#MS Project training

[caddeskjaipur]

Microsoft Project 2016 has a multiple timeline view option available which helps in viewing different phases of the project plan. Also, its resource management tools assist you in tracking and monitoring all the available resources and let you find out the best potential way, in which they can be used for the project. CAD DESK has various courses in the field of CAD, CAM & CAE and they always prioritize giving the best quality training to students. Moreover, while taking the coaching classes for MS Project Course in Jaipur, students are encouraged to do Internship and also gets an opportunity to go for industrial visits as well.

During the MS Project Software Training in Jaipur , students get many other benefits like student panel, study materials, e-books, tutorials, and numerous projects which gives them a better understanding of the concepts of MS Project Class in Jaipur and also helps them to grow in their career. CAD DESK students get an option to transfer themselves to any of our CAD Franchise Centre in India, even if they have been registered at CAD DESK Jaipur or at any other CAD center. After the course completion, student not just only get the MS Project Course Certificate but also gets placement assistance through which they can get placed in any of the companies all over India.

[eduhubspot]

Data-Driven Team Building: Leveraging Metrics to Assess and Improve Team Cohesion

In the rapidly evolving landscape of project management, the days of relying on gut feelings and intuitive team building are giving way to a new paradigm: data-driven team cohesion.

For Project Management Professional (PMP) aspirants and managers alike, the ability to transform raw human interaction into measurable, actionable insights has become the ultimate competitive advantage. Gone are the times when team success was attributed to mere chance or individual brilliance. Today, we stand at the intersection of human potential and analytical precision, where every interaction, every communication, and every collaborative moment can be understood, optimized, and elevated.

This isn't about reducing human complexity to cold, hard numbers—it's about understanding the intricate rhythms of team dynamics with unprecedented clarity. By embracing data-driven strategies, project managers can now decode the subtle nuances of team performance, predict potential friction points, and design targeted interventions that transform good teams into exceptional ones.

From Gut Feeling to Quantitative Insights

Historically, team cohesion was assessed through informal methods: manager observations, occasional team-building activities, and sporadic feedback sessions. Today, progressive project managers recognize that meaningful team development requires a more systematic, metrics-based approach.

Why Metrics Matter

Data provides several undeniable advantages in team assessment:

Objectivity: Removes personal bias from team evaluation

Precision: Allows targeted interventions

Trackability: Enables continuous improvement monitoring

Predictability: Helps forecast team performance challenges

Key Metrics for Assessing Team Cohesion

1. Collaboration Efficiency Index (CEI)

The Collaboration Efficiency Index is a composite metric that measures how effectively team members work together. It encompasses:

Communication frequency

Cross-functional interaction rates

Shared project milestone achievements

Knowledge transfer effectiveness

Calculation Method: CEI = (Collaborative Tasks Completed / Total Tasks) × (Inter-team Communication Quality Score) × 100

2. Psychological Safety Score

Pioneered by Google's Project Aristotle, psychological safety is a critical metric measuring team members' comfort in:

Expressing innovative ideas

Admitting mistakes

Seeking help without fear of ridicule

Challenging existing processes constructively

Assessment Components:

Anonymous team surveys

Interaction pattern analysis

Feedback frequency and quality

Innovation proposal rates

3. Performance Variance Metric

This metric evaluates team consistency by tracking performance fluctuations across different project stages.

Key Indicators:

Sprint velocity variations

Task completion time standardization

Error rates and quality consistency

Individual contribution balance

Advanced Data Collection Techniques

Digital Collaboration Tools Analytics

Modern project management platforms offer unprecedented insights:

Slack/Microsoft Teams interaction patterns

JIRA/Trello task completion heat maps

GitHub/GitLab collaborative coding metrics

Communication sentiment analysis

Continuous Feedback Mechanisms

Implement structured feedback systems that capture real-time team dynamics:

Quarterly comprehensive team health surveys

Weekly micro-feedback mechanisms

360-degree evaluation frameworks

Anonymous suggestion platforms

Transforming Data into Actionable Strategies

Intervention Framework

Data Collection

Implement comprehensive metrics tracking

Ensure transparent, non-invasive monitoring

Analysis Phase

Identify performance bottlenecks

Recognize team strength zones

Detect potential interpersonal friction areas

Strategic Intervention

Targeted PMP training programs

Personalized skill development

Balanced team role redistribution

Conflict resolution workshops

Technology-Enabled Team Development

AI and Machine Learning Integration

Emerging technologies are revolutionizing team assessment:

Predictive performance modeling

Real-time team dynamics analysis

Personalized team optimization recommendations

Intelligent skill gap identification

Ethical Considerations

While leveraging data, maintain:

Individual privacy protection

Transparent monitoring practices

Consent-based data collection

Non-punitive evaluation approaches

Common Pitfalls to Avoid

Over-reliance on quantitative metrics

Neglecting qualitative human elements

Implementing one-size-fits-all solutions

Inconsistent or infrequent data review

Implementation Roadmap for PMP Aspirants

Step-by-Step Guide

Select appropriate collaboration tools

Design comprehensive metrics framework

Train team on data-driven culture

Establish regular review mechanisms

Create adaptive intervention strategies

Future of Data-Driven Team Building

The convergence of advanced analytics, artificial intelligence, and nuanced human understanding promises more sophisticated team development approaches. Project managers who embrace this data-driven paradigm will lead more cohesive, efficient, and innovative teams.

Conclusion

Data-driven team building represents more than a technological trend—it's a strategic approach to understanding human collaboration. By combining empathetic leadership with precise metrics, project managers can create high-performance teams that consistently exceed expectations.

FAQs

How Do I Start Implementing Data-Driven Team Building?

Start small and strategic:

Use free collaboration tools

Implement simple team surveys

Leverage existing project management software analytics

Focus on 3-4 critical metrics

Expand gradually as you gain insights

What About Privacy Concerns?

Ensure data ethics:

Obtain team member consent

Anonymize individual data

Use aggregated metrics

Communicate data usage transparently

Comply with data protection guidelines

How Often Should Team Metrics Be Reviewed?

Review frequency depends on project type:

Agile Projects: Bi-weekly

Medium Projects: Monthly

Long-term Projects: Quarterly

Recommended approach:

Weekly pulse checks

Monthly performance reviews

Quarterly strategic assessments

Do Data-Driven Approaches Work for Remote Teams?

Remote teams benefit significantly:

Digital tools provide rich interaction data

Objective metrics reduce proximity bias

Enable equitable performance assessment

Compensate for limited physical interactions

Key measurement tools:

Communication platform analytics

Project management software tracking

Virtual collaboration metrics

What Are Common Metric Implementation Mistakes?

Avoid these pitfalls:

Don't over-measure

Provide context for data

Never use metrics punitively

Balance quantitative and qualitative insights

Focus on team, not just individual performance

Maintain consistent measurement

Communicate metric purpose clearly

[davismaster01]

[rawliverandgoronspice]

The Hero of Time returns home.

(sort of)

[b3ach-bunn7]

4ME 4ME

You and Touya are assigned together for a project and friendship blossoms

Support student touya, quirks, fluff, strangers to friends

————————————————————-

(quirk was found on r/BNHA_OC_Characters)

October 9th

4:47 pm

Touya: Is this starshot

You: in the flesh 😝

You: u can call me Y/N tho

You: ur touya right? The support student?

Touya: Yes

You: delish :P 

You: r u excited to be my partner for this project x

Touya: No

You: right.

Touya: Come to the lab in two days we can run through what gadget we r gonna make

You: sounds gooddd

October 14th

1:34 pm

You: SORRY IMXOGNNA BE LATE AIZAWA TOOK AGES TO LET US OUT

Touya: Hurry up

You: I’m sorry 😣

Touya: Not forgiven

Touya: Not sure if I can go on

You: NOOOOO

You: don’t kys please🙁

You: I have peace offerings (m&ms)

Touya: Fine

You: wait where is the support lab again

Touya: Idiot

You: HELP ME

Touya: Second floor

You: thank you 🤩 

October 15th

8:54 pm

Touya: *image attachment*

You: WAIT OMG

You: U DID THAT IN ONE DAY?

Touya: It’s a drawing of gloves 

You: I coudont draw anything if u put a gun to my head

You: I love them 🩷

Touya: You don’t even know what they do

You: I still love them 🩷

Touya: Kissass 

You: HEY

You: so what do they do

Touya: Yk how when u create the projectiles u said they get hot

You: yh

Touya: I think if we make u gloves that can handle hotter and more energy ladden projectiles it can give u a lot more power 

Touya: And you’ll be able to handle a lot more when ur fighting

You: wait that’s perfect

You: hwo did u think of this so quickly

Touya: Its kind of my job and my degree

You: true

October 19th

12:43 pm

You: okay I didn’t have time to change

Touya: I can see that

You: not a word out of you 😒

Touya: You look like a tennis ball

You: SHUT THE FUCKUP

Touya: Stop laughing 

You: don’t be funny then ..?

You: the librarian is gonna yell at me🙁

Touya: Why the fuck is ur costume neon yellow

You: STOP LOOKING

Touya: Hard when ur glowing like a fucking street lamp

You: ENOUGH

October 20th

10:45 am

You: OMG U HAVE A BROTHER

Touya: Tf

You: He’s so funny

Touya: What the fuck

You: LMAO

You: he’s in my sisters grades and they r friends apparently

You: our lives… r so intertwined 🥺🥺

You: intertwineeeeddd sewnnn togetheerrrr

Touya: Ew

You: U don’t fuck with that song???

Touya: https/openspotify.dabi23

You: OMG

You: wait ur music taste is so real

Touya: Music rizz

You: LMAOOO

October 22nd

10:47 am

You: *image attachment*

Touya: Tf is that

You: I had some ideas for the design 😅

Touya: Yeah never draw again

You: I TOLD YOU

October 23rd

7:07 pm

You: hey so

You: yk how ur a tech support

You: does that mean ur good at physics

Touya: Obviously

You: plz help me with my physics hw tomorrow 🙁

Touya: Ur just using me 💔

You: NEVER NEVER

You: PLEAAAASE I’m literlaly failing

Touya: Fine

You: YIPPEE

October 24th

5:14 pm

You: yk ur really good at like all the support tech stuff

Touya: What?

You: YOU KNOW

You: like the building and whatever ur really good with ur hands

You: wait

Touya: U freak

You: NOT LIKE THAT

Touya: So obsessed with me

You: SHIT UP

You: I’m never complimenting you again

Touya: Shame

Touya: Loved the attention from you

You: hahahahaha SSSHSHHHH

October 26th

1:30pm

You: hey mr Todoroki 

Touya: Never call me that

You: Touya!!

You: can we meet after school plz I now have training at lunch

You: im sorry dont hate me

Touya: 😒

You: IM SORRY 🙏 ILL BUY US FOOD 

Touya: We can’t the labs r shut today after school 

You: shit

You: wait u can come round mine my parents aren’t home

Touya: 😏

You: okay u perv calm down

Touya :🙄

You: are we only communicating in emojis now…?

Touya: 🙂‍↕️

You: yeah all those fumes from the lab have gotten to ur head

You: I’ll send u my address then 🙈

October 26th

10:07 pm

You: u left ur coat here idiot

Touya: Fuck

You: ur leather coat… EMO ASS

Touya: Fuck u I’m not emo

You: I know what you are..

Touya: Stfu

You: dw I’ll bring it for u tomoz 😝

October 27th

9:27 am

Touya: Did u wear my coat

You: erm no….

Touya: Y/N

You: SORRY I GOT COLD ON MY WAY TO SCHOOL

Touya: It’s fine dw

You: r u sure

Touya: Smells like u now

You: my ariana grande mod vanilla???

Touya: Smells like shit

You: flip u

October 29th

1:47pm

You: TOUYAAAA OMG OMG

Touya: Yes

You: I TRIED THE GLOVES THEY R SO SO PERF

Touya: Really

You: YES they can handle heat sm better than just my hands

Touya: And theres no delay when ur shooting stuff?

You: nope they r litch perfect

Touya: Good

Touya: I was scared the exoskeleton under the second layer would mess with the haptics

You: yes talk nerdy to me🤤

Touya: Stfu

You: LMAO

You: but seriously i love them thank u sm

Touya: Dont worry about it

Touya: I’ll finish up the essay then we should be done

You: okay when do u wanna meet

Touya: Its cool i dont need help with the essay

You: yh but i wanna come anyway

Touya: Sorry forgot ur obsessed with me

You: NO

Touya: Come by after school

You: see u there 🙈

October 31st

9:07 pm

You: Touyaaaaaaaaa

You: are u going to hawks halloween party

Touya: Yh

You: OMG SAME

You: what r u wearing

You: im going as gumball and my friend is going as darwin 🐟

You: *photo attachment*

Touya: Why’d you make gumball hot

You: LMAO

You: thank u thank u

Touya: Im going as ghostface

Touya: *image attachment*

You: woah

You: sexy 😍

Touya: I always look sexy

You: narcisist much

Touya: Spelling much

You: SHUSH

You: I guess I’ll see u there then x

Touya: I guess you will 

November 1st

1:07am

You: touya

You: enu busy

You: r u bauy 

You: busy

Touya: I’m at a party 

You: UE STILL HERE

You: can. U plz drive me home daewin is making out with hawks

You: and she was m Trude

You: m sorry if ur having fun ill uber

Touya: Nah don’t worry sweetheart 

Touya: Meet me out front

You: hthank u sm

November 1st

12:09 pm

You: OMFG my head is killling me

Touya: Ur a very touchy drunk you know that

You: oh god

You: I’m so embarrassed plz forget everything that happened

Touya: I’ll try 

You: the worst part is EYE dont even remember

Touya: U wanna be reminded?

You: NO.

You: let me live in my ignorance

Touya: Whatever you say sweetheart

You: OMFG wait ur coat is here again

You: it smells like cigarettes yk

Touya: It’s almost like i smoke

You: EWWW 

You: Hello lung cancer 😒

November 4th

4:16 pm

You: Touya r u busy rn

Touya: No

You: come get food with me I’m bored and hungry

Touya: Ok

You; OKG that easy 🤑 

Touya: Ur paying 

You: :/

November 9th

1:07 pm

You: *video attachment*

You: GLOVE SIN ACTION

Touya: Is that u falling on ur ass at the end

You: FUCK I FORGOT TI CROP THE VIDEO

Touya: These r the heroes of our future

You: YH the hero YOU are designing tech for 😒

November 10th

2:08 am

Touya: R u awake 

Touya: Y/N

You: why is ur ass up we got school tomorrow 😒

Touya: I’m going Taco Bell do u wanna come with me

You: OMG YH

You: wait y r u going Taco Bell at two am

Touya: Hungry

Touya: Icl I’m high as fuck rn

You: LMAOOO

November 13th

11:40pm

You: *image attachment*

You: do u like my house

Touya: Grown ass hero playing mc

Touya: Go train

You: NO BRO I got my ass beat today 

Touya: Lock in 

You: *image attachment*

You: my cats Hamzah and Martin 

You: if ykyk

Touya: R u playing on bedrock

You: yes

Touya: Add me

You: YAY

November 14th

10:45 am

Touya: Who did that to you

You: huh

Touya: Ur face

Touya: The bruise

You: WTF where r u

Touya: In the same hallway as u

You: omg hey

You: I told u last night I got my ass beat

Touya: Tf who did that to u

You: TetsuTetsu.. he kinda got mad I was pissing him off when we were sparring 😭

Touya: So he punches u in the face

You: it’s fine nothing I can’t handle

Touya: Ok

November 14th 

2:34 pm

You: OMF 

You: Tetsu just came and apologised to me 🙈 

Touya: Good

You: he said he overreacted omg like

You: character development??

Touya: Sure

Touya: Get off ur phone in class

You: yes sir 😒

Touya: Hot

You: EW

November 15th

2:50pm

You: we r going cinema after school plz

You: and watching mickey 17 cause I wanna kiss rob pattinson

Touya: 😒 

You: Don’t play with me

You: he’s so fine

Touya: Yeah ik in twilight

You: ????

Touya: I have a sister

You: omg touya lore unlocked 🙏

Touya: Never speaking again 

You: SHUT UP HOE

November 18th

5:07 pm

Touya: *image attachment*

Touya: Get online 

You: WTF

You: OUT THE SWORD DOWN

You: LEAVE MY CATS LONE

Touya: Dabi_24 has invited you to play Minecraft!

Touya: Time is ticking sweetheart

You: WAIT IM ATASCJOOL I WAS TRUANING

You: GIMEE TWNTY MINS

Touya: Fine

November 20th

1:40 am

You: do u think we all have soulmates that r like our perfect romantic partner 

You: with the red thread and all that 

You: and that we’ll meet them one day no matter how long it takes

Touya: Hm

Touya: Idk love is overrated

You: u really think so?

Touya: Sometimes

Touya: Not always

You: cryptic….

Touya: Why do u ask

You: no reason I’m up late and contemplating life 🩷

You: and I just watched Your name

Touya: Goat movie

You: IKR

November 21st

11:05 am

Touya: *image attachment*

You: OMG U GOT AN A

You: WELL DONE

Touya: We got an A

You: AWW

You: SO CUTE

Touya: Ew

You: I hope they remark that and give u an F

Touya: Wanna go celebrate at lunch 

Touya: School ends early today

You: YEAHHH

You: let’s go to the mall 😏😏😏

Touya: Okay

You: WOOO

November 21st

1:09 pm

You: I’ll meet u outside the food court when I’m done

Touya: Why can’t I come with 🙁

You: ur ass is NOT coming into Victoria’s Secret with me

Touya: Trust I know bras really well

You: NO

Touya: Boring

You: I’ll see u later slime

Touya: Kk

Touya: Then lets go to that record shop

You: yes yes

November 21st

1:21 pm

Touya: Y/N

Touya: You need to get out there’s a villain

Touya: Y/N

Missed call

Touya: Y/N please

Missed call

November 21st

8:12 pm

You: never do that again touya

Touya: Do what

You: don’t put urself in danger like that for me

Touya: But I’m him

You: Touya this isn’t funny you could’ve really hurt yourself

Touya: I’m fine sweetheart 

You: ur in the hoosoifal you are not fine

Touya: I’m in the hospital actually

You: Touya.

Touya: Sorry

Touya: I’m fine and so are you 

Touya: That’s all that matters 

You: ur gonna make me cry

Touya: Don’t cry 

You: okay I guess

Touya: I’m fine

You: ur not fine ur body is covered in bandages bro

You: u weren’t even awake when I was there

You: that ugly nurse kicked me out I was gonna stay

You: ur skin is all burnt she said

You: I didn’t even know u had a quirk

Touya: Well this is why I don’t use it

Touya: My flames r too strong it fucks my skin up

You: I see

You: is that why ur a support student

Touya: Yes

You: okay good 

Touya: Good?

You: well if ur a hero and u hurt yourself what’s the point

You: heroes r overrated anyway

You: and ur good at what u do

You: really good actually

You: and if u weren’t a support student we’d have never met

Touya: U sap

You: says the guy who literally nearly died to save me…

You: now who’s the obsessed one 🙄

Touya: Shut up

Touya: Visiting times start at eight in the morning btw

You: okay good plz don’t be coma ridden this time

Touya: I’ll try

—————————————————————————

Btw it’s acc canon that touya is a alive and well and in the support course btw if u didn’t know

White hair Touya would fix me.. like I’ll fix HIMMM

bro I’ve been ill all week and I have the WORST FUCKIJG HEADACHE EVE it won’t go omg send help

A knee ways I hope u all enjoyed these text posts r my fav to write 🩷

[the-90s-music-colosseum]

Quarterfinals, Match 2

expand to see all propaganda received! (wall of text warning oh my god this is a severe cautionary message)

Lauryn Hill:

"she paved the way and was hot as fuck the whole time"

"Girl c'mon. Look at her. You're gonna try and tell me that isn't the most beautiful and attractive person alive? Okay. You're lying but okay."

"if u freaks don't give ms. lauryn hill the respect she deserves..."

"actually one of the prettiest women ever I'm such a lesbian for her. like irl I'm already a lesbian but she is helping"

Damon Albarn:

"Don’t think Damon should be here? Why don’t you get your head checked by a jumbo jet? Maybe you’ll feel heavy metal and calm down."

"If Damon is in the “some guy” category, he’s the heavenly and heartbreaking version. Damon is the sort of significant stranger I’d see on the train out of Colchester but could never speak to, just a face seen in passing yet too radiant to be real. I’d fall in love for an hour and carry the ache for a month."

"Damon sets the standard for me. I think he’s the most fascinating man alive. What I find attractive in Damon is not just his gorgeous bone structure and boyish charm, but how wholly he’s committed himself to music. Damon is an artist who walked the walk: in one of his roughest years with some of his rawest songwriting, he said he was no longer excited by anything except the creative process. He was disillusioned with the celebrity of it all, with his relationships suffering for it, and only wanted to make art: nothing more, nothing less. He would go on to compose film scores, write operas and stage musicals, produce other artists’ records, form collectives to fulfill his passion for world music, and create some of the most globally successful music of his career in a completely innovative format that placed him as the phantom behind the characters. Whenever one band takes a break, he makes a solo record or puts together a supergroup to stay busy. He’s uniquely collaborative and still writes personal letters inviting artists to record with him, and yet can function as a one-man show, acting as a multi-instrumentalist, a singer-songwriter and a producer. He’s been a constant voice of bringing British music to the world *and* bringing world music into Britain. Sure, he’s won Brit Awards and a Grammy among others, but he also has a Guinness World Record and was named an Officer of the British Empire for his services to music; his long work with Africa Express earned him respect even from peers who’d previously dismissed him, and his commitment to support his Malian collaborators in the face of violence earned him the title of Local King in Mali. There is so much talent in the world, but there is truly no one else with a career that looks like Damon Albarn’s. Damon is far more than just a prettyboy to look nice on a magazine cover, but looks are the ultimate point of this tournament, so make no mistake: he was terribly, terribly pretty. You watch him performing in the 90s, you sift through photoshoots and interviews and documentaries, and it feels *cruel* how beautiful he was. If his talent was god-given, so was his face. To put a bow on this thesis: I don’t know if Gorillaz and Damon’s musical universe would be the experimental, globe-trotting, boundary-pushing community affair it is if Blur hadn’t become such a central figure in Britpop and if Damon had not been made such a media spectacle, and I don’t know if Damon would have been that spectacle if he wasn’t so ungodly pretty. The domino effect is that Damon’s cherubic face launched a thousand multimedia art school projects for decades to come."

"I wish I was basically any bloke in the 90s so I could tongue Damon Albarn down. Damon will see a man and ask “is anyone gonna kiss that?” and not wait for a response."

"I have a pillow with his face on it. I sleep with it every night 😊"

"“I’m more homosexual than Brett Anderson, always have been. As far as bisexuality goes, I’ve had a taste of that particular fruit, or have been tasted you might say…” is just the rawest most Shakespearean statement ever"

"he is the ultimate Pretty Boy ™. his glorious golden locks, his electric blue eyes. he is if Princess Diana was a Britpop Dude. he is the Regina George of Britpop. he is if Aphrodite took male form. Zeus would come down to earth to fuck him if he knew. he is a caffeinated orange cat let loose. he is deranged. he is unhinged. you never know what will come out of his mouth. he had sexual tension with every single man who knew him. he pulled justine fucking frischmann. his aura knows no bounds. he is a siren. he is a weird guy. but being so gorgeous stunning ethereal didn't stop him from also being one of the most prolific songwriters of his generation"

"THE MAIN BLUR"

"literally where do i even begin. i could write entire essays on this man. a good place to start would be the beetlebum music video, i suppose. i'll never forget the first time i watched that music video. something in me changed, my brain chemistry was altered, my life was never the same, i view the world a lot differently now. and a lot of the viewing i'm doing is of pictures of damon albarn's face because of boy do i have a lot of those saved. every time i try to look for a photo of something on my phone i can't find it because there's so much damon. okay that's maybe an exaggeration but this man has the most unfathomable beauty ever. his eyes? HIS EYES. god dammit i love his eyes i want to stare at them until the end of time like nothing else exists. i'm so normal about this man (lying) and while i'm usually very shameless about my interests i'm actually incredibly glad this propaganda is anonymous because otherwise. yeah. but the world deserves to see damon albarn's beauty and also hear his fantastic voice because what the fuck. his voice is literally the most gorgeous sound ever produced like bro sounds like that and expects me not to fall in love? i want this man to sing his silly songs and talk absolute nonsense to me until the sun eventually blows out and the world ends. cmon damon girlies let's demolish this tournament i know there are a lot of you."

"He’s beautiful. He’s a little rat. He’s a sweetheart. He’s a dickhead. He’s a musical genius. He’s a dumb bitch. He’s a jock. He’s a weirdo. He’s real. He’s an illusion. He’s everything. He’s just Damon."

"DAMON DAMON DAMON where do I begin oh jeez I've hyperfixated on this man for a solid 4 years and still going strong. Damon makes me wish that British people are real. That says A LOT. This man created a whole ass ANIMATED BAND WITH A SHIT TON OF LORE as a SIDE HUSTLE??? Not to mention, what other man has collaborated with Stevie Nicks, MF DOOM, Del the Funky Homosapien, Snoop Dogg, AND Beck?! People, we're literally in the presence of a god. And he's STILL GOING. Anyways, TL;DR, damon is so so so neat and cool and he should definitely win this competition. Thank you."

"Okay 90s Damon is The Perfect Boy yes yes, but the people who parrot the Daily Mail and say "he's ugly now" will never understand. I would still suck every drop from him on his deathbed."

"Vote for whoever you want to. But Damon is so pretty."

"i did not spend hours admiring this beautiful man's face on pinterest just to see him lose."

"Damon Albarn just brings me joy. When I'm watching him perform, following along as the camera lingers on and adores his pretty face, I get butterflies like I'm 15 again. It's nice to still feel that totally unguarded giddiness sometimes."

"God let the intrusive thoughts win making Damon. What if he's a beautiful blond twink with eyes like saucers and dick to his knees, he reads Herman Hesse and plays footie and is insufferable about both, he'll be the most prolific musician of his generation and write operas and seminal albums in 5 different genres and also he's gonna be the dumbest bitch alive? He'll also be kinda bi, but only kinda. And send."

"when i found out about his existence, my life was changed forever. i wish i could use him like the hannah montana boot milk pillow and chuck him at the wall so he makes a loud thud"

"Think of the drama and anon fights it'll cause if Damon wins it all! And think of how quiet it'll get after Damon's out. You'll miss him when he's gone, like memories of a noisy house years after it's grown silent. Choose Damon, and keep the messy train chugging."

"Even the Gallagher brothers have the hots for him."

"Kiss kiss I love him also you can't vote for any of the Seattle men they're literally copy and paste it's not fair. We need Brit representation"

"I want to take care of him, I want to provide for him. I need to gauge his baby blue puppy dog orbs out to I can clean them with wood varnish, paint shades of Pantone 320 C in his eyes, spray eau de parfume by dior in them and sew it back into his eyes like that scene in Toy Story 2."

"Seeing as simply filling the page with ‘Damon’ written 10000000 times isn’t going to cut it 😅 may I admit/submit: I DO have him tattooed on my being (no descriptive, is this anon?); he’s inspired somewhat unhinged late night/early morning fandom conversations in which I’ve served as ‘parish’ priest hearing confessions from all manner of folk about what they’d like to do to him/receive from him; sadly I lost an essay where I detailed why the letters that make up his name suit him so well, and described him as the hot caramel sauce to Graham’s cool vanilla ice cream. He’s a faerie princess with a nose that makes people weep and a voice that feels like the warmest home and he gives amazing hugs. He loves trains and chickens and his tuxedo cat. He’s annoying and sweet and somewhat unhinged and his music saves people and all this is on top of that fantastic dick. He’s a dream yet very real and we’re fucking blessed to be on earth at the same time as him, amen"

"Damon Albarn was a beautiful, beautiful boy. The world saw that, regardless of if every individual reading this has the same taste in men; it felt like a truth of the universe at the time. They don't make celebrities that angelic in face and erratic in personality anymore."

"I need to touch his eyebrows, nose and prostate just one time JUST ONE TIME COME ON"

[eduhubspot]

Explore the key differences between the Google Project Management Certificate and PMP Certification. Compare recognition, program structure, cost, industry relevance, and career opportunities to find the best fit for your project management career.

[ipilokko]

-| I Dislike Redheads |-

– Chapter 1- Arriving Dawntown

Ah, dammit.

Why was Mollie so bad at organising suitcases? She'd fold something neatly, put it in the case, and there'd be plenty of room; more than enough for all the clothes she wanted to bring. Then, as soon as she turned her head, or put in one or two more items, suddenly even her hand couldn't fit.

After half an hour of struggling, she finally managed to fit everything– except for a dress which she wasn't sure if she'd take with her anyway– but this time she was struggling to zip the case up. Mollie grunted as she tried one more time, then gave up. She sighed. This was really starting to get on her nerves.

All she had to do was mark something as excess and let go of it, yeah? She re-opened her suitcase and recited a rhyme, pointing her finger at a different piece of clothing with each word. The shoes, a black shirt, a red sweater and another one with some kind of pattern she could never really identify...

When the rhyme was over, her finger was pointing at the sweater. Uhh... She'd buy a new one when she started to work again... This was staying home. She clutched the thick fabric and carelessly threw it out of the pile. Finally, she successfully closed the travel case. Not affording to lose more time now, she quickly slid into her jacket, took her backpack, suitcase, project case and took off. She would have called a cab, but she figured the traffic was probably overwhelming at this time of the day. She navigated to the subway station and waited for the train’s headlamps to appear.

-

-

-

The crowd was bustling with life; the line of waiting passangers stretched further and further in front of her. Some were chatting over the phone, some were talking to each other, which filled the hall with buzz. The trip to the airport took longer than she would have liked, and she was more than ready to sit down. After what felt like hours of waiting, it was finally her turn to board the plane. She checked her ticket again to memorize her seat number. Memory was never her strong suit; she’d never forgotten a face, or a voice, but remembering numbers and names was one of the many things she wasn’t very good at.

C162 was her seat. Mollie searched the overhead signs until she eventually found it. She looked out from the tiny window; the plane was surrounded by the large, concrete field of the runway, which made her only more melancholy.

When the captain announced to the passengers to fasten their seatbelts, she sat down and did so. Once the plane took off and flew higher and higher, the greens of the trees transformed into tops of needles –only fluffier– houses just a bit bigger than grains of sand… maybe really small pebbles if she was being generous. Getting bored of the view, she scrolled through airplane movies for a bit, until she finally found something that she could tolerate watching.

-

-

-

Roy switched off the alarm clock which was hurting his ears with its loud beeping. He stared at the ceiling for a moment in the regained peace. Listening to his breathing, he thought about how much work he had to do today. He told himself to leave the bed and start the day, but he was too comfortable to get up just yet.

After sliding "Riverboat Days" out of its box, he set the vinyl on the turntable. He positioned the stylus casually with muscle memory, then switched on the whole sound system he had built there.

"Good morning, Ms. Elizabeth, how are you today? Quite thirsty I see." He asked, gently brushing a finger under one of the plant’s leaves. He tilted the glass and watched the water flow onto the soil. Pulling the curtain back a bit with his finger, he peeked out; it was a beautiful morning with no one outside. The sun was beginning to rise brightly, painting the nature in a warm, happier light.

Roy decided to leave home early to enjoy a bit more time outdoors, after brewing his morning coffee and having breakfast. He grabbed his coat and unlocked the door, taking a moment to stand in the doorway and feel the pleasant warmth of the sun on his face. The ocean ahead was perfectly still and lonely. Why not accompany it?

He walked along the seaside on a walkway, his eyes sometimes lost in the waves, sometimes admist the clouds, and random pebbles or sand that were unintentionally carried onto the path by people who stopped by the shore before using it. He took in the crisp morning air and sat on the same bench that he had rested on everyday, and then thought about how misunderstood the pigeons were.

*

*

*

The plane landed right after passing the border, and then the passengers were transfered into a giant drone for their next flights. Another hour later, all of her flights were finally over. As soon as Mollie got off from the drone, she noticed the floor was constantly trembling with all the giants walking around. She exited the airport and followed the subway sign into a huge see-through tube. From the outside, the edges of the tunnel were slowly descending ramps for giants to not trip and fall.

She took a seat on the train, and even after trying to memorise the stop she was supposed to get off at, she still failed. Then she pressed the power button of her phone. It didn't light up, except for the infamous empty battery sign. No battery. No battery?

Great. She was going to be late and leave the worst first impression.

"Fuck!" She really wanted to throw her phone and watch it break, but she convinced herself not to. It was FULL this morning! She didn’t use it on the plane, nor at the airport, nor in the subway before that. The universe seemed like it really wanted to watch her suffer; no one else was in the cabin that she could ask for help. And the airport was filled with a crowd of human passengers like her. Not even one person headed the same way?

"Found the perfect day to mess with me, you shithead!" She cursed.

After impatiently waiting for the next station so the train would emerge from the ground, she got off to ask for some help. As the train left, it felt like the time also slowed down, just so she would be even later to work. The view above ground was bizarre, with everything being huge and tall. Next to the station was a tree, which must’ve been the same height as the highest skyscrapers she ever saw and as thick as a three story building. Each piece of bark seemed longer than both her femur and tibia together. Yes, while cool, trees weren't helping her get to work. Right next to the tree was a giant sitting on a bench. She looked around for any humans but no one else was here.

You know what? Fine.

She made her way through the station to find an elevator or stairs that could take her to the giant’s level. Finding an elevator tucked away way back in the building, she got in and impatiently waited for the ride to be over. The elevator dinged as the doors slid open, the fresh air welcoming on the balcony waiting outside. She stepped out and looked up and up, until she could see his face then his rusty hair. His gaze seemed to be fixated somewhere between the ocean waves. His expression didn't say much but he looked friendly enough... From the outside at least. Not that she had many options.

"Hey! Sir!" She yelled to get his attention.

The stranger turned around to look at the sudden sound.

She studied him to decide if he was friendly or not. He had kind, hooded hazel eyes with a mark under his left one.

"Yes?"

Roy waited for an answer but there was none.

"How can I assist you, miss?" He had a lower voice than she'd expected and a received pronunciation accent that she thought matched his appearance.

"I'm trying to go to a game corporate that's supposed to be around here somewhere? And how I can get there?"

"There is one a few streets ahead.. I'm afraid I don't have much knowledge about human transportation. Although, I'm certain that the one you just got off of passes through there." To her luck, he only knew about this specific station. Its stops were always on his path to work, and they were quite easy to notice from above the ground.

"Oh, you've gotta be kidding me! How much I have to wait for the next?" Mollie was so stupid, she felt like even a can of hairspray was smarter than her right now.

"I'm not certain..." Roy trailed off.

"But you're sure the underground has a stop there, right?"

"I am, yes."

"...How many stops from here to there?"

He knew there was one near the art gallery and one near the art-nouveau building which he never failed to look at when he was passing by. "It's two, I suppose."

"Two? Do you think I could walk there?"

Roy took a few seconds to think about his answer. He didn't want to sound disrespectful nor as if he looked down on her. "...Are you in a rush?"

"Yeah, a little... Ah, forget it. No way can I make it on time on foot. I'll just... wait." Mollie sighed in annoyance. She was tired of waiting and walking and waiting and walking again all day... And the other problems of today. She hated today. She wanted it to be tomorrow already.

"...I'd offer to carry you there but–"

She laughed nervously, cutting him off. "...Thanks though."

The giant gave her a small, kind smile. He pulled himself back and she went back to the ground. She found it cool that subway stations were like malls, even though not as big or comprehensive. She could buy stuff, drink coffee, and eat if she wanted to. Maybe she could free herself from preparing lunch at home today.

A train reappeared from the ground shortly.

"Have a nice day!" Mollie called out to the giant as she got in the vehicle.

"Good day, miss."

The sunlight disappeared as the subway dived underground.

-

-

-

Mollie stood between the giant automatic door and the human-sized one. When she craned her neck, she could hardly see the top of the giant one. Oof. The giants were so big. She walked through the door her size, and the atmosphere inside immediately overwhelmed her. Not because it was noisy or something similar, but because it was dead silent –Well if you don't count the distant keyboard clicking from the receptionist– the room was so vast. The clean, off-white tiles seemed to stretch miles ahead of her, until a plant, the receptionist desk or the other furniture weighed down on them. She felt like she was right in the middle of everything, so out in the open. There wasn't anything she could hold onto if she fell, nothing to hide behind if she felt like hiding.

The floor started to tremble as a dark haired woman with a nice blue dress came in from one of the doors. The rhytmic trembling along with the click of her steps grew increasingly stronger as the giant woman came closer.

"You must be Mollie Jefferson." Her voice was pretty squeaky for a giant. She stopped a safe distance away from her.

"Yeah, I am." Mollie needed to crane her neck more than she would've liked just to see her face. She was really starting to get bored of looking up.

"You're sixteen minutes late, but I'll let that go for today. I'm Mrs. Smith, let me show you around. We don't have many human workers here, sadly."

"That's alright. I figured as much." All that rushing and she was late regardless. Mollie at her best...

The giant took a single step that carried her god knows how many feet away. She then pointed down at a white thick box near the door that Mollie later realized it was actually not a box, but a column that extended to the ceiling with huge glass windows way above her head… and it was also an office building. "This is where you'll work. There's an elevator so you can get to your office, which has the number of 05 on it. I'll email you the adress of your hotel room."

"Classy."

"Let's visit the break room. There’s one in the human workspace too." Mrs. Smith started walking away from Mollie as if she could catch up with all of her luggage. Not like she could catch up without her luggage.

Her boss disappeared after passing through a door. She could’ve at least picked her up. Her one step equaled like forty of Mollie's. And damn didn't this woman have some heavy steps. It wasn't a big issue, but she'd probably have a hard time adapting to walking with her if she could ever catch up. She really needed to stop judging... No, she wasn't judging was she? These were just mind statements. Did that mean judging? Okay, then excuse her for having a bad day.

Then the giant woman was rushing back.

“Can I pick you up?”

Mollie didn't do anything other than ficusing how much her legs hurt when her boss suddenly folded in half and loomed over her.

"Yeah, go ahead."

Ms. Smith wrapped her manicured fingers around her to lift her up to a dizzying height. Her whole body- except for her head- was completely covered by her fist. The movements were rough and her grip was making it hard to breathe. She was obviously not experienced with humans.

"Sorry about that, but my time is limited."

"It's alright... But maybe loosen your grip a little?" Mollie forced out.

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry." She loosened her fingers a bit, but they pressed into her still a little harder than she would’ve liked, but she didn't push it more.

"This is the break room. The vending machine is just back there. And there's both stairs and elevators if you ever want to get up on the tables or counters."

The break room had such a boring color palette with the stereotyped moody blue and a lighter sadder blue, accompanied by white and grey. The room had an "L" shape; in the shorter bottom line of the "L" was the kitchen that had a microwave, a stove, a fridge and probably some snacks and glasses in the small cupboards. The main part had a couch, a coffee table, two other larger tables behind the couch, a bunch of chairs and a TV. It also looked like there was a game console to the TV. That was definitely the highlight here.

Mollie jolted with a sudden movement from her boss when she gestured to one of the doors. "My office is just there if you ever need me. Now you should probably get to work. I'm guessing you already know the details of the project."

"Yeah, I do."

"Great. Good luck."

Her boss took her to the human workspace, put her back on the ground, then left.

She navigated between the rooms until she found her office, and as soon as she sat down, thanked God that being tired existed so she could feel the sweetness of actually resting. She put on some music and sat with herself for a bit, before making three rough storyboards of the same scene, where a woman placed her child on a shelf.

-

-

-

The first day was finally over. She definitely hated the vibe of literally everything about this building. The actual drawing part was fine though. She was just glad she was going home... Well, more like her hotel room. But it was still "home" in a way, wasn't it? She really felt like watching a movie and extending her legs and just finally relaxing.

As she opened the door to leave work, she noticed the same giant she met at the station. The one that helped her. She felt bad that she was a little rude to him this morning.

He effortlessly moved his colossal body with much gentler steps than her boss, despite being noticably taller than her. Mrs. Smith really did have heavy footfalls, didn't she? She ran as fast as she could to catch up to his immense speed, but then remembered that here on the giant side, she was just a little over two inches tall, so she just decided to yell to get his attention again.

"Hey! You were a great help today, thank you! I'm sorry for being rude this morning!"

Roy turned back to look at the source of the small voice. His eyes stuttered for a second as they searched for her. He smiled warmly when he spotted her barely visible silhouette on the ground, a few meters away from him.

After standing there for a few moments he reminded himself that he had to reply. "...I hope you had a nice day, miss."

"Thank you! But my day sucked! I hope yours was fine though!"

He looked down at his feet, then at her again. "...Then I hope you'll have a nice tomorrow."

"What about the day after tomorrow? And the day after that?" She yelled back playfully.

"I hope they will be nice as well."

-

-

-

That night, Roy thought about Mollie a little longer than all the ither thoughts that rushed through his mind.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Next chapter // index

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

Hello everyone! Finally i could finish the first chapter and got the two weirdos to meet!!!

This has been in my notes app for far too long

I'm sure I'll get better at writing!!

I'm so glad I can finally make this into a thing since i was way too impatient with the comic and it lacked the buildup.

THIS version is the canon one!!!

@justagiantpotato helped a SO MUCH with editing !!!!

[shiorimakibawrites]

Breaking and Entering (The Phantom #1)

Word Count: ~5200 Main Pairing: Matt Murdock x Project Beagle! Reader Summary: You arrive in New York City tired, hungry, and in need of a shower. Warnings: Referenced canon-typical violence, crime, fugitive on the run, swearing, feelings of isolation, nudity, fear, psychic abilities, self-deprecation, implied past attempted sexual assault, referenced domestic violence The Phantom Masterlist Matt Murdock/Daredevil Masterlist My General Masterlist Taglist: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza, @justvalkyrie, @xoxabs88xox, @flynnethenerd A03 Link

Special thanks to @pastafossa for permission to write this alternate take on your story and for beta-reading this chapter.

Chapter 1: Breaking and Entering

So this is the Big Apple, you thought as you walked out of the Port Authority Bus Terminal. Maybe someone else would have found the shift from the relative quiet of the Greyhound bus to the chaos of the terminal and the bustling street outside overwhelming. You saw it as a sanctuary. You plunged into the sea of people that you hoped to disappear into. Just another tourist marveling at the skyscrapers, painted gold by the setting sun. Just another transplant from nowhere looking for a fresh start, a place where they could shed their past and become someone new.

Being a needle in a haystack isn't a terrible approach, you mused to yourself as you settled onto a subway train. It has served you well over the last decade and some change. But always, always, the past came knocking like the inconsiderate bastard that it was and burnt your haystack to the ground. Which was why this time, you were going to be a needle in a needle stack. Thousands of people came to New York City everyday. If there was anywhere in the world where you would be just another face in the crowd, it ought to be here.

Please, you plead with whatever cosmic force looked out for people like you. Give me a couple of months here.

You were so tired. You haven't stopped moving for the last three months. He had gotten too close in Tampa. Far too close, you remembered with a shudder. You had managed to get away but it hadn't been clean. The resulting paranoia had you ditching all your planned next location options. They could be compromised. So you laid false trails to them and elsewhere while you roamed with no particular destination in mind. Eeny-meeny-miny-moe to pick a direction. Deciding on how much to pay for a plane or bus ticket based on the price of Twinkies at the last Stop-n-Slip you had been in. Stealing a car from long-term parking at the airport. Accepting a ride from two guys in a 67 Chevy Impala to anywhere but here.

It had eventually pointed your wandering feet toward New York City. A place where you ought to be to vanish for a few months. A place where you could rest and regain your strength. Just one more false trail, you promised yourself. Then I can rest.

<scene break>

And done, you thought as you finished altering the passenger manifest of a plane to show one Katherine Monroe boarding at JFK on a flight bound for Dallas-Fort Worth. It was such a shame that said airport was going to be experiencing glitches in their security cameras and boarding software that will make it impossible to know if Ms. Monroe caught the connecting flight to El Paso or not. It was equally unlucky that certain cameras here at JFK were down for maintenance for the last hour and wouldn't be operational again for at least another hour.

All of which should have your pursuers chasing their tails for a while. It wasn't unusual for you to book a flight with a layover, then skip the connecting flight to head out in entirely the opposite direction. Or the same general direction but with a different city in mind. It also wouldn't be unusual for you to go through the entire journey, connecting flights and all. Let them wonder if you had disappeared into Dallas or gone all the way to El Paso and took advantage of its proximity to the border to slip into Mexico again. Or the directions pointing south was a red herring and your actual goal was the border with Canada.

Which had been tempting. There was a lot of sparsely populated wilderness along the US-Canada border, a rugged terrain where, with the right skills, you could lead anyone hunting you around by their noses for years. Maybe after the forest ate a sufficient number of them, they'd take the hint and leave you the fuck alone.

You snorted. Not gonna happen. The very idea that you had beaten Him simply did not compute. He would never accept it. Never stop hunting you or Twenty as long as He was alive. Therefore the hunters were never stop searching.

And I can never stop running, never truly be free, you thought bitterly. The best you'd get was a few months of rest in a place where no one could really know you. I'll always be alone. You took a deep breath, then swallowed down the ache and exhaustion. You weren't going to cry. He had already stolen enough of your tears.

You stowed your laptop back into your bag. Time to go. While this chain coffee shop had taken care of your hunger, you still needed to find shelter and a shower. Not necessarily in that order.

<scene break>

Hours later, you were reconsidering staying in New York. It had been hot and muggy when you arrived but you had hoped that as night fell, it would cool off. No such luck. The sun had disappeared but the heat remained. Even the criminals and the working girls seem to have fled the streets in search of air that wasn't thick as syrup.

"And just as sticky," you grumbled to yourself as you trudged up the stairs. You were in decent shape but six flights of stairs in this heat had left you dripping wet with sweat. Adding that to the grime of more than a week's travel with only bathroom sinks to wash in left you feeling even grosser than you already felt before starting this quest for a shower.

A hotel room likely had a shower but they also cost money. Money that you were starting to run short of. Well, short of money on your person. You had money squirreled away in secret accounts but getting that cash in your hands tonight would be…difficult. You never moved the money in your secret accounts into one of your public accounts without engaging in a misdirecting trail of false transfers and dummy accounts to confuse those hunting you. A process that took time and concentration, both of which were difficult to come by when you were tired and itchy from sweat.

Your other preferred methods of…er, acquiring…fast funds either also required same concentration or were hampered by the late hour. There were less preferred methods but those were also much higher risk. Especially in this city. Even the few hours you had spent in the city had been enough to hear about the mysterious vigilante who roamed Hell's Kitchen aka the very streets you were perched above right now. This 'Man in Black' is rapidly becoming a thorn in the side of the Russian mob but he had made his distaste for unorganized criminals loud and clear. Call you a coward but you'd rather not get your ass kicked tonight, thank you very much.

But as mentioned, you needed a shower and somewhere to sleep. It's hard to get a legal job when you look like you haven't slept or bathed much for more than a week. Ask you how you know. But you also couldn't afford to be put in the hospital or a jail cell. Not if you wanted to keep what little freedom and life you had. Maybe you should find a different neighborhood to attempt this in but everywhere else you had looked so far had been busier, with too many potential witnesses…

Besides it couldn't hurt to look. Nothing illegal about looking.

You made yourself as comfortable as you could be sitting on the roof in this heat, took a deep breath, then opened your third eye. For lack of a better term. What you had read online didn't quite match your experience but it was closer than anything else you had found.

The sensation was impossible to fully describe. You had tried on those nights when you couldn't sleep. It felt a bit like blinking open your eyes after a long nap but also like relaxing a muscle that had been held in tension too long at the same time and like finally getting to relieve your full bladder all at the same time and happening in the center of your forehead. And then you could see.

White unfurled around you, shining as bright as the sun at midday. It stung and made your eyes water. After a moment, the brightness dimmed to something closer to moonlight, allowing you to see the individual threads flapping and coiling in the air like ribbons dancing with the wind. Except it wasn't the wind moving these threads.

Part of that movement was that the people attached to them were moving but even when someone was still, their threads kept moving. The only time you had even seen someone's threads stop was the moment they died. The threads would freeze then every strand of theirs would turn a dull gray before falling limply to pool around their person. The only movement and sign of life being the blue-gray threads belonging to those left behind.

The dimming also allows you to see their true colors. Aside from the aforementioned blue-gray and white, threads of red, blue, green, orange, and yellow in every conceivable shade painted the city and its people with vibrant color. Over the years, you have learned what the different colors mean. Blues were for connections to objects, anything that wasn't alive and they ranged from soft powder blue for something new to the rich hue of lapis lazuli for a person's most cherished possession. The other colors were seemingly reserved for the living. Anything from butter yellow to vibrant red signified a bond of mutual affection between one person and another person or an animal. The stronger the bond, the redder their shared thread became. And if that affection was one-sided? Then the thread was green. And like the other threads, the more vibrant the hue, the stronger that feeling was.

You always felt bad for anyone with a forest green thread. It must be so painful to be so in love with someone who doesn't love you back.

It took a moment to sort out the threads. There weren't many coming from the building under your feet. Which you expected since it was nearly empty. That was not the case with the buildings on either side of you. Your fingers skimmed the surface of each thread, not deep enough to see the roads within but enough to feel. Whispers of emotions that weren't your own but washed over you just the same. You discarded the threads pulsing with safe-warm-happy of the peacefully sleeping along with the discomfort-cold-wet-fear of the shadows from children and pulse-pounding throb of lust-want-love from couples having sex until you found what you were searching for. A bundle of threads that radiated that mixture of concentration and impatience-to-be-done that you associated with someone working. The bundle contained an unusual amount of green threads that spread across the neighborhood like a spider’s web. The only people you had ever met with so many green threads had been paramedics or firemen. Someone who saved people’s lives. Whoever this person, they had done something to forge connections with so many people in this place, creating threads that ranged from soft mint to deep emerald green. So many that they nearly hide the other threads. The most prominent was a white, thick and heavy as rope that seemed to sink into the ground but there was healthy scattering of blues that trailed into the apartment building to your right along with a couple of pale yellows and fiery oranges that headed elsewhere. Buried in the middle, so deep that you almost missed, a single scarlet red thread.

You pushed down your envy with the ease of long practice. There was no point in getting jealous. It wasn't this person's vault that they had something you could never have. Because as much as you longed for someone to love you that fiercely…having that kind of bond with someone was too dangerous. Both for you and whatever poor soul you'd inflict yourself on. The things that He would do….You couldn't do that to someone. You weren't that much of a monster.

You shook your head and focused on the task at hand. Namely selecting one of these pretty blue threads to slip into and see if the resident of that apartment really was near the Hudson River like it appeared they were. A yellow or orange thread would be easier but all of them were headed away from the main bundle, not toward it. Which meant whoever those threads were connected to, they weren't with this person right now but if you were being honest, you preferred using blue threads. It was harder but it was far less intimate. Blue threads contained far less emotions and memories than the others.

You grabbed the thread that had the truest, most vibrant blue. The emotions seeping out of it tasted bittersweet, love and grief in equal measure. Reaching into the thread would have been easier with the object in question but not impossible. You don't know how long you sat there, the thread in your hands before it happened.

What happened exactly was just as difficult to describe as opening your third eye. Physically you remained seated on the roof, the thread gripped firmly in your right hand. But mentally….it felt like you had pressed against a door. One that had been stuck fast but after some pushing and shoving, the door gave way and you stumbled out onto a street.

Or least you thought it was a street. This inside-the-thread space usually appeared as a street to you. And while you could feel pavement under your feet and heard cars speeding past you, it was so dark. The only source of light was a flicker of flames all around that seemed to take the shape of…buildings? And, you squinted, the cars? The fire didn't illuminate the darkness so much as it highlighted it. It didn't help that the flames kept fluctuating. Every sound or shift in the air caused the flames to either grew dimmer or become more intense. The later gave you brief glimpses of finer details on the buildings. The former left you standing in pitch blackness unable to see your hand in front of your face.

You inched toward the nearest building, a squat thing that hugged the ground. It didn't get any clearer as you approached. Well, not in the visual sense. Far more prominent was the smell — the pungent odor of sweat, leather, the sharp astringency of iodine and muscle balm, the sweet cooper of blood, the vaguely minty scent of Irish Spring soap along the faint elements of a man's cologne. Just as strong were the sounds - the rhythmic thump of fists striking a punching bag, grunts and the murmur of a man's voice. It was too low for you to make out the words over a steady beating drum.

You didn't go inside. It wasn't necessary. You just needed to confirm this person's location, not snoop on their memories related to the connected object sheltered in that low building. And all you needed to do to accomplish that particular goal was simply walk down the street.

Which, admittedly, was easier said than done. The flames helped but this darkness was incredibly disorienting. Eventually, you got yourself turned in what was (hopefully) the right direction and started walking. Albeit, far more slowly than your usual ground-eating stride. This street might not be 'real' in the strictest sense of the word but it felt real. Real enough to make you worry about tripping. Real enough to trigger old anxieties about who or what was in the shadows, waiting and watching…always watching…

You firmly shoved those memories back into the tightly locked box where they belonged. You were not going to think about that, not going to remember it. You didn't need to remember it. That part of your life is over.

The street never got any brighter. You suspected that it never would. Whoever this person is, their world was made of fire and shadows. Part of you wanted to know why but you set aside your curiosity for the same reason you stayed outside of the buildings. You didn't need to know. It was none of your business. You were violating enough of this person's privacy just being here. A trespass that you were intending to compound by entering their home without their knowledge or permission. The least you could do was not poke around their mind anymore than necessary.

Marking the passage of time inside a thread was all but impossible. But eventually, you felt things shift. It remained just as dark as before but everything else intensified. You could smell water…old rotting wood…cigarette smoke and gun oil…something sharp that you couldn't identify…so many things that you had no idea what they were…could hear male voices filled with contempt…a cacophony of drums…felt the neverending heat, the sweat rolling down your back, the familiar but still irritating scratchiness of cotton blend…and the simmering rage, the pure unaltered fury at those who dared to harm his people…

You stumbled back and found yourself back in your own body, shaking and dizzy. What the fuck was that? Why was everything in his mind so damn loud? You had encountered people with sensory issues before but never with that level of intensity. And the overwhelming force of his emotions…Who is this guy?!

It was enough to make you briefly reconsider picking this particular apartment for your shower. But you were tired. Your nose was dripping blood. The pressure at your temples warned of an oncoming migraine. You still felt gross. And you still had to find somewhere to sleep tonight…

He's clearly busy, you told yourself. Doing what, you had no idea. And in all honesty, weren't sure that you wanted to know. But it seemed like something that would keep him occupied. Certainly occupied long enough for you to pop in, take a quick shower, and bounce.

Sweetening the temptation was that apparently whoever had last used the roof access door hadn't closed it properly. The lighting up here wasn't great but that obnoxious billboard on the far side of the other building was more than bright enough to make the open door. If you get onto that roof, you could bypass the buzzer on the front door. Okay, you weren't certain that there was a buzzer intercom at that door. But given how common that feature was in this city, it seemed a fair assumption to make.

The gap between this building and the one you needed to get to didn't look too far…that you'd fall six stories to your death (if you were lucky) if you were wrong did give you a moment's pause but you'd still be There if you weren't willing to take some risks to get what you want.

It was probably a sign of how messed up your brain was that running full speed toward that gap, then jumping had you grinning like a loon. Even after you landed on the other roof with all the grace of a drunk cat, earning yourself bruises that you were going to be feeling in the morning, you couldn't stop grinning.

That was kinda fun, you thought. Scary but fun. It might just be adrenaline speaking but maybe you should add parkour to your to-learn list. Wouldn't that be a nasty surprise for the people hunting you?

Despite your growing headache, you needed to open your third eye again. Fortunately making sure you went to the right apartment wouldn't require actually diving in this time. You just needed to follow the thread itself. The initial brightness made pain stab through your brain like a knife but you gritted your teeth and waited for both to subside. Which they did and soon you were following the azure thread through the open door.

You had expected the door to take you to a hallway. Instead you found yourself in a loft, looking down at what was clearly someone's living room. Luck was with you in that it was the right living room as the azure thread in your hand disappeared into a closet under the stairs that bridged said living room and the loft. Good, you thought as you closed your third eye. If you had to break into someone's house, you preferred to do it when they weren't home. Especially when it was this late at night. You preferred not to get shot. Getting shot sucked.

You didn't look for the light switch. First, since you weren't wearing gloves, you needed to avoid touching anything that you didn't have to. Getting the police to dust for prints would be extreme to find someone who hadn't actually stolen anything from you but some people were just that petty. You had no doubt that He had your prints flagged in every database in the country. Second, you didn't need it. There was more than enough light coming in from outside. Weird thread or not, you hoped this guy had good blackout curtains for his bedroom because cheese and crackers is that billboard bright.

It didn't take long to find the bathroom. There you did need to turn on the lights. The bathroom was a little plain but the shower was huge, easily big enough for two or more people. The towels were plain white, like the ones in hotels, except these looked much softer. It was shockingly neat for what was, as far as you could tell, the home of a single man. There wasn't a single item out of place.

You gave silent thanks that your mystery man was a neat freak. His tidiness was saving you a significant amount of time that you might have otherwise wasted searching for a towel, washcloths, and soap. You sat your bag on the counter. You'd fish out your cleanest clothes afterward. Which weren't very clean, you admitted to yourself with a grimace. But there wasn't anything you could do about that. You hadn't been able to do laundry. Your rushed exit from Tampa meant the only clothing you had was what's in the bag and what you had been wearing that day. Which didn't leave you with a lot of clothing options.

You turned on the shower, then peeled off your sweat-soaked clothing and dropped them into a single pile. Words could not describe how good it felt to take all that off, especially the bra. Stepping under the spray felt just as good in a different way. Mystery Man favored unscented soap but beggars could hardly be choosers. Plain soap at least smelled good. It was more than you could say for the beauty products your last identity used, which smelled entirely too much like Vick's Vapor Rub. And not just to you - more than one person had asked if you were feeling well during the ten months you had lived in Tampa.

The shampoo was also unscented. You hadn't known there was such a thing as unscented shampoo. Soap, yes, but shampoo and conditioner always seem to have some kind of smell added to it. Plain or not, it lathered up well and did a beautiful job washing out a couple weeks worth of grime out of your hair. And it all felt so good that you had to just stand underneath the spray for a moment, close your eyes and let yourself relax. Just for a moment…

Until there was a loud knock on the door and an unfamiliar male voice, hard and uncompromising, said, "When you're done showering, you're going to tell me why you are in my home."

You were frozen, finding yourself unable to move and unable to make a sound. Even when the man opened the bathroom door, you still couldn't get yourself to move. Not even to attempt to cover yourself. Your heart only beat faster when you see the man's reflection in the mirror. Lean, hard muscle poured into an entirely black outfit - shirt, pants, boots, gloves, and....a mask. You bite down hard on your bottom lip to stifle a whimper.

"Here are some sweats for when you are finished," the man continued, setting down the bundle of clothing that you only just realized was in one hand. That same hand darted out and grabbed your bag. Then without another word, he went back out the door and closed it.

The Man in the Black…fuck, fuck! And he had said that this is his home? Fuck, fuck, fuck! Of all the apartments in Hell's Kitchen, you had to pick the one that belonged to the vigilante? Fuck!

How had he snuck up on you? The shower drowned out a lot of sound but that bottom step creaked loud enough to wake the dead! So did several of the floorboards. And why had he, apparently, run back home? He had felt so busy...

Your mind raced, looking for an escape but there wasn't one. The door was the only way out of this bathroom. And he had your bag. Your go-bag with all the supplies you needed. Without it, you weren't just trapped in this bathroom. You were trapped in this city, unable to run until you made a new one….What if He found you before then? This time you couldn't stop the thin, terrified whine from escaping your mouth.

You did your best to swallow that fear and took a deep breath. Then another and another until you no longer felt like the walls collapsing in on you. You could breathe. You could do this. You could convince the Man in Black to let you go. You could convince him to give you back your go-bag.

Your hands shook as you turned off the shower. And keep shaking while you dried yourself off, distantly aware that the towels were even softer and fluffier than they looked. And they looked pretty fluffy. Now you just had to get dressed and your choices were your own clothes or the ones supplied by the Man in Black.

Pro for your own clothes — they were yours so no potential complications that might come from 'borrowing' the Man in Black's sweats. Con - they reeked. Pro for MIB's sweats — they were clean. Con - MIB will probably expect you to return them. Or would expect you to do certain things in exchange for the 'favor.'

Well he can expect anything he wants, doesn't mean he's gonna get it, you thought, your temper flaring. You welcomed the anger. Anger was an old, familiar friend. Anger had been there for you as long as you could remember, the fire that kept you moving when all you wanted to do was cry.

And if MIB tries to pull that crap…, you thought. Well, it wouldn't be the first time I've taught someone that no means no.

You grabbed the sweats, your hands steady once again as you pulled them on. Wearing your own clothes, smelly and still uncomfortably damp, might distract you. That was unacceptable. The sweats were clean. And comically oversized but you pulled the drawstring on the pants tight to keep them up. There wasn't much you could do about the shirt but it was sleeveless so at least you didn't need to worry about rolling up the sleeves to keep your hands free.

You faced the door and took one more deep breath. Then you walked out of the bathroom with your head held high. I might be down but I'm not out.

MIB was waiting for you in the living room, positioned to easily intercept any attempt on your part to reach the front door or the roof access door. Which was a little disappointing. It's always so much easier when your opponents were dumb. Your bag was sitting on a coffee table, unzipped but otherwise untouched. You hadn't remained in the bathroom long enough for him to have looked through the entire bag but enough for him to have seen something suspicious.

"Have a seat," MIB ordered.

You stuck out your chin, jaw tight. "I'd rather stand."

"Suit yourself," MIB said with a shrug. "I have a few questions. I expect honest answers. And fair warning, I will know if you are lying to me."

I'm sure, you mentally scoffed. You had played this game before.

He took your silence as agreement. "What's your name?"

"Mary Smith," you said, giving the name you had chosen to go by. Technically you had used it before but it was so common, so generic that finding you among all of the real Mary Smiths was all but impossible.

MIB scowled. "Lie. What's your name?"

"Mary Smith," you repeated.

MIB growled, then stomped over to you. He loomed over you, making you viscerally aware that he was a powerfully built man. One with a growing reputation for inflicting incredible violence. His lips pulled back into a snarl, then he said, voice low but full of barely restrained fury. "Do not lie to me. What is your name?"

You weren't going to lie to yourself that he wasn't frightening you. He was. Your heart is pounding and you could feel a cold sweat breaking out. But you stood your ground. He was hardly the first man to threat you. "Mary Smith is the only name you are getting from me. Take it or leave it."

Another growl but apparently he wasn't willing to hit you over what name you were using. "So 'Mary', why did you break into my apartment?"

"To take a shower," you said.

"Nothing else? Weren't gonna steal my laptop?"

"No," you said.

This seemed to throw him a little. His head tilted to one side. "Something else?"

"Maybe a banana?" you said. It had been hours since that muffin at the coffee place. And using your abilities was hungry work.

"That's it? A shower and some food is all you were after?"

"Yep."

"No one sent you? You aren't working for anyone?"

"No."

This really seemed to throw him. He frowned then stepped back, giving you more space even as he stared at you with an intensity you had never experienced. It felt like he could see right through you. "You weren't trying to figure out who I am?" "No," you said. "Didn't even know that you existed until a few hours ago. I just got here."

He nodded, his body language turning more…relaxed wasn't the right word. There was still too much predatory energy for relaxed. Less hostile, perhaps? He was certainly radiating far less menace than he had been a minute ago.

"But you are running from someone."

"What makes you say that?"

MIB gestured toward the coffee table. "IDs, cash, clothes, hair dye, knife, medical supplies —it's a go bag. All of your things reek of stress and fear. Who are you running from?"

"Doesn't matter," you said, though part of your mind noted the peculiar wording.

"Tell me," MIB said. In a sharp contrast to moments before, his voice was now gentle and kind. "I can help you."

You couldn't help it. You laughed. It wasn't a happy laugh. It was bitter, hopeless. "No one can help me."

"I can." MIB said, confident and sure of himself. Probably because he had no idea what he was up against. And proved it with his next question. "Who is after you? The police? Drug cartel? Ex husband?

You shook your head. "Doesn't matter."

"It does. Tell me so I can help you," he said, almost pleading. "I promise I'll protect you."

Even with half his face covered, he looked so earnest. And you couldn't help but feel touched by his offer. He didn't know you. Didn't know what he was promising. Couldn't know who he was pitting himself against. It was something that only one other person had ever done for you.

"No, you can't," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. If the Ferryman wasn't powerful enough….

"Mary —"

"I can't tell you." Your mind unwillingly conjures the knowledge of what would happen to anyone who tried to help you. "I can't."

MIB sighed, a deeply frustrated sound, but he let it go. "Do you have somewhere to sleep tonight?"

"No?" You said.

"Well, you do now. My bed is through that door." He pointed behind you.

You shifted, uneasy. "I don-"

"Don't be afraid," he said. "I'll be sleeping on the couch."

"But-"

"Please," he said. "If you wouldn't let me help you, at least let me give you somewhere safe to sleep tonight."

You considered it, torn. You didn't know this man, didn't really trust him, but you were tired. Beyond tired. You haven't had a good night's sleep since you left Tampa. You didn't really want to look somewhere else or sleep outside again. "Okay."

[blu3-ja3]

Hi! More context for my Cursed Gotham au! More specifically I was thinking of context for Jason and eventually the LoA and Talia. Eventually it led to all of this and I added more details to the Batfam timeline. There have been some changes to quite a few things like certain backstories and ages of certain characters.

So I was thinking that Thomas and Martha knew the Al Ghuls and were friends for a bit, Bruce and Talia both weren't born yet, maybe Martha and Mrs Al Ghul are pregnant together. Anyways during that time they make each other the godparents of their child, skip to them having a falling out because the Wayne's find out about Ra's hobby (League of Assassins).

So because there's paper work when the Wayne's are murdered little Bruce is sent to live with the Al Ghuls for a bit, like I'm thinking a year and a half because Gotham's justice systems are slow and Alfred is having trouble proving that the paperwork stating the Al Ghuls are the godparents of Bruce was nullified. So lil Bruce is trained to be Ras next in line, man's crazy and obsessed with immortality. Anyways lil Bruce just thinks he's being trained for self defense, so he can save people. Because if he could've done the thing he's seen the instructors do then maybe he could've saved his parents.

Alfred gets custody of lil Bruce and sees the kid really enjoys his martial arts. Alfred also sees how much lil Bruce hates being in the Wayne Manor and decides to take Bruce traveling to learn cool ass martial arts from different masters. Eventually when Bruce is a teen he goes back to Ras to finish his training, Bruce doesn't know that Ras is making him into a weapon. Mrs. Al Ghul is dead and Bruce doesn't know how. Talia and Bruce have a bit of a romance, nothing serious but the building bricks for their later relationship that leads to Damien's existence.

Bruce gets curious about Mrs Al Ghul's death and puts his detective skills to work and learns about some of Ras's plans. He learns of Ras making him into a weapon not the part of taking over Bruce's body. He also learns that Ras killed Talia's mother. Anyways Bruce gets pissed and is like nope I'm out, he tries to convince Talia to come with him. Talia refuses and they get into a big argument, they both say some hateful and horrible things before Bruce reveals Ras's hand in killing Talia's mom. Talia tells him she already knew and Bruce says that Talia is just like Ras before leaving.

When he's back in Gotham he's sad loner Bruce Wayne see Robert Patterson's Bats and becomes the vigilante. He gains a bit of a reputation for being extremely brutal and violent. Like I said originally Bruce didn't name himself, Gotham's people named him Batman. I'm thinking of a new reporter who writes articles talking about the local cryptid like being whose fighting crime. Like all the pictures are blurry as hell and all you can see are the squinting whites of his cowl or really blurry Batman shaped pictures of him flying across Gotham and kicking ass. Eventually as an off hand comment the writer calls him a bat man and the name sticks.

Bruce at like 16 is emancipated which officially makes him the CEO of Wayne Enterprise's and the owner of all his father's previous projects and money. Corruption has a chokehold in the business ranks due to a power vacuum. Bruce immediately starts rooting out corruption from Wayne Enterprises, initially wanting to fire everyone and start over completely. Alfred points out that if he does that he'll also fire the innocent people who had nothing to do with the corruption.

So begins Bruce's investigation of his own company, he notices that everyone is underestimating him. They think he's a stupid kid so he uses that to his advantage, he plays dumb for everyone including the media. 'I had no idea Mr. Kendall was embezzling from the company, I was going to give him a raise because if he needed more money then I'd like to pay him more but then Ms. Penelope told me where the money was going and showed me the ledgers, yes exactly... Hmm? Oh I found out because I was in his office looking for a pen, I saw the papers and didn't recognize them. Oh Ms. Sullen's front information just kinda showed up on my desk I hadn't a clue what she was doing!'

Bruce also set up the Wayne foundation to help with Gotham as much as possible; public housing, roads and parks, funding for schools, helping with health care. If Bruce can throw money to help fix a problem in Gotham he's doing it. Gotham loves their Loner, Emo, Socially Awkward Teenager, Golden Boy, Bruce Wayne and they'll defend him till the end. Like the one time a Metropolis reporter who had a live interview with a newly 17 years old Bruce and asked a rude as hell question that caused Bruce to freeze up a bit. The Daily Plant had to make a public apology to Bruce and fire the reporter.

Bruce also helps build and fund Arkham Asylum, in official interviews and outside of official interviews Bruce always has the same stance when keeping the Asylum up and running. That stance is that people deserve a chance to change, no matter how corrupt they think they are. Bruce makes a joke about Batman needing to go to Arkham, not for the vigilantism but for the fashion choices. I love the idea that Bruce Wayne has a bit of beef with Batman.

Bruce went to the Hailey's Circus and witnessed the death of the Flying Graysons, there's video of 18 year old Bruce Wayne running from his seat, jumping a barrier at the front, and quickly scooping up a little Dick Grayson from where he sat next to his parents bodies. In the video it shows Bruce holding the small boy and quickly making his way out of the tent with his butler/caretaker quickly following behind them. Gotham isn't at all surprised when the young man adopts Dick.

I think initially Bruce doesn't tell Dick about being Batman, like he's training Dick because it's a relatively healthy way of getting rid of all the anger the kid has. Bruce also takes the kid to therapy cause Bruce goes to therapy. I think little Dick knows Bruce has social anxiety and is immediately like Take me to all your public events! And Bruce does but is incredibly confused???

But it works well, when Dick feels Bruce getting too anxious about the crowd and attention Dick starts performing circus tricks. It takes all the attention away from Bruce and Dick is used to it, he loves the attention it reminds him of his parents in a way. It's their normal for a bit until one night Bruce as Batman is badly injured and stumbles back home only to collapse in a very visible place for little Dick to see. A Dick who's supposed to be in bed hours ago but couldn't find Bruce after a particularly bad nightmare. A Dick who sees his father figure bleeding out in front of him.

After Alfred saves him, Bruce has to explain to Dick why he kept it a secret for two years. Dick immediately is like I'm going with you, I'm helping you catch bad guys. Bruce is reluctant but concedes for only one case, that case being bringing in the killer of Dick's parents. A case that Bruce had been working on since that night, a crime lord by the name Tony Zuko came to the circus demanding protection money from the ring master who refused. As punishment Dick's parents were killed.

Que Dick making the Robin costume and demands no pants, he's a master manipulator and gets his way. Bruce is very hesitant about all the bright colors as well but Dick reassures him that if he can hide wearing this he can hide wearing anything. Bat doesn't immediately take Robin to find Tony, they kinda have a trial run for like a week. Bat sees that Robin is capable and proves himself to be able to hide well.

They eventually bring Tony to justice. Robin is a little menace that Gotham falls in love with and goons fear. Like I said Dick was the feral murderous Robin, goons can't hear a child's laughter without flinching and getting twitchy. Like Robin is as much as cryptid as Batman because no child can do the absolutely impossible stunts Robin performs on the regular. Not even Gotham's beloved Dick Greyson-Wayne, which starts Dick's public feud with Robin. Dick constantly "tries" to perform Robins tricks and fails, he even goes so far as to fake a broken bone after trying to do a trick at a Gala.

When Dick's like 11 Bruce helps form the Justice League, he begs to meet Superman. When Dick becomes 13 he finally gets to meet Superman, Dick also becomes the leader of the Teen Titans; Cyborg, Raven, Starfire, and Beast Boy. 3 years later Bruce stumbles across Jason Todd stealing the tires off the Batmobile (Dick called everything in the cave bat- as a joke which Bruce joined in on. It was a joke until Bats said Batcomputer in front of the JL and he just committed to the bit.) at first Bruce wasn't going to bring Jason into the vigilante side of everything.

Bruce didn't keep the secret as long as he did with Dick, after a month Dick let it slip accidentally. All three had a serious discussion that night at dinner. Dick wanted to become his own hero but didn't know who just yet. Bruce and Dick came up with the mantle of Red Robin as a temporary mantle until Dick figured out his path. Dick would stay as Robin during the months it would take to train Jason and then once Jason was ready they would exchange mantles.

They make a new robin suit for Jason because Jason is tiny, like he's severely malnourished. The new suit has shorts because Jason likes shorts and more pockets for snacks, Bruce also brings more snacks for patrols. Because Jason is smaller than Dick, Bruce gives Jason a boe staff. At 19 Red Robin helps Superman and Supes tells Dick about the Kryptonian superheroes. Dick becomes Nightwing in honor of Superman and Batman.

Robin at 12 saves a 5 year old Tim Drake from something minor, like baby genius Tim is trying to take pictures of the different species of nocturnal birds in Gotham. Baby Tim is on a roof trying to get closer to the edge with his camera and almost falls but Jason saves the kid. Que a very smart small child becoming absolutely obsessed with Robin and sneaks out to capture pictures of him, Nightwing and Batman. Jason helps form the Young Justice League; Mrs. Martian, Speedy, Kid Flash, and Aqua-Lad.

Two years later when Robin is 14 he's killed by the Joker, who beat the boy nearly to death before blowing up the building Jason was in. Before this Joker was getting increasingly deranged with his laughing gas and traps. Batman didn't notice mostly because he'd been able to cure the joker toxin and escape any trap before it was set off. Superman was off world when Bats called for him so it took a while to get back to earth.

When Superman arrived in Gotham he found Batman beating a nearly dead Joker on a live broadcast. After he had killed Robin, Joker decided to taunt Batman and try to lead him into a trap. Unbeknownst to Joker Batman was fully ready to kill him, Bruce was ready to break his one rule and then turn himself in. But Superman stopped him, he pulled the man away from the unconscious body. The last thing Gotham heard was the broken wail of Batman before the broadcast was cut off.

Joker was taken into custody and placed at Arkham until deemed mentally well. Gotham mourned the loss of the young Robin and kinda turned a blind eye to Batman's sudden increase in violence. A month later Bruce Wayne holds a closed casket funeral for his son Jason who died fighting illness. Jason is buried in the private Wayne plot at the graveyard next to Martha and Thomas Wayne. There is a memorial statue of Robin in the park.

A young Tim Drake tracks down Dick Grayson to Jump City and Titans towers. Tim begs the man to go back to being Robin. Dick refuses to go back, he's mourning his little brother and can't go back to vigilantism. Starfire has to remove Tim from the tower, Tim decides to become Robin himself. Tim sneaks into the batcave and is found by a very confused Alfred. Tim tells Alfred everything including knowing the secret identities of Batman.

Tim at 7 takes the mantle of Robin and does his best to prevent Bruce from killing criminals. Barbra Gordon becomes Batgirl to hopefully prevent Batman from accidentally killing someone in his violence. After a few months of Tim as Robin, Dick holds an intervention for Bruce with Alfred and Tim. They all managed to convince Bruce to take some time away from Gotham and go traveling. Dick promises to take on the mantle of Batman temporarily while Barbra continues being Batgirl and Tim continues being Robin.

Bruce first goes to travel around parts of India while there he meets with Talia again, they're both untrusting of each other until they realize it's a coincidence. They decided to travel India together and in the process have a relationship picking up where they left off as teens. They travel together for 3 months until they have another falling out, less intense as their last one and they both mutually agree to just be friends. Bruce learns Talia is trying to disassemble the LoA from the inside and he isn't happy about all the risks she's taking.

They split up and travel separately, Bruce continues his backpacking across the Eurasian continent. After another 3 months he returns to Gotham having figured his shit out and isn't violent. Dick is happy to give back the mantle of Batman back to Bruce and he becomes Nightwing again. Dick goes to Bludhaven and becomes their vigilante. Bruce and Tim run around and prevent crime until Joker breaks out of Arkham and kidnaps Robin.

Bruce is quick to notice Tim missing because Barbara is his babysitter and the Drake's had to leave for a business trip. Both Barbra and Bruce find Tim within two weeks of him being in Joker's and Harley's capture. Harley snaps a bit from all of Joker's torture and attacks Joker when he tries to harm Tim again. In the fight Joker throws an explosive at Batgirl that catches her off guard and paralyzed her. After Joker is placed in cuffs, Harley reveals that Joker was using Tim as a test experiment for his newest Joker Toxin.

The Drake's are contacted and told it would take time to create an antidote for the young boys. They relinquish their parental rights and vanish from the public eye, Bruce steps in and takes in Tim. It takes 4 months to find an antidote for Tim but there are still lingering effects on Tim from his time with Joker and Harley. So Tim is benched and helps Barbra create the Oracle system to help Batman while he's patrolling alone. Jim is only told the Barbra was Batgirl none of the others reveal themselves.

Stephanie Brown becomes Robin at 10 after she helps Batman take down her father. She stays in Gotham with her aunt and mom after convincing her mother to stay because she has friends here. Steph helps Cassandra and the two become inseparable, Bruce later adopts Cass who becomes Black Bat. Stephanie and Cass ran around together for a few years and attended school together.

Scarecrow releases a batch of fear toxin that was mixed with Joker's Laughing Gas, Duke's parents have an adverse reaction to the conditions and the current antidote doesn't work. Bruce takes in the young boy and covers all expenses to keep the Thomas parents safe until they can find a cure. When Duke was exposed to the Toxin his powers manifested, he and Bruce talked about Duke becoming the Signal.

Bruce and Selina begin their relationship as civilians, Harley and Ivy are released from Arkham and live normal lives in Gotham. Harley becomes a therapist for the Gotham vigilantes, Tim has recovered enough that he requested to become Robin again at 13. Stephanie gives the mantle to Tim and she becomes Spoiler.

Tim starts a new team of Teen Titans with Impulse and Wondergirl, their first mission causes them to accidentally stumble across the cloning facilities where Superboy Prime was being created. They release Kon and they form their team under the instruction of Nightwing and Starfire. Tim leads this team for multiple years and ends up in a relationship with Kon.

Talia is on the run from her father with Damien ending up in Gotham and comes across a freshly revived Jason, she doesn't know how he's back but she takes him in. She finds a second Lazarus pit under Gotham and puts Jason in for a short time. She continues with her plan and takes both Damien and Jason to Bruce. Talia explains to Bruce everything she knows including Ras's plans to steal Damien's body, she explains what she knows about Jason and how to help the catatonic man. She doesn't know how he came back but decided to help him by placing him into the pit.

Bruce takes in both boys and offers refuge for Talia which she denies. It takes months for Jason to have some semblance of normal again, not enough for him to go out patrolling but enough that he's helping Oracle from the Batcomputer. He's still dealing with a little bit of pit madness but not as severe, he's being helped by Roy and his daughter.

After a few months Tim passes the mantle of Robin to Damien and becomes Red Robin until he figures out his own vigilante name. Damien meets Jonathan Kent and they become the superson together, Jon helping curve some of Damien's awkwardness from being raised by multiple assassins. Cassandra also helps because she gets what Damien went through.

Damien is the first introduced to the public and when Jason is ready Bruce makes a story claiming Jason was in witness protection services because he saw the death of Robin. Gotham is so excited to have the boy back as well as the newest Wayne.

So the current Wayne Family is Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass, Duke, and Damien. Steph has her own family and so does Barbara.

The romantic relationships for everyone are as follows:

Bruce and Selina

Dick and Kori

Jason and Roy

Tim and Kon

Cass and Steph

[andy-wm]

Why is Bam on insta?

This thought flashed in my head when i saw the most recent photos of Bam.

Maybe I'm just slow and everyone else figured this out already but maybe not, so I’m sharing it.

The Bam insta account isn't just a fun side project set up by JK while he’s doing military service. He doesn't even have an account for himself*, so why would he make one for his puppy? It's not like he needs (or wants?) more followers or influence, and he could have just used his t1ct0k, where hes already got gazillions of followers.

When bowwow_bam first appeared, many comments suggested he created it to keep in touch with ARMY while he's serving in the military. And yes he DID share the account with ARMY on weverse, but I doubt that's the reason it exists.

Bowwow_bam is not for ARMY...

The photos JK gets from the training centre let him know that Bam is happy and well cared for.

Even though Bam has been in and out of the training centre often while JK has had his schedules, those stays were brief compared to 18 months. This time, Bam will basically be living there full time, long term.

Maybe this is why JK sent Bam to the training centre so often in the past, when he might have left Bam with friends or family instead. That way, the training centre became familiar to Bam before his long term stay.

Bowwow_bam is for JK

Bam's photos are likely sent to JK directly, so why post them to a public platform? And why post ONLY these?

Why?

Sure, it's a good way for JK to stay connected to ARMY with minimal effort. Let's not be foolish enough to think he doesn't care about that. It's pretty clear he wants to pick up his career where he left off when he comes back. (It goes without saying that BTS - and JK - will still have millions of fans after MS.)

But i don't believe thats the only reason Bam has an insta account, and i dont think it's the most significant reason either.

There are so many ways JK could have maintained a socials presence. If he wanted to be on insta, even just reposting old content would keep him at the forefront of ARMY's mind... if he had an insta account* that is.

It also got me thinking about what JK will be doing with his time off.

He isn't all that close to his family, he tells us. And most of his friends are idols, from what we see (although that could be selective information), so probably insanely busy with their own schedules. And his Bangtan brothers, his found family, are also doing their service. And he and Jimin are apparently on different shifts (if the information we have is correct).

So who is he connecting wiith?

Who is his link to home and normality?

This doggo right here is.

Besides letting JK know that Bam is happy and well cared for, the photos connect JK to home and give him something tangible to look forward to on the other side of his service.

They'd remind him that this episode of his life has an end date, that he has a place to return to, and that somebody is waiting for him to come home. Bam is waiting for him.

But why post them on instagram?

We know JK has a strong connection with ARMY. He's said many times that we're his safe place (debatable, honestly) and his happy place (I truly hope so). He's told us it's ARMY he talks to late at night when he's alone. He's also set clear boundaries about what he's prepared to share and how close we're allowed to come - although he blurs these lines himself sometimes... naked livestreams from his bed come to mind, but i digress...

I believe the insta account - Bam and ARMY together - is his anchor. This is his link back to his life before and after MS.

Sharing these photos from the training centre with his three (or four or five) million closest friends would validate for JK what his life has been, and will be again. It tells him we (like Bam) are still here, still waiting, without him ever having to ask.

It keeps that part of his life real for him.

Just to be clear,

I'm not downplaying the significance of Jimin and JK serving together in the companions program.

In my mind nothing could be more significant.

Jimin is with him day after exhausting day, just as he has been for the last twelve years. While that must be an enormous comfort to them both, these long and arduous days must still seem endless.

Getting through this difficult time with any sort of optimism would require something to look forward to, and recieving photos of Bam would give JK much happiness, and remind him that there is life outside of the camp.

They'd serve to remind him that at the end of it all he will see his beloved doggo in person...

...and that he and Jimin will go home and his little family will be whole again

💜🐰🐶🐥💛

*pretty sure he does tho...

~as always, opinions are my own and all of this is conjecture~

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺ 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒘𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 | 𝐣𝐨𝐡𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐨𝐜 | 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐰𝐨

Summary: a long stakeout reveals information john walker didn't want to share (wc: 2291)

Warnings: swearing, walker is a bit of a dick, divorce, losing child custody, mentions of jail/juvi, thunderbolts spoilers-ish

✎……idk if you wanna send in requests for them or something that'd be cool 👉👈

TRACK ONE | MASTERLIST | TRACK THREE

Juno was led from her cell in handcuffs. She was still just trying to process the fact that she had a visitor at all. Who the hell could it even be? Her mother stopped visiting around her fifth year in juvi. But this was real prison. Her first stint in a cell like that actually. She tried to call her father when she first got processed, but all he said was that he hoped prison would at least toughen her up some. He would visit when he found time.

Six months into her sentence, maybe he had found the time.

The visitor's room was one Juno had yet to be in. The walls were lined with windows so the guards could watch them carefully — making sure nothing got snuck in or out. But the room was filled with cafeteria tables. At least it wasn’t plexiglass dividers and phones. 

There was only one person inside. A woman wearing a pencil skirt and a red blouse perfectly pressed. Her dark hair had a single white streak in it. She looked almost too perfect. She was smiling as Juno was led inside. So not her father then.

Her escort uncuffed her as soon as they were inside, but they didn’t take off the collar around her neck. Then, with a nod from the woman, the guards left them alone. The woman gestured to the table in the middle of the room before taking a seat herself. Juno joined her cautiously. 

“Do I know you?” she asked.

“No. But I — I know you.” The woman pulled a file out from under the table. Juno ducked, there was a briefcase underneath. Was she even allowed to bring that in here? “Juno Rivera, born in 1993 to Lorenzo and Paula Rivera in New York. First sentenced to juvenile detention at the age of ten for critically wounding a classmate with a knife. Said to possess —”

“Alright, you don’t have to keep going,” Juno interjected, arms crossed on top of the table. “Who are you?”

“I’m someone who can get that power damper off your neck,” she replied, pointing at the collar.

Juno touched the metal humming gently with electricity. “And if I don’t want to take it off?”

“Then you can keep it on and rot in your cell until your sentence is up. In what…Thirty years?”

She flinched. Swallowed something thick as she looked around at the guards watching her like a hawk — like she might explode at any second. For nearly half her life this was all she had ever known. “My father will come and get me out.”

“Your father?” she scoffed. “Last I heard, your daddy had hightailed it to Mexico with half of his operation and a bullet in his gut. He’s not coming. I am.”

She wanted to ask if her father had sent her. He had connections, shady people who were willing to do anything he asked. He was powerful enough. But this woman seemed different. Not one of her father’s usual puppets. 

“Who are you?”

“I own and operate an organization that has a special interest in people with superhuman abilities. People like you, Ms. Rivera. If you’re willing to agree to my terms, I can get you out of here in a few days and in the world again.”

Juno considered her for a moment. Could she trust her? That streak in her hair. That calm, confident smile that quirked her red painted lips. Her nails tapped idly against the file that held her entire life’s story. Tragedy and loss. Confusion and rage.

“What are the terms?” she asked slowly.

The woman smiled. “The organization, OXE, would hold the copyright to your name, design, and powerset. We would train you on all things physical and public facing. And if we decide you are not suitable for the project we’re pursuing we can drop you back into a more…Background role.”

“What…What kind of project is this?”

“To make the world's next greatest hero.” The woman grinned widely at her.

A hero. Juno gasped lightly at the term. Felt her heart skip a beat. A hero. All of her life it felt like she could do nothing but hurt people. Make things worse. Be feared and loathed by everyone around her. But heroes weren’t feared or hated. They were…Loved. 

Isn’t that what she had always wanted?

“I’m in.”

The place Valentina had gotten for them in Marseille was small. A studio apartment with an old fold-out couch, folding tables and chairs, and a wrought iron-lined balcony. It had a beautiful view of the bay, and that was the point. Some black market dealer had gotten his hands on Chitauri weapons and was selling them from his boat — posing as a fishmonger. They knew what he looked like, what his boat looked like, even. But they had yet to see a deal go through, those illegal alien weapons in his hands, and Valentina wanted solid proof before Armory and U.S. Agent ruined his day.

But two weeks holed up in that little apartment was beginning to wear on them.

Empty chip bags and bottles were scattered about the small space. The sink was full of dishes that no one really wanted to clean. The fold-out bed, at this point, was just left open. The sheets crumpled, and the pillows left where they lay. They couldn’t even eat at the small dining table. That was covered with their recon equipment, parabolic microphones, and cameras ready to catch their target in the act. 

Juno felt like she should talk to her partner. This was, what, the fourth mission they had gone on together? Since their first mission, he had been easy to talk to. Not an open book by any means, but she could say what was on her mind and at least feel heard. Maybe even crack a joke if she thought of one. But instead, there was just quiet. It wasn’t for lack of trying on her part. She had tried to start conversations, ask him questions. But John had dismissed her quickly. Almost angrily at times. She didn’t try again after that.

And wasn’t going to now. He still felt caged up, distant. Like a wall was put up between them that hadn’t really been there on previous missions. He was an asshole, seemed to know it too, but he cared. Gave what he could but took what he needed. Impatient to a point but almost never when it came to her. Played to her strengths but never gave away an ounce of control. Almost to an annoying degree. Valentina could even sense that they worked well together. He was the only partner she had gotten since their first mission. 

But something had changed now. Juno wondered if she did something wrong as the quiet persisted in that dirty studio apartment. 

It was nearly suffocating, the silence. Not being able to leave didn’t help either. They didn’t want to draw suspicions. There was no escape from John Walker with his furrowed brow and the tension that had built between them. It had been nearly two days since the last time they even said anything to one another. Juno’s knee bounced as she tuned the frequency on the microphone.

“It would be easier if we had a bug in there,” she blurted out, almost to her own surprise.

John sighed, set down the binoculars to rub at his eyes. “I don’t wanna do anything unless it’s perfect.”

“I have an easy cover. If that helps.” She shrugged.

“What does that mean?”

At least he was taking the conversation further. At least he was looking in her direction instead of staring out of the window.

Juno took off her headphones. Sat up straighter in her seat. “Valentina…Probably knows this, but I’ve got a side gig. Arms dealing.”

“You — You’re an arms dealer?” he spluttered back, doubt leaking into every word as he really looked at her for the first time. 

It was more than just the quiet, the standoffishness, that had changed about John. It was everything. His hair had grown out. His beard was longer. Dark circles had slowly formed under his eyes. He had always been rigid about his appearance, some military precision in the way his shirts and jeans looked. But now they were wrinkled, fold lines clear. She supposed it was a slow change, but they were all the more obvious now that they had spent so long together in one room. And the way he looked at her now, he knew that she saw it in him.

“Only when I’ve got time. It’s all profit for me,” she said after a beat.

He looked away from her, back to the window. “You don’t seem like the type.”

“It’s easier…When I’m wearing the suit. Mask down. It’s not Juno making the deal, it's Armory.” She resorted to fiddling with the over-ear headphones on the table, unable to stand the silence anymore. “It would be easy. I’m a known name in the underground. I could show up on his boat tonight and —”

 “No. We’re not doing that. Too risky,” he replied. 

Without hearing her full plan. Juno huffed and rolled her eyes, arms crossed. 

“This microphone is shit. Picking up what he’s saying is guesswork. We need a proper bug if we’re gonna hear the intel we need. I can do this.”

“He doesn’t need to know that Armory is here. It could blow our location.”

“Oh, good grief. It’s like you want us to be stuck here forever.”

“No, I want us to be safe. Not running in guns blazing just because you’re tired of listening to the microphone all day.”

“I’m not tired of — this isn’t working!” Juno got to her feet, a natural reaction to the anger bubbling up in her chest. “You aren’t my fucking captain, Walker, I don’t follow your orders. If you don’t trust me then say so, but stop being a dick and just listen to me.”

She could tell that stung, calling him captain, from the way he blinked up at her from his seat before he stood up, slow and deliberate with his fists clenched at his sides. Juno stood her ground, stared up into his face with a downturned mouth and furrowed brows. But it crumbled beneath her feet only slightly when she caught his eye. Bright blue rimmed with red and told way more than he wanted them to. 

Then he finally sighed and whispered, shaky and so quiet: “I do trust you.”

“Then let me do this,” she said, taking a step forward.

“I — I can’t —” he backed away, turned away — towards the kitchen. Got a glass and filled it at the sink, but never took a drink. He just stared into the ceramic basin and muttered. “I can’t lose anyone else.”

Juno barely heard it. But she did. She didn’t go to him. Knew that he would hate it. So she stayed rooted to the spot, staring at his back straining beneath that wrinkled t-shirt, and asked: “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer for a long time. For a moment, she wondered if she should look through the binoculars or pick up the headphones again. But they both knew their target was out for lunch right now. As was his usual. He wouldn’t be back for another hour at least. So she just stood there and waited for him. Waited for him to be ready. She knew he had lost a lot in his life. Valentina had shared the file before they worked together. The role of Captain America. His best friend and partner. His reputation. And even before that, there had been loss after loss. Squad mates. Civilians he couldn’t save. His own parents one right after the other. So she waited. 

“My…My wife filed for divorce,” he spoke quietly, “Handed me the papers a week after our first mission together. She, uh — she wants full custody of our son. No visitation rights.”

“Oh, fuck,” she said without thinking.

John actually huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. My thoughts exactly.”

“I’m sorry,” she tried again.

“Yeah, me too.” He sighed again before turning to face her. “You’ll go tonight. Plant the bug on something stable. Make sure you’re not followed.”

“I know,” she replied.

He nodded, finally took a drink from that glass of water. Juno turned to her bag thrown carelessly into the other corner. 

That information wasn’t in his file. She supposed it didn’t pertain to him professionally so Valentina didn’t feel the need to put it in. He was married. He had a kid. He was getting a divorce. He was losing custody of his son. There was no one he could punch or kill to get out of this. Two more people for him to lose. She looked back over her shoulder at him, wanting to give some comforting word, but so unsure what to say.

Words were coming before she could stop them: “You know, uh…The fact that you care at all means you were a pretty good dad.”

“I don’t think so,” he scoffed from across the room.

“I don’t know, man. When I first went to prison, my dad was happy about it,” she said as she pulled her suit from her bag. “Said that it might make me less of a wus.”

“Jesus.”

“Seems like you fucked up. But there are worse things to be.” She got to her feet and turned to John then who stared at her unblinking. “You could be happy to leave.”

“Juno…”

“I’m gonna go get changed. Get ready.” She pointed to the bathroom. 

And he let her go. Watched as she walked away with something tight in his chest.

i no longer have a taglist, please follow @anniesocsandlibrary and turn on notifications for updates

[cardboardheartss]

Lisa Smear Campaign and Hate Train on Social Media Mini Reading

I’ve gotten a request to do this reading from an anon so here we go!

Why is Lisa getting so much hate online?

Avoidance rx, Earth rx, Thoughts rx, Apology rx, Self care rx, receive rx, forming rx, fire rx, reunion, reflection rx, Venus rx, air

The reason why she’s receiving so much hate is because this comeback is giving people the opportunity to come together and attack Lisa out of boredom.

People who are apart of this hate train really have nothing else to do with their lives so would rather go around and ruin or diminish Lisa’s reputation and career.

Many of them don’t even realize that they are projecting their own insecurities onto Lisa and none of these trolls will sit or reflect on their actions and notice that their behavior is wrong.

What are her thoughts on the hate she’s receiving?

Spying rx, Family, Pride, Cloudy Judgement, Silence

Ugh! You go girl!!!

Lisa clearly doesn’t give a flying f! She’s not lurking on social media and worried about any negative comments.

It’s as if she’s like used to it and even if she sees the comments from people “critiquing” her and calling her all sorts of names, she uses those comments to boost her ego.

She knows the comments come from people projecting onto her, so when those same haters attack her she knows that she’s doing an incredible job!

She also thinks the haters are delusional and just plain stupid, so she really won’t take anything they say to heart.

Lisa will not be releasing any statements anytime soon. She will just let these trolls spiral over things that really aren’t beneficial in their lives.

Who is behind her smear campaign and hate she’s receiving online?

South Node, Healing, Detachment rx, Mars, Water, Change, Shadow Side, Present, Guarded rx, Fate

Well… it’s definitely someone present in her life as we speak. ifykyk.

This person behind this smear campaign against Lisa really keeps track of what Lisa does based off these cards, and could try compete with her in some way and gets triggered when Lisa gets the praise and attention.

Could be from lack of encouragement from childhood, karmic past life with Lisa or envy of Lisa’s relationship with her mom?

With the shadow card in this reading, whoever ms smear campaign is should really watch herself and her behavior and those around her because people are already noticing the patterns.

If she doesn’t continue hiding her true shadowy behavior… yea Lisakarma will change up her life in a veryyy negative way.

[eduhubspot]

The guide is intended to help project managers ensure that their projects are delivered with the highest possible level of quality. This resource provides guidelines and best practices for quality assurance within the project management context.

[babey-fruit-bat]

Practical Life Skills for Everyone

Wolverine X Reader FLUFF

Content: The new Home Ec teacher encounters the Shop Class teacher at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters

Note: photos come from Pinterest and collage made by me hehe

Tw: SAFE FOR POC/FEM READERS- Author can’t write dialogue, Logan is called short ONCE (written with comic accurate Wolverine in mind-but can be movie Logan too) reader is given pet names/refered to as she/Ms.

I haven’t written a serious fic since high school and I want to get back out here again hooray!

—————————————————————————

A new semester, apple on the desk, pots and pans freshly washed, sewing machines at the ready. Nothing this semester could stop you- starting fresh at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters brought to fruition everything you’d hoped for. Family, a career, children, and most importantly- stability.

A word normally foreign for mutants of all kinds, yourself included. Settling down as a teacher helped to blend your identity. Charles had located you on purpose- something you’d come to terms with over the last few months spent bonding with the staff and fellow X-Men. You’d been offered a position as a teacher and had accompanied several missions, all successful due to your mutation. It wasn’t easy- and took many years to develop and control your abilities the way you could. You’d managed on your own just fine before this but life was lonely at best, suffocating at worst. A life spent using your mutation to survive- Now you could live.

You’d initially been brought on to train a young mutant named Rouge- with a similar ability, training her was rewarding. It was like a reflection of your younger self staring back st you. About a century ago you had no community, family, friends.

That reality seemed so far away compared to the life you lived now. You mused this thought to yourself unlocking the door to your classroom. You set the books on top of your perfectly organized desk- perfect timing as the students began filling in for the day.

You pulled up their bell work to complete on the projector watching one by one as they sorted themselves into groups ready. A slight drone of music started down the hall and the bell announced the start of another day.

Beginning with collecting the bell work, you started the students off with a simple recipe to complete before the end of class. Classic chocolate chip cookies- a family favorite and good way to observe the student’s skill levels.

“More salt Colby, the acidity is necessary”

“Yes Ms. Y/N”

“Scrape the flour off the top of the measuring cup for an even amount, Emma”

“Thanks, professor Y/N!”

It wasn’t long before each student had a decent batch of cookies ready to grade and devour- the edible ones at least..

But before any grading could be done- or eating the music level from the hall rose to an absurd level

“Does anyone know who has their music so loud this morning?” You stated opening the door to the hallway “I hardly think this time of morning is-“

“It’s the shop class down the hall” one of the students stated, also mildly annoyed

“Hmmm, shop class? I didn’t know we offered shop this semester.. Do you think the professor would-“

A chorus of “No way!” “Do not!” and “He’ll kill you!” erupted from the students

“Who? I hardly think anyone would be so ill-tempered about asking to cut the music down so early”

“It’s professor Logan, he’s back this semester”

“Then I guess we’ll have to give him a ring- this volume is a little much, surely he wouldn’t mind?”

The students held their breath as you dialed the shop’s classroom on the school phone

It was a wonder anyone picked up the phone in the shop. Many students gathered around the bike Logan was introducing as the senior class project. A chance to not only test their skills but add personal flare- a teenagers wet dream truly.

Some eager students had been sent to gather the tool on the bench when one notice the phone ringing. They answered and briefly spoke to the teacher on the other end before hanging up the phone. One student simply turned the music down- enough for Logan to notice. He didn’t like the settings messed with unless he did so himself, especially by his students.

“Who touched the radio?” He demanded

The students silently stood there as the music paused completely. One student bravely spoke up

“It was the phone-“

“The phone cut the music down?” He interrupted

“No, a teacher called and asked us to do it”

“Who? I sweat if you answered Scott and listened! What’s the first rule in shop!?” He sighed, already tired from the day and needing a drink.

He wasn’t cut out for this ‘teacher’ shit, Logan thought to himself. He’d tried to argue with Charles claiming he had better things to do and had been promptly reminded of how much time he spends in the garage should be put to good use.

He signed as he sensed his pupils unease and cut the music back on and instructed them to get started. He stalked to the phone clicking a few buttons to figure out what classroom called to complain ready to give Scott a piece of his mind. He ran out to steam seeing it was your classroom that had called. The new teacher who’d started their first semester just down the hall. He’d meant to stop by and welcome you but meeting people without confrontation had never been his strongest quality. What better time than now. He left the students to their assignment and carried himself down the hall ready to introduce himself.

A knock on the door interrupted the classroom buzz and a hush fell over the students. You padded over to the door and peeked out the small window. A short man, clad in a black t shirt and jeans stared back at you with an unreadable expression.

“Good morning! What can I do for you?” You trailed off not recognizing him.

“You called the shop a minute ago” he stated twirling the toothpick in his mouth

“Yes, I’m sorry to bother- You must be professor Logan”

“Mm hm” he answered shortly, stepping out further in the hall while you closed the door behind you.

“I’m sorry if I upset you, it was just a little loud for my students and I this morning-“

He held a hand up “Not a problem, doll. I can’t upset my favorite teacher, right?”

“Favorite teacher? We just met” you said with a light laugh

“I’ve been around a long time- I know a good girl when I see one”

“I hardly think that’s appropriate to say here”

“No? Maybe I can say it another way or another time?” His lips curling up in a smug smile “How about you come down to the shop after classes- Grab a drink later?”

“Oh! Uh sure? I guess so?” From the way the students reacted you’d assumed this teacher was awful, even horrible. Be here is his- polite as ever and asking to grab a drink?

“I like that answer” he laughed leaning closer “Meet me later at garage three- I’ll take you to Abe’s”

Abe’s was one of the nicer bars in the city, a place known for anniversaries, couples flocking there left and right for an evening out. You’d never stopped by until tonight- now you had plans for once with a complete stranger- a handsome one at that.

“I’ll see you later then, garage three”

“Looking forward to it, sweetheart” he said turning to head back to his class

You entered your room once again as the class held their breath. No yelling, no cussing, no words of any kind were heard and the students had feared your first day would be your last- they didn’t know that this was just the beginning

[clarisse0o]

The Mayor - Chapter 48

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternate Universe: Mayor and Architect

Words: 700

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Cheers echoed through the vast hall of City Hall. The Minister of Economy had just finished his speech, addressing an enthralled and electrified crowd on this first day of July. 

“Mr. Lavilliers! Ms. Bronze!” journalists shouted from the foot of the stage, clamoring for photos.

I exhaled deeply; the day had been exhausting.

The Minister had traveled here for the inauguration of a new cutting-edge industrial hub, bringing together numerous high-tech companies. It was a project I had developed with my team throughout my two terms, and today marked a real milestone. In a challenging economic climate, the visit allowed the Minister to showcase zones of job dynamism and prove that the fight against unemployment was ongoing. At the same time, it helped burnish his reputation—such was the nature of politics. 

The day had been long. Hosting such a high-profile figure demanded flawless logistics, and being tailed by a horde of relentless journalists all day left no room to breathe.

Now, in the late afternoon, the Minister had concluded his speech, praising the vitality of the municipal team while seamlessly highlighting his own national economic record. One announcement, in particular, thrilled me: confirmation of the airport expansion. 

I had won this battle after relentless determination, countless high-level calls, and persuasive trips. 

It was now my turn to speak and wrap up the event. I never used notes; I hated them. Though I always prepared my speech and read it over multiple times, once on stage, I wanted to be free—not tied to a piece of paper. 

I began, addressing the large and imposing crowd. I loved public speaking—felt no fear, no apprehension. I delivered heartfelt thanks to my team, the government, and economic partners while highlighting future opportunities. I sprinkled my speech with light humor to amuse the audience and even the Minister. 

Scanning the room, I sought to connect with every face, making each listener feel included. 

Suddenly, amidst the dense crowd, I caught sight of those green eyes I knew so well. It was her—Ona. 

I faltered, losing my words, my breath momentarily stolen.

She stood slightly off-center at the back of the hall. Her tanned skin glowed against the white dress she wore, looking absolutely radiant. 

I hadn’t seen her since that April morning on the train. As agreed, we had no contact. Countless times I’d wanted to reach out, but I hadn’t. She had been on my mind constantly—the woman who had disrupted my perfectly ordered world. 

I had initially tried to push her away, provoke her, because there had been something from the start: an indescribable energy, a magnetic pull. The construction site, where our games began, had become the backdrop of a love so complex. 

I exhaled and refocused, doing my best to finish the speech, carefully avoiding her gaze. Thunderous applause erupted once more, accompanied by the flashes of cameras. I waited for the commotion to subside before finding her. 

I smiled—a superficial one—as I scanned the room for her. My focus was entirely on Ona now. I spotted her chatting with Alexia. 

Determined, I stepped down from the stage and began weaving through the crowd toward her. Like an automaton, I shook hands here, offered smiles there, but my destination was singular: Ona.

She was only a few meters away when she turned and smiled at me. I reached out and touched her forearm, yearning for the warmth of her skin.

“Ona…” I began.

But I was swept away by the crowd, the Minister following behind me with the press in tow. 

I lost her—her touch, her gaze.