#on one monitor ! with like four different notepads open .

[gay-yosuke]

the monotony of transferring file data is somehow less appealing to me (man who loves logging data) than fucking with the logic of a command that, when i programmed it, made me say "you will have to pay me to fuck with this logic again".

im not even getting paid.

[travissimblr]

Sims 3 Performance Guide

Lately I have found the direction of The Sims 4 to be rather lackluster.  Let’s face it.  The game is boring.  Still looking for that “Sims Fix” I found myself going back to playing The Sims 3.  The Sims 3 can be tricky to get running correctly on modern computers so I figured I would share what I learned over the years.  I made this guide a few years ago for another forum so I’m always open to new suggestions/edits etc.  Some things may work well for others while some may not make a difference at all.  I have applied all of these fixes in my own game and I still experience lag so this is by no means a guide to completely eliminate the lag in the game but a guide to perhaps help your game run a little bit smoother.  All of these tips have been gathered from all over the internet and also some things I have picked up on my own over the years.  I own a legit copy of the Sims 3 and have never owned a pirated version so I can't say whether or not these settings will work with a pirated version of the game.  I also only have a PC so I don't know if any of these settings will effect the Mac version of the game.  If anything I hope this guide brings people back to The Sims 3 or allows people to give the game another chance.  The guide will be pretty extensive and I take no responsibility if you mess up your game  :P

Limit Game FPS - This one has been a godsend.  I was experiencing major lag especially in build/Buy mode.  My computer is way over spec for this game much like most computers today.  What would happen is that while in Build/Buy Mode my FPS would spike into the 200's!  During these spikes the game would almost be un-playable.

To fix this issue:

Download this file:  https://rd.nexusmods.com/skyrim/mods/34]https://rd.nexusmods.com/skyrim/mods/34

 I know it says it's for Skyrim but it will also work for The Sims 3.  After downloading it unzip the antilag.cfg and d3d9.dll into  X: > Program Files (x86) > Origin Games > The Sims 3 > Game > Bin if using Origin.   If you have the steam version of the game use :   X: > Program Files (x86) > Steam > steamapps > common > The Sims 3 > Game > Bin .  By default it is set to limit the game to 30FPS.  I have been using this and it works fine.  You can change it to 60FPS if you want by opening the antilag.cfg using notepad.  I haven't had a chance to test the game at 60FPS but its not like The Sims 3 is a First person shooter or anything so IMO its probably not necessary.  Run the game and your FPS should be capped at 30.  

Alternately you can try turning on Vsync in either Nvidia Control Panel or AMD Catalyst software however I wasn't able to get it working.  I'm using a Geforce 1080 and the latest Nvidia drivers.  When I turned it on in the control panel it did nothing in the game.

After installing this fix I no longer experience massive lag spikes while in Build/Buy Mode the whole game also seems to be running a little bit smoother as well.  Unfortunately there isn't much we can do about EA's terrible coding of the game so there will still be lag but this one has helped my game more then any of the other fixes as of yet.

**It also must be noted that FPS fix uses the same file as Reshade, d3d9.dll.  I haven’t tested if this works using the d3d9.dll file from Reshade but I can assume it probably doesn’t.  I do however believe there is a frame limiter built into reshade which should accomplish this same thing as this mod.

In Game Settings

1. Graphics

Resolution - You should always play at the native resolution for your monitor.  Most monitors today use a native resolution of 1680x1050 or 1920x1080.  If your game is struggling at this resolution you should always lower the graphics settings not the resolution.

Windowed? or Fullscreen? - This one is something that you will have to test.  Some people say that the game runs better for them in Fullscreen and some say it runs better in Windowed Mode.  My personal game runs better in Windowed Mode.

Object Hiding -  Enabling this can help to increase performance especially if you have a large house.  Essentially what this does is that the game renders every object on the lot you are in even if you aren't on that floor.  So if you are playing on the first floor the game is using resources to render the items on the second/third floor etc.

Reflection Quality - Setting it to Mirrors and Water will work well for most people but adjusting this lower can offer a slight performance increase.

Edge Smoothing - I personally have not noticed much of a difference in performance adjusting this setting but this is the Anti Aliasing settings for the game.  Try lowering it and see if it makes a difference in your game.

Visual Effects - According to the game "Controls the quality of particle effects on objects, Sims, and the town"   Medium would be the recommended setting for Visual effects.  It offers a happy medium between performance and visual quality.

Lighting and Shadows - Adjusts the shadow quality in the game.  I run this on high in my game as there isn't a noticeable difference in performance between medium and high settings.  Turning it to low will give a slight boost in performance but the shadows will be ugly.

Tree Detail - Keep this setting on high as there really is no difference in performance between settings.  All you end up with are some ugly trees and no real boost in performance.

Enable Animation Smoothing & Enable Advanced Rendering - Both of these items should always be checked.  Enable Animation smoothing makes no difference in performance and Turning off Enable Advanced Rendering can actually decrease performance.

Draw Distance - Keep this on high as it does not effect performance.

High Detailed Lots - With this turned up all the way I noticed a fair bit of stuttering in my game.  I have mine set to 4 lots but this is a setting that should be tested to see what works for you.

Texture Detail and Sim Detail - Most computers should be able to handle both of these settings maxed for a small boost in performance you can lower the texture detail to medium.  Sim Detail should always be set at Very High as lower this setting has only a very small boost in performance that probably wouldn't even be noticeable.

2. General Settings

Enable Shop Mode - This will disable the Sims 3 Shop from In-Game.  Turning this off can help with stuttering.

Enable Lessons - Turning this off can possibly help with performance.  I haven't noticed a difference but at this point we all know how to play The Sims.

Memories - Disabling Memories can offer a boost to performance and reduce in game stuttering.

**Alternately you can try using this mod if you don’t want to completely disable the memory system in The Sims 3

No (or fewer) automatic memories by velocitygrass on Mod The Sims

https://modthesims.info/d/446281

Enable Interactive Loading Screens - Turning this off has been said to reduce some in game stuttering.  Besides nobody wants to play that stupid game anyway.

3. Online

Keep Me Logged In & Enable Online Notifications - Turning off both of these settings will help game performance and reduce stuttering.

4. Advanced Demographics Options

Enable Story Progression - Turning this off will reduce stuttering in the game.  If you like this setting you can use the NRASS Story Progression explained further in this guide.

Advanced Settings

I will try to guide as best as I can with these but always MAKE BACKUPS of every file modified in this section.

In order to make this process easier be sure that "Hide extensions for known file types" is unchecked in the Windows Folder Options.  In Windows 10   Click on View > Options > Change folder and search options.  Switch to the view tab and under Files and Folders uncheck "Hide extensions for known file types"

Edit GraphicsRules.sgr - This setting will help the game run smoother and make for faster clothing changes.

1. Got to X:\Program Files (x86)\Origin Games\The Sims 3\Game\Bin

2. Copy the GraphicsRules.sgr file and back it up in either in a safe location or even in the same directory just name it GraphicsRules.sgr.orig.  Click yes when prompted with the rename.

3.  Now Open GraphicsRules.sgr with notepad (not the copied version)

4.  You will see four lines that look like this: seti cpuLevelUber 4

seti cpuLevelHigh 3

seti cpuLevelMedium 2

seti cpuLevelLow 1

5. Change the four lines to this: seti cpuLevelUber 4

seti cpuLevelHigh 3

seti cpuLevelMedium 3

seti cpuLevelLow 3

6. Save in Notepad and close Notepad.

Edit Sims3.ini - This is how you force the game to use more then 2GB of RAM.  I noticed a massive improvement in both CAS and Build/Buy mode with this.  Clothing,Objects etc load almost instantly when this is changed.  The Origin version of the game has already been patched to use 4GB of RAM  however adjusting this value to reflect your systems total ram amount if above 4GB can be beneficial.  If you currently have 4GB total of RAM and are using the Origin version of the game you can skip this step.  It’s questionable whether or not this makes a difference in the game as The Sims 3 is a 32 bit game that only uses 4GB to begin with but it seems to actually make a difference in my own game.

1. Go to X:\Program Files (x86)\Origin Games\The Sims 3\Game\Bin (same as GraphicsRules.sgr)

2. Backup the Sims3.ini in the same method as the GraphicsRules.sgr

3. Open Sims3.ini in Notepad

4. Under [ResourceSystem] you will see this:

MemoryUsageLimit = 20000000 (  10000000 for legacy/disc versions)

5.  Ignoring the zeros this is showing that the Sims 3 is only using 4GB of ram (2gb for Legacy/Disc versions of the game).  Depending on the amount of ram in your system you should change it to half of your total amount of ram. Examples:

8GB Total Ram  MemoryUsageLimit = 40000000

16GB Total Ram MemoryUsageLimit = 80000000

32GB Total Ram MemoryUsageLimit = 16000000

**Be Sure to only change the first number not any zeros.  For 32GB+ its the first 2 numbers.  Putting this too high could cause your system lock up or crash and possibly do damage**

Modding

First go here and follow the instructions on this page to set up your Mods folder: https://www.carls-sims-4-guide.com/forum/index.php?topic=9187.0

1.  Must Have Mods - Even if you don't plan on putting any CC in your game these Mod is highly recommended if not needed in order to keep the game running Smoothly.

NRAAS Master Controller - 

https://www.nraas.net/community/MasterController

This mod is a must have.  It fixes many of the errors in the game and helps immensely with game lag and stuttering.

Under Modules Download: (Not Required but useful)

MasterController Cheats - Adds "cheaty" functions to Master Controller.

MasterController Expanded Tatttoo - Expands the number of locations provided in Tattoo CAS

MasterController Progression - This mod adds progression related interactions to the "Master Controller" menu.   Addition to Story Progression (below)

MasterController Integration -  (Must have if you install a lot of sliders)  This mod replaces all the CAS interactions in the game with the one managed by MasterController, including the "Create-A-Sim" button in "Edit Town".

Now go to this Page and download these other “Must Have Mods” by NRAAS

https://www.nraas.net/community/Mods-List

Overwatch - (Important) Contains error correction and periodic game maintenance/clean up to reduce issues and improve game longevity.

Error Trap - (Important) Core-Mod that performs save-game corruption cleanup, while catching and reporting unhandled script errors.

Traffic- (Important) Controls autonomous vehicular traffic such as the Food/Ice Cream Trucks, and provides some minor vehicle routing settings.

Saver - (Important) Adds autosave function to the game.

Register -  (Important) Replaces the EA Role Manager with a custom version that corrects several bugs and allows for greater flexibility.

Other Useful Mods at NRAAS (Optional) Same page as above:

Story Progression - Basically a less buggy, less performance heavy replacement for the EA story progression in the game.  Be sure to tick off “Story Progression” in the In Game options as stated above.  (Install all the optional modules as well)

Decensor - We all know what this does

Dresser - Adds automated outfit control for inactive sims, adding accessories, and restricting CAS parts.

WooHooer - Alters the romance and woohoo interactions, provides greater flexibility and attraction scoring.

Retuner - Provides fine tuning of many settings in game like autonomous settings, pricing etc.  This one can seem daunting at first but there are plenty of Returner settings to be found out there and its really isn’t that difficult to change the settings in game albeit time consuming. 

Be sure to look over the other mods if you see something you like download it.  Any of these mods should be safe to add to your game with little to no performance impact.

After that extract the files you just downloaded into \Documents\Electronic Arts\The Sims 3\Mods\Packages\Overrides If you don't have an Overrides folder create one.  The “Overrides Folder”  is essentially a priority folder.  Mods put into this folder will be loaded before any other package files you may add to the game.

In-Game NRASS Settings 

These are just some settings to change to improve game stability.  This is by far not comprehensive.  For Retuner settings I would suggest a Google search of other users settings or consulting the NRASS help section for explanations of how to use this mod.

Click on the Town Hall in Map View Under NRASS

Traffic

Ice Cream Truck - I hate that creepy Ice cream truck so I change everything to false and set Max Ice Cream Trucks to 0.  If you like having it around still change the Max Ice Cream Trucks to 1

Routing

Allow Performance Career Limos - False (Limos create a lot of lag in the game)

Allow Use of Cars During General Routing - True (if disabled your sims will only use cars when you tell them to)

Always Use Taxis for Inactives Lacking Vehicles - False (Townies will no longer use Taxis)

Register

Allow Immigration - False (Random Townies wont move into your town keeping the population down and helping to keep performance from decreasing as sims move in.

Animal Control - Change the settings below for a performance boost

Maximum Deer - 2

Maximum Raccoon - 2

Maximum Stray Cats - 3

Maximum Stray Dogs - 3

Maximum Unicorns - 0  (Sorry Wild Horses and Unicorns add a good deal of lag to the game)

Maximum Horses - 0

Custom Content (CC)

Much like any other Sims game moderation is key.  The more CC you download and put in you game the slower your game will perform.  I'm not going to go into detail about how to install CC in The Sims 3 in this guide.  These are just a few important tips to take into account when installing CC,

Try to install Sims3Pack files as much as you can.  Sims 3 automatically merges these files and this leads to better game stability.

Merge you package files. Girl Meets Pixels made a great guide here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jIZ2LdoT-HY]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jIZ2LdoT-HY

Keep an eye on the size of your Sims 3 Folder in /Documents.  It may seem crazy to imagine but massive CC shopping sprees can lead to a massive folder to the tune of 30GB+.  Skins and Hairs are a killer.  These files are usually rather large sometimes in excess of 80 - 100mb.  My suggestion would be to find a default skin you like and just use that.  Don’t install any non default skins.  Also go easy on the hair.  You don’t need 20 different variations of the same ponytail in the game.  Clothing is usually fine but pay attention to the size of the CC.  That cute dress you found on Tumblr that’s 65mb more then likely has way too high of a poly count and will just lag and be slow to render in the game.  Sure it looks great in screenshots but it wont be practical in game.  I’m not sure of the exact cut-off for CC but eventually the folder gets too large for the game to handle and it will lead to issues like save corruption or in some cases not being able to save the game at all because the game has run out of memory.   Sadly if  this happens there is no fix for this and you will lose all of your progress and possibly your save file as well.

Advanced

World Fixes EA left many routing issues in a lot of their worlds that are known to cause lag and often times crashing as Sims bunch up in broken routing areas on the map.

All the World Fixes can be found on Ellacharmed's Wordpress page.  Follow the instructions very carefully and install the fixes for all the worlds you have installed in your game.

https://ellacharmed.wordpress.com

Other Useful Tips

Delete your cache!!  This one can't be stressed enough.  I delete mine before every game play and never have issues starting the game up.  A guide can be found here: http://simswiki.info/wiki.php?title=Game_Help:Sims_3_Delete_Cache_Files

Turn off Origin In Game - This will give a noticeable improvement.

Close all other programs running in the background.  

Turn on Game Mode or Silent Mode on your Antivirus

Useful Sims 3 Programs

s3pe http://www.simlogical.com/ContentUploadsRemote/uploads/189/

Sims 3 Dashboard Tool http://modthesims.info/download.php?t=387006]http://modthesims.info/download.php?t=387006

CC Magic http://modthesims.info/download.php?t=461888]http://modthesims.info/download.php?t=461888

Delphy's Sims 3 Pack Multi-Extractor http://modthesims.info/download.php?t=364038]http://modthesims.info/download.php?t=364038

Save Cleaner by Kuree http://www.simlogical.com/ContentUploadsRemote/uploads/1532/

[thessclexa]

Blood Moon AU 

OR

The one where Clexa are soulmates tied by a thread that appears once every 100 years during a red moon. 

:::

It must be a mistake.

Professor Lexa Hartwood has studied the history of Threads as far back as it can be dated, which is estimated to be around one thousand years ago. Therefore, humanity has only experienced ten Threads in its years of existence. Lexa wrote her thesis on the evolution of Threads and teaches Blood Moon anthropology. The phenomenon has been known to end wars when people drop everything to follow their Threads; to start wars when family rivals and traditions clash; and yet, nowhere has there ever been evidence of a Thread that travels up into the sky.

Looking at her hand and the faint shimmer of red, Lexa wonders if it’s her personal obsession with Blood Moons to cause her own to be directed upwards. Now that would be a first. Although, certain theories suggest Threads are conjugated by the human mind and in essence, a mental projection without any tangible properties. Given her current circumstance, that theory might prove true. Though, Lexa feels extremely lucky to have this chance. While the general understanding is fifteen percent of the population will experience Threads, based on Lexa’s own research, the number is slightly less at thirteen percent.

Her eyes behold the Thread’s properties, it dances with certain majestic light and twinkles like a distant star. At this point, it might as well be a star. Lexa adjusts the focus on her telescope, trying to follow her Thread but it’s cut off by a cloud. Shifting her scope, Lexa angles it toward the moon, which is still hours away from showing any signs of redness. The curiosity within her grows exponentially, Lexa is further baffled by her Thread in absence of the Red Moon. There are only a handful of instances when people experience a Thread before the Red Moon.

 ///

 The Blood Moon happens every one hundred years and while mankind is no stranger to the red sphere in the sky and its effects, this will be the first time in history when the capability exists to study it. One hundred years ago, there were no rockets, satellites, or space stations. And this is the exact reason why Commander Clarke Griffin of Sky Command finds herself in orbit on the Arkaris 9.

“Do you have those calibrations, Reyes?”

“Yep, right here Griff.”

“Thanks.” Clarke takes the notepad and makes the adjustments. While she waits for the system to upload the manual input, her eyes rove out the small, triangular window and she looks down at the blue planet. It’s a stunning view. Opposite, Clarke looks at the moon; the full moon is less than twenty-four hours away.

“So… we’re a day away and you promised to tell me,” Raven says.

Clarke shrugs, “Historically, only an estimated fifteen percent of the population experience The Thread.”

“That’s not an answer Griff. It was—and still is—a yes or no question.”

“I… don’t know,” Clarke replies.

“What do you mean you don’t know? It’s a thread visible only to and ties you to your soulmate.”

“It’s not only that, it also turns our oceans and crops red.”

“So, you’re telling me if you experience The Thread, you don’t know whether you’ll pursue it or not?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Clarke says quickly. “And it doesn’t always happen that way. The Thread has been known to reunite long lost siblings and in rare cases, orphans to parents—”

“Which we both know doesn’t apply to you, so your thread must lead to a soulmate,” Raven interrupts.

“I just don’t like…” Clarke pauses, struggling to find the right words.  

“Don’t like what?”

“I don’t like the implication that I don’t have a choice.”

“Everyone has a choice, Clarke.”

“It just… takes away the mystery in life. The predisposition eliminates the thrill.”

“So—no? You’re giving up on your soulmate because you’re afraid to miss out on “the thrill”?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You said exactly that.”

“Ugh, I knew this was going to be your reaction.”

“How could you say no to your soulmate?” Raven looks down at her hands wishfully. “God, I hope I get a Thread.”

“Aren’t you… dating Finn?”

Raven waves her hand dismissively in the air. “He’s not soulmate material,” she says and returns to looking at her hand. “What do you think it’ll look like?”

“A red thread,” Clarke replies flatly.

“Ha. Ha.” Raven gives Clarke a deadpan look. “Some say they even begin seeing a faint shimmer hours before the moon turns fully red and that those early connections are also the strongest.”

“Oh, what do you know,” Clarke directs a stare at Raven, who primarily serves as the Arkaris 9’s pilot. Clarke is the lead scientist and doubles as the crew’s emergency medic. “It’s also all myths,” Clarke continues, “lore in our history books. This is the first time we have a real chance to study the science behind the phenomenon. Think about everything we could learn.” She spins herself 180 degrees in the zero-gravity environment to a different monitor, one that links down to the Arkadia’s science station and she sends a routine data update. “Humanity won’t have a chance for another century.”

“Yes, and we’ll be dead, and you won’t ever know who your soulmate was.”

“You’re also implying that I’ll get a Thread in the first place. To be honest, I’m not expecting one.”

“You’re not?”

“Nope. Call it a hunch.”

/

Midnight

It’s early and Clarke stirs awake to the sound of her alarm for the night shift, though night and day don’t exactly matter in space. She’s tucked tightly in her sleeping alcove and it reminds her of camping trips with her father when he would zip her into her sleeping bag and kiss her good night. They’d stay awake past midnight and study the stars together. Jake was obsessed with space exploration and he was part of the first generation of spacewalkers. Unfortunately, he perished during his third mission on the Arkaris 4. There was an explosion, and the entire crew was lost; a leak in the oxygen line was suspected.

That was nearly 20 years ago, and technology has made leaps and bounds since. When Clarke opens her eyes, she’s greeted by a faint, red glow that fills the alcove. At first, she thinks it’s a light on the emergency alarm panel, but when she looks, nothing on the panel is lit. Strange. That’s when she notices the dim lighting is coming from her left hand. Admittedly, it’s far from a simple red thread as if some piece of yarn. Instead, it’s magical. It sparkles like a ray of sunlight in the dust. Clarke takes a few seconds to study it, twisting and turning her palm as the thread glistens.

The full moon is at least six hours away and already, her thread is profoundly visible. Clarke recalls Raven’s words, “Those connections are the strongest,” and Clarke doesn’t know what to make of it. Not only was she not expecting a Thread, but she is seemingly experiencing one of the strongest ones. Her curiosity is beyond piqued and Clarke walks to the nearest window where Earth is visible. As she steps closer, the Thread – her Thread – cuts through space like a laser and charts a path directly to the ground.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Another One?!, Part 5

First > Previous > Next

It turns out that people with access to military-grade equipment are not the type of people you want to dislike you.

Really, the only reason she was still alive was because being Ladybug made her marginally more lucky than the average person.

From people in holding randomly getting out from time to time and somehow managing to get their hands on a weapon, to getting shot by ‘malfunctioning’ firearms, to constant bomb threats, to the one time someone actually tried to drop an anvil on her head, things were just not looking good for Marinette.

And, it turns out, being a boss is just a hard thing in general. When they weren’t attempting to kill her, they were coming to her with questions. She spent most of her day in the office, scanning through manual after manual. She got basically zero breaks, because even when she had a sign on her door saying she was eating lunch they still came in to ask her things.

And then, at the end of the day, she’d get home… things weren’t great there, either.

Barbara had moved in after a year of dating Dick (Marinette had been stunned to learn that their relationship was actually real but that had quickly been dropped when she realized that Barbara was actually a responsible adult that could take care of herself). She had banned caffeine in the house when she’d seen Marinette and Tim’s coffee habits and, unfortunately, everyone else had been perfectly happy to enforce this for her.

This meant that she only had about four hours when she got home to patrol before her exhaustion caught up with her and she’d be forced to go home and collapse on the couch.

On top of that, tensions in the house were high. It turns out that one of the biggest problems with avoiding your problems for years is that emotions get pent up inside and it gets harder and harder to ignore. No one had completely snapped yet, but even the densest person in the world would have been able to recognize that it was coming.

It didn’t help that she no longer had time for baking, which was her normal way of relieving stress…

And let’s just say they were lucky none of them were going on patrols together, those kinds of high-stress situations do not help.

~

Adrien needed sleep.

He worked ten hours a day, which isn’t that much longer than average but was still emotionally taxing considering his job was teaching.

Then, he’d go on patrol for a few hours. He liked patrol, beating up random people is great for stress, but it was physically exhausting.

Then, he’d come home.

And he’d have two kids and an adult to keep alive.

(Barbara had the night shift, which meant that Adrien was alone for this. He swore it was on purpose.)

He’d go to his room and find Dick swinging around on the indoor gym they’d had installed (they were getting tired of him breaking light fixtures and had given in and put little hand and footholds on the ceiling for him to climb around on).

And then Dick would fall asleep, often hanging from the ceiling still, and Adrien would pick him up and take him to his room and tuck him in.

He’d rush back to his room, desperate to get there for just a second of sleep, only to find that, no matter how quick he was, Jason would already be on the bed. You would think that Adrien would be able to sleep. After all, Jason would be reading a book... that’s supposed to be a quiet thing…

Well, you see, the problem is that Jason reads books like people watch soap operas. He’d curse out characters and call them stupid, tell Adrien contextless jokes, and occasionally close his book to vent about what was going on.

And, eventually Jason would sleep. Adrien wouldn’t move him because a) it would wake him up and b) on the very small chance it didn’t wake him, Jason sometimes half-joked that when he woke up alone he feared that they’d left him behind…

So, yeah, Jason got to stay in the room.

Adrien would blink and then he’d find Tim in the door with his computer.

Tim, it seemed, would actually wait to see if Adrien was okay with it if he came in. He always stood in the door, hugging his laptop to his chest, and wouldn’t dare come inside until Adrien said he could.

Of course Adrien would sigh and nod his head yes, making a joke about how his kids were sleeping in shifts to annoy him, and move over on the bed a bit to let Tim on.

And then Tim would do homework or play games on his computer.

Adrien hated the sound of clicky keyboards. He’d had no clue he was alone in this until one day he complained about it and everyone in the room had stared at him like he was crazy.

But, yeah, the keyboard made him want to die. He just wanted to sleep...

And then Barbara would poke her head in after a long night’s work to tell Adrien that it was time for him to get ready for work.

Sprinkle in one or two probably life-threatening accidents and you’d have a typical night for him.

Now, you might be thinking, why doesn’t he just fall asleep on the couch?

Beyond the fact that the kids would just… follow him there, Adrien was also a rich kid growing up. He couldn’t sleep on couches. They’re uncomfortable.

No, now his only saving grace was the fact that Barbara didn’t have a way to monitor the coffee machine at his work.

… Oh kwami, he had become what he’d hated.

~

She dropped onto the bed -- she’d had enough energy to make it all the way there for once -- and glared at the mostly empty bulletin board on Antony Agoura. The man was smart, unfortunately, opting to keep his identity a secret as much as possible. He used a fake name. He wore gloves no matter what. He used solely cash…

And it wasn’t like she was going to be able to lure him out again. That had been an intimidation tactic, a way of saying ‘leave it alone or you’ll see exactly what I can do’.

And, as much as she hated to admit it even to herself, she was a little bit scared of him. For the first time since Zucco, the person she was facing knew who she was as a civilian, and she hated that she’d lost that advantage. Even if her family was better trained in self-defense than most, they weren’t invulnerable and they couldn’t be careful every second of the day.

Part of her was tempted to pack up and go on the run like they had done with Zucco… but the situations were different. With Zucco they knew they would eventually be able to catch him but with Agoura...

She closed her eyes, unable to look at it any longer.

Fuck. She was really screwed this time, huh?

She felt someone sink into the bed next to her and reached out for them. She didn’t really care who it was as she buried her face in their shoulder.

Sleep…

Less than a minute later, her phone buzzed to tell her that it was time to start cooking everyone’s meals for the day and she mumbled a curse before peeling herself away from the person. She squinted a little bit in the dark to see who it was. Tim.

She yawned and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Want to cook with me?”

“I’d burn the house down.”

“Probably. Want to stand nearby and make sure I don’t fall asleep while cooking so nothing burns?”

He shrugged a little bit. “Don’t see why not.”

They both crawled out of bed and she used him for support as they made their way down to the kitchen.

~

Adrien had been on patrol when she’d appeared.

And ‘appeared’ was definitely the way to describe it. He’d been relaxing on a rooftop, giving himself a few second break to just breathe in silence for once… and then he’d felt a hand shaking his shoulder.

He fought the urge to jump or lash out, his head whipping around to look at the person who was shaking him.

It was… a girl?

Actually, she looked about Jason’s age, so maybe a woman?

It didn’t matter. She looked terrified. Her eyes were so wide it looked almost exaggerated, her lips drawn into a deep frown.

The more he took in about her appearance the more concerned he was. Her stance was wide, which likely meant she fought often. Her clothes were ratty and torn. The little parts of her skin that weren’t caked in dirt were split with cuts that were either infected or about to be infected.

He rested a hand over hers as gently as he could and looked at her. “How are you up here? Actually, that doesn’t matter. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is your family hurt?”

She waved her free hand around frantically. Wordlessly.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Do you not speak English? Or are you mute? Deaf?”

He realized all these questions weren’t going to get answers and he sighed. Crap, what could he do?

He mulled it over for a second before snapping his fingers. He held up a finger for one minute, then held up his hands and made a tiny ‘stay’ motion with them just in case, and then ran to the nearest convenience store.

He didn’t care enough to detransform. It got him through the line quickly, at least.

He found a pen and a pad of paper and returned to the rooftop…

She wasn’t there anymore.

He sighed, a mix of frustration and concern coursing through him. He closed his eyes and shook his head. He should get back to patrol. Maybe he’d find her and/or whatever situation she was trying to get his attention for…

He opened his eyes and actually did jump this time. She was right in front of him. What? He hadn’t heard her…

He shook off his growing unease and handed her the notepad and pen.

She frowned, her face a little more than confused. Had she never seen a pen and paper before? Surely that couldn’t be right…

Still, he gently took the paper and pen back and wrote a tiny question mark.

He handed it over again and she looked at the mark like she’d never seen it before. Maybe her language didn’t have question marks…?

Then she started doodling.

Well, his plan had been for her to write whatever it was down and he would see if his phone would translate it, but he guessed this would work, too.

The first drawing explained some of the girl’s problems with communication. It was a little doodle where the mouth and ears had been X-ed out. She couldn’t speak or hear… or, at least, that’s what he’d figured.

He searched his memory for his old sign language lessons. Unfortunately, though, sign language is something that has to be practiced. All he could do is fingerspell “U O-K?”

She didn’t seem to understand.

Fair enough. He was pretty sure he was using LSF, anyways, and he didn’t exactly know for sure how close that was to ASL… or whatever other language she could have known. He couldn’t really tell much about where she was from, her skin was covered in dirt, okay?

She started doodling the rest of her life story and he nearly punched something. Probably would have if he hadn’t been scared he’d startle her or scare her off.

Whoever her dad was, he was committed to killing him if he wasn’t dead already.

He smiled at her and tried to think of a solution. He couldn’t take her to the police. Even with Marinette in charge, there was only so much she could do to keep the kid safe. An orphanage wouldn’t accept her because he doubted she was a legal US citizen.

He sighed. Marinette was going to kill him…

He reached out a hand to her to tell her to follow and blinked in surprise when she actually took it. Wow. He trusted her.

He tried not to feel proud as he led her home. He probably should have been scared that she was a spy or lying, but he found himself trusting her…

Weird, but he had bigger problems.

He detransformed a little bit outside the house and slowly walked to the door. He pushed it open and cringed when it creaked. Please don’t be home…

Marinette shifted under her blanket and opened an eye to look at him.

He quickly pushed the girl behind himself and smiled at his wife. “Wow, it’s you. You’re home. Wow.”

“Yeah, amazing, right?” She rubbed her eyes and gave him a tired smile. “How was patrols?”

“Great. Uneventful. Definitely good.”

Her smile dropped into a frown. “You’re acting weird.”

“What? Me? Acting weird?”

“Yeah… are you coming inside?”

“Uh… no. Actually, I think I’ll go back on patrols.”

She clicked her tongue. “You’re hiding something. I’m too tired for this, Adrien. Fess up.”

He cringed a little bit and slowly led the new adoptee inside.

The girl clutched Adrien’s shirt sleeve anxiously. He did not think this was a good thing.

Marinette stared at the girl in front of her for a while before a way too wide smile crossed her face. “Adrien…” She began slowly, before shaking her head. Her smile widened, somehow. She looked up, her voice sickly sweet: “Hey! Sweeties! Come down here.”

The reaction was instantaneous. There was a mad scrambling noise and they appeared in the doorway, expressions frazzled.

“Whatever happened, it was Dick!” Said Tim before anyone could speak.

Dick gasped. “No! It wasn’t!”

Marinette gave a pleasant laugh. “You’re not in trouble. Boys, could you help her get cleaned up for me, please?”

“Why is there another kid? Why does he have another one?” Said Jason incredulously.

When neither parent answered, they started ushering the girl away.

She grabbed Adrien’s arm when he tried to disappear through the door with them. “Not. You. Transform, we’re going out.”

He tried not to look too scared as they both transformed. She kept a way too tight grip on Adrien as they made their way through the town, as if she thought he was going to suddenly run away.

Fair enough. He was absolutely considering it.

But he didn’t. That would only make things worse.

They stopped at a relatively abandoned part of town and she turned to him, letting go to cross her arms over her chest.

“Explain.”

~

Did she feel bad for the kid that Adrien had adopted? Sure. No one deserves that kind of life…

But that didn’t calm her down in the slightest.

She was trying to relax herself. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she heard him out to keep herself from yelling or interrupting, her nails dug into the skin of her palms to keep her grounded…

Adrien finished with a sigh and a “I don’t regret it, she was in trouble and it’s our job to protect civilians.”

She didn’t know why those words made her anger worsen. There was some sense in them, and yet she had to strain to keep her voice level when she spoke: “Just once, could you actually just own up to a mistake you make?”

“I’ll own up to a mistake when I actually think it’s a mistake!”

“Whatever.” She thrummed her foot on the floor. “We can’t keep adopting random kids, Chat, there’s only so much we can do!”

“They need our help!”

“Bullshit! You need them more than they need you! Newsflash! Helping a bunch of kids isn’t going to make your own childhood any better!”

Adrien flinched and she felt a twinge of guilt finally poke through the anger, but before she could apologize he was jabbing his finger in her chest.

“At least my terrible coping mechanism helps people! You want to pull trauma into this? What about the fact that we still can’t say Lila’s name? What about the fact that you refuse to make friends with people our age because you fear them leaving you?”

She winced and her face reddened. “Okay, but does that inconvenience you? No! At least mine is only self-destructive! Yours is going to drag the entire family down with you! We’ve already fucked up these kids for sure, but you just keep making it worse and worse by spreading our limited time thinner!”

“Shut up! What do you know? You hardly ever talk to them anyways! You’re always at work or asleep!”

“Really? And whose fault is that? If you’d just stuck to the actual plan B instead of going out and attacking all the cops in the GCPD there wouldn’t have been as much attention on what had happened!”

He rolled his eyes. “I’VE ALREADY TOLD YOU THAT I HAD TO DO THAT! IT WAS TO KEEP EVERYONE AWAY FROM THE SECURITY ROOM TO KEEP PEGASUS SAFE!”

“PLEASE! NO ONE WAS GOING TOWARDS THE SECURITY ROOM! YOU’RE JUST AN IMPULSIVE DICK!”

“ARE YOU REALLY CALLING ME IMPULSIVE?!”

“YOU ADOPT KIDS LIKE THEY’RE POKEMON! OF COURSE I’M GOING TO CALL YOU IMPULSIVE!”

“YOU’RE THE ONE WHO ALWAYS GETS IN RANDOM FIGHTS BECAUSE YOU’RE NEVER CAREFUL!”

She groaned and fought to make herself relax enough to speak without yelling. They were in a relatively abandoned part of Gotham but that didn’t mean that there was no one around. The last thing they needed on top of everything going on was to have their fight end up in the papers.

Adrien was clearly doing the same, because he was quiet for a long time before he spoke in little more than a whisper:

“Do you not want to be a part of the family anymore?”

She opened her mouth to say ‘of course I want to be a part of the family’, but no sound came out. She wasn’t sure why she was even hesitating. She cared about them, obviously. She wouldn’t be working so hard if she didn’t…

But it was definitely a lot.

She could only handle so much at once. Beyond the powers she was just a human, and supporting that many other people is hard. Especially considering she essentially had two jobs to keep up with, as well…

The longer she went without answering the more tears spilled over his mask. Still, he was waiting for her answer. He was waiting for some kind of verbal confirmation that she couldn’t do it anymore.

She reached up and gently cupped his cheeks, wiping his tears away with her thumb.

“Chat, I…” She swallowed thickly. “I don’t know how much more we can do.”

He hesitantly brought his hands up to rest over hers. “I know. I just… I can’t just leave them. They always look so sad.”

She’d fallen in love with Adrien for his kindness and now it was the thing that was threatening to tear their marriage apart.

But he’d fallen for her because of her problem solving skills. And she was determined to not let this be the one problem she failed to solve.

The problem wasn’t exactly that he was getting more kids. Marinette loved kids.

The problem was that they didn’t know if they could raise kids without messing them up too badly.

Part of it was that everyone in the family had had one or more big events that had traumatized them, and it looked like it was finally time that they started getting past it.

Could they even get past it at this point? It had been over two decades since Marinette and Adrien had originally gotten their traumas, what if it was too late? What would happen if they somehow did get over it? It had been a part of them for such a long time, what would they be without it?

And then there was the kids. Could they even get them to go?

It was worth a shot, at least...

And the other change they needed to make was to make more time for their kids.

Neither of them were going to give up their day jobs (Adrien wouldn’t and Marinette, unfortunately, couldn’t just yet). That meant that they either needed to get caffeine in the house or give up vigilantism…

Well, cross of the giving up vigilantism thing automatically. On top of just not being able to give up on the city they were in when there was still so much to fix, they knew it would only be temporary. They’d already tried to give up vigilantism. They simply couldn’t bring themselves to.

So that left trying to get caffeine past Barbara. The kids (outside of Tim) were very much against caffeine and they worked very hard to make sure neither Marinette or Tim ever managed to get their hands on it. From purposefully making sure Marinette and Tim couldn’t go anywhere without one of them to monitoring the break room camera at her work to make sure she didn’t drink any, the kids were determined to make sure Marinette couldn’t get her hands on anything.

But Adrien could. No one would suspect him.

She bit her lip. This wasn’t going to go over well. Getting Adrien to therapy AND make him get caffeine? Man, this was going to suck.

“Chaton… I might have an idea… but you’re going to have to hear me out…”

~

He and Marinette were arguing again, though this was far more light-hearted.

“We are not opening another portal. We’re already lucky enough that this dimension hasn’t collapsed on us, we aren’t testing it.”

He rolled his eyes and stopped scratching runes into the wall to glare at her. “Would you rather we let a girl-woman-female-you-know-what-I-mean room with a guy?”

“What about we give her Jason’s room and let Jason sleep with us? He comes into our room to sleep either way.”

“Jason still uses his room to store things.”

“This is a bad idea, Chaton…”

He grinned. “Mhmm.”

“This is what I meant when you said you’re stupidly impulsive.”

“Would you rather do it?”

“Sure.”

He rolled his eyes. “And that’s what I meant when I said you don’t care about your own health. It’ll be fine.”

She clicked her tongue and motioned for him to go on.

He finished scratching the last rune and sighed when he saw some weird tentacle monster slowly unfurling itself on the other side. He got to his feet quickly and raised his staff to fight it, only to cringe when he heard Dick and Jason scream downstairs.

“I’ll deal with that, do you have this taken care of?”

She winced. “Sure. Where exactly is the portal, to be sure?”

He pointed it out and then ran downstairs.

Jason was currently not having a good time, it seemed. The bottom half of his body had been swallowed by a hole in the floor and he was struggling to get a hold on the slick floors.

Dick was also there, screaming incoherently from one of the ceiling lights.

Adrien ran over and grabbed one of Jason’s arms and started slowly pulling him out of the portal. After a bit Dick snapped out of it and scrambled to help.

The three were panting by the time they managed to get him all the way out.

“What the heck what the heck what the heck what the heck --,” Dick mumbled, holding his heart.

Jason, though just as shaken, seemed to be getting over it quickly. “How do we fix that?”

“Don’t remember, ask your mom,” mumbled Adrien as he crawled over to the portal on the floor and peered down.

It was a tiny group of people crowded around a computer.

Wait, what the heck were they wearing? Were they cosplaying as vigilantes? They definitely had the tacky outfits down if they were but Adrien didn’t know who they could be. Well, it had been a long time since they’d visited the Justice League, maybe he just didn’t know them…

He cleared his throat awkwardly and flashed them a blinding smile.

“Um… sorry about this, we’ll fix it as quickly as possible.”

“Was that… was that Dick Grayson?” Said the tallest of them.

Was he dressed as a bat? Why was he dressed as a bat? Dressing up like animals wasn’t technically their thing but on the other hand it was absolutely their thing. Adrien was almost offended.

Wait, he’d said something. He tried not to go pale when his brain finally processed it. This wasn’t exactly how he’d wanted the world to find out their identities…

“What kind of name is Dick Grayson? Ha! Lame!”

Dick sent him an affronted look from where he was on the floor. Adrien gave him an apologetic smile and a shrug.

Jason came back down with a baking pan. “Mom said to drop something through, so…”

“What’s that?”

“Brownies.”

“You’re dropping our brownies down there? Are you trying to kill them?” Asked Dick.

Adrien blinked once then sighed. “It could have worked for once. Be nice.”

Jason scoffed. “It didn’t. She forgot sugar. That’s why we’ll give it to them.”

“Sorry about this!” Said Adrien as Jason dropped the pan through the portal.

As promised, it closed now that something had been sacrificed.

The three looked at each other for a few seconds before Dick looked away and said, “So… pretend this never happened?”

“Yep.”

~

She cursed as she fell back on the couch, never mind the fact that Adrien was already laying there. Her husband made a quiet ‘oof’ sound as she dropped on top of him. She was hopped up on caffeine and ready to bond with her kids but the problem was that the kids, in fact, had lives.

The little time that Marinette and Adrien didn’t have work was taken up by patrols, by Jason’s homework, by Tim’s extracurriculars, by Dick’s job...

“There’s still not enough time.”

“We might have to stop being vigilantes for a bit…” He said, though he sounded reluctant. “Or rotate off by day…”

She didn’t like the idea either, but it didn’t seem like they had much choice in this if they wanted to be better for their kids. They’d already had to cut back on vigilantism because of their jobs and need for sleep, could they really cut it out of their lives entirely? Just like that?

No, there had to be something they could do. The city was still the most crime ridden city in the world. They couldn’t give up on it.

But then what to do…?

She watched Tim stumble in with a dislocated shoulder and squeaked, pushing herself off of her husband and rushing over.

“Shit! What happened?”

“I… might have messed up a boomerang-horseshoe-thingy catch and it might have hit me in the shoulder.”

She clicked her tongue. “Right. I’m going to reset it on three. One, two --.”

Tim gave a grunt of pain as she pushed his shoulder back into place.

“You should have told someone, how long were you fighting with a dislocated shoulder?”

“A little while…”

She shook her head and glanced at Adrien to give him the ‘kids, right?’ look, only to find him lost in thought.

He snapped out of it and flashed her a grin.

“I think I have an idea. How do you feel about going back on patrols with partners?”

~

He stretched across his family’s lap as they waited.

Adrien, Marinette, Dick, Jason, and Tim all sat in a therapist’s office for family counseling. They would have invited Cass but the whole ‘not speaking’ thing made therapy difficult. They actually had invited Barbara, only to get shut down because apparently she didn’t want to ‘deal with all that mess’.

So, it was just them.

Well, I say ‘just’ like five people isn’t a lot of people to have in a single therapy session. The poor therapist looked like she was going to have a heart attack when she saw all of them waiting for her.

Good thing they'd chosen the shortest session...

“Um… Agreste?”

“Yep!” Said Dick, far too brightly for a therapy session but whatever.

“Cool… right this way!”

His family glanced at each other before shrugging and pushing Adrien off of their laps in unison. He pouted up at them from his new place on the floor, but no one seemed all that guilty about it.

Marinette did reach out and pull him to his feet by the back of his shirt, though, so there was at least that.

They filed into the therapist’s room and took a seat on yet another couch.

Dr. Quinzel smiled at all of them. “Okay, does anyone have anything they’d like to start us off with?”

The family eyed each other warily. They were here as civilians, so they had to make sure not to slip up and talk too in depth about most things…

“Jason keeps calling me ‘Replacement’!” Said Tim, finally.

Marinette and Adrien frowned at Jason, who was attempting to sink into his hoodie.

“Well, we definitely didn’t know about that…” said Marinette.

“Of course you didn’t!” Said Jason. “You’re hardly ever around!”

Tim sighed. “They’re just busy.”

Adrien flinched. That was way too close to the excuse he used to make for his own father for his liking. Were they really that bad? Sure, he and Marinette were definitely not around as much as they’d like to be, but they were making an effort… did that really matter, though?

“No, Jay is right. We’ll try and do more. We’ve talked about how we’re going to free up time for you guys recently, actually. We’re hoping to include you more in our...” He glanced at Dr. Quinzel. “... hobby. Do more things with you in general, really.”

Marinette nodded her agreement.

She glanced at the boy’s faces and then clicked her tongue. “Anyone have problems they want to share?”

“No, our family is perfect how it is!” Said Dick brightly, his gaze fixed on the window.

Adrien followed his gaze to make sure nothing bad was going down on the streets and then sighed. “Dick, there has to be something. You’ve been just as tense as the rest of us recently.”

“Nope! Everything’s great!”

Everyone else exchanged skeptical looks but they couldn’t really feel comfortable pushing --.

Dr. Quinzel frowned a little bit. “Okay. We’ll come back to you when everyone else has had their say, then. Hopefully you’ll be more comfortable then.”

Dick gave a charming smile. Dr. Quinzel didn’t seem all that perturbed as she turned to look at Marinette.

His wife pursed her lips tightly as everyone else’s eyes went to her and she smoothed out the front of her dress. “We’ve already talked about this one-on-one, but… I think Adrien could maybe think a bit more before doing things. Or, at least, he should tell me when he makes major decisions like adopting kids.”

Dick’s smile dropped instantly. “Are you really complaining about not being told things? You guys tell me nothing! I have to figure everything out myself!”

Everyone startled a little at the sudden change of heart and gave each other wary glances before finding their way back to Dick.

The man in question had pushed himself to his feet (Adrien whined a little bit about losing the person to lean against) and started pacing. “You even ask Barbara things before me! It’s like you think I’m stupid!”

“Sweetie --.”

“Dont!” Dick sighed and came to a stop. He shoved his hands into his pockets. “It’s fine, it’s just… don’t you trust me?”

Marinette and Adrien looked at each other before nodding.

“Of course we do,” he said gently. “We’ll talk more about this at home, okay? When we’re not in the present company?” He looked at Tim and Jason, but he meant Dr. Quinzel. That was a hard subject to tiptoe around.

Dick took a seat on the armrest, likely so he could get up again without disturbing anyone.

Dr. Quinzel nodded. She looked at Adrien, and he fought the urge to try and hide behind Jason. She looked way too smart for his liking, it felt like she knew just by looking at him exactly what was wrong with him...

“I…” He struggled to find the words in French, let alone in English. “... think I try and get a lot of people in the house so I never have to be alone for long. I used to be alone all the time. I can’t do that again.”

Dr. Quinzel nodded thoughtfully. “It seems that all of you feel excluded or lonely in some way. Thankfully, that means all of you are the solution to each other’s problems. But, also, I suggest branching out some. Family is good, but so are friends. Everyone understand?”

They all gave each other wary looks, but they smiled all the same.

“Great, we can have a session again in a month or two to check your progress. That’ll be $7000 --.”

~

Marinette met her husband’s eyes and they exchanged nervous looks before walking into their room. As expected, Jason was already there. He was ready for bed, it seemed, with his pajamas on and his book out.

They took seats on either side of him and each took a hand.

“Jay…” Began Adrien. “We don’t love you any less because you’re not the newest kid anymore.”

“I know…”

Marinette bit her lip and pressed a tiny kiss to his forehead. “We’re not lying. And you don’t have to, either, just tell us why you think that.”

Jason looked at both of them warily before sinking into his shirt. It didn’t work as much as it did when he was wearing a hoodie or turtleneck, but it still worked surprisingly well.

She looked at Adrien nervously and he took the lead again:

“The reason we tend to focus on the newest the most is because they usually have the freshest problems. When we first got you we focused on you more than Dick because you were still struggling with old habits you picked up while homeless, and he was mostly over what had happened with his original parents.”

Marinette nodded. “And when Tim came in we focused on him because he was dealing with realizing his parents weren’t great and adjusting to a family who loved him. Now we have Cass, who…  will definitely need some extra care…”

Jason sniffled a little and nodded his understanding. “I know you have to, I just… it feels like you don’t want me as much anymore...”

“No way!” Marinette said, squeezing his hand tighter. “We love you, sweetie, you’re just as much our kid as any of the others.”

Adrien smiled. “Exactly. You’re stuck with us, whether you want to be or not.”

Jason gave a wobbly laugh before slowly drawing them in for a hug.

“I love you, too, guys.”

They hugged him back.

“... and I’ll go easier on Tim.”

“Thank kwami, I didn’t want to ruin the moment by bringing it up, but… yeah, be nicer to Tim, please,” said Adrien half jokingly.

Marinette grinned. “Maybe give him a nicer nickname, at least?”

“How about Timbers?”

“Uh…”

“Timberly?”

She clicked her tongue. “How about just Timmy? Or Tim?”

“No, no, I think I’m on to something.”

~

Adrien stared in disbelief.

“You… you did what?”

Dick fiddled with a Rubix cube. Adrien wasn’t sure if that was just to help stay concentrated on the conversation or so he could more easily avoid eye contact.

“I joined the mob two years ago because I wanted to be more in the loop…”

Adrien and Marinette exchanged exhausted looks.

“Don’t be mad! I’ve been rising in the ranks for years now, eventually I’ll be close enough to Agoura to help you guys!”

Marinette sighed lightly and shook her head. “Sweetie, we aren’t mad.”

Adrien raised his eyebrows. “Yes we are.”

“You’re right. We’re mad. But we’re going to let this one slide.”

“No, we aren’t.”

“I can’t read minds!” She said, then she shook her head again. “Look, we just want you to be safe.”

Adrien nodded. “The reason we don’t tell you much isn’t because we don’t trust you, it’s because we don’t like involving you guys in dangerous things when we can avoid it.”

“But Barbara --!”

“We asked her about her opinion on one thing. She actually gave the same answer as you, and we turned her down, too. We’re sorry that you felt like we didn’t trust you, though, that wasn’t ever our intent.”

“And, besides,” added Marinette. “You have a tendency to snoop. We always figured you’d learn everything on your own.”

They took a seat on either side of Dick on the couch and wrapped him in a hug.

Dick beamed as he hugged back.

“... you’re still in trouble, though. That was stupid and dangerous and neither you nor your siblings can never do that again,” said Adrien.

Dick started whining.

~

Marinette bit her lip anxiously as she looked at her phone. All it would take was one click to call, but…

Adrien sighed beside her and reached over. He took the phone and pressed to call, then tossed it back at her.

She panicked, juggling the phone in her hands as it dialled. Nononononononono don’t pick up don’t pick up --

“Hello?” Said Nygma.

Fuck!

She looked at her husband anxiously.

“This or the Justice League,” mouthed Adrien.

She squeaked and brought the phone to her ear. “Nygma! Hi!”

“... Hello?”

“Hey! I’m a bit bored, so… I was just wondering if, um, you want to do something as…” she wheezed. “... as um… as…”

“I don’t really have anything prepared right now, I’m still waiting on that shipment of penguins...” The Riddler seemed confused, which was a first.

Was she a little concerned about whatever Riddler was doing with penguins? Sure. Then again, this is Riddler she was talking about. What was he going to do? Steal one of her ninja kids and then tell her exactly where they were? Whatever.

“No no! Like um…”

“Friends?”

“Yes! That!”

Adrien rested his head in his hands with a deep sigh. She flipped him off despite knowing he couldn't see it.

“I guess my schedule is free until the penguins come in... Sure! Want to go try an escape room?”

“No, I do an escape room every time I see you. I’m making you a new outfit.”

Adrien and Riddler both groaned.

She smiled.

~

He hesitated, messing with the strap of the bag over his shoulder.

“The city might need me --.”

“The city will be fine for a week,” said Marinette.

“The kids might need me --,” he tried, only to get silenced by a kiss.

She pulled back a little bit later. “It’s one week. Besides, we’re all doing what Dr. Quinzel said, and you’ve stalled long enough.”

He sighed. “For good reason! It’s a week alone! I’m going to go insane.”

“Chaton, we’re murderers. I think we crossed over that line a while ago.”

He cracked a grin, weak as it was, and pressed another kiss to her lips. “Are you sure --?”

“Yes! Oh my kwami! Now go!” She gave him a playful shove.

He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. “It almost feels like you’re trying to get rid of me.”

“And it almost feels like you’re stalling.”

She waved down a taxi for him and he couldn’t help but cringe as they took the bags from him. It made it feel much more real…

“I love you, Chaton, I’ll see you in a week.”

“I love you, too, M’lady.”

He waved at the kids long after they had disappeared over the horizon and he sighed as he sunk back in his seat. He knew it was for the best, he needed to learn how to function as a person on his own, but…

It was only a week. Only a week.

Besides…

He looked down at the coordinates of the last known location of David Cain (it was amazing what Tim, Barbrara, and Marinette could do when angry enough).

He wasn’t going to be bored, at least.

~

She turned away from the cake she’d been decorating and nearly screamed when her eyes landed on Cass. She hadn’t even noticed her walk in.

Marinette forced herself to relax.

She glanced over the tiny girl in front of her and bit her lip. She was wearing a mix of different shades of black which…

She suppressed a shudder. The outfit was okay, if she was being honest, but it definitely needed a splash of color.

“Right, that’s it, we’re finding you some new clothes.”

Cass looked at her blankly.

Right. She didn’t speak language. Marinette pursed her lips as she tried to think of some sort of movement that would convey what was going on, then settled for reaching out a hand for Cass.

She couldn’t help the smile that broke across her face when the girl took her hand. She trusted her! Score!

She hesitated for a minute before yelling: “SWEETIE! I mean… JASON! COME ON WE’RE GOING SHOPPING YOUR CLOTHES ARE GETTING SMALL FOR YOU!”

There was a few seconds’ pause before Jason poked his head in. He glanced at the two of them and frowned, sinking a little bit into his hoodie. “You noticed?”

“I… don’t even know how to respond to that. I’m a designer, of course I noticed. If you want to keep going for the grunge look that’s fine but you need to up your size.”

Jason nodded.

She rested her arm around his shoulders (something that was very hard for her to do now that he was both taller and wider than she was) and pulled the two kids out to the mall.

Jason was getting used to buying things for himself. He still resisted a little bit when people spent money on him or asked what he wanted, but he was making progress.

She pressed a kiss to his cheek and handed him a credit card. “Buy what you want. Remember the PIN?”

“Mhmm…” said Jason. He sent a wave over his shoulder as he made his way over to the men’s section.

She hummed lightly as she walked through the girl’s section to look for things for Cass. The girl was short and skinny for her age -- she was determined not to think about it for too long -- and she could easily fit in kid’s clothes…

But no kid of Marinette’s would have a shirt with the words ‘Girl Power!’ or ‘I love tacos!’ on it.

She helped pick out different shades of black shirts and jeans for the girl, mulling over the different colors she should give her. Yellow and red matched her skin tone but she doubted the kid wanted anything bright…

Marinette settled for giving Cass a blue scarf and some gold accessories.

She smiled and offered them to Cass, only to pale when the girl burst into tears. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck --

Cass hugged Marinette around the middle and buried her face in her chest and Marinette was just very confused.

Jason came back with two bags of new clothes and he blinked a few times as he took in the new situation.

“What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know!” She hissed back, waving her hands vaguely. “She’s crying and I can’t even ask what’s wrong!”

“We need to teach her a language,” mumbled Jason.

“No shit, Sherlock!”

“Fuck off, Watson!”

She was getting judgemental looks from fellow shoppers now. Great. Amazing, even. She rested an arm around Cass and then used the other hand to flip them off. How dare they judge how she parented her kid she just met.

She waited until Cass was done to pull away and lean down to check her face. Even if she couldn’t really speak, her expression should be a good gauge of what was wrong --.

Cass gently took the items from Marinette and flashed her a blinding smile.

Damn it. Now Marinette was going to cry. This kid was so cute.

She leaned over and gently pressed a kiss to Cass’s forehead.

HER kid was so cute, she reminded herself as she led her along to .

She helped her wrap the scarf around her neck. Was it kind of hot out? Yes. Was Cass super cute with her mouth hidden behind the fabric? Also yes.

She glanced at Jason, who was also smiling a little bit despite not having all the attention.

His smile dropped at her next words, though:

“I know you still have my card. Hand it over.”

“Fuck.”

~

It turns out ASL is hard.

It also turns out that teaching ASL, while you’re still learning it yourself, to a person who doesn’t even comprehend language is even harder.

Weird how that works out.

They started with simpler things. Everyday objects, basic emotions, the first letters of their names so she could say who she was talking about. It was a slow process, especially because they often would take two days per lesson because of everyone’s conflicting schedules.

But it was a process.

And he thought the family was doing pretty well, too. It probably helped that Cass was, at least so far, the nicest person in the house and none of them wanted her to be sad or lonely.

Look at that. They were working on making her not feel excluded. Progress! Dr. Quinzel would be proud.

~

Marinette paused her walk to the kitchen when she saw blonde hair. Adrien had blond hair, but he was still out on patrols with Dick so…

She turned and looked at the person on the couch with Tim. “Please, kwami, tell me he didn’t get another one when we just started making progress.”

Tim barely even looked up from his computer. “No, just my friend, Steph. She’s here because she thinks I’m sad my parents died.”

“Oh, oka --.” Marinette took a step back. “Hold up, what?”

“Yeah, they were killed by this guy in Haiti. I was sad about it for a while but then I was like ‘wait a minute! I can just kill him back!’ Anyways, it’s all good now.”

Steph didn’t seem all that perturbed about the murder thing, so she brushed past worrying about their identities or, y’know, her kid getting prosecuted...

Marinette pulled out her phone. “Yeah, Dr. Quinzel? I’m going to need to schedule another appointment…”

Tim frowned. “I’m fine, Mari.”

“Oh! Yeah! This isn’t for you… but, Steph, he doesn’t have anything going on Friday night, right?”

“I’ll make sure he’s free.”

She nodded. “Thanks, sweetie. Want anything to eat?”

“Guys! I’m fine! I got my revenge! I feel great!”

“Of course, you do, Timmy. And… waffles?”

She continued her walk to the kitchen to finish up scheduling and make Steph waffles.

~

Listen, at this point Cass having a miraculous was a given.

He might as well make sure it was a good one that would come in useful. And, it kind of matched her fighting style of predicting people’s moves to have one that allowed her to go five minutes into the past. She’d be even better at predicting people’s movements if she’d seen them before!

Besides, she liked the color blue. Perfect fit.

Marinette had agreed to train her, but Adrien was the one to take her out on patrols with him.

It was good to have people with different fight styles together, it made solving problems easier. Adrien paired with Dick and Cass, Marinette tended to pair with Jason, and Tim would tag in on either side since he had no real consistent fight style (he liked to change based on his opponent).

Besides, with group patrols they got to spend more time with their kids! They were nothing if not efficient people.

He and Cass sat on the rooftop across from the building Agoura had asked to meet Dick in. There was a low chance it was going to get violent, there should be no way that he’d know anything was off (Marinette and Dick had been publicly fighting for the past year to make it seem like they were on opposite sides), but it was better safe than sorry.

He watched Dick wave to Agoura and head off. Adrien and Cass watched carefully for any sign that they were suspicious, that they were going to do something underhanded, but Agoura just turned and started heading off into the night.

When his oldest son came up to sit with them, he had a thought. He glanced at Cass and made a swiping motion on his wrist.

She nodded her understanding.

They waited for Dick to transform before following Agoura and his goons. Five people were with him, but that wasn’t actually that bad by Agoura standards, so...

“Y’know, if he gets suspicious of me because of this, I’m never going to forgive you,” said Dick.

He shrugged absently, then broke into a wide grin when Agoura turned down an alley. “Living hotel to hotel wasn’t that bad back in the day.”

“Hm. I disagree, but…” The three of them exchanged grins as Cass activated her power. “Let’s do this.”

Dick brought his flute to his lips and played a high-pitched note that made Agoura and his goons stop in their tracks. Duplicates of each vigilante slowly spread out over the rooftops, as well as a replica of Dick.

The vigilantes and their fakes dropped down to surround the group and Cass suddenly reached out and jerked Adrien’s hand. He almost complained but then a bullet soared past where his head had just been and he went pale.

He squeezed her hand once as thanks and then pulled away so he could activate his Cataclysm.

Doubles went after the goons while Cass went to work disarming people. It was kind of creepy how she disappeared into the shadows without any help from Dick, but no one said anything because it was useful. She would pop out of shadows and break arms and legs to put goons out of commission.

Dick was giving himself an alibi. The fake lawyer ran into the action, only to get taken out by a fake Cass.

Agoura was making a run for it. Too bad, really, that he couldn’t exactly see anything that was going on. The world in front of Agoura was a mess of dumpsters and trash bags that he was struggling to run around. Adrien, who knew for a fact that everything was either fake or light enough to brush away with his staff, followed after him at a calm pace.

He grabbed Agoura by the back of his tailored suit and smiled at him.

“Agoura! Buddy! Where are you going? I just want to chat!”

“Nice one!” Yelled Dick from somewhere in the chaos.

“Thanks, Robin!”

He tipped his head to the side and regarded the man in his grip. It was clear he didn’t really know that much self-defense, but he must have some kind of weapon hidden on him…

Cass seemingly materialized out of the wall nearby and threw herself at Agoura, a blur of blue and black, and the man was nearly knocked out of Adrien’s grip by the force. Then she pulled away with a gun and a few knives.

Adrien raised his eyebrows a little bit before sending her a smile. Yeah. It was definitely a good thing that he’d given her that specific miraculous...

He turned his attention back on the mobster, who was beginning to look a little pale.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not here to kill you. You deserve way worse,” he said brightly.

He pressed his hand to the man’s wrist. He closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on just dissolving the wrist. It was kind of hard to do with the mobster screaming his head off. Kwami, you’d think he’d be quiet so Adrien wouldn’t dissolve him into nothing but apparently not…

The hand popped off and he let go instantly. He looked down and winced at the black webbing its way under the glove.

He glanced at the mobster nearby, who was still screaming, and rolled his eyes. He punched him as hard as he could and smiled when he fell to the ground in a heap by the hand. Good, now that that was dealt with...

He scrunched up his nose a little bit as he slowly peeled the glove off of the hand and then his face split into a wide smile. Thank kwami, he hadn’t ruined the prints.

He turned to his kids and found them waiting for him amidst a pile of bodies. He didn’t know if the henchmen were alive or not, but when he saw the tiny scrape on Cass’s cheek he decided he didn’t care.

He waved the hand at them.

“We got him!”

~

Listen, Marinette had considered staying commissioner…

For approximately two seconds.

The vigilantes had made their point in getting Agoura arrested (they gave him about four days before he ‘mysteriously committed suicide’ in jail thanks to either underpaid henchmen or old victims). They were done. It had been way too hard to even think about doing it consistently. No, murder was definitely the way to go.

She glanced over at Nygma. “Thanks for helping me pack up.”

“Well, I figured it would be nice to visit again.”

She nodded slowly and looked around her old office. Tomorrow there would be someone else in that chair, someone likely far more corrupt…

“Got a knife on you?”

“Obviously, but why?”

She shrugged and took it from his outstretched hand. She knelt down by the chair and sawed on one of the legs until she had taken off a tiny piece of it. She pushed on the chair and giggled a little when it wobbled. Yes. Perfect. That would be so annoying.

She tossed the piece of chair leg in the air and then caught it, sending Nygma a wink. “The budget here is terrible, it’ll take at least a few months to get a new chair.”

Nygma rolled his eyes and took his knife back from her. “Hm. And they say I’m the evil one.”

They each grabbed a box. His was full of personal items, hers was full of files on every person currently in the GCPD and every mobster and goon she could think of the name of.

“You owe me one escape room.”

She groaned as they slipped out into the halls. “Why? Wasn’t it enough to spit on the floor?”

“Nope! Spitting on the floor was payment for me showing up, you’re making me do manual labor so I get one hour of escape rooms with you.”

“Don’t you know every solution already?”

“A new one opened up across town!”

She clicked her tongue irritably but shrugged. “Fine. But only because I owe you, not because we’re friends.”

He rolled his eyes and then looked down at the box he was carrying. “Wow, it sure would suck if all these pictures of your kids just… fell.”

Her eyes widened. “You ARE the evil one!”

He raised his eyebrows.

“And… you’re also my friend.” She made a retching noise. “Kwami, I’m going to die.”

“What?! No! Only one of my traps is allowed to kill you!”

“Too late! I’m dying. I’ll never recover…”

“Nooooo…!”

~

He raised an eyebrow at the girl on his couch. He was pretty sure she was Tim’s friend but… she was definitely around a lot…

Whatever, he might as well at this point.

“Hey, how many parents you got?”

Steph didn’t even glance up. “Zero, thanks to you.”

He went still. Wait, was she saying this in the ‘my parent(s) was evil and you killed them’ way or the ‘they were civilians and they got caught in the crossfire and I blame you’ way?

“Um… did you like them?”

“No, he was a dick.”

He allowed himself to breathe. Cool. Great. That would have made everything difficult…

“Want to be adopted?”

Steph laughed a little and shrugged. “Do I get to be a vigilante, too?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Then... yeah, whatever.”

~~~

Taglist

@i-am-ironic @nathleigh @mialuvscats @golden-promises @sassakitty @deathwishy @toodaloo-kangaroo @ladythugs @moonlightstar64 @dahjokester @jjmjjktth

[goth-girlfriend]

Endeavor’s Intern

(3/?)

Request: Quotev

Pairing: Enji Todoroki/Endeavor x Reader

Type: fluff,

Warnings: Reader is a student, even though that was clarified in the beginning.

(If there is any misspelling or improper grammar I apologize in advance.)

💙❤️🖤💙❤️💙🖤❤️💙💙❤️🖤💙❤️💙🖤❤️💙

“Nani!?” A mans voice screamed.

I tilted my head watching whatever drama Todoroki played on the secretaries computer.

She called in sick so we’ve both been manning the desk. So on my third day, I’m doing exactly what I threw a tantrum about not wanting to do.

“Wait wait wait,” I paused the show, “So, his wife is pregnant?”

“Yes?” Todoroki answered.

“But He had a vasectomy four months ago.” I pointed out.

He looked at me, a blank expression, I looked back and his eyes widened slightly. “What a scandalous woman you are Sakura Tsukino.” He looked at the screen and went to push play.

I smiled and shook my head, I leaned my head into his shoulder and went back to watching.

“Who do you think she cheated with?” He asked as her husband sat down and hurried his face in his hands.

“Hinata, that guy from her work space.” I mumbled staring as she broke into tears after her husband told her about what he had done.

“That’s messed up, he was all, not good looking.” Shoto mumbled and sighed.

‘HOW COUKD YOU DO THIS TOME?!’ She screamed.

‘DO WHAT?! YOURE THE ONE WHO CHEATED ON ME! YOU SLEPT WITH ANOTHER MAN! AND YOU WERE GOING TO PLAY IT OFF AS MINE?! THIS IS RIDICULOUS!’

Her husband was standing and screaming back at her. I bit my lip becoming more interested.

“Divorce.” I said, as he pulled his ring off placing in on the table.

‘I should’ve never given you my heart, everyone told me you’d only turn out like, like this. I denied it I trusted you and believed you changed.’

He backed up to the door, ‘I was wrong.’

He left, the camera moved to her sitting on the sofa. Her elbows on her knees, she looked down, eyes dripping tears, body shaking.

The screen went black and asked to start the next episode.

“Oof.” Was all I said as Todoroki clicked next.

“W-” i was cut off by the phone ringing.

“Hello, Endeavor Hero Agencies how may I help you?” I asked.

Todoroki just eyed me and paused the show.

“Hello yes? This is I’m calling to talk to Enji Todoroki. I was given this number to get into contact with him.” It was a WOMAN.

“Oh, of course. Please hold, I’ll see if his line is busy.” I lied.

“Of course, thank you.” I put her on hold then mute and sighed sitting back.

“Being a Secretary is so hard.” I stretched in my chair.

“Yeah.” Todoroki said stretched.

“Let’s get something to drink, also someone has to tell your dad he has a call.” I yawned and stretched up.

“You do it.” Was all Todoroki argues back.

“Alright.” I didn’t even argue back.

I knew his office was free, the only people who showed up for a meeting had left already. So I walked into his office, he quirked his brow at me and then looked back down at his paper work. I walked over to his desk and looked at his phone. A red light was blinking, the lady was still on hold. Okay, this is great I walked around his desk and squeezed my way onto his lap. I smield up at him and he looked down at me. He hand little Endeavor and Todoroki sitting infront of his monitor blocked form public sight by a stapler.

“You have a lady on hold. She didn’t tell me what she’s calling for just that she’s trying to get in contact with you.” I sighed and leaned against his right shoulder.

“Did you get her name?” He asked.

“No, she just asked for ‘Enji Todoroki’ because she told she could get into contact with him.”

“Then Get her name and figure out what she wants. I can’t waste time on useless things.” He argues and rolled his chair closer to his seat.

My stomach and hips pressed against the edge of his desk as he got back to work. This man made a great booster seat not going to lie. I sighed and picked up his phone, taking it off of hold.

“Hello, are you still there ma’am?” I asked and leaned onto the desk.

Fingertips ghosted my right hip.

“Yes, I’m still here.

“Alright, I’m calling to ask for your name and purpose of call. Endeavor is a bit busy but is able to call you back in thirty to fourth minutes if you can leave a name, number and purrpose of call.” I lied to her easy.

“Oh well, I’m Inosu Nara, I’m calling because we met almost a month ago. He gave me this number to get into contact with him.” She answered.

“Alright, well thank you Ms.Nara, I’ll tell him what you’ve told me and you should get a call back from this number in about thirty minutes. Can I get your number?”

“Yes it’s xxx-xxx-xxxx”

Alright that should be everything I need.”

“Thank you.”

“No thank you for being patient and calling Endeavor Hero agencies.”

I ended the called and wrote down the number, Inosu Nara

“Inosu Nara.” I picked up the sticky note, “She says you meet a month ago and you gave her this number to call you.”

He tended a bit and his face turned into a scowl. Wait half an hour and then Call her back, tell her the position I was offering has already been filled.” His left has copied his right and grabbed my other hip.

“So....Why does Shoto watch romantic Dramas?” I asked and started to click away on Endeavors computers.

“What?” He asked.

“Watch this, it’s just three minutes it’ll summarize what he’s watching.” I said and pushed play.

He sat and watched, and cringed, he paused it halfway. “That’s Enough.”

“Yeah.” was all I said and moved to sit on his right thigh, my left side and shoulder to his chest.

“Have you ever been to Universal?” I asked and tilted my head.

“Once, I took all of my children for two days to film a commercial.” His answer was boring.

“Did you go on any of the rides?” I asked wanting to know if he liked it.

“No, I didn’t have time to do anything. I was being filmed and meeting fans.” He didn’t seem amused.

“Oh, well that’s boring.” I slouched and sighed.

We sat in silence, I was looking on my

Phone and just casually chilling. Endeavor was watching me, I could feel his stare. It was very intense but not in a scary way, more of a concentrated way.

I opened snap chat and smiled, “Take more puctures with me.”

His brows dropped, he didn’t seem interested at all. I ignored it and leaned into his chest and opens the filters. He didn’t smile exactly but he wasn’t wearing a serious expression either.

He looked cute with a flower crown. After about five minutes of me smiling and taking pictures and Endeavor slid his hand around my waist and pulled me against him. I didn’t know what to do, I just moved the side slightly and looked up at him.

His chin wa son my shoulder, the stubble of his beard rubbing on my neck. It hurt a bit, but it felt nice.

“No more.” He tried to push my phone down.

“Just one more.” I raised, “But you have to smile.”

I got the filter onto both of our faces, he had a forced looking smile, I’d take it, I had a plan anyways. I held down the button and moved to kiss right on and under his jaw bone. I felt his hands grip my hips harsh and he tended.

I smield agaisnt the skin I had just violated as he cleared his throat.

“What are you doing?” He asked and moved back to look at me.

“Spreading love.” I moved my phone and got us both into frame again, “Now really smile this time.”

I took his left hand in mine and a very faint smile came to his lips.

After that I saved the video once to snap and twice to my camera roll. Then I recorded another video, it was of mini Endeavor and Todoroki, and then I panned to him and he seemed unamused during me recording random moments. I even recorded him letting out a short chuckle as I told him a story of the first time a cat meowed at Todoroki and he panicked. It was such a beguiling sound.

I even caught the small smile he had and the joy in his eyes when I told him Todoroki actually remembered his birthday, and sent a message from a random number so he wouldn’t be caught. He smiled at the thought, a look of regret in his eyes, there was a sincerity.

“Well, I’m pretty sure it’s lunch time.” I said standing up.

“Can we go eat?” I asked looking at my phone for the time.

“Take the lunch orders for the floor, than you and Shoto can go.” I admired the way he leaned back into his chair, legs spread, arms resting on the arms rest and head falling to the side slightly.

“Yes sir.” I smiled and went to get a notepad and Shoto.

Lunch passed, time passed, Shoto and I watched more drama as we waiting for our patrol shift, we’d be on different sides of the city but that’s fine I guess. I mean we’re literally spending all day together just watching tv and eating.

I cut my noodles with my chopstick and swallowed quickly.

“I forgot to call that lady back!” I panicked, “I’ll do it tomorrow.”

Finally our turn for Paroels came, Shoto left, then a few others, familiar faces poured into the building taking a brief break from patrolling all day. I was waiting for Endeavor for my patrol to start. Finally he came down, I smiled at him and we took off. I had my cloak on and wings out. Everything was normal, it felt like just a walk. I mean, we stopped a break in at the most. Poor guy didn’t see it coming, he ribs definitely felt it before he knew what was coming. We carried on and ran into Hawks and Tokoyami. He didn’t leave, so our duo turned into a squad. We kept patrolling, nothing really happening, Hawks said something about it being to quiet lately around the city. Endeavor agreed, that was until we sat on a roof top, well, I stood on the edge, Endeavor was siting at a bench table, Hawks was walking on the edge and Tokoyami was leaning against the stair exit wall.

“We should become a squad.” Hawks said as he stopped to my right.

I looked at him, “what?”

“Imagine how cool we’d be, we could call ourselves the fire birds.” He took my hands and spun us both, to get read Incase I fell i spread my wings out quickly, the sound of fluttering and wind being pushed out from behind me was all I heard as I looked at Hawks.

“Get it? Because Endeavor is fire, I’m Hawks” he spread his wings, “Tokoyami has a bird in his belly, and you also have bird wings, I feel like your hiding more from what we know but I won’t push it yet.” He was still holding my hands in his.

“Well, it’s an interesting name. But I don’t think it’d work out.” I shrugged.

He pouted, “Why not?”

I shrugged, “Well, I don’t know actually l, we don’t always have the same patrol hours.” I shrugged.

“I see,” he spun us again and I kept my wings spread. He lifted his own.

I could definitely feel Stares, I sound of my rubbers soles scrapping again the concrete was the only thing I could hear. Hawks walked us back and forth, “let’s see who’s faster.”

He threw us off the Edge of the building I panicked and started flapping, after the third flap I caught wind and balanced myself. There I was flying above Hawks, he looked up at me. Hs was on his back his wings holding him in the air.

“Alright then.” I said and straightened out, “I could beat you anyday.

I move higher to bring myself to the edge of the building.

“Name a spot, and I can be there and back before you can.” I looked down at him.

“Great! I was hoping you’d agree I set it up today.” He came to my side, I heard Endeavor sigh.

“In the park by the koi pond, I stabbed a feather into a the ground,” he said plucking a long feather out of his wing.

I cringed and imagined the feeling, it’s all to painful.

“First one back with it wins.” He said and got ready, I squatted oh the edge and got ready.

“Toko! Give us a count off.” He screamed over his shoulder.

Another sigh from the party behind us, I smiled.

“Three,” a paused, “Two,” another, “One.”

We took off, I didn’t see Hawks ahead of and I wasn’t making the mistake of looking back. I pushed harder and gained more speed. I was focused on a short route I normally took until I felt something grab my wing.

I looked over to see Hawks, he was grinning and knocked into me, I knocked back into him and he only smiled wider.

“Oh, so you wanna play dirty.” I laughed.

I went up into a cloud and tried to time it, I saw Hawks in break, he looked around I dropped down on him and pushed his wing down he flipped onto his back and kept flying.

“Nice try but I’m all to use to it.” I scoffed.

“Sure.” I rolled my eyes and grabbed his boot to flip him around to face the other direction.

He did exactly that, flew in the other direction. He came back and landed on my back, his back to my back he just layer there.

“I don’t see why they don’t make this a way to travel it’s comfortable.

I did a quick roll over and he spread his own wings.

“WHAT?!” I asked as he didn’t leave my side.

“How do you get these so shiny and black?” He asked as he moved back to my side.

“If I told you I’d have to kill you.” I regretfully pulled a father of my own it hardened and caught a nice shine.

“I can do that too!” He cheered and pulled his own out. “WING BUDDIES!”

I rolled my eyes with a smield and dived down, I saw the feather and swooped in, hows swooped down. We’ll crash if one of us doesn’t pull back, or at least I’ll have to to use my whole quirk.

We pushed in before smoke filled the space I grabbed the wing and pulled back, I heard coughing and looked back to see a panicked Hawks. He didn’t notice me.

“(L/n)?” He looked around panicked.

“I let out a bird cry.” He looked up, there I was full form.

“YOU CHEATER.” He screamed and took out after me.

I flapped harder and tried to move faster and into places he wouldn’t be able to reach.

I saw Endeavor’s flames, I was so close, until Hawks pulled up infront of me. He grinned like a mad man, I changed back and stepped on his shoulder and made the jump. Feathe rin mouth I spit to get the taste of bird off my tongue.

“You should use dog shampoo, you’ll dull the color.” I said and waved the feather around.

He sighed, “I guess you win this round.”

We sat a whole longer, until the ground started to shake. There was the sound of rumbling and screams. We all rushed to the opposite side of the building. A big guy was trying to take down a building.

“Tokoyami, Go low with Endeavor, (L/n) and I will go ahead and try to save who we can from the top floors.” Hawks said taking off.

I looked back at Endeavor, “Go, it’s your job as a hero.”

I nodded and took off after Hawks. I caught up and we moved as fast as we could to get everyone out of the top floors. It was harder considering it was almost midnight and everyone one was home sleeping. I pulled out kids and men while woman tried to cling to Hawks at the chance they had. I laughed as one woman wouldn’t let him go. I heard a cry and dived in, the building was about to crumble, I can do this.

I found it, it was a little boy, he had red hair and white eyes. He was screaming for his dad. I picked him up a don looked for his dad. His dad was bleeding slightly.

“Hold onto my back and I’ll save you and your dad. Just don’t let go.” I calmly told the kid he nodded and crawled onto my back.

He held tighter then I expected. I grabbed the dad by his shoulders, “Come on.” I said and used all the arength I couldn’t o carry him at least bridal style.

With struggle I managed I ran to the holw in the wall and dived down flapping so we didn’t die from Just jumping.once on the ground I handed the guy over to Hawks and told the kid to sit with them. Hawks said ambulances were coming.

I looked back, this guy was kinda huge, what were we supposed to do? Endeavor and Tokoyami showed up. Endeavor rushed in and Hawks followed, Tokoyami knew what to do. I was still calculating and trying to figure out the best approach for myself. I found an opening, All three we’re taking him from the front, I found an opening form the back, I went for it. I flew up and spread my wings as far as they could go. At twenty four feet stretched out completely I did my best to blind him, Hawks was beside me in a flash.

“If you blind him long enough, I can get Tokoyami and Endeavor to help me.” He was gone.

I plucked out my longest, feather and used it to fight against his hands as he tried to grab at me. I stayed stretched out and tried to blind him. That was until I felt myself falling. I watched the sky swirl as I was pulled down. A sharp pain and a loud snap, my back arched. There was a loud crash, I was diving head first, the problem was, I could see where I was going, all I saw was a starry sky swirling as I started to spin while falling. The last thing I saw was Hawks Wide eyed reaching out to me and a deep scream. I was out, was I going to die?

I woke up from my dream as I started to hit water, everything was bright and white. I looked around rubbing my eyes. I tried to bring my hand up, it was held down, I looked at it and smield. I brought my left hand to my right. I brushed my fingers over the knuckles and skin that held my own.

“Endeavor.” I whispered.

I tried to sit up feeling pain in my back.

I brought my left hand to his jaw and held it, his eyes opened, he looked at me through his lashes.

“How are you?” I asked him even though it should’ve been the opposite.

“Are you alright?” He took his right hand to grab my right hand.

His left hand rested on my back, he rubbed it up slowly to help me sit up. His warm hand eased the pain that filled my muscles.

“Y-yeah, what happened?” I asked.

He sighed and tried to pull away.

I stretched with regret and grabbed his arm with my free hand.

“Please don’t,” I was basically begging for his heat.

He placed his hand back against my tender flesh.

“The criminal grabbed you by your wings when he started to fell back. I rushed in to catch you, and Hawks tried his best to grab you but his grip on yours wings was strong. He ripped out the feathers and fractured them.” He looked down.

I smiled at him, “Don’t worry about it, they’ll be fine by tomorrow morning...”

He looked up at me, he was soft, his eyes were glossed over. Tears filled the corners of his eyes. I moved my hand form his arm to hold his right cheek and get him to face me, his eyes held regret.

“You were my intern, I was supposed to protect you. I let you get hurt.” His voice was low.

“I’m your intern, I’m supposed to learn what it’s like to be a hero, and that’s exactly what happened. So you don’t have to worry. I’m happy that if I was going to experience this, that at least it was with you.” I smield at him, and looked down.

“I-” I cut him off with a look.

“Don’t worry about it.” I stopped him.

“I can make this up to you.” Her stated.

“You wanna make it up to me?” I asked and tilted my head with a slight smile.

“Yes, what’s something you’ve wanted?” He asked and fumbled around his costume and pulled out a wallet.

“Something? I’ve always wanted?” I asked and thought about it while staring at my hand with his.

“Well.” I looked up at him again with a grin.

“There’s this.” I pulled my hand free form his and grabbed his other cheek and pulled him closer.

His lips were soft, heat radiated form his face, quite literally because of his body temperature. His large hand landed on my cheek. He moved his hand so his forefinger and thumb took my chin and angled my head upwards. He kissed back eyes closed, I closed my own and brought my right hand down to his nape and ran it back up to feel the hairs at the base of his head. His hand still hot and comforting my back, I smield agsint his lips and pulled away.

“Okay, so I wanna go to Univeral with you and Shoto.” I smiled and he only looked down at me.

His eyes were so soft, they were clear, the bright color still outshine the bright white colors of the hospital I’m guessing I’m in.

“I don’t see why not.” He sighed and moved closer.

Kissing him a little longer the door opened and we pulled back, it was Shoto.

“SHOTO!” Enji screamed and pulled away.

His beard and mustache bursted into flames as he backed away and reached out for his son.

“Stop it dad, I already know what happening.” He sighed and looked down.

Enji sulked slightly and moved away from the bed side. I sat up straighter and smield at Shoto.

“So?” He asked.

“What?” I asked playing it off.

“Did your wings get better?” He crossed his arms over his chest the same way his dad does.

I forced them out and open, they were new and glossy.

“Of course they did!” They ruffled slightly, “I’m not an (l/n) for nothing!”

“Also, were going to universal!” I cheered and they spread out a bit.

“What for?” He asked.

“To Celebrate me becoming your step mom.” I winked at him, his eyes widened as his cheeks reddened.

“What?” He asked in disbelief.

“Why don’t you ask your daddy?” I joked.

He whipped around, Endeavor just looked at him.

“Told you.” I whispered to Shoto and smiled at Enji who was very slightly, smiling.

“HEY GUYS SORRY IM LATE!” And just like that, Hawks ruined the moment.

✨✨✨✨✨✨

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Out on Allen Street, it’s 7 in the Morning

Set in the Street Siblings au by @a-sketchy-character | @streetsiblings without which I may not have had the motivation to write this much.

Drizzle | Deluge | Squall | AO3

Chapter 4: susurration

The world is dark.

Somehow, she knows how many marks and cuts criss-cross her body; how many bruises decorate her like a canvas. But she can’t feel them, not even one.

Instead, all she can do is listen, tuning in to the rain as it pours, as red droplets fall in time off of Mad Dog’s blade. If she really listens to the sound, it almost sounds like a different boy’s laughter.

She focuses on the noise and it alone, her body so perfectly still.

Mad Dog thrusts his blade to her chest, and Cassandra’s eyes open.

-- 

They’ve only been in Gotham for a week, yet, it feels like he never left. At least for Park Row, the “Crime Alley”, the city has never changed. Slowly, the Red Hood and Ravager make the area their own. He does everything to make sure that the Bat never catches a whiff of what he’s doing. He knows it is pointless; even if Bruce knew, he would be too much of a coward to venture into the evil heart of the city.

It infuriates him, the remnants of the old argument. If Batman was ever truly needed. It would be - no, should be - here. In the black, beating heart of Gotham, where crime and cruelty channel through its citizens as if it were in their own blood. Yet for all he prattles about his crusade of justice, Bruce will never set foot into Crime Alley; too hung up on the ghosts of his past to banish the ones that haunt others.

It’s why he’s wearing the original persona of the man who murdered him. Jason had lived these streets, born and raised and died because of them. Deep down, Jason understands what Bruce simply refuses to believe. Some people simply want to watch the world burn, and they can never be stopped, only carefully controlled, managed or otherwise taken out. He never wants what happened to him to be inflicted on someone else. Not if he can help it.

Now, Red Hood is here, slinking through the darkened hallways of Arkham. Past every guard and camera until he arrives at one particular cell. He knocks on the door, and a mop of neon green flips upwards.

The madman beams; his eyes are whirlpools of chaotic energy.

“What’s this? Birdy clipped his wings!” The Joker begins, guffawing like a howling hyena. “I was wondering when you’d come back to see me, little Jay.”

To his credit, Jason doesn’t react. The pneumatic seals of the helmet hiss as it comes off. The Joker never takes his eyes off his face.

“There you are, my boy. Just like your uncle Jay” The lunatic says without tone, feral grin seeming plastered. “Say, you seen Cass anywhere?”

That makes him shift uneasily on his feet. The Joker leans in close, almost conspiratorially.

“You think the Bat ran her out? That he…” Something morbid flashes in the eyes of his monster. “Killed her just like I did you?”

Jason wants to drive his fists into the man’s back. Stamp on his legs until the bones shatter. Bludgeon him over and over with whatever is on hand until the madman’s flesh is nothing but paste. Instead, he stands frozen as the cackling echoes around the room and in his ears.

“I’m not doing this for you,” Is what he says. “And I’m not doing this for me either.”

His hand lifts the pistol from its holster.

“I’m doing this because someone has to do what Batman can’t.”

The Joker takes the words in stride, nodding to himself. To Jason, it’s the calmest he has ever seen him.

“Not a fan of the whole motorcycle fetish style, but to each his own,” The madman’s eyes, still rotting in their own insanity, meet his. Something about the gaze seems so clear despite the instability. “You’re going to be wonderful for the Red Hood name.”

He sighs.

“When you do it, boy, make sure you get as much of the colour out of me.”

Jason nods and presses the barrel into Joker’s forehead, closes his eyes, and everything is silent.

 --

He presses his hand to the glass, the rain sliding down the pane on the other side, its streams the same lengths as the rivers that flow from his red crown.

--

Fact One, a statement: Roman Sionis is the Black Mask, one of Gotham's most powerful crime lords with connections running deeply in the underground drugs and weapons trade.

Fact Two, an amendment: Roman Sionis is the Black Mask, arguably one of Gotham's most powerful crime lords with sizeable connections in the weapons trade.

Fact Three, a truth: He is absolutely livid with the Red Hood and the Ravager.

Roman stares at the text on the notepad; he picks it up and throws it across the room.

In the space of two nights, the new duo had taken over his entire drug operation and cut off every tie Roman had to Crime Alley. Internally, he thinks ‘cut off’ is still too lacking a description. Half of his thugs breathing through tubes for days. Pimps found castrated and dangling from lampposts. Drug dealers with their mouths frothing as they dissociated. If the rumour mill among villains is anything to go by, Red Hood had killed the Joker in his own damn cell. Roman shudders. He’d seen the images from the crime.

The pair are definitely a threat, and Roman needs him gone as soon as possible. Hiring the Joker would have been one of the best choices: effective, relatively cheap and definitely motivated to take on whoever dares don his previous mantle. Alas, reality disagrees.

Black Mask picks up the phone, ready to dial the more expensive alternative. He sighs and hopes they don’t call Deathstroke the ‘Terminator’ for nothing.

 --

Cassandra dives away at the last second, adrenaline flushing through her body and lifting the fog from her mind. Her opponent’s blade impacts with the ground, firmly planting itself the whole way. Mad Dog, clearly thrown off, becomes an easy target with her renewed energy.

She does not hold back, unleashing a flurry of blows to the assassin’s chest, even as he tries to hold his defence together. With renewed focus, she redirects every strike he makes and strikes him back thrice as hard.

It is not long until Mad Dog is at Cassandra’s mercy, nearly a bloody pulp under her hand.

“Finish it,” Shiva calls suddenly, and she almost complies. But, with her hazy vision, the images of Faizul and the assassin blend together. The vertigo Cassandra is feeling becomes sharper, and she’s drowning in it.

In her hesitation, Shiva tuts and stabs her own blade into Mad Dog’s heart, crimson fluid spraying in all directions.

Cass doubles over, desperately heaving, and liquid green purges from her body.

 --

Bruce stares up at the readout on the Batcomputer. There are new players in Gotham, but there’s something that makes them stand out from the others. They make headway faster than he’s ever seen it, clearing out and claiming Park Row as their own territory in a week.

Twenty-seven confirmed kills and thirty-four hospitalisations. He would have stopped with his investigation then and there. Yet, the detective in him tugs the back of his mind. He checks through the names again and finds that each one is attached to a laundry list of crimes that become more appalling the further he reads.

Then Red Hood killed the Joker; and for the first time since the madman’s debut, Gotham is quiet.

Bruce rubs his face in his hands and turns to the screens entirely dedicated to monitoring his daughter Cassandra. (The memorial makes itself known in his peripheral vision.) Her work in Hong Kong as Black Bat had been phenomenal so far. Every story he can find of her weaves the same story: Black Bat, hero of the Forgotten. Of the waylaid and the oppressed.

What would they think? Bruce finally turns to the statue, mouthing the words on the plaque to himself. 

“Can you promise something for me, Bruce? Just one thing?”

  “Anything for you, Jaylad.” 

He tears his eyes away.

Damian becomes cagey whenever either of the three vigilantes come up in conversation. It is suspicious, but he has had the lesson very solidly ironed in his mind how unconducive to understanding he can be. So, he gives his son his space.

Despite the child's refined nature, little pieces of him remind him of Jason, far beyond the boy's temper, pride, or even his cursing. Bruce had seen Damian in the library once, his fingers tracing the spine of a newer copy of Huckleberry Finn.

Red and orange flash by his primary monitor, and Bruce pulls himself from his thoughts.

Batman rises, ready to confront whatever ghosts will taunt him in the shadows.

-- 

The world roars in her ears, and no matter how hard she tries, Cassandra can’t stop the erratic sequence of deep breaths that claw out her throat. For once she’s glad she’s not wearing her old costume. The mask reminded her too much of smoke inhalation and chains and-.

“Why?” She rasps in a throaty, breathless voice that has not escaped her for years. “Why would you do this?”

“Can’t a mother test the progress of her daughter?” Shiva replies coolly. Her stance gives off nothing, so Cassandra does not deign her a response.

“He went looking for me, you should know.”

Her head snaps up.

“He was curious. A unique girl who can read the body as if it were a book and a unique woman who can do the very same? An unlikely coincidence,” Shiva turns her head away, ducked down as if she had already admitted too much. “He asked me, if it was my choice to leave you with your father.”

“It wasn’t.”

Sandra nods.

“He told me that was, and I quote, ‘a load of shit’.”

“Sounds like Jason,” Cass mutters under her breath. A hush falls between them, not comfortable but not unwelcome either.

“It is not me you came here for,” Sandra says with such conviction that Cass can’t help but gape in her disbelief. Of course, she did. Shiva gave birth to her.

Before she can voice her thoughts, Sandra grasps her shoulder and wraps her arms around Cass.

“You’ll find your brother soon. I can promise you that.”

 --

Gotham rumbles, her shock snaking through the crown of her scalp. She knows that tonight is the night; when events will pass and tear the whole city asunder. For better or for worse, she cannot tell.

But she is eager to find out for herself.

 --

“Think that’s a wrap for tonight?” Jason asks quietly, almost inaudible over the Gotham rain. It’s the only coherent sentence he’s made in days, so Rose takes what she can get.

“Probably, you’re not shanghaiing me into grabbing groceries, right?”

“Maybe,” He chuckles, but even though his voice is filtered by their comms, she can tell it’s forced. “Anyone ever tell you how similar some of our problems are?”

“Really? You realised this just now?” Rose rolls her eyes because, honestly. “I mean, at least your dad isn’t some psycho assassin supervillain.”

“Aww, Rosie, making your old man sad. Truly, I’m hurt,” Hues from orange and blue armour melt from the shadows as Deathstroke emerges, eyeing her. “You don’t wear the uniform like Grant did.”

“It’s not meant to and either way, I barely knew him or Joey.” She draws her blades, trying to hide how much her arms are shaking. It doesn’t help. “No thanks to you.”

“Is that Slade?” Jason’s voice is like music to her ears, relaxing her muscles in the ways she needs.

“I made your brothers stronger,” There’s an edge to Slade’s voice, sharp as the glistening blade he brandishes. Ready to pounce at a moment’s notice. “I suggest you come with me so you can be the same.”

“What, dead because of problems you caused?” She laughs shakily, grimacing under her mask. “I suggest you fuck off.”

“I’m coming, Rose.”

“No can do. There’s a hit on the two of you, and its fait accompli,” Deathstroke makes a ‘what-can-you-do?’ gesture and Rose darts forward, her tears faster than the raindrops that dance on her skin.

 --

Batman has followed the Red Hood for hours now, and he has no idea what to think. He expected someone wielding the Joker’s former identity to be as insane as the Clown Prince himself. Yet, the red helmet only bobs up and down as if it were in conversation rather than rotating listlessly.

Despite how antithetical the new face in Gotham is to his beliefs, some actions catch him off guard about the man.

While he has seen no deaths on this patrol, with every bone the criminal breaks, the same hands offer food to street children and escort working girls to their homes. Bruce is thrown, viscerally, into a memory of the bird that flew beside him to do the very same.

The Dark Knight watches him stalk through Park Row, freeze and then take off in another direction.

It is time.

He pursues the criminal, sprinting across the rooftops of Gotham, gliding above catwalks and fire escapes. Within minutes, he overtakes and blocks the path ahead of Red Hood, who curses and vaults over his body.

Or at least, he tries to as Batman grips the man’s ankle and slams him back into the pavement. Hood never misses a second, drawing a knife and swiping at his limbs. He lets go; the man faces him again, twirling the knife round and round.

“B,” A modulated voice hangs in the air, but there is a quality to it that tickles his conscious, like an old ghost whispering in his ears.

“Red Hood, I suggest you surrender peacefully, or I –.”

“Cut the act, alright? You think that just because you’re Batman, nobody can be above you,” Red Hood laughs. Through the modulator of his helmet, it comes off as hollow. “The truth with a saying like that –.” The knife is stowed away. “– It just means nobody is beneath you either.”

The criminal grapples him; kick, jab, punch, kick again in a rapid dance of attacks that Bruce can barely keep up with. Some of the criminal’s movements are achingly familiar yet so foreign that the composite form nauseates him. Red hood strikes over and over until he actually has him, the Dark Knight, pinned.

“And some of us can’t wait to drag you all the way down.”

Jason had always had a gift for speaking. His sister’s hands may be knives, but his words were bullets.

Breaking out of the Red Hood’s hold, that is what Bruce muses in his mind.

 --

They’ve been at a game of cat and mouse for so long now. Locked in a chase of diving and darting around a maze of alleyways and rooftops. Jason drops on one of them and turns to face his pursuer, who draws short away from him.

“What, can’t work it out?” He triggers the seals on his helmet as he lifts it off. Without the lenses he can see, even in the rain, the second Bruce recognises him. “You really didn’t care enough to remember my name or something?”

“Jason,” Bruce’s tone gives off nothing and everything. “W-Why are you doing this? How are you –.”

“I’m doing this because you refuse to do what needs to be done.” Jason snarls, venom laced in every word. “You want to rule them by fear, but you never go any further with the ones who aren’t afraid.”

“Jason, I don’t under-.”

“I died for your cause, and in less than a year you shove some other kid in the uniform so he can die too!” He is raving now. He also doesn’t care. “You let my murderer run wild and slaughter thousands and when someone finally steps up to do what needed to be done, you cut her out?”

“I had to –.”

“Had to what? Isolate her? Run her out of the only family she’s ever known? She was my sister, my whole fucking world; who believed in you and you left her like she means nothing to you! Cass is gone now, and that is your fault!”

“If you would –.”

“Do you even remember? That the only thing I ever made you swear to me, that you vowed on your life, was that you’d never let her down?” For once this night, his voice isn’t angry or vicious. It is a void, detached from any feeling. “Guess I should have known better.”

He knows, almost intrinsically despite the years, that if there is one thing that Jason has said tonight, those are the words that pierce Batman’s defences. It’s why he lets Bruce rush forward like he wants to. Allows the chase to continue. When he jumps, Jason lands in an apartment that carries the same bloodstains that leaked down his mother’s arms a lifetime ago.

 --

Black Bat arrives in Gotham, and superficially, it is empty. She almost hails Barbara when bright flashes shine in her peripheral vision. Lo and behold, Deathstroke and an unknown are locked in a duel below her.

Cassandra drops from above, and at that moment, she kicks Deathstroke into a wall hard enough to knock him unconscious. His opponent, she notices, stops immediately.

Before her is a girl, hair silver under the moonlight, garbed in orange and black.

Then the Batmobile rounds the corner, a small figure rising from the hatch.

"Black Bat," Robin says, "You have not responded to Oracle, she was-."

Damian's eyes bug out once he notices the girl beside Cassandra. She fully expects him to snarl or draw his ridiculously long katana. Instead, uncharacteristically rushes forward and embraces the girl tightly instead.

"Wilson. A-are you finally assisting us in Gotham?" Damian says, even with his head buried in a shoulder. "Drake may be intelligent, but his incompetence with the sword is impossible to rectify."

"Missed you too, D-man," The girl chuckles and ruffles the boy's hair. "I would help, but what’s up with tall, slim and broody over there?"

Cassandra crosses her arms expectantly at Robin, who obviously only just remembered her presence when he unlatches himself immediately. His cheeks may be red, but Damian still raises his chin proudly.

"I found her, Rose," His body language and eyes seem to sing. "I found his ukht."

The girl spins sharply, wolfish eyes drawn wide. “You’re her,” Rose breathes, awe rippling off her body. “You’re Cass.”

She would have flinched, but the body language is so familiar. Cass tilts her head.

“Yes.”

Rose grabs her arm so hastily that she almost rips it back in shock. But something is so honest about her body language that Cass relents, letting the girl lead her where she is needed.

 --

He kneels, tracing the dark stains. Behind him, Batman pauses. Not even he would dare to disturb the sanctity of this room.

“Jaylad, please -.”

“Don’t call me that. That isn’t who I am,” Jason rounds on Bruce. He gestures to the shattered window, the ripped upholstery, and the bloodstained floor. “This is what I grew up being, what I never wanted anyone else to.”

He taps the insignia on Bruce’s chest with his pistol.

“That, right here, was your promise to people like me. People that needed help and protection,” He spits. “And you couldn’t even do it for the ones closest to you.”

"I just want to-."

"Want to what? Parade your antiquated sense of morality to hide, while the rest of the world suffers for what you refuse to do? Or cast out others from taking it in their own hands?"

Tears are building in his eyes, but he wipes them away while Batman stands ramrod straight.

"I don't think you understand. That you've never understood," The man begins, and Jason gapes because what the hell does that mean? "If I let myself cross that line, even for Joker, I won't ever come back."

"You know what I think about that, Bruce?" Jason breathes deeply, feeling the whispers of the Pit roaring with the heavy rain in his ears. "I think that's a huge self-aggrandizing load of bullshit."

He charges forward, knocking Batman's legs from under him and ramming his face into the ground. Batman is down to his knees before either can even blink.

"And I'm so fucking tired of hearing it."

Jason levels the barrel at Bruce’s forehead, torbernite lining the edges of his vision, engulfing him in an absence.

“What’s the use of you learning to do right when it’s troublesome to do right?”

 --

Then, her voice shatters the tension in the air, gripping his heart and silencing the susurrations of the rain that suffocated his ears.

“When it ain’t no trouble to do wrong, and the wages is just the same.”

-- 

“Cass?” The boy in the alleyway says. A gun. An apple in his hand. The girl falters in the doorway, her fist tongue clenches, and she nods.

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[saturnznct]

previous / next

series masterlist

part 32 - that episode of victorious

word count - 1667 words

note; holy fuckin shit the NCT dream teasers😭 I’m trying so hard to be loyal to Jaemin but they’re all bias wrecking me so hard

You had woken up to the overwhelming smell of Jaemin’s shampoo. He’d been in the shower and washed his hair before you’d gone to bed the night before, so the smell was still extremely prominent. You tried to sit up, but his arms held you down, making you fall straight back down. He shifted due to the disturbance, so instead of trying to sit up, you decide to wriggle out of the confines of his arms.

Once you’re sitting upright on the edge of your bed, you grab your phone from the table, scrolling through your notifications.

You roll your eyes at your friends, before standing up and going into the bathroom to do your business.

Once you’re finished, you decide that you’re going to start making breakfast for both you and Jaemin. So, you head towards the kitchen. Before you even reach the kitchen, you find yourself getting distracted, opening the door to the ‘spare room’ which you now knew would be the baby’s room. It was pretty much empty, sans a few boxes full of baby grows, blankets and teddies. There was also a small basket which a baby would fit into. You had decided to leave the nursery building until after you were halfway through your pregnancy, and you were almost there since you were now at the 19 week mark.

You jumped about a mile in the air when you felt someone’s arms snake around you from behind, their hands resting on either side of your bump.

‘You scared the shit out of me,’ you mumble.

‘Sorry,’ he murmurs back, kissing you on the cheek.

‘I was just looking at their stuff,’ you explain, ‘I was about to make breakfast for us.’

‘I’ll do that,’ he says, ‘you can go back to bed.’

‘No, I’ll do it,’ you whine, ‘I don’t have to be bedridden at all times.’

‘I want to make it though. So go back to bed, for me.’

‘Ok,’ you turn in his arms and give him a quick kiss, before breaking free at going back to your bedroom.

15 minutes later, he’s reentering the room, holding a tray with two plates on.

You sit up, and he places the tray on your lap. The tray is quite far away from you, your bump pushing it away.

You both eat what he’s made for you in silence, both still half asleep.

You knew you were both incredibly nervous for your scan later this morning.

‘Oh shit,’ he suddenly says, mouth full of toast.

‘What?’ You say.

‘We need to get going in half an hour.’

‘Is it 10 already? How long was I standing in that nursery-‘

You both quickly wolfed down the rest of your breakfasts, before scrambling to get dressed.

‘Hi Y/N, Jaemin, it’s great to see you both again!’ Doctor Nam smiles at you as you walk into the ultrasound room.

‘It’s great to see you too,’ you smile back.

‘Right, just get up onto the bed there.’

She rummages around her desk for a few moments, before turning around with a notepad, and sitting down.

‘How’ve you been Y/N?’ She asks.

‘I’m fine, I think I’m getting used to being pregnant.’

‘Yeah, you should be at this point. Any physical symptoms?’

‘Still getting dull pains in my stomach a bit. They’re not sharp or anything so I haven’t really panicked about them much. Other than that, I’m still just really tired, I feel dizzy quite a lot and have to sit down really often.’

‘As I’ve said the dull pain isn’t really much to worry about, but if it ever gets sharp you need to call me straight away.’

Your heart clenches at the thought, and you shudder, but you shake it off. Jaemin squeezes your hand.

‘Have you started buying things for the baby?’ Doctor Nam asks.

‘We’ve got quite a few pairs of clothes, and a couple blankets and stuff. We’re planning to properly start buying in the next couple weeks,’ Jaemin explains.

‘It’s good you’ve already started buying. Have you made a list of stuff?’

‘I’ve started one,’ you say, ‘but I can’t help but feel like I’ve missed a lot of things.’

‘We can send you a list over email, we tend to provide one anyway,’ she says as she quickly scribbles things down.

As you wait for her to finish writing, you look over to Jaemin, who’s sitting in a chair beside the medical bed you’re lying on, staring at you. There’s a moment when the two of you just stare at each other smiling, and then he pulls your hand up to his lips and kisses it silently, in an attempt to calm you down.

‘Right, ok, I think we’re good to go!’ Doctor Nam explains, standing up and moving over to the ultrasound equipment to set up.

‘If you could just roll your shirt up for me,’ she says, and you comply, also shimmying your leggings further down your waist so your entire stomach is exposed.

A few moments later, she comes back over with the tube of gel in one hand, and the probe in the other.

‘It’s gonna be a bit cold, but you already know that,’ she smiles, before slowly squeezing the gel onto your stomach.

You flinch a little, the coldness spreading quickly throughout your body. You relax as her warm glove covered hands rub it in.

‘Alright,’ she says as she pulls around the familiar monitor.

She places the probe on your stomach, moving it around for 20 seconds or so before the shape of your baby appears on the screen.

‘There they are,’ she says, but she doesn’t need to.

It’s always been so surreal to see your child inside of you, especially since every time they’ve looked so much bigger and more developed. It’s so surreal to see them growing and changing, knowing that in just a few months they will be a complete human, in your arms.

For a few minutes, she moves the probe around, showing you various things, including the baby’s feet and hands, and also commenting on different things like the shape of its head.

She performs a few tests, including checking the baby’s organs, checking your amniotic fluid level and also the positions of everything, making sure everything on the inside is in the correct place.

‘Everything seems to be fantastic, their organs are growing just right.’

‘So, I know you’re probably aware that you can find out the gender of your baby now if you wanted?’ Doctor Nam tells you.

‘We would like to,’ you say, turning to Jaemin and smiling at him.

He nods before agreeing, ‘we’d love to.’

‘You want me to tell you right now? I can put it in an envelope.’

‘We’d love to know now,’ you smile.

‘Ok, let me just have a closer look.’

You feel her move the probe to a different part of your stomach, watching the screen as a different angle of your baby comes into view.

It’s about thirty seconds later before she says, ‘there’s nothing to indicate that it’s-‘ Doctor Nam stops speaking suddenly, ‘oh probably shouldn’t phrase it like-‘

You shift in anticipation, wanting her to just spit it out.

‘It seems that you are having a baby girl.’

You gasp, turning to look at Jaemin who’s eyes are quickly filling with tears.

‘A girl,’ he whispers.

You’re both shedding tears, not even paying attention to her words, too mesmerised by the thoughts of your baby girl.

You suddenly realise something.

‘Oh my god, Mina is gonna kill Doyeon.’

By the time you arrive at the girls’ apartment, all 9 of your best friends are already there, scattered around the room, either lounging on the sofas or sitting on the floor.

‘Hi!’ Chaeryeong exclaims, practically flying at you.

‘Let her get through the door,’ Mina says, appearing behind her.

You laugh, the four of you shuffling into the living room.

‘There they are!’ Mark says.

‘Here we are,’ you say, rolling your eyes at the way they’re all staring at you in anticipation.

There’s a few moments silence as you smirk, half enjoying torturing them.

‘Well!’ Chenle, Doyeon and Jeno all yell at once.

You look at Jaemin, before turning back around to look at the group.

‘It’s a girl,’ you say, before Doyeon attacks you in a hug, screaming in happiness.

‘Careful!’ You laugh hard.

You hear the boys congratulating Jaemin, as well as Mark saying ‘Haechan I told you it was a girl!’

When Doyeon finally releases you, both Chaeryeong and Mina both swallowing you in a group hug.

‘Wait,’ Mina says suddenly leaning backwards.

‘What?’ You ask.

‘This means I have to fucking be Doyeon’s slave for a month.’

You laugh, while Doyeon mocks her with a ‘ha ha.’

‘You know what, just because I’m nice, I’ll cut it down to two weeks,’ Doyeon teased.

‘Oh fuck you,’ Mina huffs, while the three of you laugh.

Eventually, the boys hug you one by one, each telling you how happy they are for you, and in Mark and Jeno’s cases, gloating about how they were right the whole time.

Jeno hugs you for slightly longer, murmuring his thanks for everything you’ve done for him and Doyeon in the last few weeks.

Just 8 hours later, and after you’ve been fed by Doyeon and Chaeryeong, it’s 10pm, and you and Jaemin are lying in your bed.

You’re half asleep, falling asleep to the feeling of Jaemin tracing shapes onto your stomach. It’s silent, except for the sound of cars occasionally passing outside.

Jaemin assumes you’re asleep, and starts mumbling.

‘I love you baby girl.’

You try hard not to move, your entire body just exploding with love.

‘Baby girl Na,’ he says, as though he’s trying it out.

You hear the sound of him exhaling and smiling, before feeling an almost ghostly kiss on your stomach.

That night your dreams are filled with dreams of your baby girl.

taglist (send me an ask if you’d like to be added!!);

@wendyaftrnn @kayleegglass @jaeminparadise @ncityy04 @mark-zone @soleilchannie @k-n-e-o @kiyeowooncity @thatanonymousgirl-as14 @peachykrystal @jesusagrees @moloprint @nctwhippedculture

couldn’t tag;

@freshwitchpost @r2njun @greentea-beach

[joon-ipersgirl]

O5 - “the coveted client”

genre: mafia!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, mystery-thriller

pairing: namjoon x reader (f)

word count: 4.6k

warnings: cursing

summary: charismatic. beautiful. fearless without question. the ambitious team of seven young men in charge of spiral, downtown district's hottest new club, go above and beyond to provide 100% satisfaction to their clients.

after an eventful night out, you have no choice but to join the team for property damages greater than your intern salary. challenging a series of events that can no longer be left to coincidence, secrets threaten to burst at the seams as your professional and private life collide, and another - more sinister - debt is added to your total.

how far are you willing to go to pay back your pound of flesh? remember nothing is ever as it seems...

a/n: hello friends. here is part 5. leave a comment on how you're feeling about this story. i'm debating on discontinuing it from tumblr. thank you vi for reading as always. enjoy everyone :)

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

Training tonight @ 6pm. Don’t be late. You read the incoming text with a grin. Even in text, Suga is straight to the point. Shoving your phone back into your pants pocket, you leave the small kitchenette and head back to your small desk with a fresh cup of coffee in hand. You can still remember the looks of horror on the boys’ faces after Suga announced your immediate hire and it’s been two weeks since then. Was it wrong to take pleasure in their discomfort? Probably. Would you stop? Never.

“Is that a smile I spy on Miss Y/N Y/L/N’s face? The Devil must be here to collect his wife,” Paul exclaims as you sit back down. You laugh and prop your chin on your hand as you stare at him over your desktop screen.

“Can a woman not just be happy, Paul? Why does it have to come at the expense of a man?” you ask, a fake feign of hurt in your voice.

“Of course women can. Just not you,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. You shake your head, your smile still present on your face. Paul would not ruin your good mood.

“Ouch. That one might have hurt if I actually gave a fuck about your opinion of me,” you say while reorganizing the folders Manager Kim had dropped onto your desk from the day before.

“Y/N! Language!” Laura chides as she walks into your cramped office space. You roll your eyes and flip through the countless papers on your desk to order them in order of priority.

It’s honestly a miracle that none of you manage to murder each other while you work though it’s crossed your mind several times. JM Events and Affairs is a lucrative event planning company, but apparently could not afford to at least place its clerks in a room larger than 500 sq ft. Being entry level is a struggle most days, but eventually it would all pay off and you would become a successful event planning guru. For now though, you’re stuck here with the imbeciles you had to call co-workers.

“Manager Kim wants to see us in her office,” James says as he pokes his head around the wall of the cubicle, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. “Now,” he emphasised. He doesn’t wait for you to follow.

Paul shoots you and Laura a raised brow of confusion as you grab your notepads and file down the long corridor to Manager Kim’s well decorated office. She’s an older woman who’s been in the business longer than you’ve been alive. She credits her success to always staying ahead of the trend even if she didn’t create it, though most times she did. Her style is impeccable and she is meticulous as she is jovial. She’s, quite simply, a genius.

James has already taken a seat in one of the two plush grey chairs in front of her large, industrial sized desk. Rows of colorful binders are organized on her desk - no doubt detailing the new events the company is planning on hosting. Manager Kim enjoys the arts and it’s evident from the variety of paintings that hang on the wall. Today, she’s dressed in a powder blue knit sweater that matches whatever shade of nail polish she wears tucked into a pair of belted, high waisted wide leg pants. Her matching steel toe boots peek from underneath.

“Ah, good. You’re all here,” she begins as she sits behind her desk. You gesture for Laura to take the other available seat as you stand behind James and Paul stands next to you.

“We have a new client considering the company for an event. He’s very important for future networking opportunities so I expect the very best work from you.” Manger Kim usually wasted no time getting straight to the point and today is no different. “In fact, I’ve been monitoring your work very closely because I knew a client like this would be coming very soon,” she stands from her desk, navy blue binder in hand.

“What kind of event is he planning on having?” James inquires, his pen ready to take notes.

“He didn’t give specific details, but I’m sure if we can book him for this minor event, he’ll give us the main one. I’m quite sure of it.” Manager Kim snaps the binder shut and smiles at you all. Her white blonde bob is immaculate, not a single strand out of place.

“Should we start drafting ideas now?” Laura asks.

“Yes, I need several drafts from each of you by 4pm this afternoon. Please have them -”

“Are we just supposed to forget about the other events we have coming up? This guy didn’t even give us any major details for effective planning!” Paul interrupts. Manager Kim turns to look at him.

“Well Paul, if this client is of no importance to you -” Paul tries to backtrack, but to no avail as Manager Kim continues on “- I will not need your drafts or your portfolio.” She beams at him and Paul blanches. You grimace.

“As I was saying. Please have your portfolios and 4 drafts submitted to me by 4pm today. They should be in priority order and include everything from food to colors, entertainment and venues. Remember, the customers knows best -”

“- but finesse, finesse, finesse,” you, Paul, James, and Laura finish. Manager Kim should have that framed and put on her wall.

“Lovely. Goodbye,” she waves no longer looking at you, already lost in her grueling event editing process. You knew better than to loiter and the four of you head back to your small workspace.

“You really fucked up there Paul,” you say as you sit down at your desk.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Paul deadpans. He drops his head quite heavily on his desk. Laura winces.

“It’s okay, Paul. Maybe you can still show her something and -” she starts.

“You know Manager Kim isn’t the forgiving kind,” James interrupts. “There’s nothing more he can do,” he finishes nonchalantly.

“I hate to agree -” you begin.

“No you don’t,” Paul cuts in.

“- but James is right. Manager Kim is all about quick thinking and Paul failed that test. He’ll have another time to redeem himself, but he has to sit this one out. You should be happy, Laura. Less competition,” you say with a shrug and flip open your notepad to start drafting.

“Do you even have an empathetic bone in your body, Y/N?!” Laura hisses as she walks over to rest a hand on Paul’s shoulder.

“Sometimes,” you reply. “But everyone has to eat and I refuse to go to sleep on an empty stomach.”

Laura looks disgusted at your answer and she goes back to consoling Paul. James had left the conversation a long time ago and you admired his ability to ignore almost everyone around him. His coldness and detachment made him ruthless in an unsuspecting way and you’d learned the hard way not to underestimate him. Laura would learn eventually that while people thought it was the strong who survived, it was really those who were able to adapt to any environment that really thrived.

It’s after lunch that you receive an email from Manager Kim requesting for you to meet her in the lobby in fifteen minutes without any further explanation. You ask no questions and sit in the lobby, counting the people that come out of the elevator that were not Manager Kim. It’s already 1:24 pm and you’ve just started your third draft. Creating on a time crunch with no real guidance is no walk in the park and you try to keep your frustrations under control as you run through possible color combinations for the event.

“Y/N! There you are! Let’s go,” Manager Kim calls as she exits the building without checking to see if you follow.

You scramble to grab your purse and notepad, scurrying across the lobby in the high heels she insists you wear. Manager Kim is already seated in a company car as you yank the passenger side door open and fall into the seat.

“Very good,” she says and wastes no time pulling into traffic. You awkwardly try to secure your seatbelt as she zips through the small spaces between cars. Gods protect you from this woman and her hazardous driving.

“Where are we going?” you ask after you manage to situate your purse, coat, and notepad in your lap comfortably.

“Downtown. We’re meeting with the client.”

“We?!” you repeat, surprised.

“That’s what I said isn’t it? We’re also late,” she says as she makes a sharp right turn onto Matthews St. You barely miss hitting a cyclist and you send up another small prayer for you to make it to your destination safely.

“What about the drafts and portfolios? Aren’t you going to review -”

“Did I say I wasn’t?” She glances over at you from the corner of her eye and you close your mouth. You would not fail this test.

Manager Kim pulls over into an impossibly tight space in front of a large corporate building that reads Hastings and Lewis. A well established law firm if you remember correctly. It has to be at least 14 stories high and exudes the architect’s vision of simple modern design with large windows and exposed steel structural support. You both exit the car and you align your steps with hers, your heels clicking in time against the marble flooring as you enter the building. You say good afternoon to the doorman who simply nods at you in greeting.

“Hello. How can I help you?” the receptionist asks behind the raised desk, her head barely visible.

“Yes, hello. My name is Madeline Kim. I have an appointment to speak with Mr. Cavallero at 2:15pm.” You glance at the clock behind the receptionist. 1:53pm. You bite your lip to hold your outburst. To be early is to be on time, you could hear her say.

The receptionist smiles and nods as she searches her computer for the appointment. “Yes, here it is. Please have a seat. Someone will come and get you shortly.”

Manager Kim nods and perches in one of the available seats. You shake your head as you take a seat next to her, ignoring the itching in your palm to pull out your notepad and finish your drafts. You can tell by the way Manager Kim is sitting, not scrolling through her various binders or the calendar on her phone, this is a formal interview and you would not be the one to fuck it up. There would be time to finish the drafts. You would make sure of it.

“Ms. Kim?” A young man in a sharp, black suit stands in the center of the room smiling at you. 2:05pm. Right on time. “If you could follow me this way, please.” He turns towards the golden elevators and you follow behind him. “My name is Lewis Carlisle and I am the assistant to Mr. Cavallero,” he tells you as he pushes the button for the 10th floor. He sticks his hand out for each of you to shake.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Carlisle. Thank you for having us. This is my assistant, Ms. Amani Jung.” A lie, but you go with it.

“A pleasure to meet you,” you say with a bright smile and a firm handshake. He returns a smile of his own.

The elevator doors open and you follow Mr. Carlisle through the open workspace plan. This is the kind of place that promoted collaboration and teamwork. How could it not when the light airy feeling made you want to turn to your neighbor and ask them what they thought about a particular problem? JM Events and Affairs should have hired their interior designer. Maybe some of their employees wouldn’t struggle as much to meet their deadlines.

“Mr. Cavellero unfortunately will not be able to meet with you in person today -” Manager Kim’s smile tightens at his words “- but he did relay all of his expectations for the company brunch,” Lewis says as he holds open the door to a small meeting room. It’s in the center of the floor and the walls are made of pure plexiglass. It screamed expensive.

“How wonderful,” Manager Kim comments as she sits down and sets her purse down on the ground.

“Would either of you like something to drink? Water? A Coke?”

“ A water with light ice will do, thank you,” she says.

“I’ll take a bottle of water, please,” you reply and sit down beside Madeline. You discreetly pull out your design notepad along with your actual note-taking pad. Lewis nods and promises to return quickly with your drinks as well as the file containing the event details.

“You seem upset,” you comment while scribbling down the words brunch and law firm onto a new blank sheet for your fourth and final draft, your brain already conjuring up ideas.

“What makes you think that?” she asks, turning to you slightly as she too sets up her own note-taking station.

“Your smile failed to meet your eyes,” you say nonchalantly. From the corner of your eye, you see her break into a grin as Lewis enters the room, a cup of water in one hand, a bottle in the other, and a slim manilla folder tucked underneath his arm.

“Thank you again, Mr. Carlisle,” Manager Kim says with another bright smile, her hand in his as they shake hands again.

“You’re very welcome. I’m sure Mr. Cavallero will love what you put together for brunch,” he replies.

The meeting seems to be a success and you’d gained some much needed insight for your fourth draft while being Madeline’s “assistant”. You’re no longer paying attention as you exit the meeting room and head back towards the main elevator, Madeline and Lewis making polite conversation. You run over all of your drafts as you check the time discreetly. It’s 3:20pm. You would still have enough time to review your plans and work on the others files Manager Kim had assigned. You grin in victory.

“Mr. Cavallero!” Lewis exclaims as the elevator doors open.

The man is an older gentleman with neatly groomed hair and warm brown eyes. His coal grey suit is neatly pressed, a sharp crease present in the center of his pant leg. Definitely high quality and only dry-cleaned. His smile displays a set of perfect of white teeth. As he steps out of the elevator, holding it open so it wouldn’t close, the Armani Exchange watch glitters under the artificial lights.

“Mr. Carlisle. I assume this must be our event coordinators. I’m sorry I couldn’t meet with you. An emergency meeting was called for a major case,” he apologizes.

“I understand, Mr. Cavallero. Things are sometimes out of our control. No need to explain,” Madeline says with a smile as she enters the elevator. You follow behind her. “Mr. Carlisle was quite capable. I will have Miss Y/L/N send over the final details for the event by Friday for your approval.”

Mr. Cavallero’s eyes shift over to you and he smiles. “I look forward to it. Enjoy the rest of your day, ladies.” He let the doors go as Lewis tells you goodbye, the doors closing off the last of his words.

Manager Kim’s shoulders visibly relax as you descend to the lobby, but you make no comment. Though their conversation was brief, something had clearly transpired between them. Madeline seems to have noticed you watching her as she inhales and fixes her posture. She was back to business.

“I assume I don’t have to tell you not to say anything about this meeting?” she asks as she nods her thanks to the doorman, your steps once more in sync as you exit the high rise building.

“What meeting?” You say with a grin as you wait for her to unlock the company car.

The heat of the staircase in Spiral welcomes you again like a familiar friend after not seeing them for a long time. There is still the hustle and bustle of vendors dropping off boxes as the final details of the new designs are being put into place. People couldn’t wait to see how Spiral had fared after the robbery - which you still didn’t believe was actually what happened - and it seems like Friday’s opening night couldn’t come soon enough. Even Paul and Laura were considering stopping by after all of the shit they talked before.

You enter the main space and glance around, looking for one of the boys. Your purse bag is heavy from the event files and you head over to set it on top of the bar while resting your aching feet. Paul, Laura, and James could not believe you’d managed to turn in your drafts and portfolio at exactly 3:57pm after being gone so long; they would eventually learn to not underestimate you. You glance around again and notice a group of people sitting in one of the newly upholstered booths quietly chatting to one another across the way. Were these the new employees?

“Already lounging on the first day of the job, Y/L/N?”

You look to your left as you shrug off your heavy overcoat and see Honcho coming around the bar, a pile of clothes in his hands.

“Of course not. I just wasn’t sure who to report to,” you say with a shrug.

“Well, you’re looking at him,” he replies with a grin. You have to stop your mouth from falling open. Of all people, it had to be him? “What? Are you disappointed?” he asks as he continues across the room to the small group. You grab your stuff and walk over after him.

“No, I just thought -”

“Thought it would be Suga? As much as you like to charge in and demand shit sweetheart, Suga is a very busy man and doesn’t have the time to appease you all the time. Sit,” he commands with a jerk of his head. You narrow your eyes at him, but obey. It’s only then that you notice the other five persons staring at you in confusion as you bickered. You swallow the urge to huff in annoyance as Honcho begins speaking.

“Thank you all for being on time. Congratulations on being hired. I’m Honcho and I’ll be your manager at Spiral. You’ll meet the rest of the guys later. These are your uniforms. We have a strict adherence uniform policy, so please do your best to be dressed in your proper attire. If you have long hair, it will be tied up or back in a bun or ponytail. Ladies, we ask that you wear red lipstick to match our colors. We’ve also given you options for bottoms: a skirt or pants.” Honcho holds up a pair of each for demonstration. “Whatever you decide to wear is up to you. We only ask that all your shoes are closed toed and we would prefer no sneakers; we’re trying to sell a vibe here. Any questions?” He doesn’t wait for anyone to speak up. “No? Great. If you could introduce yourselves to each other, that’d be fantastic.” He looks over to the boy on the other side of the booth.

“Uh, hi. My name is Micah. I’m 21 and recently graduated from college.” He tosses up a small wave before pushing his glasses further up his nose. He’s narrow shouldered and naturally blonde. Cute, if you will. They would chew him up and eat him alive if he continued to be so timid.

“Hey, I’m Luca. I’m 23 and a graduate student at Oberman.” Luca definitely fit the vibe Spiral os going for with his dark hair and dark eyes. He would have no problem wooing the numerous women who would walk through the door. A great business move in your opinion.

“Hey y’all, Savannah here. I’m 22 and working part time while in school.” Another blonde hair, blue-eyed coworker. How fun. The bubbles in champagne had nothing on her as she beams at the rest of you around the table.

“I’m Jack. I’m 24 and I guess I’m here to save up for a new car? Need some extra cash,” he finishes with a bashful grin. The girl next to you snorts. Jack is a big man with broad shoulders and you would assume he was hired as additional security based on his size. Imagine a man as big as him bringing over your strawberry mojito? Exactly.

“Giselle. 21. Law student. Loans have to pay themself off somehow right?” Luca laughs and Giselle smiles. Yuck. If you weren’t already sick of the office romance - if you could call it that - between Laura and Paul at JM, you were going to have to endure another one here? Gods be with you.

“Y/N Y/L/N. I’m 22 and an event planner,” you say nonchalantly and turn to Honcho, waiting for his next instructions.

“Not going to tell us the reason you’re here?” he smirks and you roll your eyes.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“I’d like a lot of things, Y/L/N. In fact, I can think of a few -”

“Gross,” you say, interrupting him, your face turned down in disgust. He laughs.

“Always think someone wants something from you, huh?” He shakes his head, still chuckling. “Everyone, go get changed and I’ll explain your duties to you once you get back.”

The six of you ease out of the booth, grabbing your uniforms as you head to the restrooms to get changed. As you follow Savannah and Giselle, you can’t help but scan the hallway for anything you could have missed as the memory of your second night here flashed across your mind. There had to be something that you were missing.

“I hope these uniforms are cute,” Giselle grumbles as she steps into an empty stall.

“I’m sure it’ll look great,” Savannah chirps.

You step into your own individual stall and drop your stuff on the floor. Slipping out of your heels, you step out of your slacks and tug off your blouse. You hold up the uniform shirt. It’s a plain black t-shirt with the letters in red spelling out Spiral in a spiral formation. The pants are made of a faux leather shiny material. They look tight and the sides have cut outs with strings laced in them from hip to ankle. The skirt is exactly the same. You sigh. This was really the vibe?

You dress quickly and tug on your Doc Martens. Honcho would have to wait for the lipstick. Exiting the stall, you see Savannah trying to adjust the strings on her pants while chewing her lip.

“Is it supposed to be this exposed?” she asks, checking herself out in the mirror.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” Giselle says exiting the stall and tugging down the hem of her skirt.

“So much for equality in the workplace huh?” you say. The two of them laugh.

The three of you return to the main space, Micah, Luca, and Jack already back at the booth with Honcho. Their eyes widen when they see you.

“Looking good ladies,” Honcho calls with his traditional large grin. Of course he would comment.

“Yeah, yeah. What’s next?” Giselle asks as she wiggles her way back into the booth, trying to cover her modesty.

“We’re going to take a tour of the facilities, get you acquainted with the space, and fill out the last pieces of paperwork. We’ll also have you help with some of the decorations; don’t worry, you’re going to get paid for this session. Then, we’ll see you on Friday for your shifts,” he replies. “Alright, let’s go.”

Again, he doesn’t wait for you to follow. As you’re setting your belongings down to catch up with the rest of the group, you spot Jin heading towards the bar. Just the man who you needed to see.

“Are you coming Y/N?” Savannah calls to you as the group heads up to the second level.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there!” you lie, knowing damn well you’re going to ambush Jin. You pretend to search for something in your purse as you double-check the group is far enough on the second level to not notice you not following before you head over to Jin.

“Well hello Jin,” you say as you wiggle your way onto a bar stool.

“Y/N,” he says with a chuckle. “What can I do for you?”

“Just answer a few simple questions.” you smile as you rest your chin on your palm.

“Alright,” he replied skeptically.

“Where’d you move the body?” The bottle of Aperol nearly slips out of his grip as he turns to look at you.

“Excuse me?” There’s no laughter in his voice.

“The body of the man in the bathroom,” you clarify. “How’d you get it to disappear like that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replies, busying himself with stocking up the bottles of alcohol under the shelf. He won’t meet your eyes. You know he’s lying; his body language says it all.

“Oh come on, Jin. You can tell me. It’s not like I’m going to go to the cops or anything,” you say nonchalantly. “Clearly they didn’t seem to care since they weren’t that thorough with their questions.”

“Y/N, I really don’t know what you’re talking about. You were concussed remember? Maybe you imagined whoever you’re talking about.” He glances up at you. You roll your eyes.

“Really Jin? You’re going to use the concussion line on me? You knew that I shot him; I told you that. I just want to know where you put him and why there were no reports of a missing man from the incident on the news at all,” you say with a shrug. He finally turns to face you.

“Maybe nobody reported him missing. Maybe he slipped out after you ducked behind the bar. What does it matter? Look, it was a traumatic night. For all of us. I don’t know anything about whatever or whoever you’re talking about. Hell, you probably don’t know either. Please, don’t make this working relationship anymore difficult for yourself than it already is. Just come in, keep your head down, and head out.” His hands are splayed out on the bar and the distance between you has closed significantly from when he’d started talking as he stares you down. “Worry about the things that concern you, like repaying your debt.” His tone is sharp and final. There’s no friendliness in his face either.

“Y/L/N! You’re not getting paid to sit on that pretty little ass of yours. Get up here now!” Honcho yelles down to you over the railing of the second floor balcony.

Ignoring Honcho, you cock your head and look at Jin again, thinking. “Okay Jin. Heard you loud and clear.”

You hop off the bar stool and adjust your skirt. You say nothing further as you head upstairs. It seems as though Jin would be of no help to you, but honestly, it didn’t matter. If it didn’t concern you, why was Jin lying about knowing what man you were talking about? Why had Suga tried to discreetly cover up that paper in his office the other day? What was really going on at Spiral? You’re determined to figure it, even if you have to work extra hours to do it. What happens in the dark must eventually come to light.

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

joon-ipersgirl, 2020

[pluto-art]

Syncytium - Chapter 4

Title: Syncytium - Chapter 4 - Fateful Trips Words: 8,571 Rating: T

Fan Fiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13712482/4/Syncytium

Per the norm, I recommend the fan fiction version, which includes all accentuated bits. This has probably been my favorite chapter to write so far. :)

September 17th, 1993 - 6:03 AM

A spillage of numbers, symbols, and complicated algorithms flowed across the outdated monitor, a furious tap, tap, tapping of a keyboard a musical accompaniment to the madness. In the background, something beeped steadily, one high-pitched ding after another knocking at the air every two seconds. Several bottles and beakers hung suspended by their necks in a wooden tray off to the side, their liquid contents bubbling and boiling incessantly, all of them different colors of the rainbow - cinnamon, emerald, lilac, and azure. Rows and rows of books, large dusty tomes neighbors with fresh dainty novels, stood side-by-side within the innards of several tall, mahogany shelves set against the back wall. Still more shelves, steel-coated instead, lay strewn throughout the room, these ones encasing not just books, but various scientific tools, as well as cups of pens and pencils, tape, notebooks, and an assortment of other things. The entire room was dark and foreboding, the occasional dim ceiling light and desk lamp adding limited warmth to the place, with the two computer monitors shedding their own ghostly glow about the room. Piles of notes and here and there a forgotten and empty (and sometimes half-full...) coffee mug lay about on the computer desks, and there were probably more calculators - all different shapes, sizes, and models - tossed about than was necessary. It was an organized mess.

But it was his organized mess.

Globetrotter scribbled something down on a yellow notepad to his left, his right paw firmly planted on a computer mouse to his right. Light from the monitor reflected off his half-moon glasses, which tottered dangerously close to the edge of his nose. He swiftly pushed them back up onto the bridge.

Tap, tap, tap...

More typing. More note-taking.

"Yes...," he whispered to himself, the beginnings of a grin climbing up onto his face. "Yes!"

He slammed a finger down onto the 'Enter' key, and a train of calculations ran across an invisible track on the monitor, finally ending in a result that was much to his satisfaction. Globetrotter smirked deviously.

"Heh heh heh. Ohhhh, my friend. Are you in for a treat."

Just then, his eyes went wide, ears drooping suddenly.

"Uggggh," he groaned, setting down his glasses as he ran towards a heavy steel door, punched in a code on a panel set in the wall, and flew out of the room as the door slid open. When it closed behind him, it melded into the wall so well that no one would be able to tell one way or another that a secret laboratory lay hidden on the other side.

Down a long, dimly-lit hallway he ran, his shoes clapping loudly against the smooth concrete floor, 'til he reached an elevator. He slammed his paw on the only button set in the wall - UP.

"Come on, come on...," he muttered, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. He allowed himself this - this undignified form of behavior, rocking back and forth like an absolute child. It was something he'd never succumb to in public, but here there was no one to see, not even any cameras. He'd shut them off long ago, knowing full well that no one would ever bother to monitor the basement. No one but him ever graced this area anymore.

After a full half a minute, the elevator finally descended.

Ding.

Globetrotter bolted into it as the doors opened, punching the 'Floor 1' button with unbridled voracity as he clutched at a spot near his crotch, face scrunched in discomfort. His head hung, an extended paw resting against the elevator wall as it ascended. He groaned. This was most undignified.

No sooner had the doors laid entrance to the first floor than Globetrotter shot out of the elevator like a bullet, practically skidding into the men's bathroom that, thankfully, was literally right across from the elevator. It was a shoddy design, but it worked well for him.

He practically knocked the door off its hinges as he barged inside, taking an extra two seconds to select the furthest stall from the entrance as he ran in, slammed the door shut, shakily undid his belt, and slammed his butt resolutely down on the toilet... and released.

He said a silent prayer of thanks that no one was in the bathroom to hear the sounds reverberating off the walls. It was embarrassing enough to deal with bowel issues, but for explosive diarrhea to come along with it every now and again was the icing on the expired cake. Most in the university knew about his issues. How could he avoid it? The students expected him to take a sudden pause during his sessions every once in a while. If anything, they welcomed it; less Globetrotter meant more time to goof around and breath without fear of being told off or sent to detention. And he'd learned to simply... deal with it. Rarely did the whispers come, and there was always at least one veteran student in his class to inform the newer sets about his strange, frequent disappearances. But it still bothered him a little; made him feel weak. Bested by his own bowels. Ridiculous.

Globetrotter breathed a sigh of relief as he let the last of it out, quickly regretting his next deep intake of air as he slapped a hand across his nose and mouth in disgust. Ugh. That was a smell that would linger.

Finishing up, he flushed the toilet (it actually went down this time, thank God...), washed his paws, and exited the bathroom, grateful that he didn't meet anyone on the floor on his way back to the elevator. Not that he would. Early morning wasn't exactly a time for many staff and students to be active. Nevertheless, he checked his watch as he shuffled down the hallway. 6:17 AM. Class would be starting in just a little over an hour. Perhaps he should abandon his private endeavors until a later time? He fixed to head to the second floor until he remembered he'd left his glasses in the lab. Groaning, he stepped into the elevator, pressed 'B', and headed back down to the laboratory.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

1:54 PM

The day passed without much deviation or interruption in anyone's schedule, save for a light altercation in which someone accidentally set fire to the kitchen microwave... somehow. Olivia was still collecting signatures on her excursions down the hallways and into the cafeteria during lunch time. She even took to staking a spot outside some of the classrooms when she knew a session was about to end, clipboard in hand and pen out, ready to attack any unsuspecting student or teacher. It annoyed some, but most took it as an opportunity to amuse the little mouse. Even the stiffest of teachers found it hard to dislike Olivia, save for Globetrotter. Even Basil was starting to warm up to her, especially after she complimented him on his magnificent violin playing, although he still wouldn't sign her petition.

"How many signatures do you have, Olivia?" Mrs. Brisby asked that afternoon, tossing the girl mouse a light smile as she stepped into her classroom, lunch bag in hand and carrying bag slung over her shoulder. Brisby always brought her own food.

"Fifty-four!" piped the girl, adjusting her tam-o-shanter as it fell down over her eyes. "And Mr. Pinky said that if I get to two hundred, we can show it to the principal and get a baseball stadium!"

"Hm. Is that so?" Brisby asked, still smiling as she set her bags down on the cherrywood table and unloaded several books onto it.

"Mmhm! Well... Maybe. He has to approve it first. That's what Mr. Pinky said."

"Well. I don't think that will be too hard. All you have to do is smile at him," Mrs. Brisby said, pinching Olivia's cheek. Olivia giggled. "Here: Something for Mr. Pinky." And she handed her a bright, reddish-green apple. "Just make sure to tell him Brisby sent it. I'm experimenting with a different species in my garden and would like some opinions. Oh, and here's one for you, too."

"Thank you!" Olivia said, pocketing both apples, one on each side of her coat. "Bye!"

"Bye bye now!" Mrs. Brisby said cheerily, waving at her.

Olivia skipped with delight down the hallway, for once not calling out for signatures. It was almost 2:00 PM and she had a very important appointment to catch. As she cantered down the hall, waving to Dr. Dawson as he passed by, not waving to Mr. Globetrotter as he passed by, she hummed a little tune, pondering what wonders might await her in Mr. Pinky's class this time.

I wonder if he'll talk about the planets? Or if we'll go on a mystery adventure! Maybe we'll build a roller coaster in the classroom... or fly to the moon! Oh, I do hope he has a cooking show this time. That would be lovely.

Her head was so full of thoughts that it completely clouded her vision - she didn't even see Mr. Pinky coming right towards her...

"Oof!" they both exhaled, shaking their heads and chuckling as they recognized whom they'd bumped into.

"Oh! Olivia!"

"Hello, Mr. Pinky!"

"Say, um, do you know how to get to my room?" Pinky asked, picking up a little case that he'd dropped. It looked like an old-fashioned medical bag. "I came into the school from a different side this time and got a little turned around! Heh heh."

"You mean you... don't know where your own classroom is?" Olivia asked.

"Well, it's a big school! Even teachers get lost sometimes!" At this, he bent down to Olivia's level, cupping a paw against his mouth as he continued in a whisper. "But don't tell them that. I think they'd be offended!"

Olivia giggled.

"Come on. I'll show you to your room, oh lost Mr. Pinky. Oh. And this is for you."

She handed him one of the apples Mrs. Brisby had handed her, taking a bite out of the other for herself.

"Why, thank you!" Pinky said, soaking his teeth into it happily.

And with that, they headed off, Olivia leading the way and occasionally throwing out a factoid here or there.

"I know every hallway in the school!" she said happily. "That way goes down to Bernard and Bianca's class." They climbed down a flight of stairs to land on the second floor, passing more hallways as they continued on. "And that one hallway goes all the way down to the nurse's office. That's where Mrs. Judson and I are! Oh, and that's the hallway that goes to the principal's office. But don't go down there. He's mean..."

Pinky took note of all of this in his head; or, at least, he tried to. Facts tended to flit in and out of his inner cavity a lot more often than he liked to admit, unless it was something he considered to be very important. He tried his best to tie down all of what Olivia was telling him to a particularly heavy, imaginary rock. Remembering who was who in the school was, indeed, rather integral information. What if he ever wanted to give Mr. Bernard and Mrs. Bianca a gift, but forgot their names or where they set up shop? What if Olivia needed someone to go with her to talk to the principal about looking over their petition? Even more important, what if a student in his class got hurt and he needed to alert the nurse? Very important, indeed.

Please, don't forget this time, okay? Pinky thought to himself privately. Please... He couldn't afford to. Not again...

They ran into Basil as they turned a corner. The faintest hint of a smile flashed across his face as he saw Olivia.

"Good morning, Mr. Basil!" Olivia piped up, stopping to greet him.

"Hello, Ms. Flangerhanger," he replied, riffling through a sheet of very important looking papers.

Olivia chuckled and shook her head. He could never get her name right.

"It's Flaversham, Mr. Basil."

"Mmhm," he mumbled, not looking at her. "I take it you're on your way to the nurse's office?"

"Actually, I'm helping Mr. Pinky find his class."

Olivia motioned for Basil to bend down to her level, which he obliged to, albeit reluctantly.

"He tends to get lost," she whispered into his ear.

"Is that so?" Basil queried, standing up straight again to take a closer look at this Mr... "Pinky, was it? You're... new here, are you not?" he asked, licking a thumb before riffling through his papers again.

"That's me!" Pinky acknowledged cheerily. "And Olivia's being such a help."

"Is she still going on about that ghastly petition?" Basil asked, although not entirely unkindly; it was almost playful.

"Yes! Will you sign it?" Olivia asked, not at all perturbed by Basil's mock reply, as she held the petition high up the air towards Basil's face, which, due to her height, wasn't very high at all. Even on her tippie toes she barely reached his chest.

Basil looked over at her and actually smirked.

"No," he said, giving a rather toothy, sarcastic grin before wandering off. "Good day to you both."

"Hm. He's a little stuck up, isn't he?" Pinky asked, staring after Basil curiously as he disappeared around the corner.

"Oh, don't mind Mr. Basil. He's quite nice when you get to know him. Come on! Let's go find your class room. We're late!"

And with that, Olivia took hold of Pinky's hand and led him onward down the hallway.

They passed Globetrotter as they reached the bathrooms. Pinky wrinkled his nose a little as the door swung shut behind the disgruntled teacher. Great swollen socks. It smelled as if something had died in there. Nevertheless, Pinky smiled and waved as he stomped by.

"Afternoon, Brain!"

Globetrotter shot him a nasty look, adjusting his pants and wincing as he did so. Pinky cocked an eyebrow in concern.

"Let's go," Olivia said in a hushed tone, pulling Pinky forward and past the restrooms.

Not ten seconds later, they reached his classroom. They were late. Not that it mattered. In truth, no one had yet signed up for Pinky's class, even though it had been a little over a week since he'd set up shop. Although many in the school talked about looking into the Trozology course, none had actually committed. Besides a majority of the pupils having very busy schedules that didn't allow for much free time, the main excuse, besides the nature of the class being rather oblivious, was concern that it would disappoint. It wouldn't be the first time a new teacher had come to town, toting with them the promise of a particularly interesting course, only for it to fall flat on its face and disappear or fade into obscurity a year later. "Someone," the students said, "has to take the plunge - take one for the team - and try Mr. Pinkus's class out to see if it's legit." Everyone was pushed to do so; henceforth, no one did. Only Olivia came to call now and again, and whenever she happened upon him he was either watching television, acting out some wild and wacky skit (which, unfortunately, she always caught the tail end of), or, on one rare occasion, sitting at his desk reading and staring at his family portrait longingly. Olivia just assumed that she always missed his busy class times. How could someone so fun not have any students?

"Hmm. Are all your students late, Mr. Pinky?" Olivia asked, looking up at him curiously as he opened the door to... an empty classroom.

"Hm? Oh no! No, not at all. I just... don't have any students yet! Ha-ha. You're the first, actually," Pinky said, as he set his medical bag down on the desk and pulled out several items: a can of tuna, a HUGE block of cheese wrapped in non-stick parchment paper, a notepad, a couple of pens, and... a Gilligan's Island tape. "Got tired of the old ones," he winked at Olivia, answering her silent question as he set the tape down amongst his snacks and office supplies.

"Are you going to watch it?" Olivia asked, curious eyes barely able to see over the top of Pinky's desk, her little paws stretching to grasp at its edges.

"We caaaaaaaaan," Pinky teased. "But only if you'll share this cheese with me!"

Olivia gasped.

"Really?!"

Five minutes later saw them both sitting on hard plastic chairs in front of the wheel-in tv, munching on cheese and occasionally busting out in a fit of laughter at some silly antic that one of the cast members pulled. Olivia had already decided that this was her all time favorite show, even though she'd barely seen one episode.

"Mr. Pinky? Why don't you have any students?" she asked rather randomly during a pause in the show.

"I suppose it's because no one's signed up yet!" Pinky said, all optimism.

"Ohhhh. When will they sign up, do you think?"

"I don't know, actually. But they'll come!"

Olivia smiled. He seemed so certain that she couldn't help but believe him. She took another bite out of her American Cheddar.

"I'm gonna tell all my friends about your class," she mumbled thickly through a huge mouthful of cheese. "Then everybody will come, and they'll all sign up!"

"Awwww. Thank you, Olivia!" Pinky smiled, giving her a snug side hug. "I'd like that very much!"

"Hee hee. You've got crumbs all over your cheek, Mr. Pinky," Olivia chuckled, reaching up to brush the wayward crumbs off the sides of his mouth. He smiled at her. She smiled back. Without saying anything more, she hugged him back, both of them munching on cheese as they giggled and guffawed at the rest of the show.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

September 21st, 1993 - 5:32 PM

Olivia was true to her word. Anyone who was anyone was invited to enroll in Pinky's class. In Olivia's eyes, that included her best friends, her parents, a few of her favorite teachers and other staff at the school, and Mrs. Judson. All invitations were turned down; all but three.

As it happened, Mrs. Brisby was close neighbors with Olivia, her father, and Mrs. Judson. This meant that Olivia had friends her age to play with: Timothy and Cynthia, to be exact, two of Brisby's four children. Cynthia was a little younger than her brother or Olivia, by about three years, but wherever Timothy went she had to follow, and so Olivia got two attendees for the price of one. The third was Evinrude, a mute dragonfly and friend of Bernard and Bianca. He was something of a loner, but took to scouting about the city and popping in on activities that interested him. Like Olivia, he sometimes reported news, sending letters from one neighbor to another in their little district and occasionally pausing to watch the kids at play. He pretended not to care, but Olivia secretly liked to think that he cared very much and kept an eye on them on purpose, as a sort of guardian. So when he happened to flit by as Olivia passed out verbal invitations to Timothy and Cynthia, she invited him, too.

No can do, Evinrude might have said, shaking his head. He flattened one little outstretched hand, palm down, and made a waving motion with the other in front of it.

"Busy?" Olivia asked, hands on her hips. "But you're always busy!"

"You should come, Evinrude," Timothy agreed in his delicate voice, little Cynthia peeking out shyly from behind him. "Might be fun."

The little dragonfly rolled his eyes at them.

"We're all going to his class tomorrow. I'm sure he'd love it if you came!" Olivia said, handing Evinrude a small card, which he accepted.

He cocked an eyebrow at the card, then looked back at Olivia, then at the card again. She'd actually taken the time out of her day to hand-make little business-card-sized invitations for everyone. Impressive. The card he was handed read thus:

New Class! with teacher Pinky!

ACME Arts and Scienses Berbank, Californeea 90095

2:00 Wendsday, September 22

Evinrude cocked an eyebrow at Olivia again. She was staring at him expectantly.

"And you'd better not be late, hmm?" she teased, trying to sound at least a little bit serious.

Evinrude shook his head, looking off into the distance.

"He's going to have snaaaaaaaacks," sung Olivia, batting her eyes at him pleadingly.

At this, Evinrude looked back at her in interest. If there was one thing they found equal footing on, besides being delivery hands of course, it was a fondness for food. He bopped his head lightly here and there, indicating that maybe, just maybe, he'd show up.

"Excellent! I'll see you tomorrow!" Olivia beamed, leaving Evinrude to shake his head one last time before flying off, card still in hand.

"Ohhhh, I don't think he'll there...," doubted Cynthia in her tiny little voice, finally emerging from behind her brother's back to stare at Evinrude as he flew off into the sunset.

"He will. You'll see," Olivia said, confident as anything as she sat down in the street to help Timothy assemble a small bug-catching kit.

"He'll eat all the food," Timothy pointed out, snapping two parts of the kit together.

Olivia drew her attention away from the bug kit to whip out a bright red pencil and piece of paper from her pocket, which she slapped down on the ground and began scribbling away on furiously.

"I know. That's okay. I just want him to spread the word."

"The word?"

"Mmhm. When he sees how fun Mr. Pinky's class is, he'll report it to everyone in town!" she said, finishing up her drawing and whipping it up in front of her face in a flourish to show it to Timothy. Embedded in the paper lay a very crude child's drawing of Pinky, stick-figure-like, his paws outstretched as he shouted 'Yay!' amidst scores of little star-like fireworks. "And then he'll always have a full classroom!"

/\/\/\/\/\/\

September 22nd, 1993 - 2:10 PM

Two o'clock came swift and sharp at Acme Arts and Sciences, but not swiftly enough for the kids. Olivia, Timothy, and Cynthia all waited against Pinky's classroom door, looking a little anxious. Olivia had managed to get a pass for her friends to enter the school for a couple of hours, thanks to Mrs. Judson, but it still felt a little awkward. Cynthia, being only four years old in mouse years, got bored easily, and Timothy was running out of ways to keep her occupied. They hadn't brought any puzzles or coloring books or board games, Olivia insisting that they wouldn't need them; Pinky's classes provided enough entertainment on their own. But it was 2:10 and he still hadn't shown up yet. Had she gotten the day wrong...?

Timothy picked carefully at a loose thread on his jeans. He'd need to sow that later.

"He's taking a while, isn't he?" he asked, looking tired.

"He probably got lost in the school again...," Olivia offered, ears drooping under her fat tam-o-shanter.

Timothy had managed to occupy Cynthia with a game of Jacks he'd brought, but he knew that it would only entertain her for so long. Already, she was starting to get bored of the bouncing ball, which kept rolling off to a far part of the hallway where either she or one of the others had to go up and get it.

A minute passed.

"Maybe we came on the wrong day," Timothy offered, trying to sound sympathetic despite his fatigue.

Olivia said nothing.

Five more minutes tip-toed by, one slow step at a time. Olivia pulled her legs up closer to her chest despite the heat. Were the hallways always this hot..? Maybe someone left the air on too long...

Timothy had shuffled a little, and was looking suspiciously as if he was about to get up and leave, when suddenly, from around the corner, Mr. Ronald Pinkus came flying, rolls of posters tucked up under his arms and sweat flying from his brow. It was unfortunate that the Jack ball rolled out of Cynthia's grasp right at that moment. It was even more unfortunate that it was Pinky's foot that found it.

"Sorry, kids, I- ARGGHHHHHH!"

Down he went... ZIP! ... crashing to the floor in a heap, posters flying everywhere.

"Are you all right, Mr. Pinky?!" Olivia asked, flying up onto her feet and rushing to Pinky's side. Timothy and Cynthia also stood, the older brother taking the initiative as he stepped up to peer at Mr. Pinky, a little concerned.

Pinky groaned, eyes rolling. After a few seconds, he propped himself up tenderly, shaking his head to rid himself of the little brie cheeses now dancing around him. Olivia held his head gently as Pinky rubbed at his neck.

"That looked nasty," Timothy said. "You need an ice pack?"

"You keep an ice pack in your backpack?" Olivia asked.

"No. But my Mum probably would make me if I could..."

"I'm all right! Ha-ha. Just broke a bone is all," Pinky grimaced, trying to look cheerful.

"You broke a bone?!" Olivia exclaimed.

"Ohhhhhh...," seconded Cynthia, hiding behind her brother again.

Pinky pulled out from under him something wrapped in a white napkin. Opening it up, he dangled from his fingers a broken chicken wing.

"Ohhhhh... you killed the chicken!" gasped Cynthia, covering her eyes.

"My lunch. Oh, I'm so sorry, Mr. Chicken Wing. I'll make it up to you, I promise!" Pinky lamented.

"Sorry about your lunch, Mr. Pinky," Olivia said remorsefully, head hanging.

"It's all right, Olivia. No harm done," Pinky assured her, lifting up her chin and giving her an encouraging smile. She couldn't help but smile back as Pinky sat up proper and gathered up his things, the kids helping him. "Now, who are these lovely people?"

"This is Timothy, and that's Cynthia. She's his little sister," Olivia pointed out helpfully, picking some of the dropped posters up off the floor.

"Nice to meet you!" Pinky said cheerily, shaking Timothy's hand and offering a paw to Cynthia, who nervously declined.

"Nice to meet you, Sir," Timothy replied, perhaps a bit too opulently. "Olivia says you're quite the showman."

"Well, she would know," Pinky chuckled, taking the remaining posters from Olivia with a nod of thanks. "And there's more where that came from!"

He opened the door to his classroom, flicking the light on as he entered. A bulb popped out as Olivia stepped in after him. Pinky looked up at it curiously.

"Hm. Will have to get that fixed then," he said, setting his things down on the table.

Timothy slowly tip-toed inside, taking in the very plain sights and the very unusual smells (Gouda, some sort of leathery cologne, and was that... radish?), with Cynthia following behind him at a cautious pace. She didn't much care for the radish smell and wrinkled her nose at the unpleasant scent. Timothy, however, drank it all in. He rather thought it was an interesting blend of eclectic aromas and savored every one, eyes closed as he deeply inhaled, the whisper of a smile on his lips.

"What are we doing today, Mr. Pinky?" Olivia asked, already by his side as she eagerly looked up into his face.

"Well, Miss Olivia, we are going to go on an adventure!" he said, unraveling one of the big, thick posters with a flourish.

Olivia gasped excitedly, and Timothy's ears flicked as he looked over at Pinky, intrigued.

"What kind of an adventure?" asked Timothy.

"You'll seeeeeee!" Pinky winked. "Help me put these posters up, everyone!"

And so they each grabbed a poster, save for Cynthia. She still wasn't quite ready to make friends yet. Everyone picked a random portion of wall upon which to paste their sizeable poster, but it became apparent, after a few failed attempts to open up what kept wanting to roll back closed, that something was missing.

"Mr. Pinky?" Olivia mumbled, struggling a little as a large roll of poster traveled down the wall she was attempting to lay it onto and bumped into her face, ruffling her whiskers. She sneezed. Even the posters had a smell: tomato, with a hint of garlic. "Aren't we supposed to have something to keep the posters up on the wall?"

"I concur," groaned Timothy, having just as bad of a time as Cynthia. He eventually gave up, letting the poster fall... right onto his little sister. She squeaked. "Oh. Sorry, Cynthia," he apologized, plucking it off of her as she shook her head of the smell, although this one she rather liked.

"Ohhhhhhhh. That's what I was forgetting!" Pinky exclaimed, chuckling to himself. "Just a moment!"

And he ran back to his medical bag, dug around in it, and pulled out a small clear case filled with push-pins. He set it down on a nearby chair, the better for smaller mousies to reach.

"Here ya' go!" he offered, taking a few in his paw and returning to his poster.

The kids ran over to take a look. There were many push-pins, all different colors of the rainbow: blue, purple, yellow, green, pink, white, and more. Olivia thought they were quite pretty to look at. Even Cynthia couldn't help but step forward to take a closer look at the dazzling arrangement.

"Ooooo. Pretty!" she remarked, stretching out a paw to grab a handful.

"Hold up, Cynthia," Timothy said, throwing out an arm. "Those are sharp on the end. You don't want to get hurt."

Cynthia's ears drooped at this.

"Here. I'll pick four out for you. Hold out your paw. Come on."

Cynthia did as she was told. Timothy picked out and set gently in her hand four differently colored push-pins - violet, turquoise, sunshine-y yellow, and ivory. The youngest mouse's eyes went wide.

"Be careful with them, okay?"

"Okay," Cynthia mumbled, only partially listening. They were all so pretty. She wanted the whole case.

Push-pins in hand, the quartet found it much easier to hang up the posters. Not all stood at the same height, as the kids had to use chairs to get them at least high enough that the poster bottoms wouldn't lay out on the floor, but Pinky didn't seem to mind. He was just happy to have company, as were the kids. They talked about their posters as they put them up, and after fifteen minutes of pushing and pinning, they could admire their work.

Sixteen posters wrapped around the classroom, painting the walls with numerous vacation spots, national landmarks, and beautiful landscapes. Some featured tall waterfalls splashing down into azure blue pools below; others seemed lost in a lush rainforest decorated with vibrantly-patterned butterflies; but most of them highlighted the beach. There were posters of alluring islands, sandy California backdrops, and palm trees set against brilliant sunsets. It was enough to make anyone want to jump into one of those appealing vistas right then and there and float away - get lost in paradise.

"What now, Mr. Pinky?" Olivia asked, voice drowning in excitement and anticipation. Whatever came next, it had to be good.

"Nooooooow," prefaced Pinky, flashing his toothy grin, "We get out the boat!"

And from a far corner of the room, he pulled a large cardboard box; just big enough for all four of them to sit rather uncomfortably in. Pinky initiated, setting the box in front of the desk and jumping inside of it.

"Come on, everyone!" he encouraged, motioning them with a hand to join him.

"Woo! Yes!" Olivia exclaimed, hopping in and sitting down between Pinky's legs without a second thought. "Come on, guys!" she called to the others.

Timothy looked a little suspicious. He walked all the way around the box, inspecting it inside and out, before standing in front of it, arms folded, and tossing a very questioning glance indeed at the mice.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely!" Pinky confirmed. "Come on! You're gonna miss all the fun!"

"Yeah, come on, Timothy! It won't hurt," Olivia reassured him with a helpful smile.

"I'm not scared," Timothy admitted, squishing in to sit, a little cramped, in front of Olivia as he said it.

Only Cynthia remained. Timothy reached out both arms for her.

"Come on, silly," he invited, but she remained suspicious. Two little paws crawled up over the edge as she took a peek inside.

"Is it going to hurt?" she asked.

"Olivia just said it wouldn't, so come on," prodded Timothy again, and this time she slipped into his arms, taking a spot on his lap as she looked around, a bit nervous.

"All right, kids. You ready?" Pinky asked.

"Ready!" Olivia replied.

"Ready... I think." Timothy responded.

Cynthia said nothing.

"Alllll right. Start rowing!" Pinky commanded, and he began rowing the make-shift "boat" with imaginary oars, Olivia following suit, with Timothy hesitantly joining in a few seconds later. Cynthia simply sat there on her big brother's lap, giggling a little as she watched them all row.

"Okay. Now, clooooooose your eyes...," Pinky instructed. They all obeyed. Well, almost all... "Aaaaaand... OPEN THEM!"

They did as he was told... and GASPED.

No longer were they on the floor of an abandoned school classroom, sitting in a cardboard box surrounded by promises of tropical get-a-ways painting the walls. They were actually on the ocean, nestled inside a little white dinghy boat, and encompassed about by skies of deep blue, orange, and pink, with picturesque clouds completing the image. To their port and starboard sides, dolphins leapt gaily along with them, and in the distance, straight ahead of them, lay a magnificent island, decorated elaborately with all manner of palm trees, and promising a very grand adventure indeed.

Olivia clapped and cheered, bouncing up and down in her seat in pure ecstasy.

"I told you! I told you! He's a magician!" Olivia told Timothy with great exuberance, Pinky chuckling behind her as he continued rowing.

Timothy's mouth was agape in pure wonderment, his eyes as wide as saucers. How... was this possible? He said nothing as he stared all about him, head turning this way and that to take in the sights, sounds, and smells surrounding him, bombarding his senses, practically lifting him off his feet.

"Wow...," he finally breathed out, a smile crawling up his face. "This is so high..."

"Come again..?" Pinky asked, his ears dropping alarmingly as he slowed down his rowing to stare concernedly at the boy.

"Huh?"

"This is so... what?"

"Oh. High. Like... way up high? Like when you're up at the top of a tall tree and feel like you're flying? It's cool."

Pinky chuckled. He couldn't help it.

"You might want to use a different word when around adults there. Just sayin'."

Timothy cocked an eyebrow at him, but didn't say anything against it. He simply shrugged.

Cynthia was the only one of the set who hadn't yet found the wonderment in the situation. As far as she could see, they were still in the same box on the same floor in the same classroom. They were all cuckoo.

"What are you guys talking about? I don't see anything!" she complained, turning this way and that on her brother's lap in the hopes that she might catch a glimpse of a seagull or a dolphin.

"That's because you didn't close your eyes, Cynthia," Timothy said matter-of-factly.

"Yes. You have to close your eyes!" concurred Olivia.

"Close your eyes, Cynthia, and only open them when I say!" Pinky said.

"Okay...," said Cynthia, doing as she was told.

"All right... Aaaaaaaaaand... OPEN THEM!"

Cynthia opened her eyes.

"Woooooooooaaaaaaaaaaah...!"

"Told you!" Olivia beamed, giggling.

"Are we on the ocean..?!" Cynthia gasped, jumping a little as a dolphin flew out of the water right next to them, diving back in with a splash and spraying them all with sea droplets. They shook their fur, laughing.

"We most certainly are! Do you like it?" Pinky asked, just a tinge of uncertainty peppering his tone.

Cynthia had to think about this for two whole seconds. Then she blurted out her answer.

"YES!"

Pinky smiled.

"Are we going all the way to that island?" Olivia asked, pointing to the floating figure seemingly miles ahead of them.

"You betcha! And we'll need music to do it."

Out of nowhere, he pulled out a small boombox, clicked "Play" on the top for the CD player, and out belted a familiar tune. Both Pinky and Olivia started singing it right away, with Timothy and Cynthia joining in to hum along with the tune.

Just sit right back, And you'll hear a tale, A tale of a fateful trip, That started from this tropic port, Aboard this tiny ship...

At the start of the music, the boat zoomed off of its own accord towards the island, powered by the wind, the sea, and the song.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

4:00 PM

The kids left classroom 210 with spirits high and hearts glowing. Olivia thanked Pinky over and over again, Timothy was still commenting on how their adventure felt like something right out of a movie, and Cynthia lamented that she couldn't keep the little hulu skirt she'd strung. One's imagination, it seemed, could only take things so far. Nothing they physically created in the classroom could be brought outside of it. Once they stepped off the island, all manner of sun, sea, and sand was gone, including anything they'd gathered or made on the island. The box was just a box; the floor just a floor; the posters just posters. It was as if none of it had ever happened. But the memories remained.

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Pinky!" Olivia thanked him for the thousandth time. "I'll bring more next time!"

"No worries, Olivia! Shall I put you all down on my class list then?" Pinky asked, whipping out a clipboard, complete with paper and pen, and holding the pen at the ready.

"Yes, please! You're coming again, right?" she asked her friends.

Timothy thought for a moment. As exciting as it all had been, one had to be practical, after all; at least, Timothy did.

"Well, as long as our Mum says it's all right, then I suppose that would be fine," he conceded, smiling. "I'll go ask her. I think she's working today."

"Oh, please, can we? I wanna go back to the island!" Cynthia squeaked, bouncing up and down as she pulled at Timothy's shirt sleeve.

"We will, as long as Mum says it's okay."

"We'd better go. Will we see you tomorrow, Mr. Pinky?" Olivia asked hopefully.

"2:00 o'clock sharp," Pinky said, winking at her.

Off they went, leaving Pinky behind to stare after them fondly. He smiled and went back into his classroom, closing the door behind him with a soft snap.

"So what do you think?" Olivia asked as the three kids headed down the hallway.

"I like him!" Cynthia piped up immediately.

"I like him, too," Timothy said. "Too bad Evinrude didn't show up."

"Oh, that's all right. He'll come eventually. He'll want to eat all the snacks!"

All three of them laughed, gay as little summer flowers as they made their way to Mrs. Brisby's classroom.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

October 1st, 1993

Over a week had passed since Pinky, Olivia, Timothy, and Cynthia had traveled to their own little Gilligan's Island. Fall was in full swing, with red, orange, and yellow decorating the campus, pumpkin muffins and apple cider stalls set up in various spots around the school, and warm sweaters and boots taking the place of short-sleeved shirts and sandals. The usual hall chatter and gossip traveled throughout the university, with topics ranging from the latest Beverly Hills: 90210 episode... to Nirvana's album release from last month, or, if you were one of the computer nerds, raving over some new game called Myst.

Talk of Halloween was already in the air, with the occasional crow figure or carved Jack-o'-lantern popping up here or there in a classroom. Pinky was considering throwing a party in light of the occasion. Many of the teachers excitedly agreed. Some did not. Basil thought it was a foolish affair, and Mr. Ages could very well have done without. Globetrotter heartily concurred. Strangely, the principal, a normally very hard-lined individual, was all for it. Those who knew him well, however, would have said that costuming and a flair for the dramatic was undoubtedly his thing, and that he wouldn't pass up an opportunity to show off in a vampire wardrobe or kingly dress. While some were turned off by the possibility of his showing up, others were all the more intrigued, and conversation over the matter increased tenfold.

The only thing more interesting than Halloween parties or album covers were Pinky's classes. Olivia had managed to gather up a few more friends over the course of a week. The news had spread fast. Timothy had told Despereaux, who had told Ralph, who had then told Nibbles. Olivia spread the word to Abigail, whom had then blabbed to Teresa and Martin, Timothy and Cynthia's elder sister and brother. One by one, they all showed up, day-by-day. Even Evinrude popped in once or twice, although not because he wanted to. He just wanted to "check on the kids; make sure they were okay" according to him. Olivia rolled her eyes at this, not at all blind to his grabbing a hearty helping of snacks at the end of each session.

Gilligan's Island turned out to be a popular travel spot in Pinky's class. It was the most requested and undoubtedly the most talked about. The theme song alone ended up making the rounds throughout the school. It started with Olivia whistling or humming it down the halls, caught on when several teachers and students copied her, and now whenever she skipped about the university pupils and instructors would often whistle the tune back to her. Even Basil caught himself humming along now and again, although he'd quickly cease and desist, shaking his head, when he realized what he was doing.

The first actual university student to sign up for Trozology was Teresa. She'd been pulled into it by Timothy, and her brother Martin soon followed suit. She'd been hesitant at first; after all, signing up for a new class this late into the semester was unusual, and not even allowed most of the time, but her siblings' interest in it was intriguing. What was meant to be a one-time dip in the pool ended up becoming a daily swimming excursion. Trozology, whatever it was, came with no homework, no punishment for answering a question wrong, no heavy books to lift, and, best of all, no stress. It was the first class she'd ever attended where she felt like she could be herself, and was a welcome reprieve amidst the chaos that was piles upon piles of essays, tests, and expectations she felt were upon her to succeed. This, she thought, would be beneficial to others who were also struggling. She had to tell someone...

"Someone" ended up being a couple of friends in the school. Although they didn't sign up, the idea of being transported to other tangible worlds simply via imagination alone was intriguing, even if they didn't entirely believe her. It was certainly more interesting than most anything else in the school, and Teresa's response to the class was so infectious that they couldn't help but pass by Pinky's classroom door window every now and again to take a peek. All they ever saw, however, was the teacher and maybe half a dozen kids "rowing" in a box on the floor, or standing on top of the desk pretending to climb a mountain, or sometimes just sitting in chairs watching tv. It certainly didn't look very exciting.

"No no! You have to actually participate!" Teresa insisted. "You have to commit!"

Still, no one else signed up, but Teresa continued to attend, perfectly at home with Pinky and the kids. It was fortunate that the principal never came out of his office past 5:00 PM. It was common knowledge that he detested children. Mrs. Judson only allowed them all entrance due to the area and the hour - Pinky's room was located in a section of hallway that the principal rarely frequented, and since his classes always started at 2:00 PM and went no later than 4:00 PM, it got a pass.

/\/\/\/\/\/\

7:01 PM

Down the hall and around a corner, an hour after having dismissed his last class for the day, Globetrotter exited the room, shut the heavy, mahogany door and locked it. His was one of only four doors in the entire university that was equipped with such a mechanism; at least, regarding personnel rooms. The other three were the principal's office, the janitor's closet, and the nurse's office. He'd paid for the installation himself. It wasn't that anything had ever been stolen from his classroom. Indeed, if one pillaged it they'd surely find nothing worth stealing. Globetrotter was simply paranoid, and everyone knew it.

He was late. On some nights, he took to grading students' homework on the property instead of at home, partially to get it over with sooner, but mainly because he wanted to spend extra time in the lab. No one questioned his staying back late. No one would dare to. What he estimated would take half an hour took half an hour more than that. Martha's grammar simply needed policing, and he wouldn't stand for Trevor's snide remark about the Germ-Line Theory being conclusive. If he needed to linger for an entire hour for the sake of science then so be it.

Snap went the door, and Click went the lock as Globetrotter bowed from his office (the better to pick up his heavy suitcase) and made for the elevator.

Back around the corner and down the hall, Pinky closed shut his door, which he did not lock, and made for room three-nineteen. He knocked. There was no answer.

"Hmmmm," Pinky mused.

"Mr. Globetrotter...?" he called, knocking again. "I have something for youuuu!"

Still nothing. Perhaps he'd gone home?

Ding.

Pinky's ears perked. Of course. He must have taken the elevator.

Off he skipped to the elevator hall. No one there. But he could hear the whirring of the machine, and as he looked up at the lit numbers above, he saw that the little arrow was slowly moving down... down... down to the basement level. Goody! That wasn't very far down. He could take the stairwell.

And that's just what he did. Down... down... down to the basement. He hummed as he went, and his humming turned into whistling. He liked the echo it made in the stairwell. It was a bouncy little tune, rather monotonous in nature, but also rather catchy. He wasn't quite sure where it came from, or why it came, but he liked it all the same.

He peeked around the door corner as he made to exit the stairwell, and was about to wave at and call out to Globetrotter, when he paused, keeping uncharacteristically quiet as he watched Brain step off the elevator, shuffle up to the wall, and place his hand on the wall. A little spot on it glowed green, acknowledging his paw print, and the wall... opened up.

Pinky almost gasped out loud, but slapped a paw over his mouth just in time. Once Globetrotter had disappeared behind the wall, Pinky tip-toed up to it and stared at it for a long while, which, for him, was about ten seconds.

"Brain?" he pondered, curious.

What was it he was doing back there?

Pinky looked at the wall. There was no green panel that he could see, but there was a square-ish gray one. He tapped on it tentatively. Nothing happened.

"Hmmm."

He looked at it more closely. There was a little groove in the side. He picked at it.

The little door swung open.

Sure enough, there was the panel. It glowed a bright green color as soon as it was exposed. Pinky cocked his head, looked at his left paw, and touched it to the pad. As soon as he did so, it glowed red and beeped angrily at him twice. No good.

He tried again, and again. Nothing. He even tried putting his foot on it, then his tail, then his tongue, but no matter what he did, it wouldn't gain him access. Seemed like it was Pinky-proof; friendly only to Globetrotter. He sighed and pressed his ear against the wall. If he strained his auditory senses, he could just make out the sound of fingers tapping on a keyboard.

"Naaaaaaarf," he remarked to himself in a whisper. "Egad. What are you doing in there, Brain?"

He listened again. Now he could hear bottles clinking around; papers being shuffled. Now nothing at all. And now, swiftly, suddenly, the sound of footsteps slapping across the floor eagerly, drawing ever closer... and closer, right towards the wall...

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

Author's Notes:

- The potion colors represent aspects of Brain's personality. Cinnamon: Potent, with a bite. Emerald: Outlook on self as royalty/important. Green is also associated with greed and ambition. Lilac: Can symbolize confidence and love. He has a soft heart deep down. Azure: Associated with the sky. I'd like to think of it as he has high and lofty ambitions/goals, but, like the sky (or the ocean), which leads up into space, he's also a vast pool of intrigue and mystery. There's a lot about him that is hidden and undiscovered.

- I thought about making Brain left-handed, but went with ambidextrous instead.

- Brain dealing with bowel issues is a joke, although it will still have pertinence in the story. I just find the idea of a high-ranking professor who considers himself very dignified dealing with explosive diarrhea incredibly funny. XD

[ineffablefool]

How to center and nice-size an image in an AO3 fic using a work skin

Maybe someone can use this?  In my fic for the DIWS Good Omens Mini Bang, I embedded some images from my wonderful illustrator.  The centered images will never be wider than the text, no matter the screen size, but they also are never stretched larger than their native size (I resized ‘em to 800px wide in my trusty paint program for faster downloading). Here’s how one looks on my giant monitor and on my phone screen:

If you have never done AO3 skins before then I promise they are not actually scary!  You have the option of doing relatively complicated things with them, but this thing is simple.

Anyway this is how I center my images.

Step one: make a skin.

In your AO3 dashboard, click “Skins” in the menu (left or top of page, depending on if you’re on a big or small screen).  This takes you to the Site Skins page, which are for if you want to make all of AO3 look different to just you.  You want a Work Skin, though, which makes your fic look different to everyone, so click My Work Skins.

Click Create Work Skin in the top right and you’ll get an editor that’s similar to when you’re posting a fic!  You only need to set two things.  One, give it a title that makes sense to you (the title won’t be visible to people reading your fic).  Two, paste some stuff into the big “CSS” box.

This is the stuff to paste:

.centered {  margin-left: auto;  margin-right: auto;  text-align: center; }

.centered img {  max-width: 100% !important; }

That was the stuff to paste!  Just toss both of those two blobs in the big editor and click Submit.  Now you have a skin!

Step two: use the skin in your work.

Open up the work you want to do this in.  Find the Select Work Skin box (just under the Choose A Language box) and select the skin you just made.  Yay!  Sorry, the Homestuck and Undertale ones are just there for everyone and that’s how it is.  (Nothing against Homestuck or Undertale.  I just don’t like unneeded entries in lists.)

Step three: center your image.

This is the most complicated bit, only because I can’t give you an exact thing to copy-paste.  But I can give you a basic template!  Don’t try to paste this into Word or a similar word processing program.  The quote marks could get turned into “smart quotes” (like the ones I typed there, just now -- see how the opening and closing quotes are different from each other?).  If you need to save it off for later, Notepad or another very simple plain-text editor will be perfect, because it will keep the quotes as not smart quotes.

Find the spot in your AO3 work where you want the centered image to be.  It would be between two blocks of text which are wrapped with <p> tags, so something like this...

Into that space, you’re gonna hit Enter a couple of times (which I’ve already done in the screenshot) and then paste this block:

<p class="centered">  <img src="BANANA" alt="ORANGE" /> </p>

That was the block to paste.  Before you’re done, you need to change two things!

BANANA goes away.  Inside the quote marks where BANANA used to be, you need to put the URL of your image.  This URL must start with http or https (preferably https), or else it won’t work.  I can’t give specific instructions on how to get this, because it depends on where the image is hosted!  If it’s only on your computer, or attached to an email, it can’t be embedded.  It has to have been put somewhere on the web, like Flickr, Photobucket, or Google Drive.  It will work to embed from Tumblr, but I don’t trust Tumblr not to change everything up and bork all the old image URLs, thus breaking your embedded images on an arbitrary date in the future.  (Any image host could theoretically do this, but -- well.  We’re all familiar with Tumblr, right?)

ORANGE also goes away.  Inside the quote marks where ORANGE used to be, you optionally can (I recommend you do!) put a brief (200 characters or fewer) description of the image.  This is text which is invisible when viewing your fic in a normal browser -- it’s there for screen reader technologies, used by people who are blind or otherwise have trouble seeing a screen.  Their screen reader software will literally read out to them, so that they can hear it with their human ears, the description you put here.  Don’t start it with “image of” or “picture of”, because the screen reader tells the human that it’s an image already.  Here is a pretty user-friendly guide on how to write alt text!  If you’re more technically-inclined, the W3C has more involved docs.  Remember, the screen reader is going to say out loud whatever you put here, so don’t make it super long, or else you’ll force people who are using screen readers to wait through the long description for your story to continue. 

A finished version of the banana/orange block might look like this:

<p class="centered">  <img src="https://www.my-nifty-example-website.com/prettypicture.jpg" alt="Two dogs having a tea party wearing fancy hats" /> </p>

Step four: do it again if needed.

If you have more images to center in the same work, just repeat step 3 for each!  Step 2 has to be done once per work.  Step 1 might be done once ever (and then you just keep pulling that same skin into many works), or you might do it multiple times (if you want other changes in the skin that are special to only this one work).  I do a different skin every time I have a fic that needs a skin, but that’s because I do extra fancy things that are different for each fic.

You never have to do either step 1 or step 2 more than once per work, even if it’s multi-chapter.  In future chapters of the same fic, just do step 3 again.

Step five: preview and/or temporary draft is your friend

I am an IT professional with a (technically expired but work with me here) Microsoft certification in HTML5/CSS and seven years of writing this stuff for pay under my belt.  Even I don’t post without previewing.  Preview and saving as a draft without publishing are both your friends.

Some fun(?) notes

What you are doing here is using cascading style sheets.  The AO3 skin is a very simple stylesheet, which is a series of rules that your readers’ browsers will use to apply to text in your story.  There are standards that all your normal sort of browsers (Firefox, Chrome, Safari, Edge, Opera...) are supposed to follow when they see these rules, so that no matter which browser someone uses, a webpage will look as similar as possible.

A skin created from the above steps defines a class named “centered” and tells the browser how “centered” should look.  Then, in your fic, if you apply the class named “centered” to something in the big editor -- like, say, the <p>aragraph tag that wraps around your image -- then the style from your skin will be applied. 

The magic of cascading style sheets is that you can define your class exactly once and then use it many times.  If you decide you want to change all the places you used it -- maybe you want every centered image in your 87-chapters-long heavily-illustrated fic to have a green border? -- you have to change exactly one place: your skin.  The change will bubble down to every single place you used it.

Skins do not allow all the features of true CSS (no media queries; I am sad), and you can’t put comments in your skin (the editor strips them out).  Browser-specific overrides also do not work (if you don’t know what this means, that’s okay, you have to go to extra work to try to use them in the first place).  But they’re still pretty cool.

A lot of people will just put <center> tags around their thing, and use width=“100%” or some other number, but that is technically not standard HTML, hasn’t been for a very long time, and sooner or later Chrome is going to get clever and stop respecting it.  (Google’s developers like to make Chrome very clever and change how it does things just because they feel like it.  It makes my day job rather more difficult.  Ask me about SameSite cookies!! Actually, don’t.  Never ask me about that thing.)

For portrait-oriented illustrations -- taller than they are wide -- I like to float the image to the right of the text and have it take up no more than 50% of the width of the screen (as seen near the end of this chapter).  But that is a more complicated thing than this one, and I am keeping it simple today.  Maybe I’ll show how to do the nice floaty at some point.

For any-oriented illustrations, you could have a small resized version which links out to a larger version as a click-to-zoom thing.  That is also a little more complicated, so it isn’t in this post.

Questions and clarifications welcome.

That is how to center and nice-size an image in an AO3 fic using a work skin!  I hope you are having a good day.

[defiant-firefly]

October Challenge Day 7

Aight so the prompt here is ‘Scream’ from the Cryptober prompt list by @tricksterdoodles and @diremirebee! It’s not an art thing I literally just used this prompt cause I had the idea and tried to match it to a prompt that wasn’t on the 31st so I could write it sooner.

Anyway, this one is probably more suited to a Whumptober entry honestly as I’ve been dubbing this the ‘I dump Labby in a blender ASMR’ for a while now. It ended up longer than expected so I’m seperating what I had planned for today into two different prompts. The next part of this at least three part idea will probably be written at the earliest possible date so lookout for that.

Today’s prompt though does require some warnings so... in summary, I essentially torture Labrys from P4A. She gets electrocuted a lot, she’s restrained at the time and will black out over it. If this isn’t your thing/this makes you uncomfortable, don’t read this.

Fic under the cut for this who do want to read...

“Alright 031. We’re gonna be doing something a little different today.” The untidy researcher spoke as 031 tilted her head from the maintenance chair. Did that mean she wouldn’t have to fight today? A hope started bubbling within her as she waited for clarification.

“You’re going to be fitted with a new upgrade that should alter your performance in the testing chamber and hopefully increase your effectiveness with self-preservative protocols.” The woman explained as she fiddled with her glasses and shifted her clipboard under her arm. “In order to issue this upgrade to you, we’ll need you to power down completely. Is that understood?”

“Understood.” She answered with a nod, a curious glimmer in her eyes. An upgrade huh? What could it be? Improved balancers or maybe a targeting system? But then they did say self preservative protocols so… hm…

Did this mean she was too reckless?

“Well the preparations are all complete so when you’re ready, you can proceed with the shutdown.” At that, 031 leaned back a bit more and started the shutdown process. Hopefully this wouldn’t take long and she could go tell 024 about her new upgrade.

As the world went dark, she couldn’t help but notice the worried tone in one of the researchers as they questioned how worth it this would be.

When her awakening was next triggered, she opened her eyes to find the researchers all at a slightly larger distance away from her. Did something happen whilst she was out?

“Good to see you’re back with us 031. Anything to report?” At the question, she ran a quick scan, finding no abnormalities. Instead she found that the new software had been integrated into every aspect of her self and had to wonder what exactly it was.

“Nothin’ to report.” She answered with a shake of the head. “No abnormalities.”

“Good, good. Now we can begin the testing aspect for today.” The researcher with the curled hair picked up his clip board and pen, holding the nib against what she could only assume was the first item on his checklist. “Now how should we do this…?” He mused as one of the other researchers glanced over his shoulder.

“Can we not just use the same methods as we did unit 014?” The woman asked with a raised eyebrow and 031 found her head tilting as she tried to figure out what they were planning. Did 014 have this new upgrade too? She briefly wondered if she could find her and ask about it later to see what testing she had to undergo but after some thought, she decided that was likely not a good idea. 024 was the only other person she found that had any semblance of a personality after all.

“I suppose we could… Its natural resistances should nullify any lasting effects and I guess given its much more advanced design…” The untidy researcher rolled his eyes at him.

“Look, it’ll be fine. Let’s just get the data already.” He walked towards 031, removing a rectangular object from a nearby box and stopping midway. “Well? Who wants to do it?” He addressed the rest of the researchers, presenting them with the weird, pronged object. There was silence for a while as they all exchanged looks.

“I’ll do it.” The woman stepped forward and dropped her notes onto the table, taking the object from the man with an uncaring expression.

“You sure?” The man let her take it and stepped aside whilst she tutted.

“Please. It’s not even human.” 031 felt herself frown at that, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Fair enough. Be careful though.” At that warning, the restraints binding her arms and legs to the chair suddenly made themselves apparent to her. It must be a safety thing she supposed. The woman nodded at him, before approaching her. She stopped by her side and adjusted a dial on the device before reaching it out towards her.

“Now, this should feel a little different to anything you’ve felt before.” She explained as 031 watched her curiously. So they’d upgraded her sense of touch? Hm… “We’ll try the lowest possible setting first to see how you are and will go from there. Understood?”

“Understood.” She parroted back with a nod, wondering what this was supposed to feel like to her.

“Good. Then let’s proceed.” Without another moment, the woman held the button on the side down, a strange buzzing sound emanating from it that sounded like a low charge of electricity running through it.

The very moment those prongs were pressed against her arm, 031 jolted, eyes wide as she instinctively shifted away from it. What was that?

It was so quick, she didn’t even know how to describe it. The woman quirked an eyebrow pressing against her arm again. This time, when she jumped and shifted, the prongs were held against her.

031’s eyes were wide as she tried to discern the feeling of electricity pulsing off her arm like this. It felt… it felt bad. As if someone was continuously pushing needles into the area the prongs were and it stung. She kept, shifting, trying to get it off to stop the bad feeling, the woman watching her intently as she did so.

When the object was pulled away, she found the feeling hadn’t entirely left with it. She breathed a small sigh of relief as the sensation began to lessen until it was barely a dull throbbing in the back of her mind. Ruby eyes narrowed on the device that had caused such a feeling and tilted her head as she tried to put words to it all.

“Well? What did that feel like?” The woman asked as she began to adjust the dials again.

“Um… like…” a long hum, before inspiration struck, “It felt like the sound that you hear when metal scrapes on metal, but not as bad.” There was some mumbling between the researchers as they jotted things down on their notepads and clipboards, some examining the computer monitors and relaying that information back to them.

“Do you have a word for that feeling?” She asked and 031 shook her head. “That feeling is known as pain. It’s the physical indicator for something that has caused, or almost caused damage to you, or it lets you know when something is wrong with your body.” 031 hummed as that information processed.

So they gave her the ability to feel pain? What was the point in that? To make her more human? She hoped so.

“Upping the power level to two.” The woman announced as she finished fiddling with the device. What would it feel like this time? Would it feel better than before?

The moment the prongs hit, she got her answer. She startled, trying to move away from the object that was now pressed against her restrained leg. This… this hurt.

The electricity ran through her leg, sending signals every which way that this wasn’t good. It stung, the limb shaking as she tried to get the feeling to stop. Was this what 014 had felt when they’d tested it on her?

When they pulled away again, she felt a little relieved but the stinging didn’t seem to want to go away. It lingered longer than last time, the intensity just that little bit stronger.

“Now, was that better or worse?” The woman asked before returning to that dial, an uneasy feeling settling in her chest at not knowing just how strong this thing could go. How bad was this going to get?

“Worse.” She answered easily, leg still aching from the contact. “Is it supposed to hurt?”

“Of course. This is an important measure to take in order to both promote the development of your personality as well as improve your risk assessment and self-preservation skills.” The explanation didn’t make her feel much better. “Now how did that feel in comparison to the last one?”

“Uh… the same but worse…?” She offered, not really sure how else to say it. The researchers nodded as they scribbled more notes down and the remnants of the last contact faded away.

“I see. Increasing power to level three.” Without giving her time to prepare, the woman pressed the prongs to the back of her wrist. 031 felt herself yelp at the sensation, her arms struggling against the restraints as the pain increased tenfold. Why was this so much worse?

The moments seemed to drag on longer now, the stinging sensation becoming more akin to the sickening sound she’d heard when she burst the neck of one of the others. When the device was removed, she felt her breaths coming a little heavier, the pain hardly dying down at all, even as the researchers talked amongst themselves. She found herself eying the device warily, one question coming to mind that she had to voice.

“What is that…?” Whatever it was, she hated it. Why did something like this even exist? Who would ever think inventing that was a good-

It was at that moment, 031 realised that the same could be said about herself and decided to stop that train of thought. She had to prepare herself for the next contact.

“This is a taser, specifically designed to inflict pain upon the target but not so much that it leaves lasting damage.” The woman explained nonchalantly as the researchers continued to exchange theories in the background. She didn’t particularly care to listen to it this time. It never made much sense to her anyway.

“Increasing power to level four.” The woman spoke again, this time causing her to flinch and brace herself for what was to come, the stinging from the last contact still not having fully dissipated yet.

When the electricity hit, no amount of bracing could have prepared her for it. She jumped and jolted violently as the pain seared through her body, burning through her insides from where the taser pressed against her stomach. It hurt so bad…

It took a while to register she was making noise, vocalising her pain with yelps and yowls as she struggled. Why was this one taking so much longer?!

As the taser left, she felt her breathing suddenly become much easier, though still remaining shaky as the lingering pain continued to scream at her. Her head hung as she focused on trying to calm herself, she didn’t know how much was to come but she had a feeling it wasn’t over yet. Glancing back up, a nervous look at the woman showed she was once again fiddling with the dials. Just how much more was there?

“Upping power to level five.” She spoke, 031 already leaning away from her the best she physically could being restrained as well as she was. Her eyes scrunched shut, body tensing as she dreaded the shock to come.

Her eyes flew open as the worst pain yet, seared through her systems. She screamed at the sensation, her attempts to escape doubling since last time. Her mind went blank, the only thought being to get away from the danger at any cost. The prongs pressed harder into her chest and she felt her heart screech, the crystal shaking at the forces being pushed through her body.

The fans on either side of her head began to whirl in an effort to release some of the tension, to ease the blistering hurt relentlessly pulsing through her. Her eyes found the researcher’s, pleading for her to stop.

She didn’t even blink as she held the taser harder against her.

The moment, she finally pulled away, 031 slumped in her chair. The fans never stopped spinning as she tried to catch her breath and dull the pain any way she could. Her mind settled on trying to distract herself, trying to hold onto the image of 024 and Snowy playing fetch with each other outside, or trying to figure out what she’d meant when she said they were loved.

It was no use. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything, especially as she distantly heard the researchers fiddling with the dials again.

She hoped, no, prayed there wasn’t another level. Please let that have been it. She didn’t think she could take any more of it.

Slowly, her eyes raised to find the woman who’d been doing this to her. An incredible fear began to rise as she started registering what they were saying over the sound of whirring from her cooling fans.

“I believe now would be a good time to test her limits, don’t you?” The woman spoke to the others as if she were talking about the weather.

“Hm… Wouldn’t it be better to wait till tomorrow? The build up here might affect the results.” The untidy researcher offered thoughtfully as he eyed her with a hum.

“Maybe, but doing so today might give us insight into any faults once we get to the higher intensity levels.” The man with the curled hair tweaked his glasses and she decided she didn’t like him either.

“I believe it’s worth seeing just how far we can push her so that we know where the boundaries between too weak and too strong are.” The woman crossed her arms. “Besides, she won’t be fighting anything today. There’s no risk of it affecting her performance until the effects of the sensors wear off.” 031 felt her hands start clenching and unclenching in succession at her words. Was that a nervous quirk…? Come to think of it, was vocalising distress like she’d just done a normal human reaction?

“Hmm… I suppose you have a point. It would be more beneficial to know the limit sooner rather than later…” The untidy researcher hummed to her horror. They weren’t serious… were they?

“Then it’s decided.” The woman turned back to her and she immediately shrank into her chair. She turned the dials on her taser, hopefully for the last time today before her eyes found 031’s. Any hope of appealing to her better nature fled at the sheer lack of compassion in that steady green gaze.

“Increasing to maximum power levels.” Ruby eyes opened impossibly wide before she scrambled to at least try and prepare herself for the blast of electricity to come.

Nothing could have prepared her for this. Not a single level before this had held a candle to the sheer agony that coursed through her system like a forest on fire. She screamed, loud enough for her throat to hurt, the sound echoing back at her and ringing through her ears as the fan blades spun even faster.

She thrashed in her place, fighting against the restraints and begging them to open so it would stop. Her mind spun as her screaming turned to screeching as the pain only intensified as time went on. Why wouldn’t it stop?

Not a single other thought flew through her head. Her instincts pleading with her to try and find a way out of this, her heart trembling within its cage at the sheer torture of it all.

She wanted out. She’d never wanted out more in her life as she continued to twist and turn, attempting to force the restraints off her and let her go. As the prongs were pressed even harder against her side, something in her cut out.

The world suddenly started spinning, black spots beginning to cloud her vision and the whirring of her fans growing more and more distant. The pain never stopped until the darkness swallowed her whole.

~~~~~~

Her hearing returned to her first. Her body was numb, eyes sealed shut and mouth unable to move as sounds began reaching her sensors again.

“Is it coming around?” The distant question asked by a familiar voice didn’t seem directed at her.

“I hope so. How long’s it been now?” A man this time spoke up impatiently.

“It’s been less than a day, this could have easily been worse.” Another man answered. Less than a day…?

She managed a small noise as she tried to will herself awake. As her vision returned she found herself back in her maintenance chair, the familiar researchers standing around her, observing her as usual.

“Hey. You back with us?” The untidy researcher asked rather harshly. It took her a moment to remember how to answer, a moment that seemed to intrigue all of them.

“Yeah.” Her voice had come out like a quiet whisper, her gaze wandering over her restraints to check if they were still there. The knowledge they were made her body tense and her nerves become obvious.

“Hm, it seems to have associated the restraints with the pain inflicted on it from before.” The man with the curled hair pushed his glasses up his nose, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “To think it’d be so quick to make connections like that. Especially given how it’s been restrained before with no negative experiences attached.”

“I’m more amazed it managed to pass out on us for as long as it did.” The untidy man huffed a bit as he approached. “Was there a fault that could have caused that? Any abnormalities at all?” He asked as he looked over his notes again.

“A-all systems green. No abnormalities.” She responded, a slight stutter in her words that seemed to interest her spectators even more.

“Alright then 031. We’ll just run a few more tolerance tests and you can go enjoy your free time.” The man with the curled hair stepped forward, picking up the taser as he passed and as the fear began to rise, she couldn’t help but wonder whether she still preferred this to the testing chamber…

[transcendragon]

Clone Outpost

The rumble of the mining bots makes the entire facility tremble, but Inferior Zeytord 4634 is so used to this that it doesn’t even register. ThreeZs (IZ 80090) and DoubleOs (IZ 76001) are monitoring the machines for this darkside shift, so it’s not his problem right now. Or at least it shouldn’t be. 4634 had taught the others carefully when they came, and the still-learning newbie IZ 895601 wasn’t on deck right now. He wouldn’t even be ready to work nightshift for a couple of weeks, until 4634 thought he was ready. It’s been a long while since ThreeZs and DoubleOs needed 4364’s supervision, though.

4634 wouldn’t even be awake right now if the supply shipment weren’t running so late.

He’s tapped into the system interface on the cargo deck, writing reports as he waits. He figures he might as well get something productive done. The Newbie was going to help him unpack the supplies, but 4634 sent him to bed an hour ago, so now unpacking was going to have to wait until tomorrow. 4634 might as well get something productive done.

An alert on the monitor popped up in front of the atmospheric conditions report 4634 had been working. The cargo vessel was finally here, flashing its Zeyfficial Certificate and this week’s security code through communications.

4634 sighed. He sent off the responding codes and pressed the button to open the transport bay as usual, ready to get this over with so he could sleep.

4634’s interface showed the cargo vessel as it pulled into the airlock, and 4634 frowned. It was a different ship than the standard long haul Zeycraft. It didn’t even look like a Zeytoidian military vehicle at all. The vessel was sleeker than the usual bulky style, and it had an insignia on the side that 4634 didn’t recognize at all.

He checked for his gun in his side pocket. The vessel had a Zefficial Certificate, and those were very hard to check, but it was better to be sure. It had been a long time since 4634 had used his weapon, but he was sure he still could.

With the affirmation that his gun was ready at his side 4634 went out to meet the cargo ship and it emerged from the airlock.

The ship’s door opened down with a thunk and a figure stumbled out of it. 4634 blinked. It’s been a long time since he’d seen one of them.

It was a single person. A human person, 4634 could still tell, though he hadn’t seen any of those since his time on the front lines. The human’s eyes were distinctively brown instead of red, his skin and hair were dark, and in general his features different from 4634’s own in both obvious and subtle ways.

“I’m really sorry about the delay,” the human said. He wore a grey and blue uniform much less dramatic that of the green and black style of the Zeytoidian military. The human drew one hand through his hair as he stared down at a notepad in his hand.

The human gave 4634 an apologetic smile, but got only a blank stare in response. Shifting uncomfortably, the human continued: ““My navigational system does not have a good time working this far out from colonized space. I mean,” the man gestured, “not that this isn’t colonized, you’ve obviously got something going out here, but man. The farthest cargo hub is so far- I mean this place doesn’t even show up on the map-”

“You are not a Zeytord Clone,” 4634 inturrupted. “You aren’t any part of the Zeytoidian military.”

“Uh, yeah, no.” The human shook his head. “No, I don’t have any Zeytord in me, no. I work for a communications and cargo company, actually. The Space Frontiers.” The human gestures again, this time specifically to the emblem on his ship. The logo.

4634’s hand strayed to his weapon.

“Why are you delivering the cargo here?” 4634 demands.

“Woah!” The human’s hands shoot up with palms outstretched. “I’m just working a job, dude! We have some good contracts with the Zeytoidian Empire! We’re a neutral, third-party business or whatever you want to call it. We just do basic supply runs.”

4634 took his hand off his holster and shook his head. Everything seemed to check out, and if this man was going to attack he probably would have already.

“We’ve just always gotten our supply from other Zeytoidian ships,” 4634 said, “and you were very late.”

“Yeah,” the human rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. I’ll get here quicker next time! You want your cargo?”

After the cargo was securely dumped 4634 had to sign the proper forms that said that he got it. Double the amount of forms as usual, for both the contractor and the Empire. 4634 still felt slightly off-balance.

“There was no announcement about a third-party contractor coming in,” 4634 commented as he skimmed the paperwork.

“Yeah, well, you know the empire, almost as bureaucratic as the Republic,” the human shrugged as if 4634 knew anything of the bureaucracy of the Republic. “Anyway, it’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it? They probably don’t have enough troops for this kind of non-combat grunt work anymore.”

“What do you mean?” 4634 asked. “Why not?”

“Not after those recent battles, the ones the Republic won,” the human said. “You haven’t heard? They don’t announce these things?”

“They announce victories,” 4634 said, with a shrug of his own, “sometimes.” And when they did announce those victories this mining facility was often some of the last to know, being isolated and far from any Zeyloidian, Republic, or even fragment colony space.

“Huh,” the human said. He didn’t appear to have any words after that, and for a moment they shared an awkward silence. The human cleared his throat.

“Anyway,” he said, “gotta be going. You’re my last delivery for this run, but I’m running late enough as it is.” He began to turn back toward his ship, but gave 4634 a little wave. “Nice to meet you, though. Stoic as you are, you’re a lot nicer than the other Zeytord clones I’ve met!”

4634 acknowledged this with a nod. Unsurprising. Uncloned humans were considered even lowlier than the Inferior Clones, at the bottom of the Zeytord hierarchy.

“Goodbye,” he told the human.

The human lingered in his mind, though probably because it was the first person he’d seen in over two decades without the same face as his own.

. . .

The next supply run was on time, and Newbie was there to see it. Newbie, of course, had never met a human before.

“You look so weird!” Was the first thing Newbie said upon seeing the human. 4364 shook his head slightly, but the human just laughed.

Newbie was very curious.

“What’s your name?” Newbie asked.

“Xaviera Thresh,” the human replied, handing Newbie a box to unload and pack away.

“What kind of name is that?” Newbie asked, crinkling his face into a frown. “Where did you even get that? I mean, Thresh comes from 3, right? Does Xaviera come from 6?”

The human looked amused. “You know humans don’t get assigned numbers, right?”

“What!?” Newbie exclaimed. “How do you keep track?”

“Through their name, mostly,” Thresh shrugged. “I think the numbers are even more confusing. How do you remember them all?” “How do you remember all the names? How do you even name things?” Newbie asked in return. “What qualities made you an Xaviera? Or a Thresh?”

“Well, you keep track through families, kind of,” Thresh began to launch into an explanation of names. “That’s where the last name comes from, it’s usually shared by at least one of the parents who raised or made the child. The first name is chosen individually, and many first names are associated with different cultures or genders.”

“What’s a gender?” Newbie asked. Xaviera opened his mouth to explain, but 4634 had to interrupt to give Newbie his next job.

Newbie scampered off to follow instructions. Thresh shook his head, but there was a smile on his face.

“You know, before this I’d say that all Zeytords were stoic, cold even,” he said. “I’d say it’s coded into your DNA, a feature gifted from Emperor Zeytord himself. Now I’m not sure what to think, because there isn’t a bone of stoicism in that kid.”

“He’s a child,” 4364 said.

“Yeah. Too young to be working on a mining facility in most places,” Thresh commented.

“I was on the front lines of the war even younger,” 4364 said. “The facility is safe. It’s a good job.”

Not that Newbie ever believed 4364 when he said that. No, Newbie wanted the glory of battle! To fight for his Emperor, his country, himself! That’s practically the slogan of the learning facilities for Inferior Zeytord. The other four had been all for it too, playing at it all the time when they were younger and first sent to the facility. It’s only Four-Four got sent off and failed to come back that they stopped being quite so enamored with the idea.

4364 hoped that Newbie just grew out of it.

“Oh,” Thresh said softly. Even without his constant gesturing the man was expressive, and 4364 could read the emotions in wide brown eyes. Surprise, some, but mostly anger. And sadness. Perhaps a touch of pity, but small enough for 4364 to ignore. “I didn’t realize they had Clone troops that young.”

“It’s part of why helmets are regulation,” 4364 said. “Children are not intimidating opponents.” The information wasn’t a secret. They didn’t know any Empire secrets, the Inferior Zeytord crew of an isolated planet. Thresh probably knew more of empire affairs than they did.

“Huh,” Thresh said. He sighed. “Well, it’s a nasty world out there.”

There was a sadness in his eyes that made 4364 look away.

Their conversation ended as Newbie came rushing back in.

Newbie went off to deal with the last of the boxes as Thresh and 4364 went through the forms.

“You can really tell he’s yours, the kid,” Thresh said with a small smile, looking after Newbie.

“He’s not,” 4364 said without looking at the man. “There are no Inferior Zeytord fathers, and we are simply both clones of the Emperor Zeytord. There is obviously a resemblance as we are genetically identical, but it doesn’t represent a human biological relation.”

“The resemblance might not represent a ‘human biological relation’,” Thresh said, “but I wasn’t talking about a physical resemblance anyway.”

. . .

Emperor Zeytord decided to make the ranks of his army out of the one person he truly trusted and believed in: himself. There were roughly three ranks of Zeytord clones, though some of them may have subdivisions: Royal Zeytords, Middle Zeytords, and Inferior Zeytords. Royalty was his closest advisors and potential heirs, all based on the Emperor but specifically customized for excellence at their roles. They’re often given incredibly strength, dexterity, healing, intelligence, slow-aging, and resilience. Almost all the most powerful people in the Empire were Royal Zeytords. These Zeytords had one blue eye, like the Emperor himself, and then one green to be clearly differentiated.

Middle Zeytords filled all the rest of the leadership positions and professional military jobs. They were the officers. There are non-Zeytords civilians in the Empire who may hold professional positions, the conquered masses of humans who require Zeytord leadership, but never in military positions. Few even in any government positions, either. Many Middle Zeytords may move on to a comfortable civilian life after successful careers in the military or government. They’re differentiable by their yellow eyes. The standard Middle Zeytord was modeled after the Emperor, but without the same boosts in intelligence and strength favored to the Royal Zeytords. Still some booths to strength, healing, and slow-aging, but nothing like the superhumans that the Royalty often ends up being.

And then there’s Inferior Zeytords. They are pretty much all the same. They are almost all footsoldiers in the millitary, and though there are stories of heroic Inferiors making officer status you never actually see any of this happening and trying to verify the names in those stories will get you nowhere. The only customized line of Inferior Zeytords are the ones that serve as servants to the Emperor, who are given decreased strength. All other Inferior Zeytords get increased strenth and healing, but take a hit to intelligence somewhat. They’re not made stupid, certainly, but they aren’t meant to be all that smart, either. All Inferior Zeytords share the same red eyes and low status, but they may at least count themselves as better than humans.  

The Emperor himself is the original of all of these strains. He designed the cloning technology used and is known as a strategic genius even to his enemies, if an amoral one. He certainly uses biotech and nanotechnology to upgrade himself, though exactly how is a secret privy to only a trusted few. It’s certainly true that he hasn’t aged since 30, leaving him looking younger than many clones made decades after his birth.

Especially the Inferior Zeytord.

Targets to the Republic, cannon fodder to the Empire, the veterans that 4364 served with would often say, when they weren’t being watched. When they were being polite.

4364 was lucky, for an Inferior Zeytord. He was reassigned.

. . .

“Do all humans look like Thresh?” Newbie asked 4364 once, as they all lingered in the small dining area before lights out. The mining station was off, as a break for the machinery more for the clones staffing it. The place felt empty without the constant hum of the machines, and they all instinctively gathered together to combat the loneliness the silence threatened to bring in. It was already lonely, here on the outer edge of colonized space, where all real human civilizations were nothing but points of light in the sky if they were visible at all.

It was nice in its way, though. The empty expanse of the planet. The few opportunities they had to all gather together, when the machines were turned off.

There was no lounge area built into the mining facility. There were cramped sleeping quarters, an exercise room to fight the effects of low-gravity, and a make-shift kitchen with a dining area attached. So when they gathered, they gathered in the kitchen, turning a couple of crates into chairs so that they could all sit at the table.

“Don’t be stupid,” Sixes (543666) said. “Humans all look different, they’re not clones.”

“Yeah, silly,” Sevens agreed. “Didn’t you learn anything before you came here?” Sevens only had two sevens in his number, 678973, but he and Sixes came from the same IZ educational facility and were inseparable. From shifts to names they were together.

“Yeah, I know, but they never actually said what was different!” Newbie protested. “Like, they still all have the same amount of limbs, right? And Thresh was a different color, are they all different colors? And why’s Thresh a different shape?”

“Thresh is a different shape because he’s female,” ThreeZs explained. He had a soft spot for Newbie. Well, all of them did really, though Sixes and Sevens showed theirs in odd ways. ThreeZs frowned.“Or she’s female, maybe I should say? I’m not sure.”

“It’s hard to be sure, I don’t know what culture Thresh is from and some of them use pronouns to differentiate and refer to females with she and her.” 4364 said from the kitchen, as the only one of them who had ever been around humans before. He was finishing preparing the food. “Some of them use pronouns in more complicated ways, and often they have more pronouns, though, they often have categories called genders that are associated with but don’t always match up with physical sex.”

“Sex?” Newbie asked, nose wrinkling. “Isn’t that how they make humans?”

“No, he means sex as in the charictaristics that Thresh has that you don’t,” ThreeZs said patiently as Sixes snorted. “That’s because your physical sex is male. All of our physical sexes are male, because Emperor Zeytord is male.”

“I heard some of the Royal Zeytords are female,” Sevens said. “Can you imagine? It must be so weird.”

Sixes shook his head. “Royal Zeytords are all kinds of weird.”

“Female like Thresh?” Newbie asked. “Wait, so are he and him the pronouns associated with males, then, if they’re the ones we use?”

ThreeeZs beamed. “Absolutely!”

“So have we been calling Thresh by the wrong pronoun this whole time!?” Newbie exclaimed.

“Nah, Inferior Zeytords always use he, didn’t you hear?” Sixes said.

“Inferior Zeytords don’t have a choice,” DoubleOs muttered at the end of the table. “Just like with everything else.” DoubleOs was usually pretty quiet, so Newbie blinked up at him. 4364 made a note of it in his mind.

“Wait, humans get a choice?” Newbiw asked. “A choice of gender or pronouns or sex?”

For a moment 4364 watched the table as they all blinked and considered the possibility. They may have all been clones of the same person, but they were all having different reactions. Sixes and Sevens looked taken aback. ThreeZs was thoughtful and DoubleOs stared down hard at the table.

“It can be complicated, and there are often pressures in different cultures, but yes to an extent,” 4364 said as he poured out the Foodstuff(™) he’d been preparing from the pot into a large bowl. Foodstuff was never very good, it was designed to last and be shipped in builk more than taste good, but at least it was better cooked.

“They need medical procedures to change sex, often,” 4364 continued as he brought the pot of food to the table. The others shift eagerly in their seats. “But it’s all doable.”

It was times like these that 4364 most treasured the company of the others.

“How do we know Thresh’s pronouns, then?” Newbie asked, as the others started on the meal in front of them.

“You ask,” 4364 said.

. . .

“What’s your pronouns?” Newbie asked the next time Thresh gave a delivery.

Thresh blinked, taken aback for a moment, and then smiled. He seemed to relax.

“I use they/them/theirs pronouns,” Thresh said. “It’s rather old fashioned of me, I know, but I love the history of them.”

“They/them like plural pronouns?” Newbie asked. “What kind of history do they have?”

4364 let them completely unload the ship before sending anything to the store room so that Thresh could continue his- their conversation with Newbie. They piled the supply boxes high on the anti-grav carts used for transport around the facility maybe a little higher than was advisable.

It turned out Thresh was from a planet near the Solar System, the original Solar System, and they were more tied to Terran ways there. That territory was deep in the Republic, and 4364 had to wonder how Thresh ended up delivering cargo as far from the Republic as you could go for company ignoring the war to make as much money as possible. But 4364 himself didn’t press, and Newbie and ThreeZs wouldn’t know the implications of that information.

Thresh seemed happy and patient to explain, but there was something wrong. Not with the discussions or Newbie’s questions, a feeling that began even before Thresh began talking. It was different. 4364 could feel it in the air. Maybe it was the way Thresh stood, or something in their gaze as they chatted while the rest of them unloaded the supplies. A tension. A sadness.

“You know, you could choose your pronouns too, if you wanted to,” Thresh told Newbie.

“But all Zeytords are hes,” Newbie said. “The Emporeror Zeytord’s a ‘he.’”

“He might be, but that doesn’t mean you have to be, not here,” Thresh turned to look over at 4364 as he continued speaking. “There’s no one to keep track of the six of you here. You could basically do what you wanted, regardless of the Empire.”

“That’s not a very Zeytord way to think!” ThreeZs said, shaking his head. Newbie, however, looked intrigued.

4364 was more interested in what laid in Thresh’s gaze at the moment.

“Go take these to the storage area on your own?” 4364 asked ThreeZs. “Take Newbie with you, go over everything with him. I need to chat with Thresh here about something.”

“Well, just make sure you make it clear that that kind of talk doesn’t happen here in the Empire, okay?” ThreeZs said.

“Does this mean I get to drive one of the carts!?” Newbie exclaimed.

4364 nodded absently to both, and they were off.

He and Thresh stood silently for a moment.

“You can call me Xaviera, if you want,” Thresh said.

“What is this about, Thresh?” 4364 asked, and Thresh frowned and looked away.

“You don’t need to be rude,” Thresh said. They were rubbing absently at their arm, as though more nervous than offended.

4364 sighed. “I don’t mean to be rude, it’s just- something’s up. You’re making me tense, Xaviera.”

Xaviera swallowed, and glanced up at 4364. “Yeah. Yeah, something’s up. I’m not just delivering cargo this time.”

“No?” 4364 asked.

“No.” Xaviera said. “I have a message. All of you here are supposed to report to battle.”

4364 is silent for a moment.

“Why are you the one delivering this message?” 4364 asked. “This should be part of the Zeytord command.”

“It’s too important to send through your systems, which may have been compromised, I think,” Xaviera said. “And all of the other Zeytords who may have delivered it are reporting to battle. All of the other Inferior Zeytords.”

4364 paused for a moment, reading between the lines.

“This battle is going to be a bloodbath, isn’t it,” 4364 said. It wasn’t really a question.

Xaviera breathed in shakily. “Yeah. The Republic’s been winning for awhile, and I think the Empire might be going for a desperate strategy.”

“You know what happens to Inferior Zeytords who don’t report to battle, though, don’t you?” 4364 asked.

“I know it’s not good,” Xaviera said. “But that’s for Inferior Zeytrods who chose not to report to battle. Not the ones that never got the message in the first place.”

There’s a pause, between the two of them.

“Wouldn’t that get you in trouble?” 4364 asked. “Failing to deliver a message?”

“I could have gotten into an accident, lost my message and supplies,” Xaviera said. “At worst I’ll lose my job.”

If 4364 and the others reported to battle they’d probably die. They’d in the very least be seperated. Newbie was young, new meat, and if they were going to send him in without training they had to be very desperate. This had to be very dangerous. The Empire might even fall, and Zeytord himself knows what the Republic would do with any leftover Zeytords.

“If you want to go-” Xaviera said, after several moments of silence.

“No,” 4364 said. “No. Please, lose the message.” There’s another moment of silence.

4364 looked Xaviera in the eyes. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Xaviera said. “Well, I mean, it’s not nothing, but it’s the least I could do. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself otherwise.”

Maybe they would have said more, but at that moment the doors to the transport bay open suddenly and ThreeZs rushed in.

“Newbie-” ThreeZs panted, doubling over for a moment. “Newbie crashed cart.” More panting. “In corridor five. Are you done with your paperwork yet?”

4634 glanced at Xaviera. “Yeah, I’m done here.”

“Wait,” Xaviera held up a piece of paper. “One last thing before I go. Just in case.”

4364 took it and glanced at it wordlessly. It was extraplanetary coordinates for an area that 4364 estimated feel just outside of Republic space. Above the coordinates was written the word Haven. 4364 shoved it into his pocket.

“Thanks,” he told Xaviera, “for everything.”

“Of course,” Xavier said. “Good luck.”

They both knew he’d need it.

[lazella]

Papa Tony

Been really looking forward to finishing and posting this. We all know that Tony adopts pretty much anyone so let the dad instincts commence!

Tony read over the scans on his monitor. He had hooked up Yugi to every medical scanner he had as soon as he found out that the Soul Stone seemed to have fused with his body. The Soul Stone was the most mysterious of all the stones so who knew what the effects on Yugi were.

“Is all this necessary?” Yugi asked from where he laid on the table.

“You’ve got a rock that contains cosmic power potentially in your brain so yes…” Tony said as he switched to viewing brain scans, “I’m pretty sure you want it out.”

Yugi just let a hum and just relaxed as Tony continued his examination. He was about to switch screens when he noticed something. One of Yugi’s brainwaves was very active, the one that indicated speaking. But Yugi was silent. Tony was about to chuck it up to internal thought only for a second wave to show up. The two waves took turns being active, as if in conversation.

“Yugi?”

“Yes?”

“Are you talking to someone right now?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because according to what I see, you are talking to someone right now. So depending on your answer I should consider this normal or I will get very concerned.”

“Oh…” Yugi looked a little comfortable and fell silent. The scans indicated that he was back in his internal conversation before he spoke out loud again, “Do you believe in magic Tony-san?”

“I have a few wizards on speed dial and friends with a god so yes…I do believe in magic.”

“Okay…” This seemed like a relief to Yugi, “I’ve got another me who shares my body.”

“Another personality?”

“Not quite like that…he’s got not memory of his past or his name, so he shares mine. The only clue we have was that he was in Egyptian Pharaoh in life.”

“So you’ve got a dead guy in your head? How did he get there?!”

“It happened when I completed this Puzzle,” Yugi sat up and held up his large gold pendant for Tony to see. He had wondered why Yugi wore something that was so bulky.

“So magical artifact had a guy sealed in it…no other curses or anything?” Tony asked.

“None that I know of.”

“So I’m going to file this under normal for you…” Tony said as he closed down the screens.

“It’s normal as Yugi and I can get.”

Tony had to do a double take. Yugi’s voice changed only slightly. His posture was slightly different and there was something off about his eyes.

“Apologies I figured that I introduce myself since you are now aware of me.”

“Nearly gave me a heart attack that’s what…” Tony sighed, “You neglected to mention that you can switch out like that.”

“Most people don’t notice…Then again they don’t know what to look for.” The not-Yugi said.

“Just as long as you two get along Your Majesty I don’t think any of us will take issue…”

The not-Yugi arched an eyebrow, “Your Majesty?”

“Yugi said you were a Pharaoh and I’m not going to call you ‘Yugi’…that will just get confusing…” Tony said, “Now then…I’m sure there are few people I can call to see if we can resolve this memory loss problem.”

This seemed to surprise the not-Yugi, “You’ll do that?”

“Kid…there’s no way in good conscious let you walk around with no identity. I’m sure it has caused a few problems.”

“It has…a few life or death situations actually.”

The coffee cup Tony was holding shattered on the floor, “HOW?!”

“A few people have taken issue that I’m…still here.” Not-Yugi admitted.

“No…no no…no no NO!” Tony grabbed Not-Yugi’s arm and started drag him off, “Come on!”

“Where are we going.”

“We are going to see someone about your memory issue then getting you equipment so that people don’t stick you two into life or death situations!”

“I usually win though…”

“THAT IS NOT THE POINT!”

…………………………………..

Tony munched on popcorn has he watched Natasha and Judai spar. Curiosity was sparking in his head as he wondered how a seventeen-year-old boy was keeping up with a trained assassin but Judai seemed to dodge any sort of inquiry. So for now, it was observation time.

Judai dodged another punch from Natasha and went to kick her legs out from under her. She saw this coming and stepped back far enough to through him off balance. Natasha then grabbed Judai’s wrist and twisted it behind his head.

Judai had a quite a visible wince on his face trying to get out of Natasha’s grip as she got his other hand. Tony reached for his other bag of popcorn getting a feeling that things were about to get interesting.

Something snapped in Judai, his eyes flashing orange and green and claws growing sharp. Natasha was shocked at the change causing her to lose her grip a bit. Judai took his chance and flipped Natasha over his head and pinned her down with a foot on her chest.

“Nice one kid!” Tony clapped, “Never seen anyone throw Natasha like that and…” He trailed off, noticing the look on Judai’s face. It like he was frozen in a moment of panic eyes still glowing green and orange.

“Judai….hey Judai! Snap out of it!”

Judai blinked back to alertness, eyes returning to their normal brown, “Ah! Sorry! So sorry about that!” He got off Natasha and offered a hand, “Instincts took over…”

“It’s fine…” Natasha said as she accepted the help up. “I’ve been through worse.”

“But this was supposed to be a friendly spar…” Judai said, “And I…” He trailed off.

“And I what?” Natasha prodded.

“I…I…” Judai looked at the ground in shame, “I acted like it was the real deal…”

“So.” Was the causal response from Natasha.

This caught Judai off guard, “I could have killed you! My instincts just takes over and then…”

“Kid we nearly kill each other every day.” Tony shrugged munching on more popcorn, “Just ask Bruce how many times he threw us through walls when he had gone Hulk.”

“B-but…” Judai stuttered in shock, “You all…”

“We just learn each other’s quirks and adapt.” Tony said, “Some of our allies were people who tried to kill us so it’s really not a detracting factor. In fact, crazy dark backstories just makes you fit in even more.”

Judai blink, frowned, then laughed a bit, “I never…though of it like that.”

“Welcome to the world of superheroes…” Tony laughed, “Now that I think about it, you should already know about that since I do know that deck of your IS superhero themed.”

Now Judai was laughing even harder, “Your right! I should know that!”

“Atta boy…now let’s see what you can really do against Natasha.” Tony said as he sat back down with his popcorn.

“Are you sure…I mean…” Judai was still somewhat unsure.

“Would you rather go against Hulk?” Natasha proposed.

“This is fine…”

……………………………………

“I have to admit Mr. Stark, the technology and construction you’ve done in your suits is amazing.”

Tony sure liked Yusei. The kid was brilliant. Any sort of engineering or physics problem was second nature to the kid. Finally he had someone who could keep up with his nerd talk.

“You still owe me an explanation about your motorcycle.” Tony said, “You did say you built it yourself from scrap.”

Yusei chuckled a bit, “I sure did…” He turned to the bike that was parked in the corner of the lab. “I’ve replaced parts of the engine with better quality materials over the years but the frame is the same.”

“Quite the impressive work…I can’t believe your self taught,” Tony said as he tapped the metal casing of the D-Wheel. “Mind if I take a peek?”

“Go right ahead,” Yusei opened the engine compartment.

Tony whistled. When Yusei said that his bike didn’t run on gasoline he just had to figure out what the alternative fuel that he used. The circuitry was like artwork linking all the parts together. The main engine hub was impressive. It seemed to be spinning round and round and…

Why did Tony feel like he had read theories about this before?

“Yusei…am I looking at a perpetual energy machine?”

“Not quite…This a smaller version of the main Momentum reactor that acts as our main power source,” Yusei explained, “After many years of operation we found a flaw that caused it to build up too much power internally which has a risk of causing a catastrophic explosion. I helped develop a counter generator called Fortune to absorb the excess energy and feed it back into the system.”

Tony now had a notepad in his hand making calculations, “So a perpetual energy machine in two parts…now how to combine them into one…”

Yusei raised an eyebrow, “Mr. Stark…what are you doing?”

“Making improvements…you wouldn’t happen to have blueprints of those two reactors on you?”

“I…do actually….” Yusei ejected a flash drive from his bike, “My father was the one who developed the original Momentum.”

Tony could recognize the expression on Yusei’s face, it was one he had quite often.

“He died when you were young…didn’t he?”

“I was just a baby…” Yusei sighed, “His work was sabotaged, and his last act was to get me to safety.”

“Sounds like he was a good man…” Tony patted Yusei on the back, “Now let’s review those blueprints and see what we can do…”

……………………….

New York Central park was a popular destination for both locals and tourists to visit. Many fun sights to see and take photos off. Though those who were celebrity followers were surprised to find millionaire playboy philanthropist Tony Stark sitting on a park bench with ice cream in his hand sitting next to a boy with duel colored hair, also with ice cream in hand.

Tony paid no mind to the gawkers. “So Yuma…thoughts on the ice cream?”

“It’s good but…” Yuma frowned, “Still confused as to why you suddenly dragged me out of the tower just for ice cream? We passed at least four other places on the way here.”

“Because I can tell you were going nuts being cooped up inside all day.” Tony pointed out, “Making a fortress out of cardboard and bits of my suits then trying to jump over it in one go was the tipping point.”

Yuma blushed in embarrassment.

“And there’s the fact you’re talking to yourself…”

“That part is not true.” Yuma pouted, “I told you several times about Astral.”

“So invisible friend?”

“He’s not invisible…just visible to some people.” Yuma pointed out.

“That still counts as invisible.” Tony responded.

Yuma stuck his tongue out, “Thor can see him.”

“Well lucky him…he get’s all the cool stuff.” Tony took another lick of ice cream, “I have to build my cool stuff.”

“Then why don’t you invent something so that you can see Astral?”

Tony paused, Yuma had a very good point. He was a genius after all. He wasn’t going to let something like being chosen with magical powers stop from doing anything.

“Fair point…I concede victory to you Yuma.” Tony said, “I need you to hang around to give good ideas more often.”

Yuma smiled, “Thanks for the ice cream by the way.”

“Anytime kid.” Tony smiled back, “Just say the word and we’ll do it again.”

……………………..

“You got me a what?”

“She’s called a therapist Yuya. She won’t bite you, her job is to talk to you and figure out your own head.”

“Um…no offence Tony…” Yuya scratched the back of his head, “I don’t think she’s going to believe what I have to say.”

“She’s the Avenger’s personal therapist. She’s heard everything past the sun. A patient with four people in his head will not be a new thing for her.”

Yuya was still unconvinced, “I don’t know about the others though…especially Yuri.”

“Which is more of a reason to start now. Listen kid…” Tony started rustling Yuya’s hair, “I can tell you’ve been bottling up a lot of things which is not healthy for a kid…or kids…that are only fourteen years old. You haven’t slipped much but it doesn’t take much to figure out that you still need help.”

“I DON’T NEED HELP!!!” Yuya suddenly shouted then shrunk back on himself, “….sorry.”

“I guess that was Yuri.”

“Yeah…he doesn’t talk to any of us about his past….I mean he talks about current stuff but the moment we start sharing childhood stories he clams up. What makes you think he’s going to open up to a complete stranger?”

“You never know until you try…” Tony admitted, “Just ask Pepper how many times she had to drag my butt to a therapist, she didn’t give up on me for sure. How about you just try once and see how you feel?”

“Okay…” Yuya slowly nodded, “What if I don’t like it?”

“Then we’ll try something else.”

That seemed to be the reassurance Yuya needed to enter the room out of his own free will. Out of courtesy and patient confidentiality, Tony waited outside. A good hour later, Yuya came out though based on the way he was walking it wasn’t Yuya in control.

“So…which one….” Tony said trying to figure out which one he was talking too.

“Yugo sir…the others are in a deep conversation. I didn’t have as much to get off my chest so I took the reins.”

“So I take it that the therapist help?”

“I don’t know why Yuya didn’t go to one sooner…then again I don’t know if we even have them back home.”

“Sounds like that’s a problem we need to fix.” Tony muttered, “So…while the other three are in their talk…what to come to my lab and tinker with a few things?”

“Do I?!” Yugo was bouncing on his feet.

“Then lets go!” With a cackle they ran down to the lab.

………………………………..

Tony was fiddling with his latest project with Bruce in his lab. Yusaku was quietly working on a nearby computer giving a death glare to anyone who came close. Tony just left him be. Programing seemed to be more of Yusaku’s forte rather than engineering. He just needed to focus on this new reactor to see if he can give it more juice.

“You sure it’s okay to work on this with the kid in the lab?” Bruce asked.

“We have enough safety precautions in place and he’s far away enough.” Tony reassured him, “Now pass me that soldering iron and let’s hook this baby up.”

Bruce complied and took a few steps back. Tony a look in his eye that spelt trouble, trouble Bruce really didn’t want to be in, but a responsible adult had to be in the room. Tony finished the connection and removed his googles, “Time to light this baby up!” Like a giddy child, he started the power core. The reactor light up as expected but then started sparking.

“Tony…” Bruce began warning him.

“It should die down…” Tony was about to explain himself only for the reactor to start sparking more.

“Turn it off!!!” Bruce yelled.

“Trying!” Tony yelled back as he hurried to cut the power taking a quick glance at Yusaku. The boy was fully aware of what was going on but had not left his corner.

“Kid run!!!” Tony yelled at Yusaku which seemed to snap the boy to attention. He began to creep his way around the edge of the lab being very cautious of the flying sparks.  Electric sparks continued to fly turning into streams as the reactor started to critical. Tony was fumbling at this point trying to find the wires and disconnect them as the switch was now effectively dead. Feeling the plug in his hand he yelled out…

“Hit the deck!!!”

He broke the connection. The reactor let out one last flash of sparks then fell silent. With the danger passed, Tony and Bruce shakily got up from the floor.

“Well there goes today’s work…” Tony muttered.

Bruce didn’t comment instead looked around the room, “Where did the kid go?”

Tony looked around as well, there was no sign of Yusaku. “Hey kid? You okay? Where’d you go?”

“TONY!!!”

Tony ran around the table to where Bruce was crouched down. Yusaku was on the floor twitching. Tony started cursing under his breath. Did Yusaku get struck by the electricity?

“Hey!” Tony lightly shook Yusaku’s shoulder, “Speak to me.”

Yusaku didn’t answer but was mumbling. Tony only caught bits that sounded like ‘sorry’ and ‘I’ll keep trying’.

“Aw man don’t do this now!!!”

Tony and Bruce looked at Yusaku’s wrist device where the AI was poking out of.

“Snap out of it already!”

“What’s going on?” Tony asked.

“He’s stuck in another episode…” The AI said, “The electricity must have triggered him.”

Tony felt his heart drop, was Yusaku suffering from a PTSD episode? With great care, he rolled Yusaku over and tried to stabilize his trembles.

“Hey Yusaku…look at me.”

Yusaku blinked a few times but he seemed to be focusing on Tony now.

“Can you tell me where you are?”

“I-I’m….” Yusaku stuttered a bit, “In a lab…”

“Who’s lab?”

“Y-yours…”

“That’s right…come on…” Tony helped the shaking boy up, “Fresh air will do us all good.”

Bruce helped Tony walk Yusaku out of the lab and towards one of the sitting areas by a balcony. Easing Yusaku into a chair, Tony took the seat next to him while Bruce went to get drinks.

“So…feeling better?” Tony asked.

“I’m better….” Yusaku sighed, “I apologize…I haven’t had an episode like that in a while.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“No…it was years ago anyway and I’ve got closure…” Yusaku said.

“If you say so…” Tony said as he downed the scotch that Bruce brought back, “Sorry about the scare though.”

“Perhaps I should not work while you are playing with dangerous equipment.” Yusaku said as he took some lemonade.

“How about I set you up with your own laptop?” Tony proposed, “That way you can work wherever you want.”

Yusaku actually smiled, “I would like that.”

[blankdblank]

Anaticula Pt 55

*

Showered and changed again it was time for lunch, donning your bolero hat and passing students along the way you helped to point a few first years in the right direction. As the hurried along on your right Draco and Neville came up in your sides asking, “Going well?” Both stealing glances of the bag of Chinese take away tucked in your right arm.

You nodded, “How was Slughorn’s?”

Neville, “He has us brew Draught of Living Death in a competition for Felix, um, F something. Hermione called it liquid luck.”

“Ah. Interesting.”

Draco, “Not really. He likes to share stories. Really old ones. Sort of like a mix between Lockhart and Professor Binns, effective but not the most able to keep my attention at least.”

“Well here’s to hoping that it gets better.”

Neville caught a glimpse of Snape, saying, “I don’t think it was what he was expecting.”

“Most likely not.”

Draco have you a half hug, “Go eat at your special table.” Rushing off to go sit by Astoria over at the Puff table.

Neville chuckled and did the same, “Can’t wait to hear what the first years have said about you. Been talking all morning. You and Tennant mostly, though some are excited to meet you.”

Giggling softly you said, “No doubt they’re more terrified of my monsters than my lessons.” Making him chuckle and turn to head to sit by Luna.

Strolling along between the tables you stopped to talk to Harry, Ron, Hermione and the rest of the DA, who all were sharing what they’d heard so far until you felt Snape’s robe brush along the back of your leg. The first years looked him over and began to whisper at his pulling an odd leaf that had blown into your hair passing one of the courtyards. The leaf was then tucked into the pocket of his robe and you stepped back to join him with Barty right behind you smirking at the whispers of you both starting up again.

Once in the seats you glanced at Snape in his deep sigh to hear him say, “End of the year we’re trading.”

“Oh it can’t be that bad.” You said unloading your slightly ridiculous seven plastic and cardboard containers of food.

His expression at you made you giggle as he said, “I assumed it was just Potions that parents neglected to ready their children for. At least in Potions you can train students without them hurling themselves into the wall.”

“Ah, body bind mishap?”

“Troy Tulsen sneezed while using his wand to brush his eyebrows. Now, he has no eyebrows and two other students have concussions. You cannot govern these creatures.” Making you giggle again. “One year.”

You nodded saying, “I’ll see what we can manage.”

Barty in a smirk your way asked, “How did you manage? Fourth years first, right?”

You nodded, “Not too terribly awful according to Opal and Idris.”

Lowly he chuckled, “You will be marvelous.”

Snape, “Please tell me you are changing RoR club to your days off practice.”

“I’m not certain if-“

They both stated, “They will allow it. Why else have a skilled dueler such as yourself and not utilize that.”

They both looked on as you drew out a pair of chopsticks from the protective sleeve and you giggled at their smirks, “Troy bought lunch.”

Barty smirked accepting the egg roll you passed him with the chopsticks in filling your empty plate, “No doubt you’ve earned the feast. Store up on strength, can’t have you passing out.”

Snape stole a piece of your broccoli chicken along with his egg roll and said, “Feel free to bring your own lunch every day so we can steal some.” Making you giggle again.

“Well I always do bring plenty to share and leave for later.”

..

Study hall came next and after you were back in your class readying for the next lesson. From third to first years you had managed and instead of the first aid kits you had a different set of potions for the new Potions students. The reason for your hat became clear at the raining of tiny leaves and petals from the floating plant racks from above.

In front of your desk you asked, “How many of you are afraid of snakes?” A few timid hands rose and whispers spread through the students in your largest class to teach. “Well, as many of you may know I come from a long line stemming back to all four founders of this school, including Salazar Slytherin. Through that bloodline I have inherited the ability to speak to snakes. I understand some of you may be uncomfortable with the handling of snakes, however, there are a great many potions involving snakes and their venom. Through the year you will be handling and aiding in milking snakes. I will be here to monitor you in doing so. My snakes are not vicious creatures and I would expect you treat them with the utmost care and respect. I will not tolerate any cruelty to animals. A tip for those uncertain of being able to trust snakes, follow the Muggle Golden Rule, treat others as you wish to be treated.”

A hand popped up and a young girl asked, “You know about Muggles?”

You nodded with a grin, “My mother was adopted by a Muggle family. Our home is in London surrounded by Muggles. Trust me you will find a great deal more pure blood wizards are accepting or friendly with Muggles than you would assume.” You caught the harsh stares of a group of Slytherin students and said, “And if any of you wish to try and claim me as a blood traitor feel free to do so,” whispers began then ended when you added, “Just enjoy your year of detentions to strengthen your convictions. Blood can’t save you when the world goes up in flames, allies do and pure bloods are a dying breed. Live to let go of your hate or die from it. Our families had the choice to take sides, so do we. I suggest you choose wisely, both who you are choosing to attack and fight along side.”

Shift of your hand to the side brought their attentions to the snake on the tree reaching out to you in your hushed whisper in Parseltongue, “Who can tell me the name of this snake?” Heads shook and you smirked strolling between the desks showing each of the students both leaning in and inching away, “Take a closer look, notice the telling umbrella shaped dots along her sides between the blue zebra like stripes. The orange eyes.” A timid reach up from one student had you pause allowing them to stroke her side, “The oddly warm scales giving an almost numbing sensation to the skin?”

A boy in the far corner raised his hand, “Balbarock Boa?”

A smirk eased onto your lips and you said, “Exactly. Of course you would recall this one, I believe your father was on the trip my uncle found her mother on for me. Very rare, docile among humans, can anyone tell me what a bite from this beauty would do?” You asked in her opening her jaws revealing the five fangs the breed has making the confused students lean in as she released a dose of venom into the vial you levitated under her top jaw releasing the magenta colored venom. “No one?”

You glanced around then led her back to her tree saying, “This venom has been known to stop bleeding, heart attacks, even in rare occasions aneurisms from bleeding out.” Lips parted at that, “Snake venoms can do anything from reversing blood loss, halting and preventing seizures, all the way down to giving an uncontrollable craving to eat whole blocks of cheese, not even mentioning what they can do for Lycan products. You just have to know how to use them. Snakes like any other creature in our world can be helpful for both good and bad, just like people, and when treated fairly are more than happy to assist in healing others. You don’t speak the same language, they are afraid and don’t understand you or you them.

It sounds too simple to be true, but a pinch of kindness can get you miles past an ounce of fear. Do not mistake kindness for weakness, and do not mistake that charms or spells can be your only defense, Potions, Herbology, even History can save your life if you know where to look. I will push you, I will give you books you imagine to be absurd in my recommendations, but when you find yourself stuck, it’s not the common items you’re going to find around you. I do hope that if you do get stuck you could remember one of my odd recommendations. We have a library for a reason, and it is the greatest arsenal we have. This venom especially is very potent and is where we will start.” A recipe was written across the black board to aid in blood loss for possibly mortal wounds.

In its sitting to brew you began to instruct them on another venom based recipe for mending broken or fractured bones Idris aided in supplying tears for stirring out grins when they handed over their finished vials you would test and send along to Madame Pomfrey. From 5 to dinner at 7:30 you recorded your first set of grades for the day on the potions of the day from your notepad from each class giving you a good hope for how the year could go. A note from home had you aware that both Bill and Fleur had settled into their new rooms and joined your family for dinner sharing their new jobs interweaving in Gringotts.

Strolling through the hall from your classroom up to the Great Hall for dinner a young girl called out, “Professor?”

Continuing on you paused at a point from a fifth year smirking boy making you turn your head at the repeated, “Professor?”

Looking at the girl it clicked in your head, “Hmm? Oh, right, me, sorry,”

“Chelsea,”

You nodded, “Yes, Chelsea, what can I help you with?”

“Professor Binns, we were curious, he mentioned that if we find ourselves stuck in his class we might speak with a Professor Evans? For tips?”

Your smirk made her voice halt and you let out a weak chuckle then replied, “I must apologize on the mistake Professor Binns has made,”

The girl beside Chelsea said, “See, told you there was no Professor Evans.”

“My mother’s maiden name was Evans. Professor Binns calls me Miss Evans from time to time.”

The girls both said, “Oh.”

You nodded and said, “How I handled his lessons was to have a self writing quill copy down everything he says, then you split that up into various columns.” You filled in the various ones you used and they nodded with the second girl taking notes on all you said making you grin, “If you need any help or want any tips on spare books to read to learn more let me know.”

Chelsea, “You did well in his class?”

You nodded, “Straight O’s all the way up to my NEWTS.” Dropping their jaws in your giggling turn to continue on.

“Professor!” Turning again you rolled your eyes giggling at Barty’s trot up to your side in a half circle to keep on going as he pushed his hands in his pockets stirring up whispers around you both in his spreading smile in looking at you.

“Not you too. I will get used to it.”

Barty chuckled in a nod, “Of course, of course. Only took me a few months when I started. Heard great things, Love.”

That word stirred up a whirl of gossip behind you in his side pressing to yours in the interlocking of your hands behind your back, “I do miss bouncing from class to class though. I think I should try to drop in on Trelawney this week too, one of my lunches.”

He nodded, “Good idea. No doubt she misses your company in class. One of the few Seers to grace these halls.”

Reaching the Great Hall you grinned at Slughorn in his own greeting nod to pass you heading to his seat, “Miss Black, Mr Tennant.”

“Evening,” you said then you added, “Professor Slughorn,”

He paused, “Yes, My Dear?”

“I was just curious, you mentioned teaching my Mum,” a glimmer of pain flashed into his eyes and you blurted out, “I was only asking, because I was wondering if you’d heard about the Ice Bird she had spotted.”

He nodded and grinned widely in relief, “Oh yes, yes My Dear, very well done and spotted. Took quite a fancy to Care for Creatures if I recall correctly. It is lovely to see you taking after her so, twelve perfect O’s, I hope you don’t mind my adding a portrait of yourself to my collection.”

You shook your head, “Not in the least.”

Widening his grin, “My plans for a dinner are being finalized and you shall be added to the top of my list, for now, a certain brisket seems to be calling for me.”

You giggled softly and said, “Of course.” Watching him go making Barty glance down at you in your nip at your lip and turn to follow a few wide strides behind Slughorn, lowly you whispered to Barty, “I have a very loose plan forming. One requiring his trust.”

Barty nodded seeing that Albus was staring between you and Slughorn with a narrowed inquisitive gaze, “Yes, it seems our Headmaster has one of his own.”

“All the more reason.” Making him nod again. “For now, that brisket does smell wondrous.”

.

Once dinner was through you were back to your home to wash your face, change and climb into bed to drift off to sleep. A trio of wakings and more snatchings in the night led up to the mooing of your alarm. Hat in hand and changed into another jean and blouse combo you plopped into your seat at the breakfast table still trying to blink awake as the pitcher filled your glass with juice. Percy beside you grinned saying, “Morning.”

You nodded saying, “Morning Perce. Oh, Bryce Btondt will not be in.”

Percy nodded, “Another snatching?”

Lifting your glass as Remus set your plate in front of you, “Yes.”

Percy nodded again, “Might have to do with Umbridge’s list on pure blood members. Fourth one crossed off as half blood this month.”

“Of course she’s behind this.”

Percy, “I’ll try to get a copy of the list.”

You shook your head, “No need, to do that would only cause up a stir in warning everyone on it.” Your eyes shifted to the side when Fleur came into view with a wide grin and gave you a side hug and greeting peck on your cheeks you returned gladly.

“Good morning, Fleur.”

“Good Morning.” She answered then paused, “I seem to be speaking well. How is teaching going?”

“Well, better than I had assumed for my first day. How was the bank?”

“Good. A lot of paperwork, sorting, filing. Good use of my English.”

“Well if you need a refresher I have gotten quite good at language sharing through mental links.” Easing a curious grin across your lips you watched Bill steal a glance at Fleur in his taking the seat across from her she returned with a quick grin making you look away to not get caught by the awkwardly grinning pair, “Perfectly painless should you wish to try.”

Bill nodded, “Ah, yes, taught most of us our languages that way.”

Her grin deepened looking across at him saying to him rather than you in your father’s entrance and lean in to kiss your cheek to pretend not to be watching the pair, “I shall consider it.”

.

Noon had come after your 9 am class for Fourth years with the Puffs and Ravenclaws that they took to swimmingly and cherished your notebooks thoughtfully as to what they stood for in the news breaking of more snatchings. Alongside the DA you strolled up the steps to the Room of Requirement gaining a crowd of curious First Years along the way. The bowl of topics was offered and you strolled around helping to aid the younger students through the chosen topics. At your side however Ron snuck saying, “Steady on Sis, but, thought you ought to know something.”

“Hmm?” You caught his eye and he leaned in to continue.

“Heard a fair bit of whispers bout you and Tennant. Don’t seem to be dying down what with all the Loves and Darlings floating around.”

In his step back to the lesson at hand in his chance Hermione took your side saying, “Well I for one think he is an amazing choice.”

Making you grin at her, “Thank you. Even though it’s just talk.”

She smirked at you playfully before her own turn at the spell, “Maybe you should give it a go? He seems quite playful with you, must feel something for you.”

You nodded and nipped at your lip stepping aside to miss a wayward spell from a First Year you turned to help aid through the spell you dissipated before it hit Nigel behind Hermione.

.

Straight to the very Professor himself you made your way and waited in the doorway of his office as he searched for something, knowing he’d no doubt drop one of the various bobbles in his arms if you startled him. Putting it all down on his desk he huffed and scratched his head glancing around until his eyes popped up to you, “Ah, lunch time, Love?”

“It is, though I had a, bit of a warning for you.”

Walking around his desk his hand extended and in his seat on the end of the desk your hand in his was gently pulled to bring you closer to him, “What is wrong?” His hand waved to close the door blocking the sight of the students peering in through the classroom door.

Sighing softly you said, “Apparently rumors about us are going around.”

Across his face his grin spread and he tried to shorten his chuckle in his shifting his legs a bit wider to bring you just a tad closer, lifting his free hand his fingers curled under your chin raising it to catch your eye, “I know your exes tossed you through the ringer. And no doubt you’re uncertain of how I would take this news. It is one thing to play around the others, your aunt especially, I understand you may not feel the most worthy of candidates of my affection, but you very much are. And trust me when I say that there are no strings, no expectations, if you enjoy playing couple until you are ready for a relationship again I’m your man. And I would be honored to play the part for you. For you see, you are, in quite plain terms, a catch, and any man would be honored for a moment of your time, friend, lover or likewise.” After his lean in to kiss your cheek you nodded and he couldn’t help but smirk at your glance from his eyes to his lips.

Remaining still he let you move in and it wasn’t until your pause an inch from his lips his fingers met your chin again and you closed the distance making his slit eyes close fully for the mere blink it lasted. In your pull back at the uncertainty in your expression he cradled your hands and pressed them to his chest. “Love, you don’t have to look at me like that. I know how heavy times are right now. I am not oblivious, though no matter how hard I try to forget, that I am no longer 19 but over 30 while you are nearly the opposite. I feel very much the teenager I once was before it all went south. However, do not doubt this is very much at your leading. No matter what you need I am here. No pressure, I shall always dote on you endlessly even should you choose another. Until you do, I am very much at your disposal.” He stood up and at your next glance to his lips he leaned in and then was the one to pause allowing you to complete the kiss he melted into.

When you pulled back he whispered lovingly, “See, the world didn’t explode.” Making you giggle and shake your head in his low chuckle, “Until it does,” he stole a quick peck on the tip of your nose, “Time for lunch Love.” Turning to guide you down to the Great Hall draping his arm around your shoulders after a stolen peck on his cheek and hushed thanks widening his grin.

.

After lunch your note to Draco had him meeting you up at the Room of Requirements where inside the crowded room of random objects he followed you. “What is all this?”

“Where you can hide something. Over the years we’ve been going through it seeing what’s what. Categorizing and making note of all we found in a sort of inventory. One in particular will help us.”

Curiously he followed you to the familiar cabinet you revealed by pulling back a sheet, “A Vanishing Cabinet!”

You nodded saying, “I found a series of books on them, we can go through to bind this one and the one your dad got for us. Just a few minor adjustments to the door looks like all it’ll take structurally, but without the link there’s no telling where you’ll be sent to.”

“I’ll get studying then.” Mentally planning on taking a long time at doing this.

…

Two more days of practice days sat between your days filled with RoR practice and your place in monitoring the Study Hall. Friday however had you taking lunch with Trelawney to consult about your dreams as she felt a weight around you in your passing in trading watches of Study Halls.

…

Montrose Magpies vs Kenmare Kestrals, the titles of the days papers read.

The Magpies being the most successful in League history, having won the League Cup thirty-two times and the European Cup twice. The team colors of the Magpies are black and white, and their playing robes are black and white with one magpie on the chest, and another on the back. Cormack McLeod their manager eyed you all in your entrance to the stadium from a tall window. The usual worst team against the usual best, though for the past two seasons the Kestrals had reached and held the top spots with mostly the rookies, of which you were a part of, making up the team Cormack along with most of their fans took it as a sign that they would be coming back to the top of the top again with an easy win.

Anxiously since your first fitting you pulled on your new uniform, clad entirely in emerald green with two yellow K’s across your chests back to back, not counting your black pads and boots.

Out to the other side of Scotland you had traveled and alongside the team ignoring the pouch of cards and notes from the school, who had split into favoring sides for the two days prior, you focused on securing your braided ponytail splitting from four braids to one while Troy and Moran shared some thoughts on plays and tactics the Magpies might start off with. The roar of the crowd both for and against your team grew louder in your broom clutching stroll to the entrance box. All of a sudden the box opened and you caught sight of your father, Bill, Fleur and Barty in their place in your team family box between those there for the Veterans and Amos beaming with camera in hand. Mounting your brooms you kicked off and made your entering flight around the pitch and took your places in they dying of the leprechaun dancing above at the flocks of magpies leading the other team.

Looking them over you inhaled again and felt your hair ripple to a midnight blue when their thief locked his eyes on yours. A toss of the Quaffle and the roars of the crowd never died since your stealing spin avoiding the man trying to get it first, turning on his broom he watched you spin under your broom and back upright to pass the Quaffle to Moran avoiding the bludger you bent back to do so with it barely missing your cheek. Sharp turns and hard throws later the man double your size gawked at your hidden strength in your dainty frame in his eyes and struggled to keep up, not with your broom because his was faster, but he couldn’t seem to master where you were slyly sending the Quaffle off to.

The signature move of your first game however came in your front dive between the twins who both did barrel leaps around you to swap brooms back after a swap from earlier avoiding collisions with the other teams Chasers. Rolling to land feet first on your broom you knocked the Quaffle from the other Thief’s arm you then caught and soared, still on your feet to hurl the ball through the center hoop after faking a toss to the left hoop in a sharp turn. The cheers and walls of flashes left little else to be heard, not even the whipping of the wind as you dropped down to sit again bringing the sight of the stunned Magpies still gawking at you and the twins flanking you again in your move to take your positions again.

Five hours the match stretched on in a near unscoring bout for the Magpies landing you with a bloody cheek and badly bruised ribs matching Fred and George’s black eyes from thrown elbows and Oliver’s swollen knee from a hard collision from one of their Beaters. Cedric got through mostly intact after his miss of the Snitch, which helped their team get the score up to 600 to 180 in your favor.

The press box ran wild and after your showers you changed to jeans and a post game jersey for the interview following you strolled to still smoothing healing creams on one another in an awkward chain until you all flashed sideways smiles at the first flashes starting. Two hours of press and a meeting of the lines of guests and considered notable fans present and you were off again through your door to your team apartment where you all collapsed waiting for the delivery of your dinner as Bill and Fleur continued chatting on their love of the match and both settled on going again the next week in an excuse to keep spending their Saturdays together.

…

Wk 3 - Pride of Portree vs Kenmare Kestrals you faced off with also in Scotland.

Fans of the Pride of Portree commonly refer to the team as the "Prides", and their playing robes are purple with a gold star emblazoned on the chest. Pride of Portree have won the League Cup at least twice.

All week you had gotten a stream of letters from a group of die hard Kenmare fans now adding you and the other new players to their weekly mailing lists. All of them gaining letters in return inflating the number of letters coming in by your next game with hopes that you could have a second win to get back to the top of the league again.

500 – 240 in your favor was the verdict and along with a braced arm from a hard crash with a Beater that soon ended up on the ground after George ‘accidentally’ slammed into him in return. The resilience of your mood and giggling personality in the interview after eased any worries about your being out for the next game in two weeks time.

The night after gave you little chance to sleep between your painful sprain and the string of dreams sending you knocking on the door of three of your muggle born students families to hide them away in your island hideaways. Letters to their children were drafted and you had them sent up to their dorm rooms with a wave of your hand so they would not be worried. 

Steadily whispers spread that families were going into hiding left and right in alarming numbers to their children left with questions at school. Questions being asked of you, Snape and Minerva while Dumbledore seemed to be taking more and more time traveling for some odd reason. All while you tried to mentally map out the letter you would draft to the Pears after receiving the last of Suzsienne’s jewelry through Lucius.

**

“Harry, you got my message. Come in. How are you?” Dumbledore asked showing him into his office.

Harry answered, “I'm fine, sir.”

“Enjoying your classes? I know Professor Slughorn is most impressed with you.”

“I think he overestimates my abilities, sir.”

“Do you?”

“Definitely.”

“What about your activities outside the classroom?”

“Sir?”

“Well, I notice you spend...a great deal of time with Miss Granger. I can't help wondering if...”

“Oh, no, no. I mean, she's brilliant, and we're friends, but, no. I’m dating Ginny.”

“Forgive me. I was merely being curious. But enough chitchat. You must be wondering why I summoned you here tonight. The answer lies here. What you are looking at are memories. In this case, pertaining to one individual, Voldemort or, as he was known then, Tom Riddle. This vial contains the most particular memory...of the day I first met him. I'd like you to see it, if you would.”

.

Back to a sleek and lifeless tiled building forming the orphanage in which Riddle was raised Harry watched Dumbledore being given a tour, “I must admit there is some confusion upon receiving your letter, Mr Dumbledore. In all the years Tom's been here, he's never once had a family visitor. There have been incidents with the other children. Nasty things. Tom, you have a visitor.”

Dumbledore, “How do you do, Tom?”

Tom seated by the window asked, “Don't. You're the doctor, aren't you?”

Dumbledore, “No. I am a professor.”

“I don't believe you. She wants me looked at. They think I'm different.”

“Well, perhaps they're right.”

“I'm not mad.”

“Hogwarts is not a place for mad people. Hogwarts is a school. A school of magic. You can do things, can't you, Tom? Things other children can't.”

“I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who are mean to me. I can make them hurt if I want. Who are you?”

“Well, I'm like you, Tom. I'm different.”

“Prove it.”

His wardrobe lit on fire and Tom walked over to it, “I think there's something in your wardrobe trying to get out, Tom.” Tom removed the cigar box inside full of items he’d stolen, “Thievery is not tolerated at Hogwarts, Tom. At Hogwarts, you'll be taught not only how to use magic, but how to control it. You understand me?”

In Dumbledore’s turn to leave Tom stated, “I can speak to snakes too. They find me. Whisper things. Is that normal for someone like me?”

.

Shaking his head adjusting to coming out of the memory Harry asked, “Did you know, sir? Then?”

“Did I know I'd just met the most dangerous dark wizard of all time? No. If I had, I... Over time, while here at Hogwarts... Tom Riddle grew close to one particular teacher. Can you guess who that teacher might be?”

Harry, “You didn't bring Professor Slughorn back simply to teach Potions, did you?”

“No, I did not. You see, Professor Slughorn possesses something I desire very dearly. And he will not give it up easily.”

Harry wet his lips, “You said Professor Slughorn would try to collect me.”

“I did.”

“Do you want me to let him?”

“Yes.”

.

Blankly Harry stood at the base of the golden staircase leading to the Headmaster’s office and he huffed realizing just where he needed to take his questions. It was after dinner but he knew that a comment from lunch pretty much guaranteed you would be grading the tests you had given earlier. A glance up to the opening door and he flashed you a grin closing it behind you then stole a chance to peer around at the changes you had made to the room. “Nice. Cozier. Still cold though.”

You smirked at him adjusting the shawl draped over your bent arms and back, “I have a warm shawl.” Flipping over the final graded test you recorded the score to in your ledger you then shut. “You look troubled, something happen to your broom?”

His lips parted, “Why? Did you dream something about my broom?”

You shook your head, “Nope. Just recognize the look. What’s up?”

With a sigh he pulled a stool over and set it on the other side of your desk saying, “I just got back from a meeting with Dumbledore.”

“Ah. What mischief is he up to? He seems to be avoiding me, passed off my evals to the Bloody Baron, twice now. Who simply votes in my favor.”

Harry chuckled at your giggle to yourself as you raised your heat sustaining mug of tea to your lips for a sip. “He showed me a memory. Riddle being met by Dumbledore at the orphanage, being told he’s a Wizard.” You lowered your mug, “He’s got a whole cabinet of memories on Riddle. Said he wants me to get close to Slughorn, says he has a memory he wants.” A deep sigh left you and your hand rose to rub your forehead with a grumble from you making him ask, “What?”

Looking up at him you said, “He’s after a memory on Horcruxes.” Harry’s lips parted, “I’ve told Dumbledore Regulus and I found all the Horcruxes. He doesn’t believe me apparently.”

“If you’ve already told him-, why ask me?”

“Because he has no reason to question your loyalty.”

“Why-,”

“Because I’ve been taken to speak with Riddle several times now. Because when it comes to choices in matters of doing what is right or kind we often differ on opinions. No doubt in it now, since Azkaban he has no trust in me doing what he can predict. You did, in the Ministry, you interfered, he knew you would let him take over the duel, what he didn’t expect was for me to take his place in the duel.”

Harry, “But, Riddle’s being fought, why does it matter?”

“Because he knew Grindlewald, he knew Riddle, knew them both well spent decades befriending them and he missed or ignored their turns. I’ve struck a few chords it seems.”

Harry shook his head, “But you’re not evil! You died! Several times for me! And in the States, the Lycans-!”

“And he knows that, along with everything else, how terrifying would that be after all this I turned and he was wrong, again.” You lifted your cup and his eyes narrowed looking you over seeing how tired all this was making you.

“How much sleep are you getting?”

Your eyes looked him over in lowering your cup, “Sleep?” you shook your head, “Never heard of it.” Smirking at him again.

“I’m being serious, Jaqi, you look exhausted!”

Nodding again you replied, “Oh you haven’t seen me exhausted yet.” You glanced at the clock on your desk then said, “You should head to bed.” A slip of paper was brought out and you scribbled a note across it and passed it to him, “Congratulations, my first out of bed note for the Prefects. Get some sleep, I hear you have practice tomorrow.”

“Try to sleep,” he said getting up to leave making you smirk and prop your chin in your palm.

“Easier said than done,” you mumbled to his back and you sighed looking your desk over to put up your tests and ledger before heading to the doorway behind you collecting Opal along the way since Fawkes and Idris were out flying with the Giant Phoenix. Across your bed you slumped and felt your eyes dropping shut, though instead of terrifying dreams it was another with your dream blondes. The pair of them, curled around you in a massive bed whispering to you in a language you couldn’t place.

Pt 56

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Chaos Theory

Part Four

(One boy has been found! Now what about the others? More puzzles to solve.)

If anyone was walking through the streets of the historic section of the city at 1:40am, they would’ve been surprised to see the two men sitting on the curb, staring intently at the blue screen of a laptop. Jackie had the computer carefully balanced on his knees, JJ leaning on his shoulder as he watched. “And add to the list of things this guy knows about me,” Jackie muttered. “My freaking email! Yaaaay.”

That is a bit disturbing, JJ signed, frowning. How could he know all this?

“Look, as someone who’s hacked before, I can tell you that very little on the Internet is entirely secure.” Jackie opened his email, immediately noticing a message from an email address: 4d6164@gmail.com. “But still, this guy must have some crazy skills. I’m starting to think he supplemented any cyber stalking with regular stalking. You know, following us around. Maybe placing spy cameras in hidden locations.” He clicked on the email he’d received, opening it to see it was completely blank, except for an attached zip folder called “Set 2.”

That seems a tad excessive, doesn’t it? JJ asked, but he stopped, reconsidering. Well, actually, this entire idea is excessive. If he wanted to go after you, he didn’t need to invent this entire twisted game.

“That’s true. But some people just like to fuck with others.” Jackie downloaded the zip file, then found it in the laptop’s Downloads folder and unzipped it. “What worries me is that I’ve never even heard of this guy...”

The “Set 2″ zip folder had just one file inside: 2.png. Frowning, Jackie clicked on it. What popped up was a black-and-white image of a staff, with wings sprouting from the top, two snakes twining around its length. “Oh! This, this! That’s a...uh..” Jackie bit his nails a bit, thinking.

JJ looked at him, then finger-spelled a word. C-A-D-U-C-E-U-S.

“Yes! Caduceus!” Jackie shook his head. “Man, my brain is all over tonight. More than usual.” He took a deep breath. “You know what this is? It’s a medical symbol. Henrik has a sweater with a caduceus on it, Jack got him it for his birthday one year.” Guess they now knew who the second set of puzzles was for.

Focus, Jackie, JJ implored. But is this all there is? I don’t understand what this could be pointing to, other than...who’s next.

“Well, with your puzzle I had to play around with editing an audio file.” Jackie closed the image and opened the laptop’s photo editor. “Might as well start doing the same for this picture. I mean, obviously not audio editing, but you know.”

The very first thing Jackie did when opening up the editor was click on the brightness slider and slide it all the way to the brightest setting. And words immediately appeared in the previously black area of the caduceus’s staff. Jackie leaned closer, tilting his head to the side. “ ‘Follow the skulls’...” he read out loud. His brows furrowed. “Well that means nothing.”

JJ waved his hand in front of Jackie’s face to get his attention, then signed, Perhaps it relates to some clues in the city around us?

“Maybe. But I don’t have any idea what that could be referring to.” Jackie tapped his fingers against the laptop’s edge. After a moment, he started playing around with more sliders on the editing program. After turning up the contrast, something else appeared. “Whoa, hey, what are these?”

A string of figures were now wrapping around the edges of the picture. Small words in the top left corner said “Start here.”

It must be some kind of code, right? JJ asked. They’re numbers, but they go too high to be a simple alphabet substitution.

“Yeah, but there are letters too.” Jackie began reading the string out loud. “68 74 74 70 73 3a 2f 2f...I have no idea what this is. But I guess that’s what Google is for.” He opened up the website, plugging ‘cipher decoder’ into the search bar. An overwhelming amount of results popped up. He blinked. “I...I don’t even know where to start.”

Trial and error? JJ suggested.

Jackie’s face fell, a gray cloud falling over his expression. His eyes darted to the small clock in the corner of the laptop.

Perhaps there is one that could identify the cipher when you type it in? JJ suggested. But other than that, we don’t really have much of an option.

“...you’re right. You’re right.” Jackie took a deep breath. And another. “Okay, let’s start.”

It took five minutes to find a decoder that gave them something recognizable after plugging in the code from the picture. It turned out to be a url for a YouTube video, which Jackie immediately typed into a new tab.

“Oh! Uh, there’s earbuds.” Jackie handed one of the buds to JJ. “We can listen together. I know we could just take out the earbuds and listen with the laptop speakers, but just in case...” Just in case of what? He wasn’t sure. But JJ took the earbud anyway, awkwardly putting it in.

Jackie didn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t...this. He physically leaned backwards at the sound of the intro: “Yo, what’s up guys? I’m Chase, and welcome to Bro Average!” He had to pause it for a moment, just to bask in the confusion. “I-I thought...” he said slowly. “Was...was I wrong about who...?”

JJ looked confused as well. Perhaps it’s both of them?

“But there are four sets? I-I don’t...?” Jackie shook his head. “Nevermind, it’ll make sense later, once we actually get to them. Because we’re going to. In time.” Jackie laughed. JJ gave him a concerned look that he waved away. “I-I’m fine, let’s just...see if there are any clues here." He pressed play.

It looked like any other video by Chase. In fact, Jackie thought he’d seen it before. It followed the same format at first. The music, the shots of Chase hanging out, the attempts at trickshots that always failed at first. Chase once said he liked to include the fails so the viewers would know he’s no better at these than anyone else, and that anyone could do the tricks if they tried. But then—

What was that? JJ signed quickly.

“I don’t know.” Jackie paused the video. He used the arrow keys to go back, but when that failed to pick anything up, he resorted to using the comma and period keys on the keyboard to go frame by frame. Until he finally managed to capture the image that had popped up for a split second: A hollow red circle, divided into fourths, with a red skull in the center. There were also a few strange dots and dashes along the bottom.

Am I correct in assuming Chase didn’t originally have those in his video? JJ asked. But then, how did that get there? Is it possible to put images in a video on the web?

“No, but...” Jackie tapped the screen. “This is on a different channel.” Indeed, instead of Chase’s BroAverage channel at the bottom of the video, the channel name was a string of numbers with a few letters that looked similar to the encoded url that had been hidden in the .png of the caduceus. “That means the video could’ve been downloaded, then edited and reuploaded. There could be more of these...actually, there probably are. The image said ‘follow the skulls,’ I bet it meant ones in here.” He frowned. “What are these dashes? Morse code?”

JJ nodded in agreement.

“Well, great, guess we’re going to have to write these down and find another decoder—”

Jackie. JJ raised an eyebrow. I know Morse code.

“You do?” Jackie blinked. “I didn’t know that. Since when?”

Since... JJ paused. 1923, I believe.

“Oh. Okay. Well, that saves us some time. Here, I’ll just open up Notepad and write down the code on this image, then we can see if there are more images sneaked into the video.”

There were. Five more times, the image of the red skull appeared, each time accompanied by more Morse code. Jackie copied the code into a page on Notepad, and once he was sure there was nothing else hidden in the video, he passed the laptop to JJ. JJ glared at the code, then slowly began the process of translating. Jackie looked around the dark city while he worked, legs bouncing. The city was always empty at night, but it seemed even quieter than normal. He didn’t like it.

What if the gamemaster was somewhere in the darkness right now? He said he’d be watching. How? What if he was following them? Or were there cameras, invisible eyes, dangling in the shadows? Making sure they didn’t break the rules and get help? What time was it? How much was left? Though he didn’t want to, Jackie began wondering what would happen if he failed. He knew the basics, of course, he’d never see the others again. But what would happen to them? Would it end with something as simple as a gunshot? Or would it last longer? Maybe they wouldn’t be killed at all, maybe they’d vanish into a worse fate—

JJ tapped Jackie’s arm, and Jackie yelped. JJ sharply withdrew his hand, then asked, Are you alright?

“Y-yeah, I-I just was, um...thinking. You startled me. Are you done?”

JJ clearly didn’t think Jackie was actually alright, but he nodded. I’ve finished. I believe it’s an address.

“Here, lemme see.” Jackie scooted closer. It was indeed a simple address. “Spiralnest Street...that’s in the north part of the city. It...it’s dangerous there.”

Well, we don’t have much of a choice, do we? JJ signed, sighing.

“No. No, we don’t. We’re going to have to be quick, and hope we don’t attract any attention.” Jackie closed his eyes, preparing himself, then opened them again. “We can’t take public transportation, nothing runs this late at night. Neither of us can drive, and even if we could, we don’t have a car. How fast can you run?”

JJ bit his lip. Not as fast as I would like.

Jackie looked at the time on the laptop. He watched the numbers change from 1:56 to 1:57. His stomach twisted sharply. “Okay. Okay. We have time. We’ll be quick.” He shut the laptop, putting it back in the box. “Let’s go.”

He stood up, and JJ did as well. He grabbed his hand and the two of them started running.

And somewhere else in the city, a man sitting at a desk leaned back in his chair, staring at a screen on a bank of monitors. Three hours left. They were still ahead of schedule, but now only slightly.

He reached over and switched cameras, checking first on a room with two people behind a sheet of plexiglass, then another with a single man lying unconscious on the floor. Good. Nothing had changed.

He stood up. By his calculations, it would take them anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour and a half to reach their destination. Enough time to drive over there and set up the final puzzle of Set 2. He chuckled.

He couldn’t wait for this part. It was a classic, one of his favorites. Though he had a feeling Jackieboy and his friends wouldn’t appreciate it as much.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

Chapter 13 - Come Sunday

I was in the back of an Uber on my way to the label when it came on the radio. I wasn’t really paying attention--more just mindlessly scrolling on my phone--when I heard words that sounded eerily familiar.

Hearing my songs on the radio wasn’t new--I’d grown used to hearing phrases that once felt intimate get cycled in and out of headphones, radios and stereos alike. But my mouth went a bit dry, though, when I realized that not only was this song mine and mine alone, but it was also on Capital FM.

One Direction had made it big, clearly. Their singles were on the most popular radio stations and played in every mall across the world. But my song, with a different artist, and not written with the help of four or five other people, this felt like a different accomplishment entirely.

I didn’t want to ask the driver to turn it up, so instead, I leaned forward and closed my eyes to listen more closely.

In aIl honesty, I hadn’t paid much attention to all of the meetings I’d had with Julian in the week since I’d been back from the States. I had signed on the dotted line like I always had--I’d get X percent, the label would get a different chunk, and a large piece to the artist(s).

I’d met the two girls, Bella & Rae--as they were calling themselves, and they felt like a good fit. They could produce harmonies that sounded chilling and beautiful at the same time, which definitely sounded better than my double tracks on protools.

But I hadn’t really prepared for the song to do this well. The group was new--they’d done some small tours around the U.K., mostly some songs they’d written and some covers. They were popular on the small club scene, and it almost felt safe to give my first solo song to them.

They weren’t huge--if the song was a flop, if they were a flop, no one would have to know.

Hearing the song I’d written on my couch about Harry over the speakers in my Uber felt as if people would know. Suddenly, what was once a private moment of uncertainty and heartache was suddenly public, accessible, and on the radio.

When the Uber pulled up to the label, I was surprised to see Julian waiting outside. I reached for the backpack I was bringing my computer in and gave him a wave as I climbed out.

“Hi,” I said, offering a smile as he stepped forward on the sidewalk to greet me. People rushed around us--it was a Friday afternoon, and the building we were heading into was sure to be buzzing with weekend-ready people.

“Have you seen the charts?” He asked, turning on his heel to join me as we headed for the door.

“For the song?”

“Yeah--Maggie, it’s number four.”

“Number four?” I asked, my mouth hanging for a second before I picked up my own jaw. It’s not like that song wasn’t any good--I mean, it was a good one. For some reason, though, I hadn’t expected my work to be so well received.

Writing for a big name like One Direction--even when they were getting started--provided a bit of a safety net. We knew they had a fan base. Even if they didn’t last long or if they weren’t a mega-success, there’d be a group of people from the X-Factor crowd that would definitely bring things home.

Bella & Rae--on the other hand--had no platform. They had a following of maybe thirty thousand on social media and most of their distribution before the label was through Soundcloud.

And all of that, more or less, meant that my song was making it, on its own, without the help of a big named star.

“I think it’s gonna be number one, Mags. There’s already been booking requests for Bella & Rae. I think they’re going to get an LP deal. They can’t not.”

Julian and I made our way into the lobby, my head still kind of floating from the news and the energy around us. It was a warm day--warmer for Spring, at least, and I couldn’t help but let my mind drift.

Should I ask Julian why he played the song for Harry? Should I ask him what they said about me? Should I ask him about Harry in general?

“But anyway, I’m meeting you out here because Peter Bouchard wants to meet with you. He really likes the song.”

“Peter Bouchard?” His name was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. I didn’t meet with a lot of higher ups, maybe once in a while I’d deal with Mike--the Creative Director who seemed to have a knack for making me want to quit. That was, at least, until I got fired.

“He’s Mike’s boss.”

“Mike’s boss?”

Julian nodded, holding the elevator door open as we stepped inside. “He’s the one who gets to really make the final call about if the girls get an LP--Mike loves it, he’s totally on board.” The doors shut behind us, the elevator dinged to let us know it would fullfil our request to find the 17th floor.

“So why does he want to meet with me?” I asked, shifting my bag from one shoulder to another, suddenly nervous about the possible conversation. I couldn’t handle getting fired again. Twice in the span of twelve months? I’d be forced to move in with my parents just to deal with the emotional turmoil that would ensue.

“Dunno, Maggie, but Mike made it sound like it was good,” he could see the look on my face--the anxiety and the uncertainty that’d be sure to give me early wrinkles.

I didn’t reply. Instead, we stood in silence until the elevator dinged again, it’s doors opening to revolve a much nicer floor than the one with the writing rooms. We stepped off and I followed Julian down a carpeted hall--glass doors peered inside nice offices with dark wood desks and big apple computers.

He finally stopped in front of a door, turning the handle without warning to greet a man that I certainly recognized. He was old enough to be my father--gray hair on top of his head and a smile that seemed to make me only slightly less terrified.

“Maggie, come in, sit down,” he greeted, motioning to a chair opposite his desk. Julian landed in the one beside me, much more comfortable in Peter Bouchard’s presence than I was.

I slid into the seat, offering a small smile as I took inventory of my surroundings. A framed picture of three women--his wife and two daughters, presumably. A shelf of old vinyl lined the wall behind us--Peter was clad in a golf shirt, much less formal than I’d expect for Mike’s boss.

“We’re really glad that the song is having so much success--have you seen any of the numbers?”

I shook my head, looking over to Julian. I’d never seen any numbers for anything. I handed in my work, signed where I needed to, and got decent paychecks via direct deposit. I knew the percent of each song, each download, each album I’d be entitled to. I knew I signed away the rights to my songs when I started working with the label. They’d never really be mine again.

“Here,” Peter said, turning to his computer to open up the internet browser. He clicked open an email, typed in an address, and then shifted the monitor so Julian and I could see. “This is the live number of downloads from BPI. This is streaming numbers, so spotify, iTunes, the like,” he pointed at the screen, his number gracing over tiny zeros that lined up neatly.

“It’s number two now?” Julian asked, leaning forward to get a better look. “Jesus, Mags, even in the last half hour since I saw it it’s changed.”

I couldn’t help but smile--this felt much more personal than anything I’d written for One Direction or even for Harry. I’d written this song alone, it’d been born in my living room and it didn’t have a big name to ride on the coattails of.

Sure, I’d long been of the mindset that it was the writing skills of me and Chelsea and Kyle that really made the band what it had been. Take five good looking kids, slap them with good clothes and good hair, and sure, you’re bound to have some success. But if the music sucked, if the music was the same old simple pop that we’d poured out for the first album, they wouldn’t have lasted the way they did.

But then again, maybe there was a part of me that wondered if that was really true. Because here, in Peter Bouchard’s office, it felt incredibly reassuring to know that I could write good songs--successful songs, really--that did fine enough on their own without the name of the world’s most popular boy band.

“The reason I wanted to meet with you, Maggie, is because we’re interested in buying a back catalog, if you have one.”

If I had one? Of course I had one--of course I had a book of songs and endless iPhone notes of demos with shitty three part harmony done on Garageband on my Mac until I could get into the studio.

“Oh,” I said, letting his words take a second to settle. It was strange--I would have guessed that he’d want to buy a few more, get a little more information about the genre I typically wrote, hear more of my solo work. Instead, he seemed ready to write me a check. “Really?”

Julian let out a laugh, leaning back in his chair as if he were a proud older brother.

“Yes, really,” Peter nodded. “You did amazing things with One Direction and it was rather stupid of us to let you go in November.”

I bit at my lip, feeling a swell of emotion in my chest. He was right--and not in the sense that I was the most amazing thing they’d ever had or ever would, but he was right in the sense that I had a knack for shaping words into a story that floated above the melody.

“Will you at least consider it? Take a look at what you have--demos, finished products, really, and let me know what you think would be an appropriate fee?”

Oh, right, the money. I looked to Julian quickly. I had no idea what he meant. Me come up with the appropriate fee? Me tell them what I wanted them to pay me for my finished songs? Julian nodded in encouragement, so I spit the words out of my mouth.

“Yeah, sure, absolutely.”

Peter stood from his chair and reached his hand out to shake mine. “We’re thrilled, Maggie, really. Thank you for all of your hard work.”

**

I was sat on my couch, staring at the computer in front of me and the notepad I’d scribbled some numbers on. I had 43 songs that were whole and finished and polished enough to hand over to the label. Out of that number, 25 were actually good enough to be on someone’s album. I didn’t have the slightest clue how to come up with a price for the songs I’d given so much energy. There were the first three songs I’d written when Harry and I started spending time together, one that I wrote when the band broke up, another angry one that had been written sometime after Zayn left.

There were four or five from the summer of 2012 when I briefly dated a boy that Chelsea had introduced me to--stupid and romantic. There were plenty of sad ones--some about being lonely, about being hurt, about making mistakes.

Did I charge a price for each song? Did I add on a percentage I wanted if they got released and distributed on various platforms? I certainly didn’t have the answer, but I was hoping that Harry would. Maybe it was wishful thinking that he’d want to even discuss anything money related, but I figured he at least didn’t want me to get taken advantage of by a big name label.

I typed out a question and erased it three times before finally pressing send.

Do you have a few minutes to talk? The label offered to buy my catalog and I have no clue how to handle the pricing.

I set my phone down on the couch and heated up some food, picking it back up with a bowl of leftover pasta in my hand. Still nothing. I watched an episode of Jane The Virgin and then I finally heard my phone ring.

I pressed the green button and held it up to my ear, trying to calm the heartbeat that was slowly rising in my chest. “Hey,” I said casually, hoping he’d be less boundaried than last time.

“Hi,” his voice was low, I wondered where he was. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” I said quickly, standing from my spot on my couch to move towards the window that overlooked my street.

“So they want to buy your catalog?” He let out a little bit of a laugh, I pulled my head back in offense.

“Are you surprised by that? You sound surprised.”

“M’not surprised, Maggie,” he let out a sigh. “I’m happy for you.”

I cut to the chase, mostly out of fear that going off script would lead to an argument or more chest pain than I was already experiencing. “Well--do you have any idea how I’m supposed to come up with a figure? I mean, Pete Bouchard should know this stuff, right? Shouldn’t they give me a number?”

“You’ve got to up-sell yourself, Maggie. I heard that Paul McCartney sold a catalog once to someone for three or four million.”

“I’m not Paul McCartney,” I reminded him.

“I know--m’saying that you need to not be afraid to ask for what you think it’s worth.”

“I don’t know what it’s worth.”

He let out another sigh, and frankly, I was surprised that he was being as cordial and calm as he was. “How many songs?”

“Forty-three total, out of that, twenty something are decent.”

“M’sure they’re all decent,” he said, I could practically hear him rolling his eyes.

“How do I come up with it though? You’re missing my point altogether,” I accused.

He cleared his throat before replying. “Ten thousand each.”

“Ten thousand each?” I asked, unsure of how he’d even gotten that number.

“Yeah--I mean, if any of them are released it’ll be way more than that. You should ask for at least 10% of the final cuts. Albums, music videos, touring, et cetera.”

I let his words sink in for a second as I watched a couple walk hand in hand on the street below. Charlie, who was sat on the window sill, seemed to be peering up at the phone in my hand. Maybe I was crazy, but I swore it’s because he could recognize Harry’s voice.

“So you think I should walk in and ask Peter Bouchard for four hundred and fifty thousand dollars,” it was more of a statement and less of a question, but he answered me anyway.

“I do.”

“Why ten thousand each?”

He made an unpleasant noise and seemed to draw out my name. “Jesus, Maggie. You asked me to call and I gave you my answer.”

I pulled my head back, turned off by his sudden anger. “I just want to know where you got such a specific number from.”

“My head--I got it from my head.”

I was appreciative of the fact that Harry thought my songs were worth such good money--yet I was fearful that he’d be the only one. Peter Bouchard had no reason to pay me that much as far as I was concerned. Sure, I was in a business where people made a lot of money. In my time with the band I’d made more than the big figure already discussed, but that was over the span of five years.

“Alright, okay. I’ll do ten thousand each.”

“Tell Peter you spoke with me about it,” he said casually, as if that weren’t a big deal.

“What? No, I’m not telling him that.”

“Why not?” He sounded somewhat offended, I could picture the puppy eyes he had on as if I’d said he had a shitty taste in shoes (which he did).

“Because he doesn’t need to know that you and I,” I paused, wondering how on earth to describe what we were and how things were and what this was. “Talk,” I decided.

He let out a sigh, which was followed by an awkward pause as Charlie stretched his back and let out a loud meow.

“Is that Charlie?”

I let out a laugh, looking down at him as he cocked his head to look down at the people passing by. “Who else would it be?”

“How is he?”

I suddenly felt weird. I felt like Harry wasn’t allowed to ask how my cat was if he wouldn’t even have a conversation with me about our fight and our relationship. He didn’t get some type of double standard just because my feline companion had a strange attachment to him.

“He’s fine, but, I should go. I’ve got some stuff to do,” I lied.

“Yeah, okay, of course. Let me know, I guess, how it goes.”

“I will,” I nodded, wondering if he’d answer next time I called.

**

I met with Peter Bouchard on a Wednesday to discuss the financial compensation, which is the technical term he had used to describe it. It was rainy and cold for a Spring day in London, but Julian met me inside with a cup of tea and a smile on his face. It was all the encouragement I needed to walk into Peter’s office with the confidence to ask for enough money to pay for someone’s entire college education and first home in the state of Ohio.

Peter was friendly and excited that I was willing to make the deal, and he didn’t even flinch when I mentioned the number I had in mind. Maybe he was used to dealing with large sums of money, but he certainly played it cool when he took down more information to write up a contract.

So that night, when I was out to dinner with Kyle and Mark to celebrate, I gushed on and on about how I’d actually handled it all by myself (minus the input from Harry). I’d made a business deal, been responsible, and now was getting adequate compensation for something that I’d worked so hard on.

Bella & Rae’s song had been number one for a week straight, I’d already received a paycheck from that, so dinner, tonight, was on me.

“So what will be the next step? Can they sell your songs to anyone?” Kyle asked, picking up his wine glass to watch the legs drip down the side of the glass.

I was appreciative and grateful that kyle was happy for me--not that he wouldn’t be, but I did wonder if he’d feel strange that the label had brought me back and offered this deal. It wasn’t necessarily a stable gig, I certainly wasn’t a staff writer for them, but the money from my catalog would certainly hold me over for a while.

“Anyone signed to the label can record my songs,” I corrected. “Technically they own the rights and the royalties, but Peter said he’d work on a percentage of what I’d get from additional revenue--so tours, albums, stuff like that.”

Mark tilted his head to the side and let out a laugh. “Sweet deal, mate. Depending on how many they use, you’ll make money off of it for a long time.”

I nodded, taking a sip at my own drink. A pang of guilt hit me in the stomach--was I focusing too much on the financial aspect of this, exactly like Harry had accused?

I could understand his fear of me being with him for the wrong reasons, but that didn’t invalidate my need to be financially secure and responsible.

“You’re doing that thing,” Kyle laughed, reaching over to snap his fingers in front of my face. Mark reached for a piece of bruschetta and plopped it into his mouth. “Where you zone out and think about Harry.”

I rolled my eyes, thankful for the noise and the energy in the restaurant. We were only a few blocks from Kyle and Mark’s place--my uber ride home would be a good chance to call my mom.

“I’m not thinking about Harry,” I told them, waving a hand to dismiss his silly allegation.

As if on cue, my phone lit up on the table between us. It was face up, so there was no way to hide the name on the screen as a text message rolled in.

I looked down at it, then back up at them, both of whom were keeping their lips sealed together to avoid a smile. I reached for it before they could say anything, ignoring Kyle’s lazy attempt to small talk about the weather.

We’re having a wrap party for my album on Friday if you want to come.

I didn’t want to sound desperate or too eager, so I thumbed back a response slowly.

What time? I’m meeting with Julian that day.

It was a lie, but I doubted that Julian would out me if Harry ever mentioned it. I looked back up to my dinner dates, who were both munching on another bite of our appetizers.

“Things seem to be a little less hostile,” Kyle said with a smirk, bringing his wine glass up to his lips.

“Nothing’s happening,” I shook my head, still holding my phone in front of me. “He’s literally telling me something about his album. Relax.”

My phone buzzed again.

8pm. Hopefully I’ll see you there.

**

It wasn’t the fact that Chelsea had taken entirely too long to get ready for the party--it was more about the fact that now she was insisting on getting one more glass of champagne before we made our way over to the food.

She’d been in town for two nights so far, and she had me out and about all day doing the things she said she missed most about London (which, mostly, was just shopping at High Street shops). We’d had lunch and tea in the afternoon but that was four whole hours ago, and after trekking all over Mayfair, I was either about to throw up, or pass out. Both of which from lack of sufficient sustenance.

Pair that with the sweating that was occuring due to the proximity to Harry, and I was nothing less of a hot mess.

“There’ll be another waiter in one second,” Chelsea said quietly, completely annoyed by the way I was fanning myself.

“Just meet me over there,” I said, raising my hands in exasperation, stomping away and over towards the delicious table of finely placed miniature meatballs and fruit.

It wasn’t much of a selection, but I was starving and we weren’t likely getting a real meal any time soon--this seemed like more of a cocktail hour type of event.

I hadn’t even said hello to Harry. I saw Jeffrey first when we came in--he gave me a big hug and thanked me for coming. He greeted Chelsea and then brought me over to see Ryan and Tyler. I was grateful that things didn’t feel as weird as I’d expected, but I hadn’t yet seen everyone.

Chelsea, up until momentarily, had fulfilled her obligation of being my date. She stayed by my side and made small talk with people we didn’t know. She was the Queen of Humble Bragging about my catalog being sold to the label, which I think impressed Jeff Bhasker quite a bit.

Now, however, her heart was set on more alcohol and my stomach was set on food.

I forked four mini meatballs onto my plate and had just forked one into my mouth when I turned around and walked into Harry’s back.

“Hi!” I said, covering my mouth with my hand as I tried to swallow quickly. “Sorry--chewing.”

He let out a laugh and didn’t seem as angry as I’d expected. He was fine enough on the phone, but something told me that seeing him in person (without the barrier of technology) would be a whole different ball game.

“It’s good to see you,” he nodded, waiting for me to remove my hand from my mouth before moving in to give me an awkward side hug. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for--” I paused, unsure of how find the right words. “Inviting me?”

“Thanks for writing on the album,” he shrugged slightly, clearly running out of ways to make this as normal as possible.

The truth of the matter was that Harry and I had a lot of unfinished business. There were things that needed to be said and addressed and right now certainly wasn’t the time to do that. Chelsea sauntered up next to us, champagne flute in her hand, and held her glass up to clink against the one in Harry’s hand.

“Cheers, mate, to a great album. Haven’t heard it yet, but if Maggie wrote on it, I’m sure it’ll be fantastic.”

I rolled my eyes--but Harry found her toast amusing. He laughed and nodded in Chelsea’s direction. “She’s a great wingwoman, huh?”

“She’s something,” I tried to act as if I wasn’t completely overstimulated by the alcohol I’d drank, the noise in the restaurant, and the lack of food I’d eaten.

I didn’t have a chance, though, to plan my next move, because Peter Bouchard was suddenly in front of us and reaching an arm around Harry’s shoulders.

“You didn’t tell me just how involved you were on Harry’s album, Maggie,” Peter said, his head tilted in a way that communicated his affection towards the both of us.

I hadn’t told Peter much about Harry’s album or my involvement with it, because, frankly, I didn’t know if Harry would cut out every song I’d written on when I left Jamaica. I kind of imagined that he’d find new songs, suddenly grow to hate the ones I’d been a part of. I hadn’t yet seen the track listing, however--I did my best to keep my distance.

“She was very involved,” Harry said with a nod, his smile somewhat solemn as he looked from Peter to me. “She’s very talented. You’re lucky to work with her.”

I could feel heat rise to my cheeks, feeling extremely uncomfortable with the attention on me at someone else’s album wrap party.

“Well, Harry’s a great guy, Maggie. Really went to bat for you in terms of payment for your catalog.”

The room seemed to freeze and suddenly my feet felt glued to the floor.  “What?”

Harry’s eyes--which had been watching Peter as he spoke--were now as big as silver dollars. His lips parted as if he wanted to speak, but couldn’t find the words.

Chelsea took a swig of her champagne and looked on in pure shock.

“He wanted to make sure you got the money you deserved. And the catalog is amazing, really. We’re very excited to see who will be the right fit for each song.”

Peter, whose intentions were pure, didn’t understand that he needed to just stop talking. Harry, whose eyes were still wide and whose lips were still parted, seemed to teeter on his feet.

I looked up at him, thankful that Chelsea had stepped right in front of me to compliment Peter’s choice of suit, and turned to head for the door.

There was no use--for some reason Harry and I would never be on the same page. I was a Monday and he was a Friday. No matter how many times the sun would rise and set, we’d be on opposite ends of the week. We’d be the same number of days apart, the same number of sleeps between us.

Because if he wasn’t mad at me, I was mad at him. If he wanted to be with me, I didn’t want to be with him. And if we were finally brave enough to stop avoiding each other like the plague, something always came in between.