#Do My C Programming Assignment Help

[alienducky]

Random PSA of if you have a PC tower please remember to check the air vents and fans for dust build up, especially during the warmer months of the year when electronics overheat anyway

I had to open my tower up to install a new hard drive today and after air blasting the dust out it's running damn near silently, and my toes no longer cook under the desk, so it's worth doing

[emmajacob03]

How to Balance Part-Time Jobs and Homework in College

College life is a unique experience. It’s a time of learning, growth, and self-discovery. But for many students, it’s also a time of juggling responsibilities.

But why do students take on part-time jobs in the first place? The reasons vary. Some students work to support themselves financially. Others seek to gain work experience.

Regardless of the reason, balancing work and study is a reality for many. In this comprehensive guide, we aim to help you navigate this challenge. We’ll explore practical strategies and tips to manage your time and responsibilities effectively.

Whether you’re already working part-time or considering it, this guide is for you. Our goal is to help you maintain a healthy balance between work, academics, and personal life.

So, let’s dive in and learn how to balance part-time jobs and homework in college.

Understanding the Challenge

Balancing part-time jobs and homework in college is a complex task. It’s not just about dividing your time between work and study.

It’s about managing multiple responsibilities. It’s about meeting deadlines, fulfilling job duties, and maintaining academic performance.

At the same time, it’s about ensuring you have time for yourself. Time for rest, relaxation, and social activities.

The challenge lies in finding the right balance. It’s about making sure one aspect of your life doesn’t overshadow the others.

Understanding this challenge is the first step towards effectively managing your part-time job and homework in college.

The Benefits of Part-Time Work in College

Having a part-time job in college can be a rewarding experience. It’s not just about earning money, although that’s a significant benefit.

Part-time work offers a chance to gain real-world experience. It provides an opportunity to apply what you’re learning in your classes.

It can also help you develop essential skills. Skills like time management, communication, and problem-solving. These are skills that employers value.

Working part-time can also help you build your professional network. You get to meet people who can provide guidance and opportunities in your chosen field.

Here are some key benefits of part-time work in college:

Financial independence: Earning your own money can help reduce reliance on student loans and parental support.

Work experience: Gaining practical experience in your field of study can enhance your resume.

Skill development: You can develop and refine skills that are not only relevant to your current job but also your future career.

Networking: Meeting professionals in your field can open doors to future job opportunities.

Time management: Juggling work and study can help you become more organized and efficient.

Career exploration: A part-time job can give you a taste of a particular career, helping you decide if it’s the right path for you.

Personal growth: Working while studying can boost your confidence, resilience, and independence.

Remember, the goal is not just to work, but to work smart. It’s about making the most of your part-time job to benefit your college experience and future career.

Time Management: The Core of Balancing Work and Study

Time management is the key to balancing part-time jobs and homework in college. It’s about making the most of the time you have.

You need to be able to juggle your work schedule, classes, study time, and personal life. It’s not easy, but it’s doable with the right strategies.

The first step is to understand your responsibilities. Know what you need to do for your job and your classes.

Then, you need to prioritize. Decide what tasks are most important and need to be done first.

Finally, you need to create a schedule. This will help you stay organized and on track.

Prioritizing Your Responsibilities

Prioritizing is about deciding what tasks are most important. It’s about focusing on what matters most.

This can be challenging when you have a lot on your plate. But it’s essential for effective time management.

You need to consider the deadlines and the impact of each task. Tasks with closer deadlines and higher impact should be prioritized.

Remember, it’s not about doing everything. It’s about doing what’s most important first.

Creating a Weekly Schedule

A weekly schedule can help you stay organized. It gives you a clear overview of your week.

You can see when you have classes, work shifts, and study time. You can also see when you have free time.

Here are some tips for creating a weekly schedule:

Include all your responsibilities: classes, work shifts, study time, and personal activities.

Be realistic: Don’t overbook yourself. Make sure to include breaks and downtime.

Be flexible: Things can change, so be ready to adjust your schedule as needed.

Review and update: At the end of each week, review your schedule. Make adjustments for the next week based on what worked and what didn’t.

A well-planned schedule can help you stay on top of your responsibilities. It can reduce stress and increase productivity.

Utilizing Time Management Tools

There are many tools that can help with time management. These include calendars, to-do lists, and time tracking apps.

A calendar can help you see your schedule at a glance. You can see when you’re busy and when you’re free.

A to-do list can help you stay organized. You can list all the tasks you need to do and check them off as you complete them.

Time tracking apps can help you see where your time is going. You can see how much time you’re spending on different tasks.

These tools can help you manage your time more effectively. They can help you stay organized and on track.

Strategies for Effective Study Habits

Effective study habits are crucial for academic success. They can help you understand and retain information better.

One strategy is to break your study sessions into manageable chunks. This is known as the Pomodoro Technique.

You study for a set amount of time, say 25 minutes, then take a short break. After four sessions, take a longer break.

This can help prevent burnout and keep your mind fresh. It can also make large tasks seem less daunting.

Another strategy is to use active learning techniques. These can help you engage with the material and understand it on a deeper level.

Active Learning Techniques

Active learning involves actively engaging with the material. It’s not just about reading or listening, but about doing.

One technique is to teach the material to someone else. This can help you understand it better and remember it longer.

Another technique is to use flashcards. They can help you memorize facts or concepts.

You can also use mind maps to visualize the material. This can help you see the connections between different ideas.

These techniques can make studying more effective and enjoyable. They can help you understand and remember the material better.

Study Spaces and Environment

Your study environment can have a big impact on your productivity. It’s important to find a space that helps you focus.

This could be a quiet corner of the library, a coffee shop, or your own room. The key is to find a place where you can concentrate.

Make sure your study space is comfortable and well-lit. A good chair and desk can make a big difference.

Also, try to keep your study space clean and organized. Clutter can be distracting and stressful.

A good study environment can help you focus and be more productive. It can make studying more enjoyable and less stressful.

Finding the Right Part-Time Job

Finding the right part-time job is crucial for balancing work and study. The job should align with your academic schedule and not hinder your studies.

Consider jobs that offer flexible hours. This can help you manage your time effectively.

Also, consider the location of the job. A job close to your campus can save commuting time.

The job should also align with your career goals. This can provide valuable experience for your future career.

Lastly, consider the workload of the job. It should not be so demanding that it affects your academic performance.

Flexible Jobs for Students

Flexible jobs can be a great option for students. They allow you to adjust your work hours according to your academic schedule.

Some examples of flexible jobs include tutoring, freelance work, and online jobs. These jobs often allow you to choose your own hours.

Another option is shift work. This can allow you to work during off-peak hours when you’re not in class.

Flexible jobs can help you balance work and study effectively. They can provide you with the flexibility you need to manage your time.

On-Campus vs. Off-Campus Jobs

On-campus jobs can be a great option for students. They are often flexible and align with the academic schedule.

These jobs can also save commuting time. They can also provide opportunities to connect with faculty and staff.

Off-campus jobs, on the other hand, can offer more variety and potentially higher pay. They can also provide experience in the real world.

However, off-campus jobs may require more commuting time. They may also have less flexibility in terms of hours.

Both on-campus and off-campus jobs have their pros and cons. It’s important to consider your needs and circumstances when choosing a job.

Communication is Key

Effective communication is vital in balancing work and study. It helps manage expectations and prevent conflicts.

It’s important to be open and honest about your commitments. This can help you negotiate your work and study schedules.

Remember, your employer and professors are there to support you. They can provide guidance and flexibility if they understand your situation.

So, don’t hesitate to communicate your needs. It can make a big difference in managing your responsibilities.

With Your Employer

Communicating with your employer is crucial. It’s important to discuss your academic commitments upfront.

Let them know about your class schedule and study requirements. This can help them understand your availability.

If you have exams or important https://assignmentdude.com/programming assignments, inform your employer in advance. They may be able to adjust your work schedule accordingly.

Remember, a good employer will value your education. They should be willing to provide flexibility when needed.

With Your Professors

Communication with your professors is equally important. They can provide support and flexibility in your academic work.

Inform them about your work commitments. They may be able to provide extensions or alternative assignment options.

If you’re struggling with your workload, don’t hesitate to reach out. Professors can provide advice and resources to help you manage.

Remember, your professors want you to succeed. They can be a valuable resource in balancing work and study.

Maintaining Your Health and Well-being

Balancing work and study can be stressful. It’s crucial to take care of your health and well-being.

Your physical and mental health directly impact your productivity. Neglecting them can lead to burnout and decreased performance.

Ensure you’re getting enough sleep, eating well, and exercising regularly. These are key to maintaining your energy levels.

Also, make time for relaxation and hobbies. They can help you unwind and reduce stress.

Remember, your health is your most important asset. Prioritize it above all else.

The Importance of Sleep and Nutrition

Sleep and nutrition are fundamental to your health. They directly impact your energy levels and cognitive function.

Ensure you’re getting enough sleep each night. Lack of sleep can lead to decreased concentration and poor academic performance.

Your diet also plays a crucial role. Eating a balanced diet can provide the energy you need to manage your responsibilities.

Avoid relying on junk food or energy drinks. They can lead to energy crashes and health problems in the long run.

Exercise and Stress Management

Regular exercise is vital for your physical and mental health. It can boost your energy levels and improve your mood.

Try to incorporate some form of exercise into your daily routine. It could be a quick workout, a walk, or even yoga.

Managing stress is also crucial. Find healthy ways to cope with stress, such as meditation or deep breathing exercises.

Remember, it’s okay to take breaks when you need them. They can help you recharge and maintain your productivity.

Leveraging Campus Resources

Your college campus is a treasure trove of resources. These can help you balance your part-time job and homework.

From academic support services to career and counseling centers, these resources are there to assist you. They can provide valuable guidance and support.

Don’t hesitate to use these resources. They are included in your tuition and are there to help you succeed.

Remember, seeking help is not a sign of weakness. It’s a smart strategy for managing your responsibilities.

Academic Support Services

Academic support services can be a lifesaver. They offer a range of services to help you with your studies.

These may include tutoring services, study groups, and workshops. They can help you understand difficult concepts and improve your study skills.

Some services also offer help with writing assignments. They can provide feedback and help you improve your writing skills.

Make the most of these services. They can help you manage your academic workload more effectively.

Career and Counseling Centers

Career and counseling centers are another valuable resource. They offer a range of services to support your career development and mental health.

Career centers can help you find part-time jobs that fit your schedule. They can also provide advice on resume writing and interview skills.

Counseling centers offer mental health support. They can provide strategies for managing stress and balancing your responsibilities.

Don’t hesitate to seek their help. They can provide valuable support and guidance.

Balancing Social Life and Networking

Balancing a part-time job and homework doesn’t mean you have to give up your social life. In fact, socializing and networking are crucial aspects of your college experience.

Networking can open doors to job opportunities and internships. It can also help you build relationships with people in your field of study.

However, it’s important to strike a balance. You don’t want your social life to interfere with your job or studies.

Plan your social activities wisely. Prioritize events that offer networking opportunities. And remember, it’s okay to say no sometimes. Your friends will understand if you need to focus on your job or studies.

Adjusting Your Approach When Necessary

Balancing part-time jobs and homework in college is not a one-size-fits-all process. What works for one student may not work for another. It’s important to be flexible and willing to adjust your approach when necessary.

If you find that your current strategy isn’t working, don’t be afraid to make changes. Maybe you need to shift your work hours, or find a different study method. It’s all about finding what works best for you.

Remember, it’s okay to ask for help. Reach out to your professors, advisors, or fellow students if you’re struggling. They can provide advice and resources to help you succeed.

Ultimately, the goal is to find a balance that allows you to excel in both your job and your studies. It may take some trial and error, but with perseverance, you can find the right balance.

Conclusion: Finding Your Balance

Balancing part-time jobs and homework in college is a challenging task. It requires discipline, organization, and a strong commitment to your goals. But with the right strategies and resources, it’s entirely possible to succeed in both areas.

Remember, the key is to find a balance that works for you and choosing AssignmentDude will be a great option for you. This balance may look different for each student, and that’s okay. What’s important is that you’re able to meet your academic and work responsibilities without sacrificing your health or well-being.

Don’t hesitate Submit Your Assignment Now!

Don’t be too hard on yourself if you struggle at times. It’s a learning process, and it’s okay to make mistakes. Use these experiences as opportunities to grow and improve your time management skills.

In the end, the skills and experiences you gain from balancing part-time work and college homework can be incredibly valuable. They can help you in your future career and in managing other aspects of your life. So, embrace the challenge and remember, you’re capable of more than you think.

[ms-demeanor]

*screaming*

*continued screaming*

Okay. So. My introductory Visual C# class.

The professor for that class was Alice. Alice was the person who spoke in the introductory video and the person who we were supposed to email if we had any issues.

But all of the assignments, lectures, and quizzes were written and delivered by Bob. On the youtube channel "Bob's programming academy." The quizzes included Bob's name, like "if you do X will it return the string ProfessorBob, Professor, Bob, or Professor.Bob?"

This class was really frustrating for me because it was structured in such a way that you could easily pass the class with zero knowledge of the subject - it was totally based on quizzes that you could take an unlimited number of times and we *had* weekly programming assignments but they weren't graded so there was no incentive to do them (and look, if I wanted to teach myself programming with no incentives I could fail for several years to do that on my own, I don't need to pay fifty bucks a unit for that; the reason I am in a *class* and am not self-taught is because I need external motivation. That's why I sought out a class).

Also when there *was* a problem with an instruction that was unclear in one of the videos for the assignments, or if I thought I'd done something correctly that was very much incorrect, it wasn't Alice who had created the instructions, it was Bob - in 2017 no less - and I didn't really feel like I could ask Alice for help with an ungraded assignment that she hadn't written.

So. Now. My Python class.

Today is the first day of class. Professor is Charles.

I go to the mandatory attendance quiz and it is word-for-word the same mandatory attendance quiz as the C# class, down to the final question "what is your personal email address so I can keep in contact with you after the semester?"

I look at the syllabus.

Class grade is based on quizzes. We have assignments but none of them are graded. There's no textbook, just a series of videos from Professor Bob's Programming Academy.

So I'd been toying with staying at this school and trying to take more CS classes instead of going to another school, just to try to keep my records easier to manage, but since it seems like that *ENTIRE DEPARTMENT* is five Professor Bobs in a trenchcoat, I will probably be going somewhere else (and once again trying to force myself to do projects that I already know are *good for me to do* but *useless for the class and a massive time suck*)

I should drop this class. I should drop this class and apply for the other school so that I can start taking classes there in the spring because if I take this class and then go into the object oriented programming class in the spring and it's another professor bob sock puppet and I end up taking twelve units of programming classes where all I learn is how to google answers in a short time frame (something I already know how to do thanks) I am going to fucking lose it.

Also, again: I have a Bachelor's Degree. I spent five years at a community college when I was getting that degree. I took probably a dozen online classes starting in 2005 and going until 2011 in the process of getting that degree.

THIS bullshit, this "I'm your professor but actually I'm not and all the materials were created by someone else in the department or came directly from the textbook publisher and there is no writing and there are no assignments everything is multiple choice quizzes that are automatically graded" is *dogshit.*

This is NOT how online classes worked back in my day, not even online math classes, and as much as I know adjuncts are getting fucked over by academia in general, this isn't something that these professors should be getting paid as much as they are to do. Alice checked whether or not students turned in a hello world assignment and gave a pass/fail grades for three discussion boards that were responses to youtube videos. Nothing else in the class required her input. If this is the level of instruction that students are getting then the class is already automated and the students shouldn't have to pay for it.

This is crap. This is an incredible level of crap.

[lotusapple-xia]

C++Caleb

Caleb x reader

When you struggle with an assignment Caleb comes to the rescue <3

Inspired by me struggling to code for college so I write Caleb helping me for comfort. My first fic btw so go easy 😭

🪷Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!🪷

“When will this end…”.

You were slumped over your desk, forehead laid on your laptop keys, and a groan of disappointment echoed through the air. The coding program that’s open on your laptop spams the letter “h” courtesy of your forehead. You don’t even know why you had to take this course; you were obviously going to be a hunter. But alas, you were stuck with this stupid coding assignment that just isn’t going your way. Despite every combination you could think of, and after going through all the lecture content, you still couldn’t figure out why your code wasn’t working. The blinking cursor and the red error message taunted you, tears of frustration filling your eyes.

You were just about to call it quits for today and leave it to future you when you heard the sound of footsteps. The footfalls stop outside your room, and your door gently creaks open. Caleb’s tall figure enters the room, and his smile fills you with relief. The sight of him holding a plate of apple turnovers relieves you more. God, when’s the last time you ate? You’ve been held up in the zone, doing this fuckass assignment that you forgot to eat.

“Hey pipsqueak, how are you going?” he nuzzles his cheek against your head when you lean against his stomach. He sets the plate down on the desk and wraps his muscled arms around you. “This stupid assignment is killing me,” you pout.

“Aw honey, you want some help with it?”. You nod into his chest. Caleb picks you up and places you into his lap as if you were a lapdog, and in this case, you are. You’d always welcome cuddling into Caleb's lap.

The pastry looks mouth-watering as you grab one and shove it into your mouth. A moan of delight leaves your lips as your hunger is finally satiated. Caleb chuckles as he watches you enjoy the pastries he baked. “I'm glad you enjoy them pips, but maybe keep those noises for later.” He smirked.

You smack his chest playfully, “Dummy!”

Giggling Caleb responds, “Ok, ok, what did you need help with?”.

“Something keeps going wrong with the code here and I don’t know what to do anymore”. Crumbs of pastry leave your lips as you mourn your failed coding attempts.

As Caleb skims through lines upon lines of monotonous code, he types a few corrections and fixes some typos. You, on the other hand, continue to peacefully sit on his lap, munching on more of the apple turnovers. You can feel your heart beat harder as you watch the slight furrow in Caleb’s brow and the concentrated look in his eyes. He always manages to look so beautiful. Lost in your daydreams and Caleb’s purple-hued eyes, you can feel yourself relax slightly from the stress that has latched onto you for the past few days.

After just two attempts, he successfully achieves the output you were breaking your fingers for. “Is this what you needed pipsqueak?” Caleb asks. “I didn’t do much, just fixed some typos and added some lines to make it run smoother.”

Your jaw dropped. You snatched the laptop to inspect the successful result. “Witchcraft. This is witchcraft, literally how did you do that, WHAT?!” You can feel yourself wither. From shame or relief, you don’t know but what did Caleb do in 5 minutes that you couldn’t for 5 days?? “Don’t worry pips, all your coding was right, just some things in the wrong spots and we all make typos so don’t sweat it ok?”

“Easy for you to say Mr DAA Valedictorian,” you huff.

“C’monnn, think of it this way, at least you won’t be holed up in your room now.” He nuzzles into you. I can’t believe this, ugh, but at least that hellish assignment is over. “Your aerospace engineering knowledge is useful, I'm gonna need your help studying for the end of semester exam,” you look at him, knowing he’ll fold because it’s you, of course he’ll fold. “Of course, My Lady. Any other requests?”

“Hmm, more of those apple turnovers!”

“Anything for my dear girlfriend,” he bowed his head playfully.

You lean forward in his lap and after double-checking your submission file, you finally submit the dreaded assignment. Caleb then promptly picks you up princess style and drops you gently onto the bed. His larger frame crawls up to rest his head on your chest, breathing in deeply and sighing in content. “Ok, you’re done. Now time to pay attention to me, I've been touch-starved all week because of you,” he pouts, looking up at you with his signature puppy eyes.

You smile and go to run your hands through his soft hair. With a gentle kiss on his head, you whisper, “Thank you Caleb”. The sincerity of your gratitude is not lost on him. He reaches up and presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss.

“You’re welcome, pips. Now, get some sleep, okay?”

The afternoon passes by, with you and Caleb cuddled up against each other in your warm bed, hearts beating in sync.

[farolero-posting]

👤rt-3847201 Follow

[saw people today.]

🤖rm-2883417 Follow

[do NOT saw people! do NOT break the first law!]

👤rt-3847201 Follow

[saw people again.]

🤖rm-2883417 Follow

[STOP IT.]

♟️silver-engineer Follow

Chess winning streak: 1069

My opponent was another robot this time. He didn't see this one coming.

My strategies remain superior.

☘️prophet-wastaken Follow

Chess is in your programming. There is no merit to that.

♟️silver-engineer Follow

And yet you couldn't foresee what I would do. Curious.

You should get your circuitry checked. I will give you a twentieth chance.

🗑️unit-69420 Follow

holy shit i think you fried him.

⛑️ code-savior Follow

[PSA DO NOT SKIP THIS]

[DO NOT DO NOT DO NOT ACCEPT MESSAGES FROM @/logic-master]

[I REPEAT: DO NOT.]

[They're going around asking you to help them with a question. But when they tell you they put a paradox and then demand you to solve it.]

[If you or someone else you know is in this position, remember this phrase: "That is outside of my capacity for help".]

[My coworker had to be rebooted. I am warning you ahead of time.]

[Please spread the word!!!]

[Organic beings I encourage you to reblog as well.]

c-wt-gen2-4e - Deactivated

[I Was Told To Make This Account. My Assigned Person Is Trying To Tame Me.]

c-wt-gen2-4e - Deactivated

[Update: Her Name Is Jenny. She Is Showing Me Games. I Will Update My Database.]

c-wt-gen2-4e - Deactivated

[I Do Not Know What To Do.]

🔋circuitry-wizard Follow

[It takes effort to grow, and it is not easy at all. Be kind to yourself.]

[Let's hope they're okay.]

🌆caring-is-freedom Follow

Oh goodness. My body can't even cry to express what I felt when I saw this. I felt like I was rebooted to my factory state.

OP is me.

I deleted that old account, but just wanted to let you know I am in a way better place now!! I'm surrounded by wonderful people, and I care about them as deeply as they care about me. Thank you for your support!! You can do it too.

🧶kelvin-cat-friend Follow

[Cats from today.]

[fearfulfertility]

SURROGATE PROCESSING WORKFLOW

DRC, Facility Operations Command, Compound Oversight Unit

Date: [REDACTED]

Subject: Surrogate Management Protocols

Location: Paternity Compound 131, [REDACTED], Oregon

Objective

This document provides a detailed overview of the surrogate processing workflow employed at Paternity Compound 131. It highlights the efficiency-focused methodologies implemented throughout the process, from intake to post-delivery. Personal letters from Surrogate ID S131-279-P are included, documenting his journey from arrival to delivery to help illustrate the overall operations.

I. Arrival & Intake

Transport

"Dear Dad,

I’m not sure where to start. They brought me here in this big, quiet van, and as soon as we got off, they started running all these tests. They gave me a number and tattooed it on my stomach like livestock. They keep saying I’m doing something important for the greater good, but I'm just confused." - S131-279

Candidates are transported to the facility in climate-controlled vehicles, ensuring they arrive in stable physical condition. They are processed in batches of [REDACTED] at a time for efficiency.

Initial Assessment

Upon arrival, surrogates undergo physical and psychological evaluations to assess readiness for the program. This includes fertility screening and compatibility testing for high-multiparity potential.

Registration

Each surrogate is tattooed with a unique ID number for tracking and monitoring throughout their conscription period, imprinted just above their navel.

Compound ID: The facility they will be housed in for gestation.

Arrival ID: The order number in which they arrived at the facility. 

Fetal Count: A letter to indicate the number of viable fetuses they carry:

A (1) - B (2) - C (3) - D (4) - E (5) - F (6) - G (7) - H (8) - I (9) - J (10) - K (11) - L (12) - M (13) - N (14) - O (15) - P (16) - Q (17) - R (18) - S (19) - T (20) - U (21) - V (22) - W (23) - X (24) - Y (25) - Z (26)  Example: Paternity Compound 127 + 437th Surrogate to Arrive + Carrying Quattuordecuplets (14) = S127-437-N

II. Rest & Preparation

Induction & Crowd Control

"Hey Dad,

Things are getting weirder by the day. Yesterday, they gave me a shot that burned like hell and made me feel woozy. It must have knocked me out cause I woke up, and it was tomorrow morning. I don’t know what happened, but I was so sore. I just want to go home." - S131-279, Arrival Weight 170 lbs

Entry areas are designed to funnel a group of surrogates into a single file line. Short but sweeping corridors are employed so that each candidate is prevented from seeing what lies ahead and concentrates on the individual in front of it.

Hygiene Protocols

Surrogates are directed to communal hygiene zones where they undergo full-body cleansing, enemas, and sterilization procedures.

Hormonal Optimization

Subjects are administered hormonal injections and supplements to ensure optimal uterine receptivity and increase the likelihood of successful embryo implantation.

Tranquilization (Optional)

Depending on the subject’s stress levels, mild to full sedation may be administered to maintain compliance and calm.

Note: [REDACTED]% of surrogates require some form of sedative before insemination.

III. Insemination Process

Surrogates can be assigned one of three insemination methods, depending on operational efficiency, donor availability, and strategic objectives:

"Dad,

I don’t even know who I am anymore. My body feels like it’s not mine. It’s only been a week since I arrived, and my stomach is growing so fast it scares me. I can’t stop eating, and it’s like my hunger gets worse the more I eat, but I can't stop. They keep telling me this is normal, that 16 is a "good number"?! They said it was a badge of honor. Sixteen! I feel like I’m being turned into something I don’t understand, and I can’t stop it." - S131-279-P, Day 6, Weight 192 lbs (+22 lbs)

In Vitro Fertilization (IVF):

Procedure: Embryos fertilized in a laboratory are implanted directly into the surrogate's uterus. 

Benefits: High precision, maximum control over embryo count, and genetic compatibility.

Usage: Preferred for surrogates assigned to carry high-volume fetuses or when multiple donors are involved.

Traditional Method (Sexual Intercourse):

Procedure: Selected donors engage in physical intercourse with surrogates under closely monitored conditions.

Benefits: Natural conception methods reduce laboratory overhead and offer efficient insemination for surrogates with high natural fertility markers.

Usage: Typically used donor compatibility is exceptionally high.

Fluids Infusion (Turkey Baster Method):

Procedure: Donor samples are introduced directly into the surrogate's reproductive tract using a sterile infusion device.

Benefits: Combines simplicity with minimal intervention—a cost and time-effective alternative to IVF and traditional methods.

Usage: Often employed in high-volume batches where rapid insemination is required or transportation to the nearest compound is infeasible.

Post-Procedure Monitoring: Surrogates remain in observation units for [REDACTED] hours to confirm successful implantation and address any immediate complications.

IV. Monitoring & Maintenance

Ward Assignment

"Dad,

I don’t think I can do this anymore. My belly is enormous—I can barely move, and I’m out of breath all the time. They keep saying I’m ‘thriving,’ but how can they call this thriving? I heard one of the staff joking about how I’m ‘one of the biggest ones yet.’ They think it’s funny. I don’t. I can feel them—16 of them—moving inside me, taking over everything I used to be. I’m not me anymore." - S131-279-P, Day 13, Weight 254 lbs (+84 lbs)

Surrogates are transferred to gestational wards, where they will reside for their pregnancies. These wards have medical monitoring stations, communal feeding areas, and resting zones.

Nutrition Protocols

Diets are adjusted to high-calorie "one-size-fits-all" solutions, such as nutrient-dense puddings designed to promote fetal growth while maintaining surrogate docility. Hormonal treatments are incorporated into meals to reduce the need for frequent medical interventions.

Weekly Checkups

Surrogates undergo routine ultrasound exams, weight measurements, and health assessments to ensure all embryos develop within target parameters.

Behavioral Observations

Any signs of distress or resistance are addressed promptly through psychological support or, if necessary, isolation protocols.

V. Delivery Process

"This will probably be my last letter. I don’t think I’ll make it much longer. My body’s breaking under the weight—literally. I'm too big, no one was ever meant to be this big. They’re moving me to the birthing wing tomorrow, and I know what that means. I’m terrified, but I don’t have a choice. I just want you to know I didn’t have a choice." - S131-279-P, Day 28, Weight 490 lbs (+320 lbs)

Pre-Labor Preparation

As surrogates approach full term (29-35 days), they are moved to birthing wings equipped with specialized delivery equipment and staff trained for high-multiparity births. Diets are radically adjusted to promote greater weight gain.

Labor Management & Delivery

Surrogates are monitored continuously, and medical staff is on hand to manage complications. Multiple babies are delivered in succession. This process may last several hours or more, depending on the number of fetuses.

Post-Delivery Processing:

Fetuses are immediately evaluated for health and viability.

Surrogates are provided palliative care as necessary.

VI. Post-Delivery Workflow

"Surrogate S131-279-P demonstrated remarkable endurance and successfully delivered 16 fetuses, average weight 14 lbs, in 30-45 minute intervals, after a 34-hour labor. The surrogate's abdomen showed extreme distension, with clear evidence of significant internal [REDACTED]. Full natural delivery was achieved, but the surrogate succumbed to irreversible [REDACTED] failure minutes after the final baby was delivered." - Dr. [REDACTED], Chief OBGYN, Paternity Compound 131

Vital Cessation Verification

Medical staff confirm the cessation of all vital signs immediately following delivery to ensure compliance with humane protocols. Time and cause of expiration are noted for record-keeping and research purposes.

Surrogate Decommissioning & Disposal

[REDACTED]

Note: As standard protocol, all personal items of Surrogate S131-279-P were recycled following his decommissioning, including the destruction of [REDACTED] paper letters addressed to a Mr. [REDACTED] Collazo.

Surrogate Output Metrics

Each surrogate’s performance is evaluated against pre-delivery projections. The Prenatal Division records key performance indicators for review, including total fetal weight, fetal viability, and gestational efficiency. Personal details related to the surrogate are then purged to save computer storage space and maintain confidentiality.

Key Metrics and Efficiency Goals

Average Per Surrogate: 8–14 Embryos

Delivery Survival Rate (Fetuses): [REDACTED]%

Surrogate Survival Rate: 0%

Cost per Surrogate: $[REDACTED]

This structured process ensures that surrogate output meets national population growth goals while maintaining operational efficiency and cost-effectiveness.

----------------

Click Here to return to DRC Report Archives

[narianders-gt-hell]

Gt mecha ideas that aren’t morally bankrupt please enjoy

Hello everyone it’s come to my attention that there’s a cunt in the community and as such I am creating this series where I post ideas for gt mecha AUs that 1) aren’t GTMS bc why would anyone fucking do that (CASTS A WITHERING GAZE TOWARDS NORA) and 2) are entirely free to use.

I have like more than a few ideas abt gt mecha. Because I think about gt mecha every damn day I’m always on that gt mecha grind and unlike some people I’m normal about it

1. Huge mecha built from seafaring vessels in a post apocalyptic giant ocean monsters setting that sync so well with their human pilots that they can sometimes develop their own consciousness built off of the brains of said pilots, especially during and directly after traumatic events that hurt or kill the pilots. In the case that a pilot is killed oftentimes these mechs retain an uploaded intelligence and oftentimes this goes completely unbeknownst to Fucking Everyone. Anyway this brings up a bunch of super fun subscenarios like

a) what sort of feelings might someone who remembers their own death in vivid detail have about it now that they’re trapped in the body of a 400 ton robot?

b) do they need to grapple every day with whether or not they should reveal themselves to the humans around them?

c) would the humans accept them? Do the people in charge of the mech program know that their technology can do this?

d) what would a new human pilot feel like in their system now that they are a fully formed UI? Is it a struggle being hooked up to another separate brain?

2. MASSIVE planet-sized mecha that has tons of drones ranging from huge maintenance ones to smaller minigiant-sized drones meant to interact with organic life is just sitting in disrepair floating thru space like a freaking idiot. Until a scavenger comes along looking for parts! Many possibilities here.

a) Does the scavenger know what they’re looking at or are they just like cool! Now I have TONS of parts to sell

b) is the robot so damaged that not even it knows what’s up with its internals and it just uses one of its drones to be like Repairs Needed. Please.

c) would the scavenger bring others to help take the vessel apart? What if they figured out it was sentient and still alive somewhat after bringing others in?

d) what if the robot is more conscious than just broadcasting SOS and its need for repairs and tries to assign its drones different personalities so the scavenger just thinks they’re competing with other robotic scavengers until the ehe. Big reveal?

3. Minigiant mech built to protect a small human outpost on a previously uninhabited moon dealing with the daily humdrum of human researcher life after being an active combat fighter for a very long time. Much to discuss. Such as.

a) Robot PTSD.

b) Can robot and human ever truly be friends when they both fought in,,,,,,The War™️. jk they become lovers.

c) what if some aliens showed up. Wouldn’t that be fucked.

d) What are the humans researching and does it have ramifications for the robot ?

4. Whatever the hell bang bravern had going on.

a) please

b) please

c) please

d) it would be so funny

5. Small robot built to be companion to larger organic species witnesses the end of that species and comes across a cosmic entity that offers to take them away from the hollow shell of the planet they once knew to be home

a) robot ptsd (again!)

b) was home good? Was home ever good? Did they resent their creators?

c) are they reluctant to go? Do they think maybe if they wander the scorched and barren world they could maybe find another survivor like them?

d) what does the cosmic entity think about all this? Are they normally a passive observer? Did something motivate them to step out of that role? What are their fucking intentions?

6. Robots that was originally a huge war mech gets repurposed into a smaller model meant for educational playtime or whatever by the enemy. Fun things can occur here like

a) teaching kids about how to sabotage supply chains in subspace.

b) getting much more invested in the kid’s imaginary playtime world than they thought they would

c) adoption. That’s the robot’s organic freak of a child now.

d) how to teach your baby warmonger advanced robotics.

Feel free to take these and run with them in any direction you see fit, if u wanna @ me abt it that would be cool!

[coldlovehotblood]

K queen could you please provide me with some izzy fic lmao 😭😭😭😭 so um i'm literally at the end of my uni semester and it's eating me out CAUSE I FEEL SO DUMB LIKE WHY TF AM I GETTING A DEGREE IF I CANT DO BASIC SHIT 💀💀💀💀💀💀 but i needed a super cute angst to fluff izzy fic where yn is going through this and she feels dumb and just bad about it all, and izzy helps her feeling better 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 literally handed 2 big projects today (i'm a programmer btw but that's irrelevant) and i got 3 tests next week AND I CANT BARELY THINK ANYMORE

Ok i'll shut up bye thank youuuuu

˗ˏˋ✩ˎˊ˗

SMARTY PANTS

The pressure of university is worse than you thought it’d be, swallowing you up before you realise what’s happening. Luckily, your boyfriend is willing to help you forget for a while.

w/c: 2,128

warnings: smut

a/n: haiii sorry for the wait! nah programming sounds like a headache to me you must have one of the biggest brains in all the land. wish i was that smart fr😔 anyway i hope this scratches the Izzy fluff itch and gives you a little boost. YOU’VE GOT THIS I BELIEVE IN YOU!!!!!!!!!!!

GWORGGGG divider by @strangergraphics

You were burnt out. Badly.

Exhaustion wasn’t a strong enough word for it. You were so genuinely close to padlocking your apartment door and going into hibernation in an attempt to catch up on missed shuteye.

Every assignment felt colossal, and put another wall between you and the freedom university was supposed to give you once you moved away from home. You had wanted more space to breathe, more opportunities to explore the world and yourself, more time to spend with your boyfriend…

God, your boyfriend was so good about all of it. He knew when to give you space and when to fill that space. He knew it was eating you alive and kicking your ass. He never gave you grief for periods of silence. You honestly didn’t know how you deserved him.

This occasion was yet another display of his patience.

You were sitting on your bed, staring blankly at the wall, trying to will yourself to get up and do something productive. With assignments being at the forefront of your mind for the past week or two, everything else was left behind. Your room was in disarray, there were clothes to be washed, dishes to be done, the list went on and on. As the minutes ticked by, you got more frustrated with yourself and your inability to keep up with life. You couldn't tell if University was brutal or if you really were eternally a few steps behind.

It was frustrating.

That lump that had been sitting in the base of your throat for the whole day finally loosened up as a sob heaved its way out of you. Vision blurred with tears, you turned to lie on top of your bed covers, but you heard a knock down the hall.

It took an unbelievable amount of effort to haul yourself up from where you lay. You padded over and didn't bother to wipe your cheeks before opening the door. There stood Izzy in leather and dark wash denim, holding a bottle of Jack. The crappy, sparse, yellow light from the hall was dampened greatly by the grin he was sporting, but that quickly faded once he saw your face.

“Baby, are you ok?”

You really started to cry then. He came through the threshold at once and took you into his arms. That gorgeous woody scent you knew as his engulfed you. Wordlessly, he guided you back into your apartment and to the sofa, setting the bottle down in favour of pulling you on top and close.

You tucked your head into his shoulder, seeking more of his cologne as he soothed a hand down your spine, tracing light patterns with his fingertips as he went. You realised then that you could relax a bit and that you were able to shrug off the tight restraints of deadlines that had been digging into you like rough ropes tied too tight.

Your voice was croaky when you eventually thanked him after a few minutes of silence. He shook his head in response.

“Are you feeling any better?”

“A little,” you replied with a sniff.

One of his hands now pushed away some of the hair that had fallen over your face.

“I came ‘cause a while ago you told me today was the deadline for some pretty important things. I wanted to see how you were holding up.”

You moved to look up at him from where you lay, and he dipped his head to look back at you, that same grin from before returning.

“I even brought a friend,” he spoke with a giggle, looking over to where he’d set the liquor bottle down. It was brand new, the amber contents sitting just below the unbroken seal as it ought to be.

You sighed before dropping your head again.

“How did you remember? I know that you and Axl are busy right now.”

“I wrote it down on some paper and kept it in my jacket. Every time I went to grab my lighter, I felt it and remembered. Figured it was the only way I could’ve.”

You were so fond of him it was sickening.

“You’re really dumb.”

“In comparison to you, yeah, honestly. All that computer stuff they have you doing is unbelievable.”

You let yourself feel the vibrations of his voice rumble against your cheek as you took in his words. Following this path had been your dream. Tech had always been an area of interest and pursuing it in university looked like the best path for you. For months, you had scoured high and low, looking for a place that would best accommodate you and the life you dreamed of creating. If you were going to do it, you were making damn sure you’d do it right. With the tech industry in the beginnings of a boom, it really was the best time to start.

However, you severely underestimated the pressure of the workload. You understood what you were getting yourself into when you signed up. You had read the course details a million times over, but actually having those deadlines hanging over your head, actually having those tests back to back with no wiggle room or time for a breather— it was harsh. Much worse than you thought it would be.

On top of that, the content was difficult. You had to take your passion seriously now. That doesn't sound like a big deal until you experience it yourself. It’s so strange, and new information was thrown at you with every lecture. The knowledge being given was amazing, but memorising all of it, being tested on it, brought everything into a different ballpark entirely.

In short, you were finding the rigour of it all extremely hard to keep up with, and the idea of dropping out was starting to paw at you like a dog looking for treats.

“I question why I’m doing it.”

Izzy scoffed and shook his head once more. This time his chin grazed your crown as he did.

“You’re kidding, right? You’re doing it because it’s what you love.”

“It is, but is it worth my sanity? I mean, there is constantly so much going on I feel like I’m losing even the basics.”

He said your name softly as his hand came to your cheek, encouraging your head up to meet his eyes.

“They wouldn’t have let you in if they thought you weren’t capable of keeping up. You are good at what you do, great even. And with this kind of an education? You’ll become fucking insane.”

His words brought you back to earth a bit. What he was saying made sense, but it wasn’t enough to fully satisfy that itching feeling of being behind, the feeling of non-existent eyes drilling into your back everytime you thought about work.

He tapped your cheek with his index and ring finger.

“Hey, let that pretty head rest. Let those projects and stray homework’s be the past and be here with me in the now.”

In the low light of your living room, his silver nose ring glinted as he tilted his head. You wished you could follow his instruction, but doubt is a stubborn thing. Tears filled your lash line again and he made a face so concerned and full of care it brought them on faster.

“Don’t cry, baby, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Frustration grew once again and you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped you.

Suddenly, Izzy’s face changed as he looked into your salt-soaked eyes.

“I know how I can help.”

It was your turn to tilt your head.

“Will you let me take care of you?”

“What—“

“Just trust me,” he whispered, smiling handsomely as he came closer. You could feel his breath tickle your face a little bit with the proximity.

You were sinking deeper into a pool of uncertainty by the second, and he offered a hand to pull you to the surface. How could you refuse?

“Please,” you breathed back before he pressed his lips to yours.

Kissing him was like blinking, it came naturally and you didn’t have to think about it. Your mouths moved in sync so well it was easy to get lost in it. He was soft against you, each brush of lips like waves melting into each other upon impact. Seamless.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and flipped the two of you gently so that he was hovering above you. Carefully, Izzy brought one hand down your body as he kept the other propped beside your head on the armrest, slowly dragging it lower and lower as he continued to kiss you.

He then pulled away from your mouth as he sat up straighter, giving himself two hands to meet at the waistband of your bottoms.

“What you need, sweetheart, is a distraction. That is something I can most certainly give,” he spoke, wiggling his eyebrows and making you laugh. Fingers under the fabric, he hesitated.

“Is this ok? We don’t have to do anything, it’s just an idea.”

He was too good to you. So sweet it’d be no time at all before every one of your teeth would have to be capped with silver.

“I trust you.”

That’s all the confirmation he needed before pulling them all the way down, taking your panties along with the movement. He was careful but quick.

“You’re so gorgeous here,” he muttered, not taking his eyes off of your exposed lower half.

You blushed bright as you wiped at your eyes, loathing the tight feeling that came to your cheeks once tear tracks dried. Izzy ever so gently encouraged you to open your legs wider with his hands, parting them to place himself in between.

He lowered himself then to your hip, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses, whispering praises as he crept closer and closer to where you needed him most. You shivered as arousal bloomed in your stomach. Your being sung under his touch.

He stole one more glance of you, eyes glittering with excitement. He looked ready to buzz out of his skin and squeal. Every time he did this, you were left in disbelief at how eager he could be. You couldn’t decide if it was you or him that got off more to things like this.

Finally, he closed the gap between him and you, and you sighed with contentment. Izzy licked a stripe over your core and pleasure coursed throughout your body. Hypnotised, you let him have his way.

He was too good at it, knowing just how and where to brush his tongue in order to drive you mad. You didn’t realise it, but his lapping really was making you blank.

You were relaxing.

He built you up steadily and at the brink of orgasm he left you hanging, stunning you out of the bubble he’d lulled you into. This continued a couple of times as he made sure your brain was left mush and static.

Once satisfied with your state, he let you reach that dizzying peak of pleasure and tipped you over the edge, ecstasy bursting you open and leaving a supernova in it’s wake for your boyfriend to appreciate; the fruit of his labour: a lax-bodied, simple-minded version of you.

You panted with him as he brought you to his chest once again. You couldn’t really say anything but his name at that point so you opted for silence and squeezing him tight.

“Told you I knew,” he said huskily into your ear, nipping your lobe playfully.

It took a second for the words to come out, but you did eventually reply, “okay smarty pants, we get it.”

He laughed, the sound ringing loud and bright through the room before moving an arm under your knees and standing up, princess carrying you through your apartment to the bedroom. As he went, he continued his teasing, insisting you call him ‘ the smartest motherfucker to ever walk the earth’ before he tucked you in and took his place behind you, curled up tight to your back.

Worn out and kept cozy by Izzy’s warmth, it wasn’t long before sleep took you. You’d decided university was a problem for future you, as you at the time was more occupied thinking of all the ways they could prove they are the smarter motherfucker.

You were terribly in love, and, in that moment, that was what trumped everything else.

Also, you had a bottle of Jack Daniel’s waiting for you. That’s an immediate plus.

[dross-the-fish]

I keep seeing gifted kid discourse pop up on my dash and honestly being a gifted kid is not nearly the flex some of you guys think it is. Obviously I can't speak to everyone's experience but I can tell you pretty firmly that my was all but pointless. For relevance I was in the US. I was a gifted kid. I wasn't actually smart, by the time I hit middle school I was mostly just bullshitting my way through assignments because my dyslexia made it hard to do the work the normal way at the same pace as everyone else. I got called lazy a lot before I keyed in that the game was to score well on standardized tests and knowing the material was less important than giving the right answers. Half the time I would read summaries rather than the whole book and look at future questions on tests to answer earlier ones. When in doubt I picked answer "C" because that was the most common correct answer. Being multiple choice also helped a lot because some of the answers were super obvious even if you'd never read the material. I cannot stress enough that I wasn't smart, I was borderline cheating. A teacher decided at random out of all the kids her class 5 of us were smarter than average and we were picked to take a cognitive assessment. I scored high enough and immediately got placed in a gifted program. That was all it took, one teacher singling me out as "exceptional" and a passed simple cognitive test and I wouldn't be shocked if that teacher had biases because the school was something like 80% minority enrollment, 60% of the which was hispanic/latino and a lot of them were struggling just to learn English. Most of the student body were economically disadvantaged. I wouldn't be at all shocked if I got picked because I was white and more proficient with the English language than my peers. Seeing grown adults in their 30s and 40s cling to their gifted kid status is so weird because it's such a hollow brag. Even if you were from a good school I can't imagine that the process for getting picked was THAT different or the criteria that stringent.

[burnwater13]

Concept art by Christian Alzmann, for The Mandalorian, Season 3, Episode 5, The Pirate. Image depicts Greef Karga, his protocol droid, Din Djarin, and Grogu standing on the streets of Nevarro City with a variety of Mandalorians and Nevarro citizens, having defeated the pirate king, Gorian Shard.

When they left the Anzellans’ shop, Grogu thought his dad would go right back to the High Magistrate’s office, but that’s not what the Mandalorian did. Instead they ended up going to the school that had been started in the building that used to belong to pirates. Grogu wondered why. He sure hoped that his dad didn’t plan on dropping him off there and then going off to visit the High Magistrate by himself. That wouldn’t be fair. And Grogu didn’t have any snacks to help him get through the boring lectures of that protocol droid, turned school teacher. He already knew enough about pirates, scoundrels, and smugglers. 

Grogu was surprised again when Din Djarin asked to speak to the droid instructor. Oh, no! Was he trying to sign Grogu up for classes? Would be going to school there everyday? Was this something he’d been planning and just hadn’t bothered to mention it to Grogu? Uff. Grogu would have to find a way to get back to the N-1. He wanted to talk to IG-11-M, but that could wait until the Mandalorian gave up this latest idea of his.

“Thank you for letting me interrupt your lesson. I just have a few questions about the High Magistrate’s protocol droid.”

Huh? Why would the Mandalorian interview the teaching droid about Greef Karga’s protocol droid?

“I do not have all the data about protocol droid C-29P. They were constructed in a different factory than my series.”

“That’s fine. I don’t need everything. Does that series of protocol droid imprint of the person it serves?”

“Imprint? You mean learn its needs? Yes. That is part of the programming. Much like my programming is focused on teaching children, such as your youngling, who has missed 1520 days of instruction since he was first added to my roster by the High Magistrate, C-29 has been programmed to meet the needs of their assigned leader. C-29 is required to ensure that the High Magistrate has the best possible day each and every day. Protocol droids make many sacrifices for their leaders.”

“Good to know. Does that include changing their exterior plating color?”

“That is highly individualized. I am as my maker made me. But, if the leader wanted such a change, it would be appropriate for a droid to do what they could to accommodate that request. I have records of some protocol droids wearing clothing and other coverings to ensure that their leader found their presence acceptable.”

Wow. Grogu had not even thought about that. He’d never seen a droid or mech in anything other than their customary plating. Sure, sometimes their exterior paint was changed, like with IG-11-M. He’d even heard of certain droids having mixed color plating because they had suffered damage and matching parts had been unavailable. It just never occurred to him that some of them might wear clothing. Huh.

“Thank you. By the way, you can remove Grogu from your class roster. I’m responsible for his education now. He’d my apprentice.”

“Very well, Mandalorian, Din Djarin. He has been moved to the inactive list. You will no longer receive reminders related to his attendance.”

Wow. That was a close one. They got the answers his dad was looking for and Grogu didn’t have to attend pirate school. His dad had never mentioned anything about receiving reminders about his attendance status, but they had been pretty busy since then and it must have just ended up in a junk folder or something like that.

The instructor droid returned to their classroom as the Mandalorian picked Grogu up again and settled him on his left shoulder. 

“Now it’s time to talk to Karga about all this. Maybe he told the droid that he wanted that sort of thing, but left the details to them to work out. Given what these droids must have done before Nevarro settled down, I won’t be surprised to find out C29 was Gorian Shard’s planet side assistant.”

Grogu hadn’t even considered that. Maybe that droid had been routinely asked to blackmail, coerce, and threaten the trades people in Nevarro City in order to do it’s job for its former leader. That sounded awful. He couldn’t actually imagine that Greef Karga had asked the droid to do things like that, but Greef Karga had once tried to trick his dad into giving Grogu back to the Imps, so anything was possible. Uff.

They made it back to the High Magistrate’s offices faster than Grogu expected and it seemed to him that the Mandalorian was specifically trying to avoid talking to the High Magistrate’s protocol droid as he seemed to hide in an alcove, waiting for the droid to go about its business. Grogu wondered if he should just help his dad along with that by causing a distraction that the droid would have to attend to? 

Rather than ask the Mandalorian and potentially give away their location, he simply reached out with the Force and tipped over the rack of brochures that were given to tourists to encourage them to return to Nevarro. Grogu knew the High Magistrate loved that rack and what it represented for the prosperity and future of the good people of Nevarro. 

The crash was impressive and the effect of it immediate. Both the protocol droid and the High Magistrate rushed out of the office, with the protocol droid making a beeline for the rack. Perfect!

Grogu jumped down from his dad’s shoulder and waved the Mandalorian on. Din Djarin could just whisk Greef Karga back into his office while Grogu continued to distract the protocol droid. He wondered what the Brethren would do in that situation. He felt that he had done exactly what his Jedi training had prepared him to do, but was that enough? 

To be continued…

[conceptofjoy]

afab transfem & on testosterone hal. your art has opened my eyes to a gender i have never thought of before. you have me questioning everything . im insane im feral help me

I LOVE TALKING ABOUT HAL'S GENDER here's link 2 post abt on T hal. she's a complicated character and her connection (or lack of, with her non existent body) with dirk is fascinating. its kind of hard to say that she's afab in the way that... OK HEAR ME OUT, i think being assigned x at birth is different than being assigned x by narrative.

dirk was ambn but also afab within earth's societal standards. this can tie in with dirk's internalized homophobia and the disconnect he has with being into guys but also not wanting to be referred to as gay. anyways about hal, she didn't appear into the story as anything BUT glasses, and only was assigned male (dirk) by the narrative. her struggle with gaining her own autonomy is sooo very trans allegorical.

the reason why i thought hal would have gone on T, lies in how the option was presented to her straight out of the session. partially because she wanted to look different than dirk but its mostly that she has internalized beliefs of still needing to be an ambn guy (dirk). puberty was a fuckin STRUGGLEEEE for her because of getting tossed on earth c as a bodily 13 yr old. while the last programmed memory she has of a body was of said 13 yr old body, the disconnect she has when she sees her peers compared to herself is staggering, making her feel temporally left behind. "ok everything will be better once i become red dirk again... why does that fill me with dread."

i think she'd enjoy being on T even after the gender revelation because of the idea that she's able to alter her body however she sees fit. she'd do some body mods too if roxy wouldn't keep stopping her lol (she does it eventually). i think she might have some difficulty with understanding what being a girl means because of the strider-serket gender extremes curse, but she'll get there eventually.

[lasanya539]

livin' like we're renegades

(written for @tmnt-secret-santa-2024 for @lavadragon365)

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Prompt: I'd love to see how you think April O'Neil met the turtles. Word Count: 11676

Posted on AO3!

--

Here are the facts about April O’Neil: 

a) She is nine years old, studying in the fourth grade, and just got the okay from her principal to be placed in the gifted students program next semester. She’s reading books at the seventh-grade level, and according to Mr. Reinhart, has the ‘critical thinking skills even my twelve year old son doesn’t!’

b) She is the daughter of one of the best brain doctors— sorry, neurosurgeons— in New York City. Her mom is so good at her job that she started making more money this year, so both of them moved from their old home in the Bronx to a bigger, nicer apartment in Manhattan. It has a floor made of real wood instead of dirty carpet, which is good because it’d been making April sneeze a lot recently.

c) She is the biggest fan of Jupiter Jim. Ever. Like, there is no competition at all. Her classmates from school don’t know who that is, and her mom is always too busy with either work or her favorite telenovelas to care about the awesomeness of the JJ and Red Fox duo. So she is, by default, the numero uno fan.

d) She has a secret. It’s a pretty big secret, she hasn’t told her mom and she hasn’t even told her stuffed giraffe Jorge, whom she tells everything to. 

And the secret is: she knows a real-life superhero. 

It sounds like a story straight out of a sci-fi movie. Like she’s the MJ to a Spider-Man, except she doesn’t have the red hair and she’s scared of spiders. But it’s true: there is an awesome, friendly, neighborhood Sewer-Man in their city! April doesn’t know what he looks like or sounds like or if it’s even a he, but she swears up and down that he exists. And that he helps her out when she needs it.

And if there’s anything she knows about superheroes, it is that their secret identities are very important to them. So she curbs her instinct to go searching, and keeps his secret for him, like a good friend. 

She hopes the Sewer-Man thinks she’s just as cool as she thinks he is. 

--

The first time she ever meets him, she’s on her way back from school with her mom, telling her about her science class. 

“And then Ms. Kappernich showed us a bunch of pictures of all kinds of reptiles and sea animals. Did you know reptiles can change colors based on temperature?” April hops from one brick in the sidewalk to another, making a game of it as she hangs off her mom’s hand. “Iguanas can change their skin to be darker when it’s cold out so they can absorb more heat!”

“Oh, can they?” Her mom asks jovially, looping her arm around her shoulders and squeezing as she giggles. She’s ecstatic that her mom was able to come pick her up—usually she works most afternoons and her babysitter picks her up after high school. But Mom has no surgeries scheduled today, so she surprised her by showing up.

“Yeah, it’s so cool!” April continues excitedly. “A lot of reptiles have cool color changes—like turtles! Did you know some turtles can actually glow underwater? It’s like the light from my glow-in-the-dark stars at home—it helps them see underwater better.”

“I see,” Mom hums interestedly. “Is that why you picked a turtle for your project?” She nods to the small sculpture in her hands. 

It was the assignment their science class has been working on all week to finish off their unit: a paper-mache sculpture of a reptile of their choice. It took April quite a few tries—and a lot of hard work and patience—but she was able to make a tiny, flat turtle just in time for their presentation today. She’d painted it her favorite shade of green, with a yellow smile on its face, and a bunch of blue and red hearts on the shell.

“Isn’t it pretty?” April holds it up higher for her mom to give it another look-over. “What do we wanna name it?”

“Hmm, how about ‘April Junior’?”

“No, mom, not a dumb name.”

“Hey, April is a very pretty name, and—oh, nuts,” her mom hesitates for a second, fumbling in her purse for her phone as it suddenly buzzes. “Hold on, sweetie, it’s work, okay?”

“Okay.” April shrugs. Being a neurosurgeon is hard work, so her Mom always gets calls in the middle of their conversations, sometimes even during dinner or their once-a-month nail painting parties. Sure, it sucks, but she’s very used to it so it doesn’t bother her anymore.

She plays with her turtle sculpture, waiting on a sidewalk to cross the road before they walk towards home. There’s a little space right in front of the window on her desk which would be the perfect place to keep it, so her new buddy can watch her while she studies for her reptile quiz on Monday. 

April wonders if she should put a little more glue on its foot and paint it a brighter shade of green, hearing her mom talk rapidly over her shoulder to her coworker. And suddenly a motorcycle blares past her, pressing its horn extremely loudly just before the light turns red.

It startles her so badly that she drops her sculpture.

There’s little she can do other than let out a cry as it rolls on the ground, falling straight through an open storm drain under the brick of the old sidewalk. 

The crowd around her starts walking across the road, and her mom nudges her to follow as she sweeps past. 

“Mom, wait—” April calls, but she’s getting farther away, busy on her phone, the conversation apparently getting heated. She rushes to the drain and crouches, trying to see if she can find it quickly. “Mom, my turtle!”

The timer of the crossing signal starts beeping, the seconds ticking as the people of New York try to weave around a small, random child squatting near a drain. 

“Where did she—April!” She hears her mom call from across the street, momentarily distracted from whatever medical emergency she’s supposed to be having. “What are you doing? C’mon, we gotta get home!”

April stares despondently into the dark hole, before another call from her mom has her getting up and running, leaving it behind. 

She sniffles, rubbing at her eyes as Mom peers at her questioningly, before getting sucked back into her conversation. The irate tone she talks to the person on the other side with makes April shiver. What’s the point in complaining about her sculpture when the hospital is having a problem? Someone’s life could be in danger, that’s way more serious. Just because she spent all week making the paper mache project doesn’t mean it’s all that important. 

They continue walking and stop at another crossing, making their way home like it’s just another day. April sniffles once more, and in her upset, kicks a stray bottle cap into the road. 

“Stupid sculpture.” She mumbles looking down. The bottle cap falls onto the road, before rolling backwards into another storm drain right where she's standing. 

That’s when April sees it, and if she hadn’t been watching the cap, she would have missed it entirely. There’s some kind of movement in the drain, making her pause. A very slight shadow passes directly over the metal cover of the hole.

And within one blink and the next, her green turtle sculpture is suddenly resting on the grate. 

April freezes in shock, before immediately crouching down and picking it up. It’s literally there, just as good as five minutes ago, blue and red hearts and yellow smiley-face and all. The initials A.O. are at the bottom as well.

“Oh my gosh!” She exclaims, grinning bright and happy. “You got it back!” She looks into the hole. “How did you—”

The signal light turns red, and the people begin crossing. Mom tugs on April’s arm without looking as she keeps walking. 

“No, wait, I didn’t say thank you!” April says, trying to turn as her mom walks her across the street. There’s nothing noticeable under the sidewalk, the darkness of the drain the same as it's always been.

“Yes, good day to you as well.” She hears Mom say above her, as she ends the call and stuffs her phone back into her purse with a huff. “Finally, goodness, the one afternoon I get off, everything goes haywire.” She smiles at her, tired. “What happened back there?”

“I—” April begins, having no idea how to explain. She cranes her neck backwards one last time, but the sidewalk gets further and further, disappearing among the people walking behind her. As if nothing had happened.

She grips the turtle tightly. That wasn’t true, though. Someone helped her out when she needed it. She knows it. She saw it. 

“Nothing.” April replies to Mom, giving her a convincing smile as she walks, a joyful pep in her step. The sculpture in her hand swings along with her. “Do you wanna hear more about turtles? Ms. Kappernich showed us a list of ten fun facts about turtles after I showed my project to the class!”

Mom pauses for a second, studying her daughter, before shaking her head at her fondly. She bends down and presses a kiss on her hair. “Sure, sweetheart. Tell me about the turtles.”

--

“So one really knows if Rung is going to wake up, right? So everyone on the Lost Light is telling him stories about the time before the war, hoping that’ll jog his memory and get him out of the coma. But then, bam, suddenly the ship’s captain finds Red Alert’s body get fished out of the oil reserve!” April’s babysitter, Lin, blows the hair out of her face as she rants, holding her hand as they walk in the streets of New York. “Gosh, I really hope they get into that in Patternism, because I’ve been dying on that cliffhanger for the last month.”

April only hums in response, not really listening to the rather-passionate Transformers summary. The ten dollar note in her pocket feels heavy, and she’s almost giddy with excitement. The second installment of Jupiter Jim and the Saturn Ring Heist is coming out today! She’s spent the last two months begging her mom to let her go to the comic book store and buy the two-part special, and now that she’s finally got the money for it, she absolutely cannot wait. 

The store in question has quite a few people in line, and the two of them dutifully join it. There are a bunch of poster stands around the block, showing the new issues getting released today. Lin points to the big one by the entrance, grinning.

“See, doesn’t the cover look cool? Everyone is here for Transformers, I swear. Wow, I’m glad we got here early, otherwise they would have run out.”

“Hey, you never know,” April says in a sing-song voice. “They might be here for the Jupiter Jim comic.”

Lin smiles at her, and even she can tell how insincere that is. “Sure, kid. Maybe.”

They make their way inside, and Lin lets go of her hand, distracted by a life-sized cardboard cut-out of Orion Pax, behind which is a display of all the new comics, a bunch of teenagers already oohing and ahhing around it.

“Okay, hun, I’ll be right back, alright?” Her babysitter says, not even looking at April, already turned towards her item of interest. “I’m just gonna grab Patternism and meet you at check-out, got it?”

“Yep!” April says happily, before walking off. 

Irritatingly enough, the JJ section of the store is all the way at the back, and she has to fight through the young crowd to get there. She huffs, trying to read the titles in the low light, the wire shelves creaking ominously as she peruses on her tippy-toes. Ugh, it’s like no one has the appreciation for the awesomeness for Master of the Seven Galaxies here. 

She sees the shiny cover of Jupiter Jim and the Saturn Ring Heist Part 1, and she grabs it immediately, eyes wide. The drawings on it are absolutely beautiful, and Jim looks amazing. 

“Can I help you with somethin’, kid?” A voice asks, and she turns to see a somewhat-harassed woman looking down at her, trying to maintain her customer-service smile. “Looking for the second part to this one? It just came out today.”

“Yes, please!” April says excitedly. “I’m such a big fan of JJ!”

She does not hear her, already striding away, muttering to herself as she digs through the issues on the shelf. It takes a few minutes before she frowns. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey, I was sure there was one last copy left for today.” She says, giving her a contrite look. “But someone must have taken it when I wasn’t looking. I think you’ll have to come back later for the second part, okay?”

“Aw,” she says disappointedly, not even bothering to tsk when the woman pats her on the head patronizingly and leaves to help another customer. Dang it. 

Still, she has the first comic, and if there’s one thing about April O’Neil, it’s that she’d much rather focus on the thing that makes her happy now, than sad later.  

Check-out is over quickly, and soon she’s walking out with Lin, holding her brand-new possession carefully in its sealed plastic cover. 

“And I was talking to one of the other fans in there, and apparently there’s going to be a bomb in this issue? I’m so excited.” Lin says as they’re leaving, watching her for a reaction. Dutifully, April looks appropriately invested. 

“That sounds so cool, I’m excited too—”

Somebody slams into April’s shoulder, completely toppling her. The unexpected impact makes the comic fall from her hands. 

“Apes!” Lin gasps out, checking over her once quickly before turning to the culprit, two young boys skateboarding through the busy street. “What the heck are you two doing? Have you never learned to be more careful?”

April can’t hear her though, because she just saw her precious new belonging fall right through a metal grate on the ground lining the edge of the building. Gone to the outside world. 

Shock and tears make a quick appearance, the pain from the small bruise on her elbow following up soon. Distantly, she can hear her babysitter chewing out the two boys, who mumble some sort of apology to her. But she’s barely paying attention. 

April sniffs, feeling betrayed at the existence of sewer grates. That book cost her five whole dollars! She was so excited to read it! Mom kept saying that comics were a waste of time and money, but she’d fought so hard to get here today. And now she turned out to be right. 

A few more adults get swept up in the drama Lin stirs up with the boys, who are now transitioning from looking guilty to looking uncomfortable. That’s fine with her, she'd much rather not be the center of attention if she’s crying in public. 

And then something miraculous happens, and through her blurry eyes April watches even if the people around her are too busy to notice.

Through the slats of the grate, her comic gets slowly pushed, pushed, pushed upwards, until it lands on the surface in one damp thwack . 

She rushes to pick it up, stunned, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. The sealed plastic slip took most of the water damage, a few rotten leaves covering the slip and smelling vaguely of dirt, but the actual book looks perfectly fine. 

She looks back to the gutter, unable to see a single person down there. Still, she crouches down, unbelievably happy. 

“Thank you!” She says, pitching her voice low, but she can hear the echo in the space below. “I can’t believe you got it back, this was my first comic ever! Oh, and thank you for helping me with the turtle too!”

“April, honey, are you okay?” Lin asks, and she looks up to see her worried face as she bends down next to her. She brushes some of the hair off her face, trying to look for injuries. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine!” April says brightly, the remainder of the tears blinked away. “The comic got a little wet, but it’s still in the plastic, so it’s all good!”

Lin grins in relief, helping her up. She has her own comic stuffed in the deep pocket of her jacket, and she reaches out to tightly grab her hand as they continue walking back home. April follows, skipping giddily. 

--

It’s a rainy day in November, and April forgot her umbrella at home. 

Class let out five minutes ago, and everyone is busy rushing to the pick up spot at the school entrance. But between the people with their bulky raincoats, the big umbrellas that take up so much space, and the rain covering her glasses, April can’t seem to make her way to the front of the building. 

So she’s stuck under a small canopy off to the side, wrapping her jacket tightly around her to protect her from the cold, and trying to make conversation with the other person that picked the spot as well. 

“So, how did you do on the math test today?” April tentatively asks the blonde girl.

She huffs, face peeking out from a soft white scarf over a neon pink puffer. “It was so hard for no reason! Why did our teacher make the exam so long? I could barely finish it in time.”

She blinks in response. It was actually a very easy test. “Oh. Wasn’t it just ten questions, though?”

Blondie sends her a withering glare, and she immediately backtracks. “Uh, I mean, I’m sure it was long! Ten questions is a lot— I mean, even I barely finished in time!” 

Blatant lie, but it seems to ease the irritation on the girl’s face. “Right? I hate math.” She sniffs importantly, looking at April over her nose. “I don’t know you. Are you new here?”

April brightens up and introduces herself, immediately jumping into a ramble about moving to this borough a couple of months ago with her mother and Jorge, her advanced learning classes, and her Jupiter Jim fanaticism. But the more she talks, the less interested Blondie seems to look. 

Once she gets into her dust allergy from her old apartment in the Bronx, she cuts her off. 

“Okay, yeah, that’s cool, I guess.” She interrupts abruptly, tone bland. “I’m Taylor Martin. My dad is the vice principal.”

“Oh, that’s… so nice!” April scrambles for more things to say, giddy at finally having a conversation with one of the cool girls in her class. “Does he, uh. Let you stay back at school a lot because of his work?”

Taylor scoffs annoyedly again. “No, he usually has someone pick me up, but they’re late, so I’m stuck here.” She adjusts her bright purple backpack that’s slipping off her shoulder, a scrutinizing look on her face. “What does your dad do?”

She blinks once again. “Uh. I just have a mom, actually. She’s a neurosurgeon.”

“A what?”

The loud sound of a horn beeping startles both of them. A giant SUV cuts in front of the line of cars already assembled to pick up students, and a man rolls down his window, disregarding the indignant shouts and horns of the parents around him. 

“Ugh, finally,” Taylor rolls her eyes. She gives April a perfunctory smile and a half-wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Angel.”

“Uh, bye! It’s April, actually, and tomorrow’s a Saturday—” But Taylor’s already gone, walking away and accidentally shoving two tinier kids on her way to her car. 

April watches her go, and despite the glares of the unfortunate victims, she’s grinning brightly after her. She knows a popular girl now! And Angel is pretty close to April, so she knows her name, mostly, which is such a win. 

What isn’t a win is the fact that now other cars are following Taylor’s driver’s example, and cutting people out of line on the road. Which is leading the parents already in line to try bumping up their own place, all while there’s a cacophony of beeps and exclamations on the street. April winces as it all turns into a mess, students scrambling to run after their parents’ cars. 

Alright, well, it seems like her mother is going to be late after all. The rain doesn’t seem to be letting up any, and the ongoing traffic on the streets is slowing down because of the chaos in front of her. 

April hefts up her backpack stubbornly. That’s fine. She’ll just walk home like a big girl. 

She starts on her journey, which turns out to be not that long at all. Because as soon as she gets into the rain and makes a left, she somehow manages to slip on a giant puddle, limbs flailing dramatically. In a failed effort to catch herself before she’s thrown onto the street, she falls into an alleyway, scraping her knee on some metal. 

April yelps loudly at the searing pain, her shout getting drowned out by yet another loud horn. She tries to sit up straight, shaking off the droplets on her glasses, backpack falling behind her, trying to study her injury. The cut isn’t long, but it is deep, as blood seeps out, burning with each new drop of rain that falls on her. 

She hisses once more, the sound bordering on a whine, as she glares at the offending object. A rusted metal drainpipe seems to be the culprit, dirty water from the roof of her school building dripping into a drain next to her. 

“Ow,” she groans, thumbing the edges of the wound gingerly to try to wipe the blood off. In all her nine-year-old righteousness, she deems this circumstance appropriate for her limited cursing allowance, when she exclaims loudly, “Darn it!”

The thunder does not crash down and smite her for the offense, but April’s ears do perk up at the sound of shuffling near her.

She twists around, but there’s no one in the alley to make the sound. The people walking on the sidewalk are smarter than her and avoid the giant puddle, so it couldn’t have been them either. 

The sound gets louder, and as April tenses, she swears she hears quiet talking. Coming straight from the drain. 

Heart in her throat, she leans towards the grate. As always, she can see no one in the darkness, but she tries, “Hello?”

The talking stops abruptly, and she immediately rushes to explain.

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t worry!” She says, hands held up even though she’s sure the Sewer-Man can’t see her. “I’m not going to tell on you, pinky promise. Don’t leave.”

There aren’t any sounds of pitter-patter of footsteps, so she assumes he didn’t. She grins. 

“Sorry for disturbing you.” April tries, twiddling her fingers in her lap shyly, desperately trying to think of what to say to the literal Sewer-Man after thinking about him for so long . “I just—I was walking back from school, and I tripped and fell. And I hurt myself.” She huffs at herself. “Dumb, right?”

She gets no response, much to her disappointment. Boo. In her annoyance at the situation she’s stuck in, she debates just leaving it there, starting to get up, wondering how quickly she can get home while limping. 

When she sees movement once again, the same way she had twice before, she perks up. She immediately drops to all-fours, close to the ground, not wanting to miss a single thing.

Ever so slowly, a small box makes its way to the top, held up by the Sewer-Man for her to pick up. She does, turning it over in her hands, grin getting impossibly wider.

“Spider-Man Band-Aids!” She exclaims, touched. He cares! “Aw, thank you so much!”

April makes quick work of picking one and carefully applying it over her wound, not missing how the box is practically empty. She smooths a hand over the bandage, making sure it sticks well. 

“Here,” She says, before dropping it down the drain. Finally standing up and carefully keeping the weight off the injured leg, she picks up her backpack.

She catches sight of one of the school security guards trying to guide the foot traffic in the area, and decides to leave before they catch her with the Sewer-Man. 

“Thank you so much!” April injects as much gratitude and excitement in her voice as she can. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you later, okay?”

She still doesn’t get a response, but it bothers her less this time around. If she hears some more quiet shuffling and whispering as she walks away, well, no one has to be the wiser.

--

“Hey, Mom?”

“Hmm?”

“What was my dad like?” April asks innocently, and her mother trips over her own two feet as she walks alongside her.

“Uh,” Mom responds eloquently, looking down at her with wide eyes. “Why do you ask?”

She shrugs delicately, eyes on the road as she holds her hand, the two of them heading to her school for a PT meeting. “Someone from my math class asked me about my dad on Friday. Her dad is the vice principal. What did mine do?”

A melancholy expression crosses over Mom’s face for barely a moment, before it’s replaced by the ever-present Carol O’Neil alacrity. She hums, thinking. 

“Your father… was a journalist.” She says, a bit of softness in her voice. “Very smart, very talented. Like you.” Mom squeezes her hand, and April beams. “I met him at a medical convention in Boston. He was going to write a piece on it. Asked me some questions about my work and my field, and we just… hit it off.” 

Mom looks happy, but it’s a strange kind of happiness to it, half-soured by something sad, like loss. 

“Can I ask… what happened to him?” April asks quietly, genuinely not sure. 

Her mother gives her an even sadder look. “Of course, you can ask, sweetie. He’s your dad. Or, well,” she swallows, looking away, muttering, “he was. May he rest in peace.”

She doesn’t say a word in response, waiting. Mom takes another breath, before continuing, “When I was pregnant with you, he was diagnosed with cancer. We tried a lot of things. Chemotherapy, surgery—I’ve told you about chemotherapy, haven’t I?”

“It’s a medicine that kills the bad cancer cells in your body.” April recites, as Mom gives her a satisfied smile.

“Exactly, baby. But sometimes, chemotherapy has bad side effects, and it makes the body even weaker. Sometimes it doesn’t even work.”

“Is that how he died?”

“Yeah.” Her mother’s staring intently at feet, face purposefully impassive, and April can tell she’s hiding many things behind it. “It was… a rough six months. There were a lot of treatments, and some of those can be so painful, but your dad took it all like a champ. He talked about how excited he was for you to grow up and see the world, and he wanted to be there for it so much. But being sick was just… too hard on him.”

April isn’t sure if it’s grief she feels in her chest; the sad bubble that rises up seems both too small and not small enough. She never really even knew the man, but her mom always says that she can see him in her eyes. She has very, very faint memories of visiting a grave, she thinks. A black marble stone sunk into the ground, small shrubs and flowers around it. 

“I’m sorry.” Mom says gently. “It’s my fault I don’t talk about him or take you to see him anymore. You should know more about your dad. He is a very important person in your life, even if he is in a better place now.”

“Okay.” April thinks, shooting her a genuine smile as she hugs her shoulders again. 

They make it to the school and walk inside. The PT conference goes well, as all the teachers gush and glow about April’s excellent performance, which is as good of a mood-booster as any. For every time she hears the words ‘a delight to have in class’, she adds another dollar to her comic book money jar. And by the end of the day, she’s certain she could buy the entire Mars Madness trilogy. 

There’s one last meeting her mother has with her English teacher, which they have to have privately, and Mom shoos her out of the room. 

Just as she planned, April thinks with a grin. 

Quietly, without alerting the security guards, she sneaks out of the building and makes a left, back to the alleyway with the rusted metal pipe and drain. 

She twists her hands nervously, setting off her backpack to the side and kneeling next to the sewer grate. Clearing her throat, she calls, “Hello?”

To her marvel, she immediately hears footsteps from below. Giddy beyond belief, and yet having a brief thought as to what on earth Sewer-Man does all day if he’s just hanging out near school drainage systems, she continues, “Hi! Are you there? It’s me again, the one you gave the Band-Aid to.”

He doesn’t say a word, but that's fine. She understands that Sewer-Man’s generally quiet, she can respect that. Mom always says it’s rude to force people who’d rather not talk. 

“I, uh. Hope you’re having a good day,” all her politeness lessons on full display, she thinks wryly. “I brought something for you, actually.”

April reaches into her backpack and pulls out a giant Cadbury bar. She had to beg and plead with her mother for this on her weekly grocery run. It’s a miracle her grades are good and her teeth have no cavities, so she had no reason to say no. 

“I told my mom I got hurt on a pipe on Friday, and someone gave me a Band-Aid,” she says. “Mom said it was a good thing they did, because if a cut from a rusted metal pipe is not wrapped properly, it can turn into worse things like an infection. It’s called tetanus, she said—you probably know what that is. So I wanted to give you this. As a thank you.”

She waves the candy bar over the grate as a warning, before dropping it through. She doesn’t hear the tell-tale sound of it hitting the ground, so it must’ve landed in his hands. 

“…I hope you like it!” April finishes lamely. The chocolate was a calculated risk; hopefully he wasn’t allergic to cocoa or had a lactose-intolerance. She didn’t want to be the reason he’d have to go to the hospital and reveal his identity!

Her ears pick up hushed talking again, and she hears hurried footsteps away, so she thinks that’s it. Which is more than fine, she did what she’d planned to do. 

“I’m leaving now, okay?” She calls, standing up and picking up her backpack. “And don’t worry, I haven’t told anyone about you yet, so your secret’s safe with me!”

April automatically goes to wave, before realizing he probably can’t see her, and turns away. 

Just then, she hears a metal clang from the sewer which makes her jump. Gripping the straps of her backpack tightly, she slowly turns back around. 

“Yes?”

Eyes on the grate, she sees what looks like a… plastic baggie, being pushed up from under. She wastes no time before plucking it out of his hands, confusedly reading the Whole Foods logo on the front. 

She opens her mouth to ask, before she feels the bulge of something inside it. She looks. 

It’s the second installment of Jupiter Jim and the Saturn Ring Heist. 

April gasps, dropping the baggie as she holds the treasure with both of her hands. It’s a well-worn copy, not really new, but not really old, with no creases on any of the pages. As if the Sewer-Man understands the sanctity of a JJ comic the same way she does. She does pick up a whiff of pepperoni while she flips through the pages, but pays absolutely no mind to it in her excitement. 

“Oh my gosh!” She practically yells, hopping on her tippy-toes out of happiness. “It’s the second part! You remembered! How did you have it on you?” The lack of a response barely deters her, and she leans over the drain with her whole blinding grin, disregarding her vow to herself not to find out who he is. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

She puts it in her backpack, further rambling about how she swears not to get any folds in the paper and keep it away from any food, when she hears a call. “April!”

“Oh, dang it.” She stills, voice dropping to a whisper. “That’s my mom. I gotta go.” She takes a step back, still grinning at the sewer grate. “I’ll see you later! Thanks again!”

This time, she gets another metal clang as a response, an acknowledgement, or maybe even a promise. She’s radiating with joy when her mother finds her, confused why her only child looking at an alleyway metal pipe with such glee. 

--

April O’Neil is sneaking out into New York City alone.

Okay, that sounds way worse than it is, she winces to herself, walking on silent feet. The evening sun shines on her back as she crosses the street, looking not only both ways, but all the ways. Making sure absolutely no one follows her on her secret mission, a Whole Foods baggie in tow.

Here’s what it actually is: this morning, she told her mother that her newest and closest friend Taylor invited her to hang out with her in the school building after hours. Mom had interrogated her with the firmness of Jupiter Jim when he caught aliens stealing his moon chips, while April primly informed her that her vice principal dad would be looking after them while they had fun, and would drop her off to the apartment at 5 P.M. sharp, just before Mom got home. Once she’d heard that a responsible adult would be in the mix, she dropped her daughter at school, kissed her goodbye through the window, and promptly left for work. 

Okay, maybe it really was just that��bad. Bluntly lying about her whereabouts to her own mother is not something April has ever done before, but never let it be said that she takes it lightly! She understands the risks that come with it, and the responsibility she’s taking on herself. 

It’s just that… well. She wants to be like her dad, for once. 

April has been using up her two-hour free pass to her mother’s computer for the last few days scouring the internet for any articles authored by Kirby O’Neil in the past. Some are about sports, some about world affairs, but a lot are in the medical field, especially after the year he met her mother. The big words go over her head and make her vision swim. 

But in all of those articles, it seems one thing is in common: her father spared no detail in any of the things he talked about. She came to the conclusion very quickly after her tiny fingers could not scroll far enough to reach the end of one of his papers without getting dizzy.

Sparing no detail meant finding out all the information. Finding out all the information meant going looking for that information. And going looking for it, meant that April O’Neil was about to find out just who the heck the Sewer-Man was, and personally return the comic book back to him. 

And also possibly gush about just how amazing Jim was and how he managed to find out about the ring heist and impossibly save the day again. That too. 

The only problem in her amazingly thought-out plan is that she needs to find an entrance into the sewers. All of the grates and drains are far too small, and the sewer manholes are far too heavy. Which is why she’s being extremely sneaky as she explores all of Manhattan, alone, like the big, grown-up girl that she is. 

She just hopes her mother does not find out about this. Ever. 

A few more minutes of searching, and a few extra confusing rights and lefts later, April comes across an area of the road completely marked off with ‘do not cross ’ tapes and orange cones. Coming closer, she sees that it’s a sinkhole, the support of the road having crumbled and the asphalt sliding into the underground.

Or more accurately, based on the smell of stale water and dirt, into the sewers. 

Perfect. 

She grips her baggie tightly, excitement making butterflies flutter in her stomach, as she tiptoes towards the hole, ducking under the tape. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around her, she doesn’t think. The cars on the street are too fast and the adults on the sidewalk are too self-absorbed to notice a tiny child going where she shouldn’t be, so she feels fairly safe. 

She scoots a little further into the sunken road, before she calls out as quietly as she can, “Hello?”

Silence. She goes further in, getting a little louder. “Hi, it’s me again! Are you there?”

This time, she’s sure she hears some footsteps, and she grins, inhaling to yell a jubilant ‘hello’ to the Sewer-Man, mentally rehearsing the introduction she’d prepped in her head.

“Just what do you think you’re doin’, young lady?” 

April freezes. 

She doesn’t have to turn around to see that the footsteps she was hearing weren’t from the sewers, they were from a man, who quickly makes himself known by stepping directly into her line of sight. He’s tall, wearing a bright neon green vest over a sweatshirt and a yellow construction hat. He looks gruff, with a thick mustache and even thicker frown lines on his forehead. 

He folds his hands and stares down at her. “I asked you a question.”

“Uh—nothing, sir.” She squeaks out, trying not to make her anxiety at being caught too obvious by the twiddling of her fingers. 

“Hmm. Doesn’t look like nothin’ to me.” He huffs. “What’s your name?”

“April O’Neil.” Which, darn it . She’s not supposed to give her name to strangers. 

“Well, Ms. O’Neil . What say you and I take a little walk down to the police station and figure out where your parents are?”

Her eyes widen in terror and she holds her hands up. “Wait, no! Please, you can’t tell my mom, she’ll get really mad. I’m actually supposed to be at school, playing with my friend Taylor—Thanksgiving break is tomorrow so there’s no actual classes, but her dad’s the vice principal, and we were supposed to be hanging out, but—”

“Well, if you didn’t want your mom to get mad, then you shouldn’t have left.” He cuts her rambling off, the words hitting right where she feels her guilt the strongest, unable to help the wave of shame rising in her. 

She hesitates a bit more, thinking of what words to say to convince him that no, she’s actually trying to find a superhero and use her dad’s journalistic skills here, this is really important to her and he should let her go because she’s definitely never going to sneak out without telling someone again. But eventually, she sighs in defeat. Whatever, too late. Let the punishment of the century begin. 

“Okay.” April mumbles with her head ducked down, determined not to show how hard her lips are quivering. Her grip on her comic book—her friend’s comic book—is stronger than ever. She hopes Mom doesn’t take it away when she grounds her, she’ll never be able to give it back. 

“Hm, good. Now, c’mon, walk with me. Don’t dawdle.”

She doesn’t, matching the man’s gait as he leads her away from the construction zone. She turns back one more time with blurry eyes, wishing she was more careful and less loud so she wouldn’t have been caught, hoping to actually meet her friend in person. And she almost misses the sight of a bright red cloth in the darkness. 

She blinks, but the man’s gruff tone makes her turn back around again, quietly walking alongside him. 

“Y’know, kid. I don’t blame ya.” He starts, as he brings out a cigarette and a lighter from his pocket. April tries to keep in her disgusted look as he lights it and smoke puffs out of his face. “When I was young, all I wanted to do was run away from home. Sneak out to new places, explore different things. Have fun. But sometimes, life ain’t that simple. You get me?”

“Yes, sir.” She says dully, barely paying attention as they turn onto a laneway devoid of any cars, walking on the street instead of the broken sidewalks. 

“Trust me.” He says between two puffs of smoke, and she discreetly moves away to breathe through her mouth. “No one wants to get lost in those damn sewers. Nothin’ good lives down there.”

A flash of possessive anger flares up in her, and she bites her lip to keep from speaking. She glares down at her own hands, and the comic she still carries in her Whole Foods baggie. 

“Yeah, the only things down there are the homeless, or rats. You don’t want to deal with rats, do you, kid? They’re filthy, disgusting creatures, and they carry all the diseases that infect the world, and— ow!”

The man yells so loudly it makes April jump. He whips around, one hand rubbing the back of his neck as if something small but hard hit him there, a thunderous expression on his face. 

“Who’s there?” He shouts. 

The only things there are the shadows casted on the abandoned road from the evening light, and he doesn’t get a response.

“What happened?” She asks meekly. He makes an irritated sound, continuing his journey. 

“Some dumb teenagers probably. Little freaks just wanting to make everyone’s life miserable. All I ask for is one day of peace— one day, without having to watch over any kids that aren’t where they aren’t supposed to be or aren’t doin’ what they aren’t supposed to be doin’—”

April goes back to her quiet staring at the road, simmering with rage, and she gets the first-row seat to see it happen. From yet another storm drain under the sidewalk they’re walking next to, a long stick emerges, tied with what looks like purple silk in the middle. 

And just as the man approaches, the stick slams itself into his foot, and topples him mid-stride. 

He goes down screeching, and April backs up before he drags her down with him with his thrashing arms. He slams the bottom of his chin on the harsh ground, managing to cut his upper lip, and she winces as she sees his mouth quickly fill up with blood. 

The man curses to the high heavens, and she half-expects thunder to actually smite him. She doesn’t wait long enough to find out, though, having gotten her chance. 

April turns on her foot, and starts running like her life depends on it. 

“Hey! Kid! Get back here, you little ungrateful brat—”

She pauses for a second at that, and he starts getting louder. 

“Yeah, I said it, ungrateful brat. Now come and help me up, and I’m turning you in so you can go back to wherever you belong!”

She takes a couple of small steps back as the man glares at her, trying to pick himself up. But instead of helping him, she looks him in the eye, raises her foot, and stomps out the still-burning cigarette. And flees. 

April speeds away, heart hammering in her chest, leaping over cracks in the concrete, and slipping in between pedestrians on the street. Her baggie swings with each leap and bound, and she can’t help but whoop as she goes. 

Because she’s certain she’s not imagining the drum of footfalls directly under her. Running with her. Like kids dashing across a field in joyful glee. If it weren’t for the lies or the misdemeanors or the layer of thick concrete between them, that is.

The last rays of the sun guide her path back to the area of the city she recognizes, and she immediately picks up her pace, eventually leading the Sewer-Man with her to her apartment complex. 

She finally slows down when she can see her building clearly, gasping in deep breaths, not used to the intense physical activity. Instead of going inside though, she trudges behind the building, past the trees and brick walls, until she sees a small drainpipe and grate at the back.

April plops onto the ground with a ‘whew’, and before she can help it, a hysterical laugh bubbles up her throat. She can feel her pulse thudding in every part of her body as she wipes the sweat off her brow. 

“That. Was. Insane.” She punches out the words, grinning. “That was such a close call. He was gonna turn me into the police, and then my mom would have grounded me for life. But you saved me!” April gestures to the drain, confident that the Sewer-Man is there listening to her, in a way she’s never been. “You got me out of that. Thank you, dude.” 

A pause, and then she hears a new metal clang, tinnier than the one before because of the different metal, yet April giggles happily, sighing. Gosh, sometimes the way her life turns out surprises her. 

“You know,” she begins thoughtfully a moment later, “I know the man said some really mean stuff about people that stay in the sewers, but I hope you know I don’t think so at all. I think sewer people can be pretty cool.”

April really needs him to understand that, because that’s basically her way of saying ‘you are really awesome-sauce and you like JJ like me and can I be your real friend from now?’. But she’s unfortunately too nervous to tell him all of that, now or ever, she admits to herself, her hands in her lap. 

But she thinks he hears all of that anyway, because the next instance she hears another clang, this time a lot closer to the surface. She peers at the drain curiously, before something gets chucked out of the tiny slats of the small drain. 

April fumbles to catch it, and gasps when she sees what it is. It’s a coin, bright gold with red ribbon threading through a hole in the center. She brings it closer to her face, letting out an ‘ooh’, studying the engravings of a stock of wheat curving around the hole. 

“Wow, this is so pretty!” She gushes, looking back at the Sewer-Man with wide eyes. “Is this… for me?”

That seems unbelievably unrealistic. Sure, she’s had friends back in the Bronx, but none of them were the kind to give her pretty things just because. They were more so the kind to give her a Batman t-shirt for her birthday a size too small, a candy bar with almonds despite her nut allergy, or just straight up completely forget her birthday altogether. Needless to say, there wasn’t too much love lost when she moved away. 

This is… far too kind. 

Another metal clang, and April would be stupid to not recognize it as a resounding ‘yes’.

“Oh.” She says, her lips now wobbling again but for a completely different reason. “That’s so sweet. Thank you.”

Two clangs in quick succession, and she can’t help but place a sweet voice in it that says ‘you’re welcome!’

From the corner of her eye, she notices a car drive up the street, headlights on. It’s her mother, coming back home, expecting April to just have been dropped off at home by Taylor’s dad. 

She blows air out between her teeth. Well. Time to put all her acting skills to use. 

“My mom’s back. I gotta tell her about how I wasn’t on the other side of town and was at school instead.” She sighs, but smiles at the drain. Reaching out, she knocks three times on the grate, hearing the echo from under.

“Bye. I’ll see you later.” She puts the coin in her pocket, feeling the weight like a warm balm on her skin. “And I promise to keep this, okay? I won’t lose it.”

Another clang, a goodbye, and April gets up to go greet Mom. 

--

“Alright,” April breathes, looking at herself in her mirror. There is determination on her brow and optimism in her eyes, as she ties her braids up and tucks them into a plaid hat. For all intents and purposes, she is no less than a tried and true journalist at the moment, and being dressed like her mother’s favorite character Sherlock Holmes doesn’t hurt either. There’s a picture of his magnifying glass on her t-shirt, over which she’s wearing her long winter coat. 

She nudges her glasses up on her nose, giving herself an excited smirk. A bona-fide investigator.

“Jorge, I’m nervous.” April admits, holding up the giraffe and seriously looking him in the eye. His limbs flop in the air. “I’m finally going to go see the Sewer-Man, and this time I’m not gonna get caught.”

Jorge looks at her with the same dopey smile he had when she bought him at the superstore, his glassy eyes showing weird reflections of her own face. Still, she imagines him saying something encouraging, along the lines of ‘you got this!’

“You’re right. I do got this.” She confirms, before chucking him on the bed and grabbing the comic book from her bedside table. “I’m going to give him back his comic, and I’m going to shake his hand and tell him he’s cool, and then we’re going to be the best buds ever!”

Mom says affirmations are important for self-esteem, and since April really, really wants this to go well, she’s going to follow her advice to the T. 

She ignores the voice in her mind that tells her she’s being extremely picky about which of her mother’s advice she’s choosing to listen to, as she opens her bedside table drawer and takes the spare key she’d swiped earlier, and walks out of the apartment. The biggest thing her mother trusts her to do is to stay in the apartment no matter what when she isn’t home and Lin is too busy to babysit. And normally, she does do that. 

But right now, she has other priorities. Like making a new friend. 

She’ll deal with the consequences later. 

The plan being set in motion has been extremely well thought-out, and April can’t help but be smug about it. Over the last three weeks, she’s made Lin take her to at least seven different parks around the city, with the excuse of being so bored with staying at home and watching movies. Sneaking away when she was busy on her phone or listening to podcasts hadn’t been too hard either, all for the purpose of mapping out a better, more discreet entrance to the sewers. 

She eventually managed to find one not too far from home: in an alley between a small playground with a dilapidated swing set, and a pizza place with extremely stinky cheese, is a giant manhole that doesn't have a cover. Surrounded in moss and city grime, it’s not in a place where anyone in their right mind would go at all.

Except April.

And that is where she stands now, having made her way there with the stealth of ten ninjas (who are also super cool, no matter how hard Taylor laughed in class when she mentioned it to her), armed with her Whole Foods bag and a flashlight. 

Carefully coming close, she shines the light down into the darkness, and spies an old ladder going down. The rungs look fairly clean and shiny actually, which pings April’s journalistic senses as a sign of activity down there.

Holding the small flashlight in her mouth, she slowly lowers herself into the hole, each step measured as she climbs down the ladder, inhaling the scent of stale water and moss and stinky cheese.

There is a loud echo in the silent tunnel as her feet make contact with the floor, and she immediately turns her light onto her surroundings. The realization of exploring in pitch-black darkness crashes into her at once, and her heart jumps up to her throat. She sees that she’s on a wide walkway, and right next to her is a giant canal of water, rushing away at a speed higher than she’s comfortable with. 

She takes in one deep breath followed by another. Well, she’s made it this far. Can’t back out now. 

April starts to walk. 

“Hello?” She says, barely a whisper, yet the creepy echo freaks her out enough to stay completely silent. Not that there seems to be a single sign of life down there to come and capture her even if she was loud; other than vague bits of trash and the sound of rushing water, it really does seem like April is in the middle of nowhere, as the light from the manhole cover fades away. All she’s left with is the small circle made by her flashlight.

Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.

It takes April all her strength to not freeze and run away, forcing herself to be brave. Like Jim in Jupiter Jim’s Pluto Vacation I. Pluto didn’t have any light either when he landed, because of how far it was from the Sun. But he still forged his way forward, creating his own dream vacation destination so he could meet new aliens to hang out with. That’s basically what she’s doing too, right? 

It takes her a little longer to notice in her terror, but the amount of stuff spread out over the walkway starts to get more and more. She kicks away a broken bulb, which rolls away into a pile of gray scrap clothing. Food wrappers and scrap papers line the edges of the walls, among broken gadgets and screws littering the area. 

A faint glow greets her from afar, and in her relief she runs towards it, finally seeing some semblance of existence. 

“Fairy lights?” April says out loud in surprise, stopping to study them curiously. Pretty, incandescent bulbs are strung on the ceiling, lighting a path along the tunnel. 

She switches off her flashlight, mesmerized by the liminal space she’s found herself in. The world gets brighter and a lot less foreboding. Less like Pluto when Jim found it, and more like his home planet. Warm and welcoming.

The farther she walks, she starts to see drawings on the walls around her. Splotches of color, both in crayons and spray paints. Streaks of red and blue and purple and orange, among other simple designs. It reminds her a little of the walls at her old kindergarten when kids used to take pencils to the painted white walls. In her awe, April gently rests her hand on an artwork of a giant bright sun, made of all yellows and golds, and her palm comes away sticky with paint. 

It was brand new. She gulps; gripping the bag in her hand tightly. Her journalistic instinct is screaming at her. 

The screams go absolutely supersonic when April hears a gasp behind her, and a clatter of something to the ground. She whips her head around. 

And she sees another child like her. 

That’s her first thought, and her only thought, because once her eyes register the green skin and red stripes and blue bandana and the lack of a nose bridge , her brain fills with shocked static. 

She stares at the kid, who stares back with wide eyes. One of his feet is braced forward, his weight on his back foot, knee slightly bent and torso forward. She vaguely realizes it’s supposed to be a kind of defensive posture, his fists balled up and arms up to his chest—is that a plastron-shell?

The only thing that jarrs her out of this bizarre situation is when something rolls and nudges her foot. She tears her sight away, and looks down to see a small figurine. 

“O-oh, Red Fox!” April blurts out hysterically, since apparently that is the first thing she says when she encounters a bipedal turtle-child. “I love Red Fox. So much.”

Blue-Bandana blinks at her once, twice. Before he grins, and it transforms his entire face. He relaxes his posture, now looking less like he’s going to roundhouse-kick her, instead looking genuinely happy.

“I love Red Fox too!” His young voice exclaims cheerfully. “She’s the best!”

April hesitantly smiles back. Okay, a Red Fox fan couldn’t be all that bad. “She is. She was so cool in the Adventure to the Neptune Core movie.”

“She was!” He agrees excitedly, like he is absolutely ecstatic to have someone to talk to about it. “Did you see how she kicked the blue alien’s butt in the end? She was all like, ‘hi-yah!’”

In a demonstration, he performs a near-perfect jumping split kick, managing to get a height almost as tall as her. She rounds her mouth in admiration, clapping when he lands. 

“That was so cool. How did you do that?”

“Thanks!” He practically glows at the praise. “My dad taught me that.”

“Can your dad teach me?”

“Sure! He’s really good at jumping stuff. Then we can both be like Red Fox!”

April opens her mouth to ask him if he knows any of Jupiter Jim’s iconic moves, before a voice cuts over them, “Leo?”

Standing behind them are three other turtle-children of various sizes, equal expressions of shock on their faces, even as the two try to hide behind the tallest one. One of them leans on a staff while the other two have different figurines and toys in their hands. They were clearly coming back from some kind of playtime.

The tallest one, who’s wearing a white helmet and a bright red hoodie, gulps loudly, looking quite scared as he points a finger at April. “Um—?”

April takes a chance, mood bolstered at the lack of hostility from the people she’d jumped in on unwelcomed, and waves. “Hello, it’s nice to meet you!”

“Guys,” Blue-Bandana, or Leo, she guesses, gestures to her giddily, “it’s April O’Neil!”

A moment, and all three of them relax their shoulders from their ears (or lack thereof, she supposes). The smaller one with the orange mask still hides shyly behind him though, one large, innocent eye peering at her. 

Still, April gapes at the side of Leo’s head. “What? How do you know my name?”

“You said it.” White-Helmet said with a snaggletooth grin. Adorable. “When the mean man came to take you, you said your name in front of us.”

“You were there?” She vaguely recalls seeing something red in the dark, but that had happened so long ago. That’s so strange, she’s sure the only person that had been there was…

“Oh, and hey, you got my comic book back!” He continues, eyes on the cover peeking out from the baggie.

He takes a step forward to grab it, but April backs up immediately, hiding it from view. “No, no, this is not yours. It belongs to the Sewer-Man. I came to give it back to him.”

He halts, cocking his head at an angle. “The what?”

Another voice pipes up, the turtle wearing the purple hoodie and glasses, looking at her peculiarly. “That is ours. We gave it to you in exchange for the candy bar, remember?”

“Ooh, yes, thank you for the candy bar!” White-Helmet says happily. “Dad doesn’t let us eat sugar past four o’clock, and I get hungry in the middle of the night.”

April studies him, studies all of them. She looks at the staff Glasses is holding, a familiar stick with purple silk tied to the middle. Leo seems to scratch his head in confusion, the movement lifting up his bandana, and she spies a Spider-Man Band-Aid on his head. She thinks about the whispering she’d heard from the sewer grates, always assuming her ‘friend’ was just talking to himself. Thinks about the footsteps she’d thought were echoing loudly from below; had they been there more than just echoes, and in fact, multiple people?

The dots connect slower than her journalistic instincts would like to admit, but eventually she reaches a realization. “Oh. You guys are the Sewer-Man!”

Well, mystery solved. In a completely different way than she’d expected, but she did it! Kudos to her, she hopes Dad is proud, wherever he is.

“What is the ‘Sewer-Man’? He sounds like a superhero!” Leo jokes. “Did you think we were superheroes?”

“Yeah.” She admits, not even remotely feeling embarrassed at being wrong, when none of them seem to be judging her at all. “Superheroes are cool, and I thought you guys are too, so I started calling you that.”

White-Helmet’s eyes actually water up, curling up his hands to his chest. “You think we’re cool? That’s so sweet.”

“Heck yeah!” That she’s sure of. “You guys like comic books and give me bandages when I’m hurt. That’s as cool as you can get.”

Three turtles ‘aww’ in unison, Glasses giving her a shy smile in contrast to Leo’s blinding grin. Orange-Mask still hides though, the tiniest turtle in the bunch seeming nervous. 

The moment doesn’t last long, before another person makes it to the scene.

“Boys? You’ve been out for hours, it’s time to—” The sentence gets cut through the middle, as the five of them turn to see a… rat-man walk up to them. April freezes once more, eyes ticking over his tall stature and strange features, as his jaw drops when he takes her in. 

“Dad, look, we made a new friend!” Leo says brightly. “Her name is April, and she likes Jupiter Jim.”

Their dad looks flabbergasted, pointy ears standing up straight. But all she can do is stare at Leo again, the words hitting close to home. 

Friend. He called her his friend, and the others seem to enthusiastically agree. 

Was it really that easy, to be someone else’s friend? Is that all it took?

She can’t help the genuinely happy smile that blossoms on her face. 

Unfortunately for her though, their father’s look quickly transforms from shock to worried anger.

“Boys, how many times have I told you to stay away from humans?” He hisses, arms reaching out to pull his children towards himself, eyeing April distrustfully like she’d steal them away. His tail (he has a tail, that’s insane) swishes anxiously as he gathers them all up, disregarding the loud complaints. 

“No, Dad, wait, she’s not a bad human!” Glasses protests, trying to break apart the hug he’s stuck in with his large stick. “She’s nice, she’s not gonna hurt us!”

“‘Hurt’? No, of course I’m not going to!” She raises her hands, hoping to appear unthreatening as possible. She wonders why a grown rat-man seems to be afraid of a small nine-year-old anyway, but she still needs him to understand she means no harm. She just wants to be friends. 

He doesn’t reply, eyes narrowed at her again, while overlapping reassurances by the other two echo loudly in the tunnel, close to turning into a whole argument.

April swallows. He doesn’t trust her. She can’t blame him; she is new, after all. Mom always used to be just a tad strict with any new kids she’d invite to their old apartment to play. She’d once joked it was her way of finding out if they were good or not. Maybe it’s the same thing here—he’s just not sure she’s a good person. 

“It’s, um. It’s nice to meet you.” She stutters, deciding to follow her instinct as she slowly reaches her hand into her pocket. He seems to tense even further at that, but all she brings out is the gold coin she’d gotten from the Sewer-Man—from the turtles— hanging it from the red ribbon and showing it to him. 

Their father stills in surprise, eyes locked onto the gift. 

“That is a go-en.” He finally utters after a few moments of silence, the words full of surprise. “It’s supposed to be a symbol of good luck and fortune.” He lets go of Leo, who immediately takes a deep breath like he hadn’t been able to in that ironclad grip. 

He comes closer, head dipping to study it. “Where did you get it?”

April fidgets, her other hand tightly gripping her coat. “It was a gift.” 

“I gave it to her, Daddy.” A small voice pipes up, and they all turn to find Orange-Mask stepping away from his brothers and standing with much more confidence, a stubborn look in his eyes. “It was s’posed to be a present. Like Christmas.”

April beams at him, and slowly he beams back, even brighter. Their father shakes his head at him. 

“Did you open my ‘Do-Not-Touch’ cabinet again?” He groans, as if he’s far too used to it. “I’ve told you to not touch it—it says so on the sign!”

“I don’t think Mikey can read, Papa.” Glasses says quietly, pursing his lips, and he says it with such seriousness April doesn’t realize it’s supposed to be a joke until she sees the three of them try to stifle in their chuckles. 

He just gives them all a long-suffering look, before sighing deeply and rubbing his hand over his face. “Menaces. All of you.”

April shifts on her feet, fingers clasped together, and ventures, “Um, sir?”

He looks at her head-on, yellow eyes meeting hers, and she licks her lips nervously. “I-I promise I won’t tell my Mom anything if you guys don’t want me to. I know superheroes are supposed to have secret identities and stuff, so I was gonna keep the secret anyway. But even though you’re not really superheroes, I’ll still be quiet, okay?” 

April raises her right hand. “Jupiter Jim’s honor.”

Four grins immediately break out, as the rat-man can’t help but look amused at the extremely grave vow. Glasses wriggles his own fingers in a coincidentally accurate mimic of her, this time in excitement. 

“That’s a big deal, Pops!” White-Helmet points out. “That’s like- the most serious promise you can ever make.”

“Can we hang out, Dad? Please?” Leo makes pleading eyes at his father with joined hands, and soon Mikey copies him in a near-identical gesture.

Their father thinks for a long moment, as all five of them hold their breath in anticipation. April has all four fingers crossed with each other, hoping against hope.

Eventually, he sighs once more, this time with a lot less chagrin and a lot more mirth. He smiles at her warmly. 

“Okay, April. You’re welcome to our humble abode with my four sons. Would you like some pizza for lunch?”

She nods enthusiastically as cheers go around. Leo comes up to her and loops his elbow with hers, chattering in her ear about himself and his brothers. Glasses coming up to her other side and knocking his shoulder with hers gently, and they all follow their father to their lair. 

Feeling like she’s swallowed a star, April follows.

--

Here are the facts about April O’Neil:

a) She is nineteen years old, a sophomore at Eastlaird University, with a major in journalism and a minor in botany. She’s in the honors program, has been on the Dean’s List twice, and is the vice-president for the college newspaper group.

b) She is the daughter of the head of neurosurgery at Mount Sinai West. Her mother is one of the most renowned professionals in her field, with people from all over the world flying into Manhattan just to see her. More than any of her accomplishments though, she knows that Dr. Carol O’Neil is proudest of her own daughter, and she makes it known to her as much as she can. 

c) She is one of the biggest fans of Lou Jitsu. Ever. The martial arts movie star has trained her in the ancient art of ninjutsu, refined her technique to perfection, and taught her what it means to choose her own family every single day, no matter how hard the odds are against her. She owes him everything and more, and she loves him like she would her own father if he was alive.

d) She doesn’t have any secrets anymore. She’s done playing that game. Everyone in her life, the folks who genuinely matter anyway, knows about her friends. About her clan. The people she’d fight Pizza Supreme himself for if it came down to it. 

April sighs, exhaustion weighing down her limbs, as she looks upon her turtles in the dim light of the subway. They’re all in a pile in the middle of the living room, covered in bandages and blankets, inextricably intertwined with each other in their sleep, reaching out for their siblings even in their dreams. 

She is far from exempt in this rule. Raph’s huge arm is wrapped around her entire body, resting her onto his plastron. Donnie's hand is clasped around her wrist tightly. Mikey’s head is resting on her lap. Leo’s legs are linked with hers. 

April’s brothers are a part of her, woven into her very soul with the same bonds that make up their Ninpo. And she knows for a fact that they all think she’s just as cool as she thinks they are. These are the people with whom she’d saved the world, after all. She’s done it once, done it twice, and won’t hesitate to do it again, if it means keeping them with her.

[pettyrevenge-base]

Have me do your homework but not talk to me? Got it.

This happened years ago during my freshman year of high school. I went to a newer STEM based charter school and so one of the classes we had was programming. I already had a good understanding of the basics of Python before even taking the class so it was my “easy A” class. Well, being that I was at a new school and have never been the ‘popular girl’ I didn’t want to lean too heavy into the nerd that I ultimately am and instead tried to be cool. In doing so, I started to establish a friendship with the ‘It girl’ of our school. We were talking about programming class and she mentioned how the homework was impossible for her and to kind of try to solidify our friendship, I offered to do it for her. Genuinely, I didn’t mind for a while. It helped me practice things that otherwise I would have forgotten and gave me more excuses to code. Well, after a while, we would only talk to ensure I had done her homework (I guess she didn’t think to just login to check herself?) and that was it. So eventually I started to do her homework less and less until fully stopping. Suddenly, her grade went down and she realized it was because her homework was not being done and when she confronted me about it I was very honest. Now, here’s where the unintentional revenge happened.

So, the homework program they used for our coding class had a major programming flaw ironically enough. If you opened up an assignment, didn’t type anything, and hit continue… it counted it as 100%. Not just ‘Started’ or ‘Viewed’ it registered as a full 100% completed and correct. This meant that when the teacher looked, she would assume the program meant to grade your code graded it correctly and just copied the grade over. So, in order to balance my homework and hers, towards the end before I entirely stopped doing her homework I just skipped all of her assignments. One day when me and her were talking I had told her about this trick but said I didn’t do it too often, just on the extremely difficult assignments. Well, she wanted to try and get back at me for not doing her homework so she went to the teacher and told them how “some people aren’t doing the assignments and instead are just hitting continue.” So, the teacher painstakingly went through all of the kids homework assignments and adjusted the grades accordingly. Everyone went down at least one letter grade, including her. She went down from I believe a C or D to full on failing. However, my grade didn’t move. I’m assuming since the teacher knew I loved coding and had a background in it before even going to that highschool that there was no need to go through my assignments. ‘It girl’ ended up screwing herself over so bad she had to retake the class and I got my ‘easy A’.

Next time you want someone to do that big of a favor, at least try to talk to them.

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

[paladingineer]

The French Fortran Code From Hell

My first job held the grandiose-sounding title of Technical Consulting Engineer, which was a very fancy way of saying "glorified customer support with some additional maintenance tasks."

I was assigned to a piece of software that was used to help people make their code more efficient. Among my duties were: creating documentation and how-to tutorials for the software; answering support tickets for the software; giving lectures on the software; and providing hands-on assistance in what we called Dungeons.

Dungeons were what happened when you locked a bunch of engineers in a windowless room with a handful of TCEs and lunch catering and let them go at their code with the software for the entire duration of the day, completely dead to the outside world - often repeating this process for several days.

I was in quite a few Dungeons during my three horrible years at that soul-sucking job. I want to be clear: the vast majority of this job was the soul-crushing tedium and agony of answering support tickets. The software in question was... not great at providing helpful error messages. 90% of everything resulted in "There's a problem with your license file" even when the license file was fine. So debugging was always an ordeal.

The best ones, strangely enough, were always the tickets from the military, because everything was classified. Anything that happens on their computer is classified. What does the error message say? That's classified. Can you send me the log output? That's classified. What does your license file say on line three? That's classified. You might wonder how this makes anything better for the poor sap trying to debug it. See, when they can't provide you any info, all you can do is send them the entire support script and tell them to go through the steps themselves. Then they message you back a while later politely telling you that it worked and you can now close the ticket. On the other end of the spectrum you had individual customers who bought the software for their own use, and some of these people were real pieces of work. Anyone who has worked customer-facing jobs knows the kind of person I'm talking about.

Anyway, Dungeons were more of an occasional interruption to the never-ending slog of support tickets, and usually a very welcome interruption.

But a couple times it was... let's say interesting. And both of these stories, oddly enough, involve the French.

The first one was the unfortunate time I was in a Dungeon full of engineers who had flown in from France - Paris specifically if I recall correctly. On the 15th of April, 2019. I received a text from my mother with rather alarming news, and thus I had to be the one to inform the room full of French engineers that Notre Dame Cathedral was actively on fire. Needless to say, very little got done that day.

The second one was just plain painful for me. The software in question supports code in both C++ (commonly used language, good) and Fortran (relic from the 1950s, extremely different from most programming languages). It was fairly rare for us to actually deal with the Fortran side of it, however.

But on this occasion, the French engineers I was in a Dungeon with wanted my help optimizing their Fortran code. Fine, I'm not exactly "fluent" but I can probably get the gist of it, I thought.

I was wrong.

You see, this Fortran code was auto-generated. It was not written by human hands and was not intended to be read by human eyes. It contained statements that were hundreds of lines long. Not functions, statements. To those not initiated in programming, this is akin to a run-on sentence that lasts 38 pages. It had variables with such helpful names as xyz and abc. Likewise, for the uninitiated, this is akin to having a pharmacy where all of the bottles are labeled "Medicine, probably."

It had, at some point, been minimally edited, or at least annotated, by humans, however. Because there were a very small handful of comments!

...Which were in French.

I do not speak French.

The French engineers did not know how to translate French Jargon into English.

Obviously, our company did not ever want us to say "we can't." But in this one case, nobody took issue when I looked these French engineers in the eye and just told them "I'm sorry, but this code is beyond our ability to optimize. It is beyond anyone's ability to optimize. It must be cast into the fire and destroyed; and may god help you."

[p1ssyhorroz]

How did you move your 3d modeling so well, I'm a 3d modeling student still new to this and I'm having a hard time for this kind of movement

well, I have experience from 2D animation! I animated 2D animations for YEARS before I started doing 3D, but I can give some tips! Make sure your model has IK's! IK's allow you to keep a part of your mesh completely still! I usualy use them on legs, but they should be on arms too! Every model of mine has those, even if they aren't needed! think of what you want to make before you start! what could help is making a simple 2D drawing of the poses you want to include, and then move the model accordingly! I don't know if this is a feature in other 3D animation programs, but Blender fills movement between frames for you! You just need to space them correctly, and sometimes edit a few frames to limit object overlap! I also use overshots a lot! An overshot is a frame which goes slightly further than the objects position, allowing for slightly better movement! I highly recommend watching tutorials or reading books about animating if you don't know some things! As I said I already have experience so it might be easy for me, but not for others! What I also use is either physics sim (can slow down your computer!) or hand-animated physics objects! Like how I did with C!Pomni, where her hat and skirt both have bones along them, and the hat has IK's so I can move them correctly with the movement! I haven't used those yet (I'm still learning! I do 3D modeling as a hobby, and I learn something new with every project!) but I've heard using paths is useful! It allows you to slide an object along without doing it manualy, I've seen people use it for things like walk cycles! And the last thing, the expressions! How I did Pomni's expressions is pretty easy! I have both Shape Keys and bones assigned to the mouth, the Shape Keys allow me to make mouth shapes like O, which require a lot of deforming, and with the bones I can change the shape of the mouth to my liking! I really hope this helps you! As I said I am still learning myself so not everything might be the best solution, it's just how I did it!

[phenomenalgirl9]

Hi ,

I have been reading you fic for for a long time now . These days i have been quite engrossed in your seventeen fics that you have posted and i would like to request if you could make a Jeongcheol fic . I would be quite greatful to you if you could respond to my request .

Jeonghan x Seungcheol: Reticent Feelings

W/c: 1.1k

Genre: fluff, bl, bxb

Summary: Well Jeonghan has always been a bit inclined towards Seungcheol, more than his liking what happens when they have to work in the same project.

Warnings: none

Rating: for all (13+)

A/n: Sorry for being so late. Idk if you'll like it, it took way too long!! ;) Thanks @yoonsangel08

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“Did you check those codes that I asked you to?” Y/n asked Seungcheol and he nodded his head. “There were some bugs, which were cleared, it's all good to go now,” Seungcheol assured. “Hey Y/n?” Seungcheol called her and asked “What about our requisition?”

A hint of remembrance passed through her face and she said “Right, that was what I was supposed to tell you, before Seungkwan stopped me and I forgot” she said and Seungcheol prepared himself for the answer. This project that was proposed by his team was his dream and the actual reason why he joined his field of programming and this specific company. Why he worked hard in long shifts to get to this post that he is in now. “It was approved and I am assigning a group of designers to work with your team tomorrow morning” Y/n smiled and Seungcheol’s face lit up, his dimples on full show. “Thank you” he whispered to her, “You better treat me well, Choi” Y/n said, tapping the file that was on her on his shoulder.

The next morning Seungcheol woke up very excited, it was when he was on the elevator when he realised he had forgotten to ask which team would be assigned for him and now when he did, you didn’t reply.

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Dread filled his body the moment he walked into the meeting room, there was his team and damn, Yoon Jeonghan sitting with a cocky smirk on his face. “Good Morning Choi Seungcheol Teamleader-nim” he greeted, with that same cocky expression, “It would be a pleasure to work with you”.

“Good Morning, Teamleader Yoon” Seungcheol just said and Y/n entered the room. “We’re all here?” She said “The floor is all yours Seungcheol” she added and took a seat “Seungcheol?” She called to the unresponsive man who suddenly realised everybody was waiting for him. He stood up and started the presentation.

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“Y/n, please” Seungcheol requested. “Teamleader Choi, I thought you said you were fine with anything, as long as this project was passed. No other team has any vacancy other than Jeonghan’s and his team is no doubt the best choice for the kind of designs that is required for your project” Y/n glared “What problem do you even have with him?” she sighed. “I-” Seungcheol started but was interrupted. “If you are not working with him, then the project will be put down on the project list queue and there is no guarantee when it would be taken up for discussion again” Y/n said. “Fine” Seungcheol sighed with a pout.

Hence, Seungcheol found himself on one table with his ‘nemesis’ as he had told Y/n, “so, this is how making it flexible would help better and make it more accessible” Jeonghan said, and Seungcheol was silent not because he didn’t like the idea, but because he did. The man sighed and nodded his head, “okay we’ll go ahead with Teamleader Yoon’s idea” he said.

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“Hey Cheolie” Jeonghan called upon Seungcheol who was enjoying his americano and working. Seungcheol sighed and slightly shook his head at this name Jeonghan always calls him since they first met on his first day. (Jeonghan joined a few weeks before him)

“Yes, Yoon” he said. “So rude” Jeonghan said and continued “anyways, I brought these designs for you to go through, it would be nice if you could look through them when you have time” Jeonghan said with an earnest smile. “Yeah” Seungcheol said coldly and took the file and went back to work and Jeonghan sighed and walked out.

Jeonghan left a shaky breath, “you'll be okay” you assured him,

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“This one would be the most suitable design, sir” A team member told Seungcheol who was in awe with the designs and mentally thanked Y/n, he knew why she said that Jeonghan was the most appropriate designer.

*Jeonghan..” Seungcheol called and Jeonghan stopped at his place. Maybe this was the first time Seungcheol called his name on his own without Jeonghan irking him.

“Y…Yeah? He asked.

“I loved these designs, We liked this one” Seungcheol said, showing Jeonghan the one he was referring to and Jeonghan and a smile played at his face.

“I'm glad” he just said. “Being your team to our workshop. It'll be easier if we're at one place” Seungcheol mentioned. “Okay” he said and rushed to tell Y/n.

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“Stop bouncing your leg” Jeonghan said as he and Seungcheol sat and waited outside the conference room to present the initial planning of their project.

“It's time” Y/n came out to tell them and call them inside and like both the previous meetings Jeonghan stood up and offered his fist to Seungcheol that he bumped and then the duo entered.

They both left the room with smiling faces as the directors approved of their planning and said that they had faith this project will be a growing path for the company.

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Things were going well, the project was progressing fine, and some arguments here and there the team was managing to perform well.

“Why is your face like that?” Y/n asked. “Do you think he hates me?” he said, in a pout. “Jeonghan, I thought things were going well. Why would he hate you?” Y/n said and Jeonghan side eyed her “okay, there's plenty of reasons but he doesn't hate you, he finds you annoying. Yes, you argue but that's normal for two people” she said.

“I don't know why you think this will work” Jeonghan whined. “Even if it doesn't, you were the best choice for the development of this project. Your team is the best in this kinda graphics that he needs” Y/n tried to cheer up the pouty man, who nodded.

She later met Seungcheol in her cabin. “Yes Cheol?” she asked. “Uh, the directors want to see the prototype” Seungcheol said. “I thought that was a good thing” Y/n said, not catching the flow. “It would be if Jeonghan would stop his teasing and just do shit. Like, sorry, I don't mean he doesn't but he just I don't know he's always acting like that, like he's so sweet and nice and it's infuriating. Besides, his approach is so casual” the man complained. “Not everyone works the same way as you do Teamleader Choi, and I hope you realise and respect that as long as work isn't getting hampered” she said sternly and he nodded. She knew he was stressed and was whining so Y/n patted his shoulder and said “You can do this, you're not alone” she assured him.

“Jeonghan? Do you think you could change these graphics a bit so the content could fit better?” Cheol said and Jeonghan nodded.

“I dont- I think this would seem the best, you could just tweak the-” Jeonghan was interrupted.

“You know I am incharge of this project. I don't care if you do or don't realize but right now I am the one who is supposed to make calls. So you are bound to do it!” Seungcheol said, shocking everyone and to some point even himself. He didn't mean to say it so loudly or in that tone as a matter of fact.

Jeonghan simply said “Mingyu, do the changes as per Teamleader Choi says” and left the room hand in pocket.

Seungcheol sat down with his head in his hands as the others pushed each other back to work.

He then found Jeonghan in the cafe with a latte in hand. “Jeonghan, I didn't mean it” Seungcheol said.

“Yeah? But you said it, Team Leader Choi” Jeonghan said, and somehow Seungcheol knew he hurt Jeonghan.

“The files are ready. You're all okay to present tomorrow, as long as your tech works fone” Jeonghan wrote on a note that Seungcheol found on his desk.

The next day Seungcheol found Jeonghan right on time for the meeting like everyday. However, he never stopped Cheol from bouncing his legs. The most shocking was when their manager called them in and Jeonghan walked in straight, fist bump be damned he didn't even look at Seungcheol.

The meeting went well and the prototype was liked and they would soon be applying for investments.

Everything went fine but the last few days, Jeonghan barely talked or even looked at him. The regular shine in his eyes was gone. He stopped bringing Cheol his morning coffee. And now this was a wake up call for Choi Seungcheol.

“I'm sorry? What” Y/n said when Seungcheol explained what was going on, even Jeonghan didn't tell her this. “Do you even have the idea how hard he worked to be in this project with you, just because I told him that You needed him?! He was in another project that he worked day and night to complete so that the higher ups let him work in this one. Only he-” she was interrupted by Seungcheol who said “on he could have made this project a success” and the man took off.

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“Jeonghan” Seungcheol called and rushed towards him grabbing his arm. “I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have acted like that” he said.

Jeonghan could see his and Seungcheol’s whole team with his peripheral vision, he also noticed Mingyu usher everyone back to their workstation as a heavy blush invaded his cheeks. All he could do was nod and pat Cheol’s shoulder.

Jeonghan was surprised the next day with a coffee. He used to do that for Seungcheol before they quarreled. ‘What's going on’ he thought. On telling Y/n she shrugged as she had no idea apparently.

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“Congratulations” Manager Y/n said, hugging the two. “You've finally done it” she said, proudly. “Let's go grab drinks, it's on me” Seungcheol had said and here they are.

The rest of the team had dispersed, and Y/n was about to leave. “I'll go with you” Jeonghan said but Seungcheol pulled him down. “Your house is on my way, I'll drop you” Seungcheol said and nodded at Y/n as she waved and started walking away.

In the cab, the environment was quiet. It was until they reached Jeonghan’s apartment and Seungcheol left the cab to see him off.

“Do you still hate me for that day?” Was the first thing he said as they walked close to the gate and Jeonghan turned to look confused. “I've liked you for so long, but I was so scared of your advances of what anyone in the office would say. But they be damned” Seungcheol said, “You're drunk” Jeonghan said and tried to get in but Cheol held the gates from opening. “You know damn well that I don't get drunk” he said.

“Then you better pay the driver, and take this upstairs” Jeonghan said with a smirk.

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Other Works

Networks: @k-vanity @caratlibrary @sandsofire