, as much as she loved it, brought back painful memories…

Still, it was unlikely Kaiba would be physically at Kaibaland.  From what she understood, he ran things remotely from the KaibaCorp Tower.  That was where his office was.  

She could at least get out of the rain.  

There was the demonstration that she’d read about, specifically catered to novice duelists and children.  According to the signs, it was a “League Day”—promoted to those that wanted to learn Duel Monsters.

Serenity considered.  She had always wanted to learn Duel Monsters…really learn.  On her own terms, not with the fate of the world or someone’s soul or whatever else. Just as a fun game.  

She went to the entry registration computer and put in her name.

XXXX

“Seto? Are you okay?”

Kaiba didn’t answer his little brother.  He was examining one of the older hologram arena models, measuring the dimensions.  It was probably time to upgrade these bulky arenas—nowadays, everyone had a duel disk system which made these arenas obsolete.  

Mokuba, who’d followed his older brother to Kaibaland, sighed impatiently. “Seto, c’mon. You’ve barely talked to me since yesterday. Are you still upset about what happened?”

Kaiba glanced at him.  “What’s to be upset about?”

Mokuba fidgeted.  “The last time you lost a game to someone you disappeared off the face of the earth and I got kidnapped by Pegasus. So sue me if I’m a little anxious about how you’re taking this.”

Kaiba exhaled slowly.  “I’m not going anywhere, Mokuba. What do you think about getting rid of these arenas?”

Mokuba did not look convinced but he sighed in resignation.  “I like the old arenas, Seto. Not everyone can afford duel disk systems. Keeping these here as an affordable option allows more people to have access to our technology, even on a limited basis.”

Kaiba considered this point.  He typed something on a mobile tablet and stood up from the arena.  The two of them walked wordlessly out of the little arena down the halls of Kaibaland.  

“Seto, seriously. Can we talk about what happened?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Kaiba ignored the astonished younger duelists who stopped and pointed at him. “We should at least upgrade the arenas. They’re so outdated, they’re an eyesore.”

“Okay, whatever,” Mokuba rolled his eyes as they passed through the lobby. “Distract yourself with work. That always works out well for…”

Mokuba stopped short.  Seto realized his younger brother had paused in step and impatiently turned around to see what on earth he was looking at.  

There were always duels going on in the atrium—some with duel disks, others seated at tables with KaibaCorp tutors reviewing and offering tips and hints. Towards the far end of the atrium, there was a kid playing at one of those tables with an older girl.  He crowed in victory and Kaiba rolled his eyes at the kid…until he realized the losing opponent was Serenity Wheeler.  

What was she doing here?!”

Mokuba glanced nervously at Kaiba.  Kaiba stared at her for a long moment and his younger brother realized the expression on his face—Seto was offended.

Ignoring the gasps from the other duelists, he marched over across the room towards the small table.  

“You lost! Ha ha! I beat a grown-up!” The kid was shouting triumphantly. Kaiba expected Serenity to be upset but instead she looked amused.

“Great job! Guess I have a lot to learn…” The two of them paused and the kid squeaked.  Serenity blinked at Kaiba as he towered over them.

There was a moment of silence and Serenity opened her mouth to speak.  But before she could, Kaiba spat out:

“I thought you didn’t play Duel Monsters.”

Serenity’s mouth twitched and she cleared her throat.  “I don’t. That’s why I signed up for a novice demonstration…to learn.”

She smiled at her opponent, who was openly gaping at Kaiba, his mouth wide open. “And why Yuki here beat me soundly.”

Her pleasure at losing confused all parties around her.  Mokuba cleared his throat and picked up her deck curiously. “Is this yours?”

“No, I rented it from one of your stalls.”

Kaiba openly snorted as he looked over his brother’s shoulder.  The deck was the most basic of strategies, with no personality to any of her cards.  A true duelist selected cards that matched their personality and strategy.  In fact, Kaiba never really liked the stalls in Kaibaland that allowed duelists to rent or purchase pre-made decks, but Mokuba insisted this helped the younger demographic, who had no idea how to build a proper deck.  

“Not very good,” Mokuba admitted to her and Serenity laughed. “You should build your own—I’m sure Yugi or Joey would help you.”

Kaiba rolled his eyes and Serenity chuckled.

“Yugi and Tea are completely revamping and restoring his grandpa’s shop—they’ve been covered in sawdust for the past month. I hate to interrupt them for something like this, just because I’m curious about learning. I was actually planning on asking Joey to teach me, but…well, he’s a little busy this morning.”

“You wanted Wheeler to teach you?” Kaiba said in utter disgust.

Serenity frowned at him.  “Joey is an excellent duelist. And a very good teacher.”

Kaiba snorted audibly.  She stood up angrily and Mokuba cautiously stepped in between the two, in case the other Wheeler lost her temper.  

“Just because you refuse to acknowledge it, doesn’t make it any less true,” Serenity spat. “He’s ranked in the top ten of every competition in the last five years—but what gets me is you know this. You saw how good he was in your own tournament! You just refuse to admit it, because you’re as stubborn as he is!”

Kaiba glared at her.  The stare was devastating; a more nervous person would have quailed before it, but Serenity stood her ground.  Mokuba blinked anxiously between them.

Finally, Kaiba spoke.  And he said something that surprised Serenity.

“Come with me.”

Before waiting for her answer, he turned around rapidly and strode forward. Serenity crossed her arms defiantly—did he really expect her to follow him after he insulted her brother that way?

But Mokuba seemed as surprised as she was.  He looked at her and gestured for her to follow him.  She thought it might be satisfying to refuse and tramp out of Kaibaland, but…the truth was, she wanted to satisfy her curiosity more. With a sigh, she nodded at Mokuba and followed Kaiba.

XXXX

“Um…Seto, where are we going?”

It was Mokuba who asked the tentative question.  Kaiba had not looked at either of them in the eye and Serenity was to the point of wondering if his directive had been a slip of the tongue and she was just stalking him around the building.  At least Mokuba was equally bewildered.  

After two or three elevator rides, they arrived in Kaiba’s office--the Kaibaland office. Did he want a chess rematch? Serenity would have to turn him down on that front; chess brought back painful memories and she only played herself or for very special occasions.  Irritating Kaiba was not one of them.  

But he did not demand she take out her chessboard.  Instead, he went to his desk, took a seat, and started rummaging through his drawers.  

Serenity looked at Mokuba for explanation, but he just shrugged at her.  

Kaiba’s head snapped up.  “Where’s your deck?”

She blinked and slowly offered him the rented deck.

“Not that one,” He fairly snarled. “The other one. You used one in the virtual world, didn’t you?”

Ugh, she’d almost effectively blocked that misadventure out.  Tristan had gotten turned into a robot monkey, she’d revealed to some of the best duelists in the world that she chose her personal deck based on which cards were cute, and they’d all nearly gotten stuck in the virtual world for good.

She knew her deck was poorly made, which was why she’d chosen to rent a deck for that day.  Why did Kaiba want it?

“Did you leave it at home?” Kaiba accused in a tone that suggested she might have committed murder while she was at it.

“No,” Serenity scowled.  She dug through her messenger bag and pulled out her deck.  She handed it to Kaiba.  

He flipped through it so rapidly she was shocked that he could even see what was in her deck, let alone assess it. He tossed a few of her cards on his desk—St. Joan the Forgiving Maiden, Goddess with the Third Eye—and continued to rummage through his deck, mixing more cards with hers.

“Seto?” Mokuba was staring at his brother in utter astonishment.  

Kaiba ignored him.  He was in deep concentration.  At one point, he even left his desk, crossed the room to a large safe, unlocked it, and pulled out a few more cards.  

Serenity’s mind swam.  Was he…he couldn’t be building her a deck, could he?

She looked at the desk.  Archlord Marie, Archlord Krystia…Archlord Lucifer?!  She hadn’t even heard of these monsters…but they were beautiful, that was for certain.  

After about twenty minutes of Mokuba and Serenity staring at Kaiba while he flicked through cards, discarded most of her deck and replaced it with other cards, he finally finished.  He shuffled them rapidly together and looked sharply at Serenity.

“Here.”

Serenity looked at Mokuba for confirmation.  He shrugged.  Slowly, she reached out and took the deck from Kaiba.  

“You’re not going to learn how to use this deck from Wheeler,” Kaiba informed her coldly.

She didn’t know the game well enough to ascertain whether that was true or not. She looked at the deck in her hand and tried to figure out something to say.  Kaiba was looking at his phone, at what appeared to be a calendar.  

“Next Friday,” He said finally.

“Excuse me?” Serenity blinked.

“Next Friday. 6:30PM. Bring the deck. You can go now.”

After a long moment, Serenity looked at Mokuba, who gave her another helpless shrug. It was clear that as close as the brothers were, the younger Kaiba had no idea what on earth was going on. Bewildered, she allowed Mokuba to lead her to the elevators to take her to the lobby.

XXXX

When Mokuba safely escorted Serenity to the lobby, he immediately turned on his heel and returned to his brother’s office.  Seto was standing at the tall windows, staring out with a somewhat blank expression.

“What the hell was that?!” Mokuba demanded.  

Seto looked at him and didn’t answer.

“You’re giving her Duel Monsters lessons? Seriously? Why?!”

The elder Kaiba didn’t reply.  It was possible he didn’t know the answer.  

[hymn2000]

Ideal Confusion - MCU AU Fanfic - C3

(Title subject to change)

Story summary: Giving into the constant pressure from the press, Tony decides to put a rest to the rumours that Peter is his biological son - once and for all.

Previous Chapter(s): 1 2

Part of my Frostiron and Spiderson series.

Warnings/themes: family, family stuff, adoption, DNA test(s), pressure, peer pressure, social issues, mentions of alcoholism, mental health problems, potentially some minor medical inaccuracies, mentions of corporal punishment

You can also find me on AO3

Chapter 3 - Off My Back

-

Tony forgot to set an alarm, and as a result woke up late the next day. He went into Peter’s room and gave the boy a shake.

“Wake up, chick”

Peter stirred. He woke up and rubbed his eyes.

“Hi... What time is it?”

“It’s half eleven, chick”

“What?! Isn’t it Tuesday?!”

“Yeah, I forgot to set an alarm” Tony said. “I guess we both needed that lie in. What do you wanna do?”

“Um... I don’t really know”

“Do you wanna stay home today? You’ve already missed basically the whole morning”

“I don’t know. I think maybe I should go”

“Alright kiddo” Tony said. “Well, we’ll get you something to eat and then we’ll get you to school in time for afternoon lessons. Ok?”

“Is that ok? I mean, it’s only two lessons, so you’ll have like less than two hours at home before you have to come back again”

“If you wanna go to school, you can go to school. It’s only a ten minute drive. So what do you wanna do?”

“...I think I should go to school”

“Ok” Tony said gently. “Come on then; let’s get you some lunch”

-

Tony dropped Peter off at school armed with a note detailing a forgotten medical appointment to excuse his lateness (“A little white lie” Tony had said), just in time for afternoon registration. 

“Where were you?” Flo asked. “We were worried! You could have at least texted”

Peter took out his whiteboard. 

Doctors appointment

“Oh right” Flo said. “Well, are you ok?”

Peter nodded.

“Oh good. Well, I’m glad”

“Me too” Millie said. “We need you next lesson anyway: you’re in our assessment group”

-

Peter regretted going to school, and it was plain to see from the way he slammed the car door behind him when Tony picked him up afterwards.

“Alright, don’t break my car!” 

“I wish I’d just stayed home” Peter spat. “What a waste of time!”

“Oh oh, sounds like you didn’t have a great afternoon”

“No, I didn’t, and I don’t want to talk about it”

-

Loki and Tony sat down with Peter later that evening.

“I think you need to tell us what’s bothering you” Tony said. “You’ve been funny ever since I picked you up”

“I just had a rubbish afternoon. Can’t we just leave it at that?”

“Well, why was it rubbish?” Tony persisted. “Couldn’t you have talked to the bunnies about it?”

“No, because they were a big part of the problem!” 

“What do you mean?” Loki said.

“Millie was being a cunt”

“PETER!” Tony shouted. “How dare you?! Haven’t we talked about using that word?”

“I don’t care!”

“Well, you should, and you definitely will when I’ve washed your mouth out with soap”

Peter growled. “Go away then! If it’s that much of an issue, just leave me alone!”

“Hey, you don’t get to call the shots around here. We-”

“GO AWAY!”

“Peter, stop it” Loki said. “You shouldn’t use that word; you know that. Come on; we just want to help. What happened at school?”

“They were both being so unreasonable! I mean, it was mainly Millie, cos Macy is still ill, and Flo had a music exam so she wasn’t there most of the afternoon. But Millie just seemed to be going out of her way to get to me”

“In what way? Was it because of the news story?”

“Bits of it, but she was going on about yesterday, saying I got that detention on purpose, which I did, but she said it was because I was being evasive and wanted to spend time with Malaki instead of her and the other two, and then she said Malaki was gonna ruin me if I wasn’t careful, and then she got onto the news story and she thinks, she thinks it’s true, the stupid bitch-”

“Peter” Tony said in a warning tone.

“Well, she is! And so we got into an argument about that, with her throwing all those ‘facts’ from the telly and papers at me, as though she knows my life better than I do, and then I was like, well, what does it matter? Because I’m still a step ahead of her, cos her dad hates her and never wanted her in the first place, and he’s an abusive bastard, so I bet she wishes she wasn’t really his, and-”

“Peter, that’s so bad” Loki said. “You can’t say things like that”

“Well I’ve already said it, so so what? But anyway, she got even more cross with me, like all upset and stuff, and then she tried to make a point and she snatched my whiteboard pens so I couldn’t say anything back while she made a point, and then we got into a fight over the pens, and then she was like, I’m not talking to you until you apologise, and then I was like, I don’t care. I’m not the one who needs to be apologising: she is. So then she stopped talking to me, which is fine, because she was doing my fucking head in-”

“Enough of the swearing, Peter!”

“Just let me speak!” Peter snapped, scowling at him. “So anyway, she stopped talking to me, so I guess we’ve fallen out. And she’ll tell Flo and then Flo will probably turn against me too, cos she’s known Millie way longer and stuff, and she seems annoyed at me too. At least she’s talking sense about the news story stuff though. But then, but then in class we were discussing like, media and news and tabloids and stuff, and like, everyone was looking at me, and the teacher was trying not to look at me, and it was all dead awkward”

“I see” Tony said.

“It was a bloody nightmare and I’m never going back. Now I feel like I really do need to see a doctor: I feel like my blood pressure is sky high, and my back’s doing that weird hurty thing it did when I had shingles. I wanna see uncle Bruce. I’m going out”

He stood up to go, but Tony and Loki both caught him with an arm round the stomach and sat him back down.

“Woah now, not so fast” Tony said, putting an arm round his shoulders. “I get it; you had a rubbish afternoon. But that doesn’t mean you can just never go back to school, and it’s no excuse for your dirty language. I’m still in half a mind about how to punish you for that”

���Now, now, Tony; he’s upset” Loki said. “Now, darling, I know it’s horrible. Do you really feel unwell, or is it anxiety?”

“I don’t know!”

“Alright, keep your voice down!” Tony shook his head. “If you really feel that bad, maybe daddy can give you a little check over”

“I want uncle Bruce”

“You’re asking a bit much, kiddo”

“HOW is that asking too much?! He’s round here every week anyway”

“Alright, alright” Tony sighed. “I’ll give him a ring”

-

“Hey, uncle Bruce”

“Hey kid” Bruce said, closing Peter’s bedroom door behind him. “Tony said you requested me specifically”

“Mm”

“What’s up? This big news story getting to you?”

Peter nodded.

“I get it, kid. I know what it’s like having nasty stories about yourself in the news...” he sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and opening his bag. “Take your hoodie off”

Peter did as he was told. He watched carefully as Bruce pushed his sleeve up and slipped a blood pressure cuff over his arm.

“I know you’re not a fan, but Tony said I should give you a full MOT while I’m here”

“What do you think?”

“About what?”

“About the news story. About... me and dad” 

Bruce looked at him. Peter was keeping his eyes on the blood pressure cuff. Bruce looked back at what he was doing.

“Well” he said, squeezing the pump to tighten the cuff round the boys arm. “I’m sure Tony would love to have been the one responsible for bringing you into the world” he was quiet for a minute, getting his stethoscope and pressing the chest piece against the inside of Peter’s elbow, listening, and counting. “...He’s not your real dad. Your biological dad, I mean. I think you know that”

“Yeah, I know” Peter said, breathing out and rubbing his arm when Bruce took the cuff off. “I guess a lot of this stuff in the news is kinda like, planting doubt in my mind or whatever”

“Dodgy news people will do that to you” Bruce said. “Can I listen to your chest?”

Peter nodded. He stayed quiet while Bruce checked him over with basically every piece of portable medical equipment known to man. 

“Have you got an ECG machine in there?”

Bruce laughed slightly. “I almost considered it: there’s some of the portable ones paramedics use at the office. Give me your hand again”

Peter let Bruce check his blood sugar.

“Is that everything now?”

“Yes” Bruce said. “Unless... Can I take a blood sample?”

“Why? What are you gonna do with it?” Peter asked defensively. “You’re not gonna do a DNA test, are you?”

“No, of course not. Believe it or not, I don’t really have access to that kind of thing, especially not without written consent from your parents. I was just going to send off for some routine checks”

“I’d rather you didn’t”

“Ok, I won’t force you. Keep pressure on that finger”

Peter nodded, watching Bruce packing up his stuff.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it”

“Do you think people are inherently violent?”

“That’s a strange question” Bruce said, setting his bag aside and sitting down across from Peter. “I think maybe people were more violent back before modern day civilisation, but I think it was for survival. Modern day people don’t really need that type of survival instinct so much anymore, so maybe that’s why they hold back on their strength. Babies and little kids don’t know their strength, but older people probably learn to reserve it so much that they don’t really know it either

“Ok”

“Why? Have you been feeling violent lately?”

Peter looked at him.

“I’ve caught you, haven’t I? I’m an expert on that kind of thing, sadly”

“...Sort of. Not violent, exactly, just... I don’t know, angry. I keep getting all annoyed. I’ve had a lot of fights recently”

“Because of the news story?”

“A couple of them, but not all of them. Some of these fights were before”

“You’re a superhero in your spare time, kiddo. Do those fights bother you?”

“They’re not the same” Peter sighed. “They’re like, a justice thing, not a personal thing”

“I see. And I take it these personal fights are bothering you?”

Peter nodded. “It just kinda happens. Like, it’s all words at first, but then I lash out before I know what I’m doing. It’s weird, like someone else takes over my body”

“I know what that’s like”

“Mm... How do I stop it? You’re a doctor; you know how people work. How do I stop being violent?”

“I don’t think it’s violent. I think you’re just defensive, reacting instinctively, perhaps because of your heightened senses and your stress. I don’t think it’s violent unless it’s vicious. Have you been vicious?”

“I... I don’t think so. I don’t mean to start it or hurt people, and I’m not being malicious. It just keeps happening”

“It’s probably just personality clashes, stress, your illnesses, and hormones” Bruce said. “Happens to most people at some point. Talk to your therapist about it”

“I... I don’t see a therapist anymore”

“Really? Why not?"

Peter shrugged. “You’ll have to ask dad”

“Did you take a disliking to Miss Marns?”

“No; I really liked her. We had a rapport after all that time talking” 

“Maybe you should see her again. It’s good to talk these things out”

“Yeah, I want to... How do you deal with it? Like, staying calm when you’re angry?”

“Kid, I’m the worst possible person to ask about this. If I get too angry, I turn into an enormous green rage monster, remember?” Bruce laughed slightly. “I work in a different way to everyone else on that matter”

“Yeah, I guess so”

“So, what do you think it is?”

Peter shrugged. “What you said, I guess”

“You wanna say something else, don’t you? I can tell”

“...Elton John talked about the Dwight Family Temper in his book. It was like, genetic, the way his bloodline got cross, kinda thing. I’ve never heard of there being a Parker Family Temper, but maybe there is. I never knew my parents properly, and May didn’t really speak about them much, but maybe...”

“Maybe” Bruce nodded. “You know, it could be environmental, too. I know what Loki was like back you were first getting to know him, and I know he still has his moments. Tony can be a right wanker at times too, especially when he gets angry and kicks off. I know they’re pretty calm most of the time nowadays, but you can see where I’m coming from, can’t you?”

“Yeah, especially with dad. Howard Stark was a cross person too, right?”

“I don’t really know. I get the impression he wasn’t very nice behind closed doors. Tony doesn’t really talk about him much”

“Mm... Yeah, he never talks about him to me either”

“Maybe it’s a good thing” Bruce said, standing up. “Try some deep breathing exercises. Or do that thing Tony does where he counts to ten in his head when he’s stressed. This is probably just a phase, kid”

“Yeah, we’ll see” Peter said, pulling his hoodie on. “So, what’s the verdict?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, your MOT. You’re fine, kid. Your pulse was pretty fast, but it calmed down pretty soon. Just anxiety. Everything else looked ok”

“Nothing wrong with my blood pressure then?”

“Nah, nothing wrong with your blood pressure. Although...”

“What?”

“Can you take your shirt off?”

“I’ve only just put my hoodie back on!”

Bruce sat back down close to him. “Are you alright with me touching you?”

“You’ve been prodding me for like, twenty minutes” Peter said. “Go for it. Just don’t go clipping more stuff onto me”

“Deal” 

Bruce pulled Peter’s shirt and hoodie up. He was gentle with him, but the way Peter reacted when he touched his stomach was a little strange.

“Did that hurt?”

“No...”

“Don’t you like your tummy being touched?”

“Not really” Peter mumbled.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I just don’t. It even makes me feel weird if my parents do it, even accidentally. It just makes me feel all funny”

“Huh. Strange. Well, I can’t stand people touching the veins on my wrists. We’re all built a bit differently” 

He continued checking him over, and then pulled his shirt and hoodie back down and sat back.

“...What?” Peter said, looking at him sceptically.

“You’re a lot thinner than last time I had to check you over. You’ve definitely lost weight”

“So?”

“So, do your parents know?”

Peter shrugged. “I doubt it. They’ve had a lot go on in the past year. I don’t think me losing a couple of pounds is gonna be at the top of their agenda”

“This is more than a few pounds. How much have you lost?”

“I don’t know! I don’t weight myself. Get off my back”

“You might not be his biologically, but you seriously take after Tony. You’re so much like him sometimes”

“I’ll take that as a compliment”

“Do that” Bruce nodded. “He’s a great man”

“You’re really sure about him not being blood, aren’t you?”

“Well, yeah. Listen kid; your dad and I are close, and we talk. Even when he was drunk, he put something on the end of it, and he always did it himself so he knew it wasn’t tampered with. Besides, imagine if you were a girl, and you slept with a high-profile celebrity and then found yourself pregnant. You’d be straight down the closest newspaper. If you were his, he’d’ve found out when you were still just a fetus”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right... Hey, uncle Bruce, can you do me a favour?”

“What?”

“Can you get me out of school tomorrow?”

Bruce laughed. “No way, kiddo! My New Years Resolution was not to tell any more lies, even white ones”

Peter sighed. “Well, it was worth a shot”

“Get your little red suit on and go swinging through town for a bit. The adrenaline will do you good”

-

Bruce bit his thumb, listening to Tony speak.

“So you’re really not going to do a DNA test?”

“No! I’m not giving those bastards the satisfaction! I thought you’d understand”

“I understand your stubbornness” Bruce said. “I just think doing the test could be beneficial”

“What, just to give us a piece of paper telling us what we already know? I didn’t make that kid, and everyone knows it”

“You know as well as I do that lots of people believe the rumours” Loki said.

“So?! We know it’s not true, and that’s the important bit, right? I don’t need the test to tell me that”

“No, but maybe having the proof on paper to give to the press would get them off your backs” Bruce said.

Tony hesitated. “It’s still giving in to their pressure though, isn’t it? Besides, what is there to stop all these DNA companies from fudging the results?”

“Do you know how these DNA tests work, Tone? They’ve gotta test 21 genetic markers, and it’s all detailed in a spreadsheet report with all the tested markers, and a column for the alleged father and a column for the child, and it’s all got to be done by a proper laboratory. They’re credible companies, you know”

“How do you know so much about it?”

“It’s a basic fact, Tony. I read it ages ago” Bruce said. “These companies would have to do a lot of work to produce fake results, and if you did a retest with another company and they got discovered, it would destroy their business. Some of these companies charge big money for their paternity tests: it wouldn’t be worth it for them to fudge results just to be part of a newspaper scandal. Besides, if you made your results public and they weren’t fudged, they’d still be a big part of the story, and get more business through being credited. Sorry, Tony, but I think you’re just being paranoid”

While Tony was busy staring at him, Loki responded.

“Banner is right, darling. Faking results wouldn’t benefit anyone”

“Well, what does it matter? I’m not doing a DNA test”

Loki sighed. Tony looked at him, and at Bruce.

“You can’t do one behind my back, either”

“We wouldn’t do that, Tony” Loki sighed. “You know we wouldn’t”

“I know. Still, I’m done talking about this” he picked up his mug and took a drink. “...So what’s the verdict on the baby? Find anything?”

“His obs were all fine” Bruce said. “His anxiety was playing up which made things a little wobbly at first, but he’s fine, mostly”

“Mostly?”

“Well... Have either of you seen him without his shirt lately?”

Loki and Tony exchanged a look.

“Why?”

“He’s looking pretty thin, like, almost worryingly so. He’s a lot thinner than he was when I gave him that check up a couple of months ago after that fall he had. Had you noticed anything?”

“He hasn’t been eating properly for a while” Loki said. “He’s been ill a lot over the past six weeks or so. It’s impacted his appetite”

“Yeah, he hasn’t been eating much. It’s like he doesn’t really feel hungry much”

“What’s been wrong with him?” Bruce asked.

“Just general illnesses” Loki said. “Nothing serious. He’s been doing better recently though, so hopefully his appetite will improve soon”

“I see. Well, I just wanted to make sure you knew about it”

“We’re fully aware” Tony said. “You can’t bring that kind of stuff up with him though: he just thinks we’re overreacting and accusing him of having an eating disorder”

“Oh right” Bruce said, surprised. “Is that... Is that something he’s struggled with in the past?”

“Not exactly” Loki said. “He’s just a bit sensitive about that kind of thing. He’s had some body confidence issues before”

“Poor kid. I swear we didn’t care when we were that age. Kids these days worry too much” Bruce said. 

“Our kid certainly does” Tony sighed. “Where is he, anyway?”

“I told him to go out in his little supersuit”

“Oh” Tony said. “Well, at least he’s getting some fresh air and exercise”

Bruce laughed. “That’s such a dad thing to say”

“Well, what can I say? I am a dad!”

“That’s one word for it” Loki said.

“Oi!” Tony smiled at him. “You’re not funny”

“This news story seems to be affecting him badly” Bruce continued. “Fights at school, all the uncertainty, the anxiety flare up...”

“Yeah... Well, fights at school aren’t just because of this” Tony said, rubbing the back of his neck. “He’s still so different to a lot of those kids. I think they clash. It’s usually the same couple of kids he fights with”

“Are you still considering home-schooling?”

“Yeah, definitely” Tony said. “I think it’d be good for him. You know, comfortable at home, one-on-one tutoring. I think it’d work well for him. It’d work for practical reasons too, like not having to do the school run”

“What about his therapist?”

“Oh, he doesn’t see her anymore, hasn’t done for a while”

“Why?”

“He was doing well. He said he didn’t really need therapy anymore”

“I see”

“He’s made good progress. Still, homeschooling would take more stress out of his life, I think”

“Mm...Have you told him yet?”

“No, it’s still just between me and Loki” Tony said. “It’s still just an idea”

“Well, I guess you’ve got more important things to be thinking about” he said awkwardly. “So, what are you gonna do about this news story?”

“Wait for it to blow over” Loki said.

“Aren’t you going to release a statement?”

“Marco tried to get me to do one” Tony said. “I couldn’t think of anything to say other than ‘fuck off and mind your own business’, so we decided it would be best if we scrapped the idea”

“No kidding”

“Ignoring it is easier said than done, but it isn’t impossible” Loki said. “I’m happy to sit back and act like it doesn’t concern me”

“With all due respect, it doesn’t really. No one’s accusing you of being his biological father”

“That’s because I’m a god, darling” Loki said. “And I don’t look like him. Tony does”

“It still concerns Loki: he’s part of this family” Tony said. “People have been asking stuff down the hospital too”

“Wait a minute” Bruce said. “Loki, was Peter born at your hospital?”

“Haven’t the foggiest”

“Wait, just a minute”

“You’ve already said that” Tony said.

“Shut up, Tony. No, I’ve had a thought” Bruce said. “You don’t need a DNA test to prove you’re not his biological father”

“I know that” Tony said. “That’s what I’ve been saying”

“I know, but this is different. This is something else you could use to prove he’s not yours”

Loki and Tony looked at him. “What?”

“His birth certificate. Just dig that out and use it as proof. People might still have their gossip-based reservations, but it’ll have his parents names on it. Where do you keep it?”

Loki and Tony looked at each other. Tony bit his thumb. Bruce looked at them.

“You’ve lost it?” he guessed.

“We never had it” Tony mumbled. “Why would we? He lived with his aunt up until the explosion. It would’ve been destroyed in that”

“...But surely you would have needed it since?”

“He already had a passport, which was here, and we used a copy of the adoption certificate when we updated his name on it”

“But what about the adoption?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you need it when you adopted him?”

Tony shook his head. “No. Not personally, anyway. I think they maybe did for the legal bits, but our lawyer and people working with Li Allen took care of that bit. We just filled in the forms and did the meetings. There was a bit saying if we didn’t have a birth certificate to attach, to just put the place of birth, which we did. There was a bit saying they needed us to attach his dead parents death certificates, and obviously we didn’t have those. Not really any of our business. Maybe the lawyers and stuff got those, and his birth certificate. I don’t know. If they got the birth certificate, we never saw it. Adoption certificates replace them anyway, legally, so we didn’t need it” he looked at Loki. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

Loki nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“It was such a long few months. You know we had to let the local council know first, and then we had to wait three months before we could do our court application. We let them know before telling Peter, actually, just in case. We just wanted it done, but it took quite a while. At least he was already living with us. You know you’ve got to have them living with you for ten weeks before you can apply for the adoption court order?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve heard that”

“It was actually so much more difficult than we thought it would be. We read into it before pitching it to the kid, obviously, but there’s so many forms. We had so many afternoons sat with our lawyer going through rules and how to fill in all the forms and apply for the right things, and then actually doing all those forms and applications and stuff. It was pretty tough. It started to feel like they wouldn’t let us adopt him, even though there was no evidence to the fact”

“I can remember you being stressed about it at the time, and I remember seeing the stack of forms you had to send with the paperwork too. And I remember doing that reference”

Tony nodded tiredly. “It was a lot of work”

“The adoption certificate doesn’t have details of his biological parents on it, does it?”

“No” Tony said. “They never do. Like I said; they replace the birth certificate”

Bruce sat back, sighing. “I think you should request a copy of his birth certificate, if you’re not doing a DNA test”

“Why? We don’t need it. I don’t have anything to prove to anyone. The papers will move on at some point, going after some other story. If the only reason to get the birth certificate is to give it to the press, it’s not worth getting”

“I wouldn’t argue any further, if I were you” Loki said. “It’ll be like talking to a brick wall”

“Exactly!” Tony exclaimed. “Thank you, darling”

Bruce sighed, but nodded. “Well, I respect your decision. I don’t have kids, so I can’t really say what I’d do in your situation”

“Thanks, mate” Tony flopped back in his chair, draining the rest of his drink. “If there’s one thing about being a parent that I think I can transfer...”

“Oh, do share” Loki said.

“I love that kid more than anything else in the world, and I’d protect him with my life. Including from the press. I’d happily punch a reporter in the face to keep them away from my boy” Tony said. “I don’t care that we’re not blood related: he’s my son, and that’s more than I ever deserved to begin with”

*