helloo, could i request a scenario of Lucifer comforting gn! reader who got a really low mark in an exam they put a lot of effort in? perhaps with reader saying they didnt want to disappoint him for a little bit of angst. uni's hard so, yeah

thank you so much!

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING!! I haven't written for him in so long, I love the angst theme too 🤭🤭 to be honest this is so shit(I mean it when I say that I'm so sorry-) but I'm trying to get comfortable w requests (I hardly did them before this acc 😭😭)

Your lips slightly hung open from your usually relaxed position, your eyes that are usually wider than they are as they scanned the sheet over again. You look over the red pen stains crossing off all the wrong answers, desperately looking through for the right one's..

Your huffing to yourself, trying to inhale desperately to not cry out of frustration. You know you had barley passed human exams; at the very least, you still passed. Looking at this score, you doubt you will do so. You bring the paper down for it to be out of your vision, looking around the room your were provided for your stay.

Devildom; The House Of Lamentation.

The room had comfortable, almost gothic decor. But not so your room, just other places around this manor. You have come to love the tree growing the head of your bed, the texture as the bark surface growing leafy as it sat its years away. It's branches and further, bigger leaves hang over your bed and cover you in a shadow.. like a blanket.

You, aside from the tree, love all the extra excessive pillows. They layered around your main cushion, all an array of colours that always end up on the floor after a long night of tossing and turning in your sleep. Actually, you haven't been getting rest as you usually would the last couple days, the exhaustion ran thickly through your limbs and your eyelids.

It's just-! You've never had tried so hard to pass a exam before! You can feel a ache where your eyes are, muscle of your forehead tensing as you furrow your eyebrows. You hang over yourself, staring down at your lap, your exam sheet now crumpled in your tight grip between your fingers.

You double checked every topic of the test, understanding an average amount for a human suddenly thrown into a demon's world- but your mortal mind couldn't keep up with what you had grown to know is your fiction! Demons, angels, Devildom and witch beings- you still feel like you're in a dream some day's.

You sniff, exhaling everytime you did so as you thought of your actual reason of being so upset. You're not disheartened at the fact you didn't pass with an IQ of a mortal being compared to powerful creatures of the underworld, as you've lost sight of your reality you didn't lose sight of your common sense.

No; it was more the fact you didn't want to disappoint him.

You think back to the time you decided to really try on the test, the marking point to set you up for failure. You tilt your head up to lean on your hand, closing your eyes tightly to discipline any tears ducts trying to escape through the cracks. You sputter, chest now tightening, the overwhelming feeling of just feeling bad eating at you.

"[Name].." his dark, broody voice had been heard a few feet behind you. You stand only inches before him, looking up slightly at his taller/slightly taller figure, now that he stated your name. You're standing in the very room you woke up to when you were first brought to the Devildom, persuaded to continue with a exchange program you were unaware of at first.

You grew to like it, newfound information of magic and your peers, but more so of the reason, of the man, walking up to you.

You were sent by a teacher of your demon history class, to send out some sorts of files or paperwork to be brought to the council room, as you did so you find yourself talking to the handsome demon.

He had dark black hair, grey undertones to tell it from the dark moonglow, and fresh blood red eyes, half lidded, devilish glint seeping into your stare. But, it wasn't anywhere near deceiving or dishonest. More or a suggestive or flirtatious gaze other than something malicious, but either way he was an incredibly handsome man.

All colour had been robbed of his skin, you think, the always midnight sky had its moon look down at you through the higher window and put him in clear view. You smile at him, huffing slightly as you place the heavy box down. You move your arms to remove stiffness, bashful staring up at the first born.

"Lucifer.." you reply, a cheeky grin set on your face. He keeps smiling, slightly bowing his head at your presence. He holds eye contact, his face never changing as his parted lips speak to you. "I've noticed how good your scores on certain exams have been," his smile dropped, eyes casted down and shaking his head at the floor as he continued.

"Even better than some of my brothers.." he finished, crossing his arms and bowing his head, this time looking awfully embarrassed. You don't mean to laugh, but you let a chuckle slip, giving him a shrug dispute the fluttering feeling in your lower stomach. "Eh, I try the best I can!" You halfly lied to the male in front of you, gushing silently.

You watch him falter slightly, him giving that familiar characteristic smile again before raising a hand to his chest. In topic of your exams, you think of your current lesson, and how it had been relating to research for an upcoming test as well. You physically flinch, breathlessly giggling, before smoothly gliding past him.

"I have to get back to class, it's about research for another exam.." you trail off, the fluttering shifting up into your chest. It made you want to be sick from your nerves, but your instead settle to become fidgety. You shuffle the door to open, looking into the open hallways, only listening to the last thing Lucifer said before traveling through the old fashioned parts of the school.

"I know you'll do good on that one too.."

"I totally ruined it.." you huff, rocking the balls of your feet slightly in nerves, your throat dry and patchy. You bite down on your bottom lip, expecting the rest of the silence in your room to consume you fully yet you jump at the knock of your door. The door opens, unexpectedly, and you swiftly turn to see who it was.

Once your face relaxed in confusion, you feel the tear duct move from the corner of your eye to hallway down your cheek in a fast pace. You watch Lucifer announce his sudden appearance, easily making eye contact with you, yet his calm controlled smile turned into a state of shock.

"[Name]?" He questions, straightening out his posture to stand up straighter. He walks further into the room, rounding your bed to yet closer to you. You watch like an owl watching prey, twisting your neck to stalk his direction in movement. You sniff, a horrible feeling sinking into your chest, as you swallow and wipe the tear away.

"Why are you crying?" He asks again, voice sounding firm but caring, genuinely asking what had put you in such a state of stress. Careful about your facial emotions showing, you cover the score up strictly before offering the pages to him. He takes notice, trying to grab whatever you were offering, but there was a tug as he tried to take it off you.

You're reluctant about giving it over, but seeing his piercing look, you soon release the paper into the hands of his. "I;;" you start, looking down again and patting your face dry. "I didn't want you to be disappointed in me.." you look around the floor, at the carpet to try avoid all contact with him. "I don't know what went wrong.."

You were honestly annoyed with yourself above anything. You spent countless nights, studying, making sure to get the topics and dates right before continuing on with anything else! How could you get such a low score! It was embarrassing.. you bounce your leg in thought of it, spacing off in a pool of your own thoughts, a dip in the bed besides you pulling you from my thoughts.

"Why are you crying over this?" There was a awkward, slightly comforting laugh coming from him that made silence come straight after. You lift your head up in shock at the question, or was it the laugh?, turning to look at him. "You're on the right track with all your answers.." he states, flipping through the exam papers in slight firm form.

"I think phrasing and spelling is the biggest issue.." he side eyes you with a smile, placing the test sheet besides him. "Which you can learn in no time, did you have enough rest before the exam?" He questioned, in reply your eyes grew heavy. You gave him a slow shake of the head, the burning feeling in your chest lifted by the hands of the fallen angel.

He hums, leaning over to give you a side hug. "We can have you retake the test if you feel so badly about it.." he offers, smoothing your hair over with a gentle hand in contact. "But for now, I wouldn't even worry.." he says, feeling your own arms wrap around him in a tight embrace.

"It's time for dinner, we can rest you up to get ready for studying tomorrow. Remember, studying is not the only thing that makes correct answers." He pulls away to look at you, a softer gaze staring into your (eye colour) pupils. "It's balanced timing between everything.." he looks away, stating more things.

You could only catch a few of his words; "You could've just been having a unclear day", "getting better textbooks", "more rest", "theres more to the exam than the knowledge you have", "the help of him".. his voice beating on your eardrums made you completely melt into his chest, your nervous beating heartbeat racing slower as you fully leaned into his warm figure.

Your eyes close, although you found what he was saying important, the build up of sleepless nights had fully hit you with exhaustion. You find the comfort in his priority to help you, one of the things that made kept you leaning into him. The last thing your remember him saying happens to be before you drift away to sleep, his deep calming voice striking partially into your soul.

"How could I ever be disappointed in you?"

⚠️⚠️!!!TW: Mention of attempted r*pe towards the end!!!⚠️⚠️

Why do people argue that Tim isn't a genius in canon?? Like yeah, it's a exaggerated for fanfic a lot because it's fanfic and they can rightfully do whatever they want to the character, but it doesn't mean it's not canon!

I have a lot of thoughts on it, and why

Tim is a genius, a child prodigy if you will

The average persons IQ is between 85 and 115, to have what is considered a not just high, according to google and my phy class, but a very high IQ it has to be 130 or higher. Tim Drake's IQ in canon is 142, which means he is above what is considered a very high IQ level. This is just when he's just some kid with his brain still developing and learning about the world, imagine when he gets older and smarter what it'll be like

(You can ignore this part if you want, just a side rant about IQ test. I don't really like IQ testing very much, I don't believe that they can properly measure someone's intelligence, people are way too different, it doesn't take into consideration that people's brains work in different ways, especially neurodivergent people (NOT SAYING ND PEOPLE CAN'T SCORE HIGH ON IQ TEST, THAT IS VERY MUCH NOT TRUE, WHILE I'M ND AND JUST MADE IT TO THE AVERAGE LEVEL I HAVE A LOT OF ND FRIENDS WHO SCORE VERY HIGH), and they seem to think everyone's brain and intelligence level are the same or can be represented/shown in the same ways when people are way too different and complicated for that. I bring Tim's IQ up because a lot people do like to see a measure of intelligence by a "scientifically approved" (most scientists don't believe you can measure intelligence, or can't agree on the right way to do it) way, seeing numbers settles something in them. Plus I think Tim is one of the few people that the test a least mostly works for, at least it fits how his brain works)

I think a lot of the controversy begins with the differences between Tim and Jason, their hobbies and how they perform at school.

Some people like to label Jason as the dumb poor one while holding Tim up as this all mighty genius who's never even gotten a B in class (stereotyping because of their upbringings) which isn't true at all to their character. People get (rightfully) upset about this, but in their rush to defend Jason they bring Tim down

See, Jason is far from dumb, he was actually a nerd who was the top of his class and read Shakespeare for fun (tho tried to hide that fact), don't remember if this is canon or headcanon anymore but Jason's favorite author is def Jane Austin, not at all what these people paint him be

Tim on the other had, did not do well in school, failed classes or was just barely passing them, not because it was hard or anything, he just found it boring and didn't try, believed he had better things to do than school work, like solving cases as Robin. And other than W&W his hobbies are very nerdy either, he prefered to go skate boarding or hang out with friends than sit down and read (tho in canon he does read sometimes, not Shakespeare or anything like that, usually sci-fi, comics, and works of pure fiction, but he didn't read a lot like Jason because he either didn't want too or lack of time to do so. Headcanon that the first time he curled in somewhere in the Wayne manor to read Bruce cried because when he walked in he thought he was Jason for a second, Tim thankfully didn't notice Bruce enter or leave too wrapped up in his book. Sorry off topic)

Despite that being Tim's canon, people in there rush and rage to defend Jason rip that away and make it so he has average intelligence or lower, that's he's not special in anyway

Tim was the smartest Robin (was because I think DC should let him move on from being Robin and make his OWN identity) that is a fact, that is canon, he's not the nerdiest but he is the smartest -there is a difference- of them all. Bruce himself says that Tim is smarter than him (and Alfred but everyone and their goldfish knows that).

That is not saying the other Robin's are dumb, they're not, all of them have above average intelligence and are very smart, it's just that Tim's intelligence is higher than theirs, part of life there is always some one that's better than you at something, for Tim his brain is better ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Ra's is obsessed with Tim because of his brain, because of how smart he is, and called him Detective. A lot of people downplay this (usually Tim anti's, but they're a whole other thing) and say "he just acted like that to get Tim to join him!" Well even if he only called Tim "Detective" as a way to try and flatter him into joining the league somehow (very unlikely of Ra's, flattering someone is not the route he'd go, at least I don't think so, Ra's isn't stupid he'd know that just some nice words wouldn't get Tim to join him, tis why he had the whole "I'll help you get Bruce back" thing, he knows what people want and uses it to his advantage), he still wanted him for his brain, still was obsessed with him all the same

They also downplay it by claiming he's interested in all of them, Tim's not special he was just the one there to use, Ra's wants to stop Bruce and use his kids to do so or something. Again, I don't think so. Yes, he has some level of interest in all of them, what supervillain wouldn't? They're vigilantes, they risk ruining what he's working for, and yeah it would help him if they joined him instead of fighting against him. But, with that being said, I have two main things to say about the flaws of their claims

One: Ra's has been around for a long time, and has eyes everywhere, he's known about Bruce, about Batman, and his talents since the very beginning, again he isn't stupid, and is insanely powerful (why do you think he still walks the earth free?). If he believed that Bruce was a threat to him and truly wanted to take him out Bruce would have been dead way before he even met Dick, like as soon as he became Batman, he wouldn't wait so long and go through the trouble of trying (and failing) to get his kids to join him and do the dirty work for him

Two: Ra's interest in Tim is a lot different from his interest in the rest of the superheros and vigilantes. Ra's at first intended for Damian to be his heir, to take over the league, but as soon has Dami joined the batfam he realized that Damian was not fit to do it, not smart enough, not strong enough (he's ten give him a break Ra's), if he truly still wanted Damian to be his heir he would make it happen, but he now believed Damian is not fit for the job.

That's when he begin looking for a new heir, someone who's incredibly smart, and incredibly strong (Tim wasn't trained by Lady Shiva to be called weak), and he found Tim, and decided then and there he wanted Tim he be his heir (after trying to kill him, that's not important, well Tim surviving his attempts (aka the people he sent to kill him) is part of what got him noticed by Ra's). He literally became obsessed with Tim and his brain, wanting him to be his heir, or make him a heir (tried to get his daughter to r*pe him, thank god for Cass)

That got off topic, again, but the point his, Tim is a genius! Stop dumbing him down! Even if you don't like him he's still a genius! It doesn't change anything!

Just because he doesn't act like your stereotypical genius in the media who's only personality trait is that their smart doesn't mean he stops being a genius

TATTLE GAMES🐮

⚠️May contain SPOILERS of The Promised Neverland (TPN) ⚠️

“Let’s run away together”

What is the “Identity V” mobile game?

Identity V is a survival horror multiplayer game designed for children 12 +. The story revolves around a detective who is solving a mystery behind a sinister game held within an abandoned manor. The game setup revolves around matches between 4 survivors and 1 hunter or 8 survivors and 2 hunters (depending on the mode). Basically to win, the hunter must kill 3 or 6 survivors or at least 3 or 6 survivors must escape before the game ends. The player can level up his/her characters by playing and winning matches. The rewards earned from the games can be used to upgrade the skill of the characters, receive items, obtain costumes, and many more.

Why I advice TPN fans to play this game and participate in the event?

If you are an avid TPN fan, I advice you to start playing this game before the “The Promised Neverland” crossover event takes place sometime in February or early Spring of 2021 but the exact date is yet to be announced. I just estimated those dates based on the deadline of the pre-registration. In my opinion, to fully enjoy this event, you’ve got to be familiar with the controls, mechanics, and intensity of the game before the awaited event so that it wouldn’t surprise you. 😉 Let me tell you, the game is intense especially for gamers who aren’t used to this genre. It’s an adrenaline pumping game that involves a lot of running around, hide and seek, and prompt decision making that will get new users addicted to it. All I can say is, a good battle strategy comes in handy in these games. Sounds familiar? Yeah! Just like in TPN, your practically playing tag with your enemy. Your strategy as a killer or a survivor matters a lot if you want to win and reap the rewards of your victory. For me, this game reminds me a lot of the Goldy Pond Battle Arc but unlike in the Manga, the number of players (hunters and survivors) are greater in TPN. Emma and the other survivor’s task is different compared to the game because they have to stay alive within the alloted killing time instead of just deciphering machines and activating exits to escape the game area. In Emma‘s case though, they are literally trapped and living in Goldy Pond, the bloody arena! They can’t escape! I’m excited to see how this plays out in the event because NetEase Inc. might alter the basic mechanics of the game to follow the main story of TPN so it’s something to look forward to. Another thing to look forward to are the costumes, items, and other rewards that are based on the TPN characters that you all love and cherish!!! 🥳 HOW COOL IS THAT! 🤩 Fans may get a chance to earn Grace Field costumes or maybe an Emma sleeve. 😭 I’m looking forward on seeing an Emma-looking survivor doll running away from a Leuvis-looking hunter doll or maybe a Norman-looking survivor doll rescuing an Emma-looking survivor doll. 😍 Heck, I think it’s the other way around but it’s still soooo CUTE. 🥲

How do I take part in this event?

It’s easy, just bind your game ID number in the pre-registration page. It’s totally free too!

How do I obtain a game ID number?

The game ID can be obtained if your already an Identity V player. The game ID number is shown underneath your user name in the settings menu. If your not a player, you need to download the mobile game first and start the game. Don’t worry, your not going to be thrown in the killing arena right off the bat.

What is the Manor IQ Test?

The Manor IQ Test is a teaser game for fans to enjoy while waiting for the crossover event. It’s a super hard, time pressured IQ Test that enables fans to experience the difficulty level of the test the premium cattle kids have to take every morning. I advice switching on the sound effects because it adds up to the creepy factor and the pressure of getting a perfect score. 😰

How to get a perfect score in the Manor IQ Test to avoid getting shipped out?

If your a fan of the series, you know the importance of getting a perfect score in every test. Perfect score = another day to live (in their case, it’s 3 months to live until the time when they turn 12 and their hard earn scores are deemed useless). 🤬

I feel you Ray 😣 so, I’m sharing the answer key to you guys. 🤫 Following this will ensure you to earn a “perfect scorer” title. 😬

Several Survivors stand in a line. If the Explorer is 15th in line counting from both left and right, how many Survivors are in the line? Answer: 29

Emily is older than Martha, and both of their ages contain the number "2". The sum of the two numbers in Martha's age is less than 4, Martha is two years younger than Emma, and the sum of these three ladies' ages is 74. How old are Emily, Martha, and Emma? Answer: 32, 20, and 22

What number completes the pattern? Answer: 16

There is a box in front of you that contains an abundance of perfume, syringes, and flashlights. You can only get one item from the box each time you open it. How many times do you need to open the box to guarantee two of the same item? Answer: 4

What number completes this pattern? Answer: 3

Figure 1 (front view) and Figure 2 (top-down view) are two views of a structure built with cubes of the same size. At least how many cubes are used to build this structure? Answer: 17

Mike the Acrobat has 6 juggling balls- 2 black, 2 white, 2 red. The Mind's Eye takes 4 random juggling balls out of his room each time and always puts one back before taking another. After four entries/exits, what are the chances of her getting 2 black juggling balls, 1 white juggling ball, and 1 red juggling ball? Answer: 4/27

Which figure completes the pattern? (circle, triangle, and square ver.) Answer: (the first option) square, triangle, and circle.

Fold Cowboy's lasso twice and cut it from the middle. How many sections are there? Answer: 5

Survivors A, B, and C have different professions; one is a lawyer, one is a magician, and one is a painter. The Hunters made guesses about who does what: Hell Ember: A is the painter, and B is the lawyer. Bloody Queen: A is the lawyer, and C is the painter. The Ripper: A is the magician, and B is the painter. It turns out that each of them was right about one of the survivors. Therefore, what is the correct profession for each Survivor? Answer: A. Magician, B. Lawyer, C. Painter

Which figure completes the pattern? (boxes and lines ver.) Answer: (the last option) square with a horizontal line in the middle

Each icon below represents a number. What is the sum of the three icons? Answer: 8

How many sides are there when a tetrahedron is attached to an equilateral square pyramid with the sides that share the same area? Answer: 5

Based on the information below, what is YY? Answer: 0

What figure completes the pattern? Answer: (the third option) The triangle with four triangles in the center

After getting your score, make sure to scroll down to unlock the special chapter.

Enjoy and Be creeped out!

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Because the reality is you’ve been shipped out!

Yes! That’s the hard truth the TPN characters faced. The scores didn’t matter! At the end of the day, their still meat, a merchandise that must be consumed. The demons and caretakers gave them false hope that there is a way out, a chance to have a future but holding on to that illusion and fake happiness will lead the kids to their doom. It’s such a cruel world! I hope that they will be able to capture that sad reality of deception in the upcoming event and I know they will. The other dilemma that’s been perfectly portrayed in this game is “Work together vs Betray your comrades to ensure your safety”. Have you ever wondered why it’s not required for all 4 survivors to escape the game? Well, it’s just practical and realistic that way, right? But it also mean that the three players can offer up their last teammate as sacrifice to distract the hunter while they escape. (Just like what Ray thought during the Jail break Arc, he was willing to be the bait to distract Mama while the others escape.)

I’m looking forward in seeing you in the game as my teammate or AS MY VICTIM!!! Don’t worry, I’m still learning the game so I’m usually a dumb hunter or an airhead teammate. 😓 (Sorry but I’m working on it!)

If you noticed my username “MN0tes” in the game, be kind enough and let me know maybe we can even create a group or something. 😎

Contagious adoption Part 2: Creatures

Marinette and Tim were sitting in the living room of one of Tim’s apartments. They had flown in from the Tibet village about thirteen or fourteen hours ago.

Tim had filled out all the adoption papers and any other legal papers his newly claimed daughter would need. To his surprise, Marinette had identification papers. He had thought the little deity didn’t need them. After all, Marinette had lived on the hill to grant wishes, why would she need identification papers.

Unless she didn’t live on the hill her whole life… 

Thinking back to what Marinette had said when he asked her why she stayed up on the mountain all alone. Tim had a feeling she’s been abandoned before.

Back on the mountain, Marinette had shifted from one foot to the other a few times before answering his question. She seemed to have been contemplating what to tell him. Or was it how much to tell him? 

Her answer, “Because I have nowhere else to go and no one waiting for me anywhere.” was a well-thought-out way to respond. 

If no one wants you, then no one waits for you.

If no one waits for you, then you have nowhere to go.

“... ake, Mr. Drake,” Marinette called for the umpteenth time.

“Sorry about that, guess I got lost in my thoughts,” Tim said with a sheepish smile. “Did you need something? Oh, and you can just call me Tim, or any variation of dad that you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t need anything… ” The little deity trailed off. “But, uh, does… does Papa work?”

Tim gave his daughter a soft smile.

‘His daughter. Now wasn’t that a strange thought.’ Tim couldn’t help but think to himself.

“You can call me Papa if you want.” He said with a smile, before adding, “I can speak French and a few other languages.”

Tim was unsure why he felt like mentioning that he can speak French was important. However, when Tim saw Marinette look up at him in awe, he couldn’t help but think It was the right thing to say.

“Now, what is it you wanted to do,” Tim asked, picking his daughter up so she doesn’t have to look up at him the whole conversation.

“Can we make cookies? It’s… It’s been a long time since I’ve had any…” Marinette trailed off again.

“Of course we can make cookies. What kind did you want to make?” Tim asked with a soft smile.

Life continued like normal for the young CEO, vigilante, with the addition of a small deity. However, there were a few changes to his lifestyle.

Tim was now able to cook and bake, not as good as Alfred, but he figured that Alfred won’t ban him from the kitchen.

Tim also registered Marinette Drake-Wayne as being homeschooled. Which was fine since Tim was technically qualified to homeschool his kid. However, Marinette flew through the classes like they were nothing. Her teachers wanted to have her IQ tested, but Marinette said she didn’t want to, so no one pushed it.

Tim also worked from home, only ever showing up to meetings. He also seemed to have a little helper when it came to some of the paperwork. Turns out, Marinette knows how a business runs, and how to run one. It was slightly concerning, but his daughter waved his concern off.

Tim took a break from being a vigilante. He still helped out by sending the bats reports of the rogue of the day, or sometimes a week, that they were tracking. Marinette helped out with this as well. Apparently, she’s been a vigilante before. To say that Tim was concerned was an understatement, but his concern was once again, waved off.

After a month of living with his adopted daughter, Tim had his first in-person meeting at W.E.

“Hey bean, do you want to come with me to work?” Tim asked while making breakfast.

“Am I allowed to?” Marinette shot back in response.

“I mean, B. always took his kids to work so, I’m just gonna say you’re allowed to,” Tim answered with a shrug, setting the food at the table.

Marinette shrugged back.

“Sure! I’ll go ahead and call H.R. and let them know I’ll be making my first appearance as Marinette Drake-Wayne.” Marinette informed him, before digging into her food.

Tim chuckled at that.

“You’re definitely gonna be H.R.’s favorite.” He claimed before he began eating his breakfast.

“Papa, I used to grant magic wishes on a hill with mythical creatures, that is my version of normal. I’m willing to bet that I will be H.R.’s least favorite person by the end of the year.” Marinette claimed, causing Tim to laugh.

“Bean, sweetheart, you’re about to call H.R. to let them know about a mess they will have to clean up. The rest of the Waynes, myself included, usually just let them find out through the tabloids and news stations. You’re definitely gonna be their favorite.” Tim informed his daughter.

_______________________

Tim stepped out of his car and walked through W.E. up to his office. He was aware of the attention that was on him, not bothered by it in the slightest.

He looked down at his daughter to see that she was trying to hide from sight. She was clearly not comfortable with everyone looking at her. Well, everyone looking at her and the lack of magic. He really should have remembered that Marinette has extremely bad anxiety whenever she can’t freely use magic. In his defense, it seemed that neither of them had remembered due to having barely left the apartment the whole month Marinette has been living there.

Tim looked up and around the workplace. He raised a brow at the employees that were just watching, most of them scrambled to work, or simply turned their attention away to seem busy.

When Tim and Marinette finally made it to Tim’s office, they thought they could relax, only to see the rest of the Waynes sitting inside.

Bruce looked like he was about to ask something, but stopped when he caught sight of the little girl hiding behind Tim.

Tim of course, ignored his families questioning stares in favor of calming his daughter.

Tim sat Marinette down in his office chair with a cup of coffee, before turning his attention to the others in the room.

“I wasn’t aware everyone started working at W.E.” Tim joked with a raised brow. A clear question as to why they were in his office.

“Not all of us do,” Dick answered looking towards the small child. “Did you just give the tiny person coffee?”

Tim shrugs the question off easily, “Caffeine helps calm her anxiety when she’s too overwhelmed.”

“And who exactly is she?” Damian inquired, sounding a bit more like a demand than a question.

Tim looked over to Marinette who seemed to be doing slightly better. There wasn’t much else they could do besides give her more coffee and random tasks to do. He gestured for her to come over and talk, a simple task to take her mind off the lack of magic. She slowly made her way off the office chair and towards the group of people.

“Marinette, this is my adoptive father, brothers, and sister, Bruce, Barbara, Dick, Cass, Jason, Steph, and Damian. Guys, this is Marinette Drake-Wayne, my adopted daughter.”

Marinette gave a small, shy wave and smile before hiding behind her father once again.

“You disappeared for a month, and apparently adopted a kid.” Jason states. “Damn, and here I thought it was supposed to be my job to stress B. out.” He claimed with a chuckle.

“Could one of you watch Marinette for me while B. and I are in the meeting? I had asked her this morning if she wanted to come since I couldn’t leave her at home alone, but I don’t think either of us thought It would be this bad for her anxiety.” Tim states.

“How about those of us who don’t have a meeting to attend will go back to the manor, and we can watch over Marinette,” Barbara suggests.

Tim looked to Marinette to see if she would be ok with it, only to receive a shrug from the little deity.

“Ok.” Tim agreed after some hesitation. “If Marinette starts getting too anxious then give her something with caffeine in it and have her draw, or bake something,” Tim informs them.

After Marinette and Tim say their goodbyes, Marinette follows Barbara, Dick, Cass, and Steph out to the limo.

The drive to Wayne manor was awkward, to say the least. None of the Waynes had known that Tim adopted a kid, and they weren’t sure if she knew about their nightly activities, so they stayed quiet.

Tim’s daughter didn’t seem to mind the silence. Marinette was looking out the window calmly with no signs of her previous anxiety. However, every once in a while her hand slightly opens and closes as if grabbing something.

When they arrived at the manor, Dick was immediately grabbed into a hug by his daughter. Mar’i speaks too fast and excitedly for them to understand, unknowingly grabbing the attention of most of the Waynes.

Cass however, noticed the youngest and newest Waynes flinch at Mar’i’s unexpected appearance. Cass quickly and quietly, moved away from the other Waynes, bringing Marinette with her, inside the manor.

“Would the two of you like anything to drink or snack on?” Alfred asked when they entered.

“Tea. Muffin,” Cass says pointing to herself. “Coffee. Muffin?” Cass said pointing to Marinette.

“Of course, why don’t the two of you relax in the garden,” Alfred suggests.

Cass nodded her head leading them to the garden while Alfred left to prepare their snacks and drinks. Marinette seemed to be stuck in her head and simply followed Cass silently.

Marinette and Cass spent the afternoon in the garden, the plants seemed to have a calming effect on the smaller Wayne. After Marinette being in the garden for a while and drinking her coffee, Marinette seemed to have calmed down.

However, not all of Marinette’s anxiety and nerves were calmed by the coffee and plants. Cass just wasn’t sure what else could be calming the little bluenette.

After a few more minutes had passed, some small creatures started gravitating towards Marinette.

A white rabbit, some squirrels, birds, even a butterfly landed on Marinette’s nose making the girl giggle.

Cass could only watch in awe as the small creatures came closer. None of them wanted any food, water, or shelter, they simply wanted Marinette’s attention.

Then Cass noticed that the few small injuries and bruises she had received from last night’s patrol were fading away.

No.

They were healing.

Cass took out her phone and quickly recorded her injuries healing too fast to be normal, this seemed like the kind of thing the other bats would want to know. 

Cass also took a video and a few pictures of Marinette playing with the animals. She had to admit, the pictures looked adorable, so of course, she sent some to Tim. 

Chat: Tim

Cass: one attached picture*

Tim: good call on bringing her to the garden

Cass: Alfred idea

Tim: where are the others

Cass: Mar’i frightened? Marenet?

Tim: KEEP MARINETTE AWAY FROM KORI AND MARI

Cass: why

Tim: Marinette isn’t

Tim: normal

Cass: one attached video*

Tim: yeah

Tim: her anxiety is caused by not being able to use magic freely

Tim: should have mentioned that before

Tim: sorry

Cass: I text others?

Tim: Yeah go-ahead

Tim: Lunch break is over

Tim: I'll see you guys when the meetings are over

Cass: ok

Cass shot a quick text to Dick, warning him that Tim doesn’t want Kor’i or Mar’i near Marinette till he was at the manor, before looking up from her phone to check on Marinette. She seemed to be relaxed, definitely not as anxious as before. Cass probably wouldn’t have been able to tell that Marinette has anxiety from looking at her right now.

Marinette looked up from the little creatures she seemed to have befriended, with a smile. She got up with some plants in her hand and made her way towards Cass.

Marinette placed a flower crown on Cass’s head with a giggle, before running back to the animals.

Cass couldn’t help but think that Tim had a lot of explaining to do when he gets to the manor.

‘But that’s not my problem to deal with.’ Cass thought to herself as she took a picture of the flower crown and sent it to the family chat.

DIABOLIK LOVERS Haunted Dark Bridal ー Sharon’s Route [DARK 03]

Location: Ryoutei Academy ;; Library

Sharon: ...

Subaru: ...Che.

Laito: Nfu~

Sharon: ( Uu...The atmosphere’s tense... )

( How did things turn out like this again? )

( Right. It all started before we left for school this evening... )

*FLASHBACK*

Location: Sakamaki Manor ;; Sharon’s room

Sharon: Eh? You want me to help Subaru-kun with his studies?

Reiji: Exactly. His results during our midterm exams were outright atrocious. 

If he continues to perform so poorly, it will have a negative impact on our family’s reputation.

Sharon: I get that part but...In that case, wouldn’t you be a better tutor? From what I’ve heard, your grades are amongst some of the best of the entire school.

Reiji: While I appreciate the compliment, I highly disagree with your statement. 

I am afraid my teaching methods are simply too advanced for those idiot brothers of mine. 

Reiji: However, I am certain someone with a similar IQ such as yourself would be an ideal tutor for someone of their level.

Sharon: ( Uu...He just blatantly insulted me, didn’t he? )

Reiji: Either way, you have special permission to stay behind after classes today to spend some time in the library. 

Subaru is a freshman, so I assume you should have no problem with the subject matter.

Sharon: ...

Reiji: Your answer?

Sharon: ...U-Understood.

Reiji: Very well. Now let us get going. The limousine should have already arrived.

*FLASHBACK ENDS*

Location: Ryoutei Academy ;; Library

Sharon: ( I somehow managed to convince Subaru-kun to come to the library with me after school. )

( However, as soon as we got to our seats, Laito-kun showed up. )

( It’s almost as if he knew we would be here... )

Subaru: ...Oi.

Sharon: ...!!

Y-Yes?

Subaru: You were gonna teach me or somethin’, right? Let’s just get this crap over with so I can head home. 

Laito: Eeh~? Ichigo-chan...I didn’t know you were into teacher and student roleplay. How unexpected~

Sharon: ...? 

( R-Roleplay...? What could he be talking about? )

Sharon: Ahem. Anyway, we should probably start with your weakest subject. 

Reiji-san told me you didn’t do so well on your midterms. Was there any class in particular you struggled with?

Subaru: ...!! About that...

Laito: Ah! Right! Ichigo-chan doesn’t know the story yet!

Sharon: Eh?

Laito: You see, Subaru-kun got so frustrated after he saw the questions on the examーー 

Subaru: O-Oi, Laito! Shut the fuck up!!

Laito: ーー He ended up ripping up his answer sheet...~!

The school had never seen such a thing. He even got called into the principale’s office. Nfu~

Sharon: ...

Subaru: Laito, you bastard...!

Laito: Tsk, tsk, tsk, Subaru-kun. This is the library, remember? You have to speak quietly. 

Sharon: Ahaha...Well, putting the past aside, let’s focus on finals for now! How about we start with something light like English? 

Subaru: Che...I can’t believe I’m bein’ forced to do this bullshit. 

Sharon: ...Please?

Subaru: Ahー Fine! I just gotta do it, right? Hand me the damn textbook!

Laito: Nfu~ Hang in there, Subaru-kun!

*TIMESKIP*

Sharon: ( Awesome. Subaru-kun seems to have gotten the hang of it. While he’s working on those exercises, I should get some studying of my own done. )

She opens her notebook.

*Scribble scribble*

Laito: Ah, Ichigo-chan, watch out! You’ve made a calculation mistake here.

Sharon: Oh, you’re right. Thank you, Laito-kun.

Laito: You’re welcome~

Sharon: Actually...Where are your books? Didn’t you come here to study as well?

Laito: Eeeh~? Why would I do that? School is so dull. 

Take history class for example. Why bother learning about the past? I’d much rather live in the moment and enjoy each passing day as it comes.

Sharon: ( ...Then why did he even come to the library, I wonder? )

Laito: Ah! But I suppose this could be the ideal opportunity to get started on my biology project.

Sharon: Eh? There’s a biology project?

Laito: Nfu~ My own personal project...

He suddenly moves closer.

*Rustle*

Laito: ...on the female body~ You’ll help me out, won’t you? You’d be the perfect test subject for my case study...

*Rustle rustle*

Sharon: ...!! 

L-Laito-kun, waiーー!

( H-His hand’s running down my back...! )

*THUD*

Subaru: Laito...

Sharon: S-Subaru-kun...?

( Uh-oh...I have a bad feeling about this. )

Laito: Nfu~ I’m sorry, Subaru-kun. I would let you join our private study session, but I think this course might still be a little too advanced for you~

Subaru: This whole damn time you’ve been gettin’ on my nerves...I’ve had enough! Come here, you bastard...!!

Subaru lunges at his brother but Laito skillfully dodges.

*Thud*

Laito: Whoops~ Guess it’s time for me to leave. See you later, Ichigo-chan! I’m sure we can continue our ‘studies’ some other time~

Subaru: Fuck...! You’re not getting away...!!

Sharon: Guys, shh...!! This is the school library! Calm down!

*THUD*

Sharon: Aah...!

*CRASH*

Sharon: Watch ouー Uu...Too late.

*SHATTER*

Sharon: T-The library...

( Rather than getting called into the principal’s office, this might just get him expelled... )

ーー DARK 03: END ーー 

<- [ Dark 02 ] [ Dark 04 ] ->

Project Babyhood - Chapter 1

It was a typical winter day when Frank Godfrey woke up. The sun poured lazily into the room and he stretched his body. At nineteen he was short for his age and the fact that he hadn’t started shaving didn’t help either.

Two nights ago, a barman had refused to serve him a beer and had accused him of presenting a false ID. This seemed to be happening with increasing frequency. Frank sat up and scratched his head trying to figure out what day of the week it was.

Today was Tuesday, May thirty first. His landlord had given him a month’s notice and he remembered packing his possessions into three small cardboard boxes. He stared at the calendar on the wall and thought for a moment. His parents wouldn’t have back home which left him with two choices. The first was joining the army which seemed a little extreme. He had hated doing cadets at school, but the South African National Defence Force provided food, shelter and a salary.

His other option was a little vaguer. Mr. McAllister at the employment office had seemed excited when he talked about the position available at Melrose Manor. “What exactly would I be doing ?” Frank asked the greying man who had thought for a moment before answering. “Jonathan Adams does psychological research. He is looking for several patients to undergo rigorous psychological testing. You know IQ tests, talking about your emotions, inkblots those sorts of things.”

“It sounds interesting.”

McAllister smiled and said “Yes. It is interesting. Mr. Adams guarantees an experience you won’t forget. It is a live-in position, and you seem to fulfil all the prerequisites.”

For a moment he ducked beneath his desk and extracted five finely typed pages. The first had spaced for filling in items such as his name, height, date of birth and the next included a series of questions about his medical history. “You’ll have to fill these in if you’re interested. The position is available for the first of the month. Simply fill in the blanks and sign at the bottom of each page in a black pen. In front of two witnesses, of course. Here’s a card with the address if you’re interested and an open season one-way ticket to Koppies Lagter. When you get off the bus phone the number on the card and they’ll send someone to pick you up.” “What kind of salary would I be earning ?”

“Ah yes. They pay you five thousand rand per month on a cash basis when you leave. All your basic living expenses will be covered plus full medical, life insurance and unemployment. The first month is a trial.” “I’ll have to think about it.” Frank had said and stared now at the first page of the application form. He filled in the fields as best he could. Most of it was fairly standard stuff but the name of his paediatrician seemed weird. The next page asked questions concerning childhood illnesses and other strange stuff. Frank filled blue in as his favourite colour and said the age he’d enjoyed most was five. The rest of the document was a minefield of personal questions and legal terms that were too complicated to understand. Frank had some serious doubts about this job as he waited in line at the local post office. He absentmindedly thumbed the large blue post that McAllister had stuck on the forms. There was a fat slow woman at the counter. He explained that he needed to sign the form in front of two witnesses and waited while she called the postmaster.

Within five minutes he’d sealed the application form and had re-entered his bachelor flat. He packed three suitcases and stared at the ticket which was next to his bedside table. “The bus departs every day at three-thirty pm daily.” It stated in clear English.

At ten past three Frank had bought himself a coke and nibbled tuna sandwich while waiting at the bus station. He noticed a man with a small board reading Melrose Manor walking around the terminal and nervously waved to him.

“Hi.”, he said but the man merely took any notice. offered him.

“That all seems to be in order,” he said and took out a small badge from his pocket. It had the letters “F.I.T” printed on it and he clipped this to Frank’s shirt.

“I’ll be escorting you, Frank. Now you wait here while I take care of your luggage.”

Frank nodded and watched as his suitcases were taken away. Ten minutes later the man led him to a small bus which had five passenger seats. “It will take us most of the night to reach our destination. Feel free to help yourself to refreshments and be a good boy.” The man said and got in beside the driver.

Although he thought the “be a good boy” part of the conversation to be a little demeaning Frank soon settled down and watched the passing countryside. After he’d finished his Coke, he dozed off Frank woke up a little after ten. His bladder was bursting and the two men upfront were talking quietly amongst themselves. “Hey man,” Frank said calling upfront “Can you stop. I need to take a leak

The man who had the board turned around and grinned. “Sorry. Last stop was two hours back. Besides, this road too dangerous to make an unscheduled stop.”

“Ah come on man. I really need to piss.” Frank complained but neither man in front of the small bus to any notice. In desperation, the young man squirmed a little and crossed his legs. After six minutes he stared at the empty Coke bottle lying on the seat beside him. He picked it up and undid his zip glancing nervously upfront.

Although it seemed a little strange, he quickly eased his erect penis out of his jeans and tried peeing in the bottle. A flash took him by surprise and Frank noticed that his photograph was being taken. “What the fuck ?” he asked and heard the driver laughing

“Rules say that I have to take photographs of you throughout your trip.”, the man said and took another shot. “You seem to have a nice small cock. That will go down really well with the boss.” Frank covered his cock with his free hand and said: “Fuck off.”

The man looked at him sternly and wagged his finger at the youth “Ah, ah now. Don’t use nasty words. I told you to be a good little boy.”

Severely pissed Frank did up his fly and wiped his hands on tissues from his pocket. Christ, I’m starving, he thought to himself and noticed an empty hamburger container on the refreshment cooler. Leaning over his tossed it aside and peered inside the plastic box. There was an apple, a Barone, and a dodgy looking packet of crisps along with some bottles of apple juice in there

It was melted but tasted fine and Frank got stuck into the crisps. For the rest of the night, he dozed until at last, the bus came to a stop at a tiny shop and petrol station. He jerked himself awake and stared about. “Last stop before our final destination.”, the driver announced and climbed out.

Not wanting to be comprised again Frank climbed out and headed for the men’s room. It was small and dark and there wasn’t enough toilet paper in the stall, but the teenager was relieved to be able to wash his hands and take a dump in private.

Inside the shop, he bought himself a cigarette which he enjoyed outside. Just as before the nameless man came and took his photograph. “How much longer before we arrive ?”

“I’d say about another two hundred kilometres, then another fifty to Melrose Manor.” “The bus doesn’t go direct.”

“Naw, they send someone for you in a four-by-four. Anyway, hurry up we have to get going again.”

“To bad if I wanted a weekend’s break,” Frank muttered under his breath and took his last draw on the cigarette.

After half an hour staring at the darkness, he asked the driver if he could put on the radio. “ Picks up a lot of static around here.” the driver replied, “Most folks out listen to the radio via satellite.”

“Where exactly is here ?”

“Five hundred kilometres into the middle of fucking nowhere.” the driver smiled.

You are spot on mate. Frank though and noted that they hadn’t seen another car or building for the past two hours. It was a little after five when the bus slowed down to a tiny shop that most significant feature was a public phone.

“Final stop.” the driver announced and jabbed his companion awake “Ah yes. Here is five rands for the call to Melrose Manor. Somebody is waiting to drive you the rest of the way. Will take them about an hour to get here.”

With his three cases and a sealed box beside him, Frank stared at the horizon which was just still dark He’d called the number on the card forty minutes ago and had also taken a piss in the veld.

The shop consisted of mainly hardware and Frank couldn’t why the shop was open or why the Indian woman who was sitting behind the counter smirked when she saw him. “You wait outside please.”, she said.

Sure enough, after another half an hour, a battered Jeep pulled up. A tall, stout man who looked about thirty-eight climbed out of the vehicle and removed his sunglasses. “You called ?”, he asked “Yeah.” “Good. You got some papers for me ?” the man asked and Frank shuffled his application over to him. “Put the stuff in the car and we’ll leave in a minute.” Unperturbed Frank stashed his cases and the box and got into the car. The man got back into the car and looked at him. “How old are you Frank ?”

“Just turned nineteen two months ago.”

“Hmmm. Get in the back please.” “What ?”

“I said get in the back and hurry up. Dadda ain’t got all day.” the man said. Frank got in the back of the car. Moments later he heard the car’s door locks engage and worried what this stranger meant by Dadda. He tried to roll down the window but the button was useless. All he could do was stare at his application form which was on the front seat.

The man who called himself Dadda was driving slowly over an extremely bumpy road. Up in the distance, Frank could see a small light beckoning in the dark. He sighed and sat back realizing he was trapped in the middle of the countryside.

Dadda turned off the main road and slowly inched the car down a rocky driveway. Frank noted that there were a lot of thorn trees here. At last, they came to a huge eight-foot fence. It had huge guard towers posted every kilometer along it and Frank saw that there was another higher inner fence forming a moat around the property.

Honk, honk! Frank heard the car’s hooter go and within seconds two things happened. In between the two fences, a flock of geese came running up to either side of the gate and quacked loudly. A guard dressed in camouflage uniform approached the car and peered inside

“Open the boot please,” he said and the driver popped the trunk. While the guard inspected the boot the driver opened his cubby hole and took out what looked like pieces of chopped bread.

“You can go through now.”, they were told and the driver stopped to toss the bread out to the birds who began fighting over it. Next he hit a button on a remote the inner gate opened. The teenager watched as they passed a house and then a large compound of buildings. Dadda parked the car in front of one which had a huge number one painted on it, popped the boot and grabbed the application forms from the front seat, and got out of the driver’s side of the car.

Although he tried to tap on the window but had no choice but to wait in the back of the car where he was basically trapped. He tried to push his hands against the glass barrier which separated the front of the car from the back, but it didn’t move.

“Let me out of here.”, he screamed as loudly as he could, but nobody seemed to take any notice. Dawn was breaking and the morning was cool. Eventually, after a long wait, the driver reappeared out of the building. He had pulled a white lab coat over his polo shirt and a riding crop dangled from a hook on his belt. Two orderlies dressed in white followed him and approached the car.

They smiled as Dadda clicked a remote and the car doors unlocked. Without a word they reached into the car and extracted Frank. “Hey man, I can walk by myself.”, Frank protested but they held him firmly by each arm.

Frog marching down a long passage they turned to a room on the right and followed the man, known only as Dadda, inside. The room looked like a normal office, but it had a strange chair that seemed to belong in a dentist’s office in it.

Without a word, Dadda picked up a clipboard and camera. The two orderlies left Frank standing in the middle of the room, just within their reach. “Name ?”, Dadda asked

“Frank Johan Smit.”, Frank said. “Date of birth ?”

“All this information is on the form.” “I’ll ask one more time little boy and this time I expect a proper answer. Date of birth ?”

“Twelfth of June nineteen eighty-nine.” “Now what was so difficult about that ?”

“Uhm, nothing.”

“You little boy think you are such tough mean men, don’t you ? We’ll see how tough you really are. Are you cut ?”

“Ah, I don’t understand.”

“Does your penis have a foreskin ? Were you circumcised ?”

“No.” “Good. When’s the last time you had sex ?”

“I haven’t.” “You’re a virgin then.”

“Yes.”

“OK, when’s the last time you had a wank ?”

“Yesterday ?”

“Ah ha. Did you enjoy it ? Or did you feel a little guilty about it ?”

“Fuck no. It was good.”

“Right. Now I’m going to give you a medical examination. We’ll get you undressed and go through everything.” Dadda said snapping off a few pictures of Frank. Frank reached down and begun to undo his sneakers when he heard Dadda say “STOP.”

“Huh ?”

“What are you doing ?”

“You said you wanted me to undress.” “

No. I said, ‘We’ll get you undressed.’ Orderly prepare the bench please.” Dadda said pulling Frank upward. One of the men in the room went to the wall and pressed a button on a keyboard. The chair in the room rose and flattened out like an examination table. The other man had held out a huge black garbage bag which he got from somewhere.

With almost no effort Dadda lifted Frank up on the table and let him sit upon it. “Make the bench a bit higher please.”, he said, and the entire chair rose about half a meter. Dadda placed his hands on Frank’s neck and felt for his vertebra. His hands felt strong and gently moved the boy’s neck from side to side.

By this time Frank noticed that one of the orderlies had placed a remote on the side of the chair and a microphone, that dangled from the ceiling, had descended. Dadda said nothing but raised both teenager’s short arms feeling each limb through the clothing.

Next, he moved to the top of the boy’s shirt and began unbuttoning it. After he undid the cuffs, he pulled the shirt off Frank struggling to free it from his jeans. “Patient tucks his shirts into his pants,” Dadda said into the microphone. “No visible sign of breakage in either of the arms.”

“Have you ever broken your arms or legs ?”

“No.”

“Sprained your elbow, wrist, or ankle ?”

“No.”

“Patient is wearing a light tee-shirt under his shirt like a vest. His arms seemed to have minimal hair. Lift up your arms boy.” Dadda said and pulled the green shirt free from the boy’s body. For a moment the man stared at Frank’s chest and then held out his hand. He took the stethoscope that was placed there and put it in his ears. The instrument was cold against Frank’s chest. “Breathe in.” the man said and listened for a moment. “Breathe out,” he said and listened again. “Good, this time I need you to breathe in and hold your breath for as long you can.” Once again Frank complied.

After Dadda had finished running his hands down Frank’s chest and had made him lie down so that he could knead his stomach, he asked Frank to sit up. Frank watched as he took a razor and ran it across the outside of his left arm. Next, he took a strip of paper that had some black gel on it and smoothed it against his shaved arm.

After a few minutes, Dadda removed the temporary tattoo and Frank stared at his arm. The words FETUS Number three and an image of a baby in the fetal position were marked on his arm. What the fuck does that mean ?

I wonder how far I’ll get if I run toward the door. Frank asked himself and noticed that the man’s hands were undoing his belt.

Within moments Frank found that his jeans and boxer shorts had disappeared in the black garbage bag leaving him naked except for his socks. He placed his hands over his dick and stared at the man who was busy putting on some rubber gloves. “Patient may have dwarf genes. Ask the lab to run a full DNA profile. His general build is that of a child with minimal body and pubic hair. The patient's penis is small with what looks like two normal testicles.” Dadda said and snapped the gloves at his wrists.

His hands were quick in pushing Frank onto the table and worked his way around his toes. He wiggled each toe separately and said, “Patient was never taught the correct way to cut his toes nails.” Next, he picked up the boy's right ankle and ran his hand up the leg all the way to his groin.

At this point, Frank was embarrassed to find that he had an erection and tried to cup his hands over his cock. “Looks like Dadda’s boy enjoying this.”, the man said and moved the teenager's hands from his crotch. For a moment Frank felt rather inadequate as Dadda stared down at his little penis but then stiffened up as he felt Dadda’s hand take the tip of his member and run it all to the cock’s base.

Dadda took his gloved fingers and inserted them between the foreskin and his shaft. Frank squirmed a little at this invasion of privacy, but the man hardly seemed to notice. “Ever had any trouble with your toti ?” the man asked. Toti ?

What kind of name is that for my cock ? Man, I feel as though I’m about six. Frank thought to himself and shook his head. “Ever urinated blood ?”

“No.”

“Say ‘No Dadda’ when I talk to you boy. You understand ?”

“Yes, Dadda.”

“Good. Now let’s see how long this little toti is shall we ?” Dadda said taking a measuring tape from his pocket. He held one tip at the toti’s base and ran the other along its shaft. “Erect length six centimeters.” Dadda said to the microphone, “Bring me some ice please.”, and let go of the penis. Next, he held Frank’s balls in his hand and ran his finger across the skin. “Testicles seem to be normal.”, he told the microphone and turned to the orderly who held out a small bucket of ice. He picked up the camera, took a shot of the boy’s toti and balls, and then dumped the ice over them.

“Ah ha ha fuck.” Frank said moving his hands toward his genitals. “Don’t touch that.” Dadda said “You’ll never get to touch them again and if you try - I’ll cut them off. You understand me boy ?”

“I, er, er ?” “I said that you are not to touch your toti or balls again. IF you do I’ll cut them off. If you understand me say ‘Yes Dadda’” “

Yes, D-D-Dadda” Frank said hesitantly. Any doubts Frank may have had about this job were now deeply entrenched in his mind. What the hell kind of place was this ? The guy had threatened to cut off his cock. As Frank lay there pondering this, he saw that Dadda had a pair of scissors in his hands. “What the fuck ?”

“Restrain the boy,” Dadda said and waited for the orderlies to lock both of Frank’s wrists onto the bench with straps.

The teenager squirmed, kicking up both of his legs saying “Aw, let me go.” Dadda looked on amused and said “Such spirit. I’ll soon break you of that. Grab his legs.”

Each orderly tried to grab an ankle, but the boy kicked them off. Eventually, Dadda took his riding crop and brought it down on the teenager’s stomach. “Enough of this shit. I haven’t got all day.”, and as the teenager winced in pain both orderlies strapped his ankles down to the bench.

“You’re a naughty little boy Frank. Do that again and I will punish you. Do you understand ?”

“Ah, fuck let me go.” “Sorry can’t do that. Now let’s get rid of this little pubic bush shall we.” Dadda said grabbing a bunch of Frank’s pubic hair and cut it off. “Here a snip, snip, there a snip, everywhere a snip, snip,” Dadda said smiling.

When he was convinced that all his pubic hair had been removed Frank smelt and felt a strange tingling cream being applied to his crotch, cock, and balls. Fuck, I’m going to be as smooth as a baby. What will he do next ?

Without much fuss, the two orderlies turned the boy over and secured him on the table. Frank felt them pull his ass cheeks apart and wasn’t surprised to find the same smelly cream being applied to his crack.

For a few moments, it seemed as though Dadda was finished with him but then he felt a sponge wiping away the cream and all his pubic hair from his anus. “Now for some shots,” Dadda said as he rubbed some alcohol into Frank’s ass.

Frank cringed as he felt a needle go into his ass. “You’ll be happy to know that it’s just one needle but about ten shots in total,” Dadda said resting his gloved hand on the boy’s back. Eventually, the boy felt the needle being withdrawn from his ass and grunted. He expected to feel dopy or faint but didn’t.

“Turn him over lads.”

Once again Frank felt the cream being washed from his crotch. After the hair was removed from his armpits, he saw Dadda press a button on the remote and found the bench folding itself into a chair. “Now Frankie, a dentist friend of mine is going to work on your teeth. I’ll be watching and expect you to be a good little boy and co-operate. You don’t want to make me cross do you ?” Dadda asked and stepped away from the chair.

A woman dentist soon approached the bench and began inspecting his mouth. Hours passed as drilled and clean his teeth. Frank, who had remained strapped in the chair had no choice but to keep his mouth open and was relieved when the woman finally pushed away from her instrument tray

“All done John.”

“Thank you Anne.”

The teenager felt the chair fold up into a normal sitting position and moved his jaw from side to side. From behind him, he heard Dadda approach him. A little buzzing sound was moving with him and Frank soon felt an electric razor mowing away his hair.

Dadda worked quickly and soon brushed the remains of the blonde hair off his boy. With another click of a button, the table flattened out and rose. A tray of instruments was wheeled in a Frank heard the rustling of a plastic package.

“Ouw, ouch, ahhhha, that hurts.” Frank said as he felt the catheter slide all the way up his penis into his bladder

“Awh there baby there,” Dadda said smiling pinching Frank’s cheeks. With a click of his fingers, he summoned a full-length mirror which the orderlies held out. “Take a good look at yourself, Frankie. See what a boy with balls looks like ?” he asked helping Frank stand up. “?” Frank said wondering what he meant.

“They won’t be there when you wake up. Now come along we have a nice little experiment for you.” Dadda said taking Frank by his left arm and leading him towards the door.

Shit, I feel weird. I have to be careful not to fall. Where the hell are you taking me asshole ? Frank followed tenderly too scared and weak to fight. They moved down a series of long passages until at last, they came to a huge door. He watched as Dadda tapped a code into a keypad and allowed himself to be led into an enormous room.

It seemed to be this size of a football field it struck Frank that this room had been sunk into the ground. From an upper level, he could see four transparent bean-like structures on platforms with hydraulic springs. Two of them housed boys inside who seemed to be sleeping.

He felt Dadda’s hand on his shoulder. “No prizes for guessing which one is for you Frankie. Now come on let’s get you ready.” Dadda said and picked him up, “That’s a good boy Frankie, it’s better if you don’t fight me.”.

Frank felt himself being carried down the stairs onto the lower level. As he expected a trolley-like bed was waiting next to the third structure. Dadda placed him on the ground and spread his legs apart. Next, some women slipped a fiberglass diaper between his legs and threaded the tub from his catheter through an appropriate hole.

Although the diaper was cold it seemed soft and flexible. All Frank could do was stare as the nurse worked around him fastening the diaper in place with bolts. “Ok let’s test Frank’s deedee.” Dadda said and smiled as lukewarm water flooded the diaper.

Dadda nodded and said, “And drain please.” which caused all the water to disappear from the diaper. Just after this was done Frank felt some warm air being pumped around his groin, effectively drying his cock and ass.

Without any fuss he found himself being lifted onto a trolley where his legs were squeezed together. Starting at his ankles nurses began wrapping his legs tightly together so that he could not move or even jump about

As they were doing this, he felt Dadda removing the fine layer of hair just above his ears. “Can I have a test of the left ear please ?” Dadda asked and Frank heard a loud music sound coming from an earpiece which his Dadda held in his hand.

Dadda wasted no time gluing the piece to his shaved head behind his ears. Next, he felt a tiny cold piece of plastic being glued into place where Dadda had shaved his head. “Just one more to go Frankie then Dadda’s boy is all set.” After his right earpiece was done, the man who Frank only knew as John and Dadda lifted him up and carried him to the open bean structure.

Here he put Frank in on his side, sticking his right thumb in his mouth and bending the teenager’s legs so that he was in a foetal position. At first Frank tried to stretch his body out but he found that two plastic plates at either end of the inside of the bean preventing him from moving anything but his arms. Annoyed he took his thumb out of his mouth and looked up at his Dadda. “Now you be a good boy and I’ll let you out of here in nine months' time,” Dadda said smiling and aimed a syringe at baby Frank’s arm.

As soon as the shot was applied Frank noticed that the top of the bean was lowed and locked into place effectively cocooning him within the structure. He heard a liquid being pumped into his small cocoon and held his breath. They’re going to drown me ? he thought to himself and struggled as the liquid quickly flowed over him. Eventually out of desperation he exhaled and found that he had no choice but to suck in the strange wetness that surrounded him.

He waited for a moment and then realized he could breathe normally. It was a little uncomfortable as the liquid oxygen forced the gas out of his lungs but at last, his breathing returned to normal. Frank had just gotten used to this when he felt the entire structure come to life and rose into the air.

Somewhere above him, he heard the steady throbbing of a fake heart beating and in his left ear he could barely make out the words of a radio announcer saying “Good morning folks. It’s a beautiful sun-filled Wednesday morning on the first of June and you’re listening to Radio Metro Five Hundred. The time is ten past six and up next we have I don’t feel like dancing by the Scissor Sisters to start the morning off with a bang, so don’t hit the snooze button and stretch your body out of bed . . .” .

who could ever leave me darling (but who could stay) - pt 2

Part 1          Part 2          Part 3

Ages are as follows: Marinette - 16 Damian - 18 Tim - 21 Jason - 24 Dick - 28 Bruce - 48

Marinette immediately starts sketching ideas for the outfits

The Wayne Gala would be a great place to reveal herself as MDC as well, so she had to make this perfect

Once she showed Jason her ideas and got his okay, she started right away

Hand-sewing everything was painstaking, but she was determined to make everything perfect

She was nearly finished with the outfits when it was time for her flight to Gotham

She showed up and got settled into her apartment with Jason’s help

The next few days were spent holed up inside her apartment before finally putting the finishing touches on her dress a few days before the gala

Back on Jason’s end, he dropped the metaphorical bomb that he was bringing a guest right before he headed to Mari’s apartment to get ready

He left before they could ask any questions, completely aware of the uproar and chaos he caused

Jason showed up with perfectly tousled hair, wearing an elegant black suit and a white dress shirt

Marinette wore a side braid with sparkling crystals woven throughout

Her dress was completely white; a risky move for someone as clumsy as her, but worth it nonetheless

It was off-the shoulder, the bodice covered in crystals that were scattered and dispersed across the skirt

The bottom portion of her dress was composed of a short, solid white skirt which served as an under layer for the sheer fabric she placed on top

The overlay skirt shifted as she walked and exposed her legs thanks to the slits that were in it from the sewing process

Despite all the details on her dress, it looked light and effortless; almost like an angel

Marinette had a momentary freak-out in the car—”What if they hate me! I’m going to trip, or spill something, or say something stupid and then I’ll be banned from Gotham forever and then I’m never going to see you again!!”

Jason managed to reassure her and calm her down

The first to spot them when they walked in was Dick

He raised an eyebrow at their intertwined hands--”Isn’t she a little young for you, Jason?”

To his credit, he managed to refrain from lunging at Dick and settled for rolling his eyes

“This is my sister, Marinette”

Dick drags them to where the Batfam are mingling

Robin and Black Bat are on patrol that night, but Marinette meets everyone else

Bruce totally knows she’s Ladybug

Tim recognizes her right away as Marinette-Dupain Cheng since he’s such a huge fan of Jagged Stone

Him and Dick fangirl even more when they find out she’s MDC

Stephanie and Barbara ask her who her favorite vigilante is

Her response is immediate--”Red Hood”

They ask why, and she says she’s never seen him up close but he’s done tons of good and seems like he actually, genuinely cares about people

Dick shoots a look at Jason--”sounds like someone has a little crush”

Marinette grumbles and adds that “Red Robin, Spoiler and Black Bat don’t get enough credit”

Jason and Marinette dance together, and the Batfam definitely take pics

When the night ends, they say their goodbyes

Jason reassures them that they’ll be seeing her around a lot

He drops Marinette off at her apartment, and the rest of the Batfam head home

Damian and Cassandra hear Dick gushing about Jason’s “adorable sister”

“Tt. If her relation to Todd is any indication, she’s likely as moronic as him.”

He can’t deny his curiousity and asks if anyone has done a background check on her

Strangely enough, Bruce warned them to not go looking into her background--”I’ve already checked; she’s clean. Jason won’t want you snooping around his sister’s business.”

One glance around told Damian he wasn’t the only one who found this suspicious, but orders were orders

The next few days were full of Jason leaving the manor for extended periods of time to hang out with his “sister”

True to his word, he brings her around to the manor one day

She gets Tim’s measurements for “an MDC original, free of charge”

Jason teaches her how to shoot

Alfred the cat has takes a liking to Marinette—”No fair! Alfred doesn’t like anyone!” Maybe it’s a Ladybug thing.

A storm starts, and Bruce insists that Marinette spend the night at the manor

Jason and Marinette are snuggled on the couch watching a movie when Damian walks in

It’s an awkward introduction; he gives her a nod of acknowledgement before walking away

The next morning Damian wakes up to see Marinette wearing one of Jason’s button-ups, making pancakes and animatedly talking to Tim and Dick

Jason barges into the kitchen, yawning. “What are we doing today, Cupcake?”

“Well, I was thinking of checking out Gotham Academy. I’ve heard good things about it and I’ve already applied for a scholarship!” she chirped.

There was a beat of silence—”Pixie, you know Bruce owns GA, right?” “...”

Tim frowns—”Aren’t you only 16 though?”

Jason responds for her—”She skipped two grades.” (Side note: It’s implied in canon ML that Marinette and Adrien have both skipped a grade. Also, have you seen some of the Lucky Charms she’s gotten?)

Tim is suitably impressed and asks if she’s taken an IQ test

This has only made Damian all the more suspicious of his brother’s “sister”

TAGLIST: @dood-space​ @fusser90 @laurcad123   @professionalfangirl1738

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

hi. it’s been a while. let’s get into the actual chapter then.

oooOOOooo

Marinette wasn’t used to houses as large as the Wayne Manor – that much was clear. Her eyes were wide when she first took everything in. He didn’t take her on a tour, he knew Todd and Drake were somewhere in the mansion and he didn’t want her meeting them until she was ready.

Her jaw did drop when Alfred showed her their kitchen though. Her expression almost made him regret his decision to not give her a tour. The faces she would have possibly made looking at the grand halls and rooms or would have been- not worth Todd and Drake.

Hence the almost.

Marinette seemed to adjust to her surroundings quickly enough. Perhaps the food Alfred managed to make quickly helped with that. She seemed delighted by the taste.

“My parents don’t make these often,” she mumbled, munching on her blondie. “White chocolate is usually used for decoration.”

“I’m glad the daughter of bakers can enjoy my desserts,” Alfred seemed to like her, which was good. He wouldn’t do anything to keep the other two away from her though. Alfred did little to mitigate possible damage done by siblings.

He left after that, though Marinette kept asking if he wanted to eat with them. Damian wasn’t sure why Alfred was so hell-bent on leaving them alone. Unlike Marinette, he didn’t buy that, “I already ate,” bullshit.

However his glare didn’t exactly work through walls, so he instead talked to his an- Marinette.

They talked about a lot of things. What she was planning to do with the fabrics she bought while they were out, she had designs based off Gotham’s superheroes, based off him and his family too but they aren’t as important, then how much free time she would have given where her field trip would be taking her over the course of the rest of her days here, he took a mental note of locations and times she mentioned so he could possibly spend more ti- spring her from spending time with that awful class, which led into what she liked about Gotham so far and what she wanted to see before leaving, which he also made note of. For other reasons- not those reasons though, just other reasons in general. To make sure they were safe.

She seemed happy.

It was a good look for her.

Wait, what the fu-

“Can you help me clean up?” she asked, startling Damian out of his own mental interrogation. He’ll return to it later, it seems.

“Sure,” he picked up his empty plate. Alfred happened to choose that moment to return and help clean up, so the mother fucker was clearly fucking listening in. Bitch.

They cleaned for a few wordless moments before Marinette spoke again.

“Do your brothers know we’re here?” she asked Damian while she took the glasses to the kitchen. Damian trailed after her with the plates.

“No, and we can leave before they find out if we’re quick about it,” maybe she changed her mind about meeting them. He wouldn’t blame her.

“What if I’d like to meet them?” she teased. “They sound fun!”

Fucking fuck fuck.

“Alright Angel, if you’re sure,” he pursed his lips, “but if you want to leave for any reason, just tell me.”

“Master Damian, I do believe that Miss Marinette is capable of taking care of herself,” Alfred almost seemed to be chiding him.

This just in, Alfred is fucking dead to him now.

He began putting the plates in the dishwasher, because unlike fucking Todd, he doesn’t just drop them in the fucking sink and walk away like a heathen.

“What he said, Damian,” Marinette giggled. “I’ll be fine. They can’t be worse than the Riddler or Hawkmoth, and I survived those two.”

Is that how she approaches every situation? Well, it can’t be worse than the fucking Butterfly Terrorist in Paris or the Green Guy with Deadly Riddles! He realized he was gripping the plate in his hands too hard and forced himself to relax.

Then he saw who was behind hi- Marinette.

“Todd,” he didn’t growl, which is a point to him. Todd fucking smirked too, and Damian didn’t murder him. Another point.

“Demon Spawn! I thought you went somewhere else!” He glanced down at Marinette. “Timmy! The Riddler girl is here!”

Of fucking course Drake wanted to talk to Marinette. Of fucking course.

Drake ran in like a fucking lunatic. He is a fucking lunatic but that doesn’t mean he has to run like one. He can run like a normal person just fucking fine. Damian heard him break something on his way to the kitchen, adding to the needlessness of his theatrics. He fought back a sigh and put the last plate away.

“Holy sh-

“Language,” Alfred tutted. Like he fucking cared about fucking language after the Swear Jar Incident.

“You’re actually here! I didn’t think Damian would let you near us!” Damian almost grabbed the dirty plate out of the dishwasher and smashed it against Drake’s head. “I’m Tim Drake-Wayne!”

“Jason Todd-Wayne,” Damian’s least favorite brother said.

No, that wasn’t fair to Drake. They were both his least favorite family member.

Marinette seemed to hesitate for a moment. Her eyes widened briefly, like she had come to a realization. Damian mentally screamed when he found the expression cute. She isn’t cute she’s just his friend who is attractive but he isn’t attracted to her he can just acknowledge the fucking fact-

Then, she smiled. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng! A pleasure to meet you!”

Drake practically fell over himself trying to get the words out. “So you solved The Riddler’s riddle, right?” Tim asked. “Like, knew what the answer was?”

Marinette nodded. “He probably googled it. A toddler could do better.”

Damian frowned. Did… did she not consider the Riddler a serious villain? Did she not realize that his riddles were meant to be difficult…

Did she not realize how impressive it was that she solved it, especially since it was a play on a language that isn’t her first?

Drake lit up at her nonchalance, likely excited that she considered an intelligent adversary easy to defeat. Fuck that shit.

“Drake, don’t harass her with your questions!” he snapped. Because what the fuck. She was his friend first anyway she doesn’t have to be interrogated.

“I’m not!”

“You are!”

“She isn’t uncomfortable-”

“You’re asking about her first and only encounter with a villain of course she is-”

“Are you even looking at her she isn’t-”

“So fucking what if she doesn’t look uncomfortable? You can’t demand the details of something like that for no good god damn reason-”

“You know I have a good reason, you motherfucking asshole-”

“Sure!” he heard Marinette practically shout and-

Wait what?

“What?” Damian asked, interrupting Tim during their argument.

Marinette turned toward him while Todd slung an arm over her shoulder like they were best fucking friends or something. No they fuck they’re not. “Freckles here just agreed to spar with me!”

What.

She turned her head to look at him. “Freckles?”

What.

“It’s your nickname. ’Cause you’ve got Freckles.”

What the fuck is this fuckery?

Damian heard Drake stifle a laugh behind him. The bitch. Damian opened his mouth to argue or say something or stop this because what the fuck Todd but Drake beat him to it.

“Do you seriously want to duel her because she beat The Riddler?” Drake scoffed.

Damian wasn’t sure what he expected but that was disappointing regardless. What the fuck, Drake? Argue better than that!

“You wanted to question her because she solved his riddles!” Todd continued to try and defend the indefensible. “Plus-”

“Todd,” Damian hissed, because they needed to have a talk about not hurting hi- Marinette, it seemed.

“Yeah demon spawn?” Todd sounded fucking bored of all things.

Damian opened his mouth to start his argument when he was interrupted again – was it shit on Damian day today? – wait Marinette is talking-

“-I agreed to it,” she told him, her own beautiful eyes meeting his. “Plus, akuma are typically much larger than me anyway. It’s not like I’m going to break from someone as small as Jason!”

Damian blinked. His brothers laughed but he blinked and tensed a bit. What the hell does she mean akuma are typically bigger than- what are they? He assumed it was some type of gang and while it isn’t that hard to be bigger than his an- Marinette are they all as large as Jason? Larger? How many akuma are there? How much bigger are they? He forced his body to relax. He needed to focus on the now, research this akuma gang headed by a butterfly loving lunatic later.

“We have a gym down the hall,” Drake helpfully said. Todd was still giggling because he thought it was so fucking funny haha bitch. Damian continued to glare. It wouldn’t technically be murder if Todd were killed by a glare, right? Damian didn’t even have powers, so clearly it couldn’t have been him…

“Do you know your IQ?” Tim asked. Like a fucking creep with no concept of personal space or privacy Drake what the ever-loving fuck.

His a- Marinette was rightfully confused by the invasive question but instead of telling Drake to fuck off she was nicer and answered his question. “No, I don’t think I ever took the test.”

Damian was walking ahead of them with Todd to make sure he didn’t pull any funny business but seriously, bitch, mind your own business- “Do you have any measurement of your problem-solving skills?”

Damian didn’t murder anymore. Especially his brothers. Especially especially in front of his- an ang- Marinette. He was tense though, Todd gave him a *look* and he just glared more.

“My parents don’t like playing strategy games with me,” she seemed to be reminiscing something.

“You always win?” Drake asked. She nodded.

“Hey Timmy, stop holding Freckles up!” Todd called from where they were at the gym door.

“Alright, alright,” Drake grumbled. The other two sped up and soon entered the gym.

It was standard, smaller than the one he grew up using. The sparring mat was in the center, which was what Damian assumed Todd planned to use for this unnecessary battle.

Todd took off his jacket and took a position on the mat. Hi- Marinette followed suit, setting her purse near his jacket. When she took a position, it was off slightly.

Todd lunged, Marinette ducked his punch and maneuvered behind him, driving an elbow into his back. He dodged, barely, and went for a swipe under her feet.

She tripped, but he saw her maneuvering her fall so she wasn’t hurt.

Seems she wanted to end this early too.

“Well, that was fu-”

“You can do better than that!” Drake cried. “There’s no way that’s it.”

“Drake,” Damian grumbled. He should just let her lose if she wants! He knows Jason isn’t really trying either, none of them would really try on a civilian. He was still wor- god damn it.

Todd seemed to pause as if his brain needed to process the information like a slow computer. “Wait, you weren’t really trying?”

“I-” she hesitated, “What makes you think that wasn’t my best?”

“The Riddler is bad at combat,” Drake leaned against the wall acting like a fucking know it all bitch and seriously? “But he’s better than that. Why are you holding back?”

“She can hold back if she wants to,” Damian would really appreciate someone not being an idiot here.

“Jason wanted to see how good she is,” Drake retorted. “If she’s holding back, it’s like purposefully failing a test or losing a game!”

“No, it’s not!” Marinette responded hotly, almost… competitive?

“Why are you not trying to win, Freckles?” Todd asked. “This is sort of a competition.”

Damian saw something shift in his Angel’s demeanor… Seems she’s competitive too. He filed that information away.

She got up and assumed a better position. “Fine then,” she huffed.

Todd got into position and this time, she attacked first.

She went for a fake punch to the throat. He grabbed her fist to block and she grabbed onto his other hand to swing onto his shoulders. He attempted to pull her down with the hand she grabbed but she managed to remove it from his grip and grab it with her own.

“What the hell!”

Todd’s wrists were held by her. He didn’t shake her grip off him, though he could if he were trying. He was attempted to buck her off his shoulders, but Marinette’s legs wrapped around him too tight to be shaken off. As he struggled to get her to let go, she began to swing around to make him lose balance.

He didn’t have his arms to stabilize him or catch his fall. His bucking made his lack of balance worse, and with several curses, he began falling backward. Marinette let go of his trapped hands mid-fall flipped off him, somehow dodging his head.

When Todd landed face-first on the mat looking incredibly pathetic even if he could still win, she was there quick as lightning, pinning his arms behind him and his legs with her weight.

“I win,” she grinned.

Todd responded with more muffled curses.

She got off of him and helped him up. After he was standing, she glanced at him and Drake.

Drake’s mouth was open, being overdramatic again for no fucking reason, really it was cool to see a civilian do that though but that doesn’t mean Drake gets to be impressed!

“Holy hell what are they teaching you in Paris?” Todd grumbled, pupping his back.

Marinette bit her lip. “I’m sorry-”

“Why?” Todd asked. “I asked for you to fight me. This was fun even if I got a mouthful of matt.”

“Do you work out?” Drake asked, again with the questions!

“Not regularly,” she responded. “But my parents own a bakery and the flour bags are heavy. Plus, sometimes someone orders a huge cake, and those can get heavy too!”

Drake nodded, likely filing that information away to write some fucking biography on her because she’s oh so impressive for a civilian- she *is* but Drake can fucking leave her alone!

Todd spoke up because since he died he had a death wish. “Hey Demon Spawn, are you rebooting or something?”

Damian scrambled for an excuse, as I’m mentally murdering you and Drake is typically an unacceptable answer. No it wasn’t but he wouldn’t say that around his Ang- Marinette. “Apologies. I’m a bit surprised, as I didn’t see Marinette actually fight The Riddler, I didn’t know what she was capable of.”

“What?” Marinette seemed to snap out of a train of thought suddenly, “I’m sorry I zoned out.”

“You-“ are really impressive.

“He said you did a good job, Freckles,” Todd fucking interrupted him how dare he. But also thank you- god, this was all because of that fucking worry wasn’t it? Fucking god damn worry was poisoning his every thought and action.

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled.

“Okay since that’s over now,” Drake rubbed his hands together. “Marinette-”

“Please tell me none of you died,” Father walked in, surveying the room. “Huh. I’m surprised there isn’t any blood. Alfred told me you were sparring.”

“Jason decided to spar Damian’s girl-”

“Marinette,” Damian interrupted, she’s not his *girl* what the fuck, she’s his friend- “My friend Marinette.”

Bruce Wayne sees her for the first time and Marinette has to shake off the feeling of being analyzed.

“She’s the girl that punched Riddler in the throat,” Drake says unhelpfully.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” she goes to shake his hand. He takes it and shakes. Good, his father isn’t dead to him then. Alfred still has to make up for some shit.

“She won against Todd by the way,” Damian decided to add. Father stiffened a bit. They both knew Todd was going easy on her, but it was still interesting.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Father says. “Alfred wanted to invite you to stay for dinner.”

Since when was that a fucking thing? And *why*? What was Alfred’s fucking angle? Damian’s eyes narrowed. If he thought this would make it up to hi- shit she’s talking.

“-ze, but I must be returned to my class by five-thirty pm.”

“Uh, it’s four forty now,” Todd points out, “How long is the drive, Freckles?”

Marinette pales. “I should probably head back-”

“I’ll go with you,” Damian didn’t want to be around his brothers, he knew they’d find something to tease him about regarding Marinette. “Alfred can drive us if that is alright with you.” He was still the most trusted driver even if he’s currently dead to him right now.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” she smiled and Damian felt… oddly warm. Was he sick?. She turned to his brothers and father, “It was wonderful to meet you guys!”

“I’ll win the sparring match next time, Freckles,” Todd told her. Was he going to hold back less or something? He better fucking not.

Drake said something about another invasive idea for a test that Damian would deal with later, when he could use his sword. “You better come back,” he said out loud. Why the hell would he demand things of her?

“I’d love to return if I’m invited.”

“When,” he told her.

She managed to smile again. “When.”

At this rate, there wouldn’t be a fucking when if this shit happens every time.

They left the room and Alfred led them to the car. He allowed the silence as she didn’t appear to want to talk. Maybe she wanted to relax? He wasn’t sure, so he didn’t start a conversation. Was he overthinking things? Weedkiller, he’d get the fucking weedkiller soon...

“The brothers I met were nice,” she began to talk suddenly, she must want a conversation. “They seem annoying-”

“You can say that again,” he grumbled automatically.

“-but they seem like decent brothers,” she finished. “They’re fun people too.”

Damian shrugged. “Sometimes.” Like when he’s using them for target practice.

There was more silence. But now he’s thinking, well wondering? He’s thinking and wondering and-

“Do you have secrets?” he asked suddenly and Fucking fuck fuck he shouldn’t ask that what the fuck he was mad at Drake for the invasive questions real fucking hypocritical of him huh- “You don’t have to tell me, obviously, but you’re aware that there are things I’m not comfortable telling you yet and-”

“I have secrets,” she interrupted his fucking worried rambling he would kill the worry he swears. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

Oh. That… To earn enough of her trust like that… Damian smiled slightly, even if it felt foreign on his face. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wish to, Angel. It’s only fair that I give you what you’re giving me.”

Marinette grinned wide. “Thank you.”

Maybe he could get a bit more used to smiling, seeing a smile like that…

“We have arrived,” Alfred said from the front seat. Damian was shocked, glanced out the window and- oh, they have arrived… he was disappointed, but only in his inability to realize himself. Nothing else. Nothing. At all. Nothing.

He got out with her, and a moment of clumsiness seemed to overtake her. She tripped over Damian’s feet.

“Oh my- I’m so sorry,” her accent was heavier, she must be struggling to speak a second language while… embarrassed?

“It’s alright Angel,” he should try to soothe the embarrassment, right? Is that how that worked? She seemed tense as he helped her up, and she turned to face him and- is she alright?

“Is something wrong?” he was worried.

“I’m okay,” she said, brushing off her knees. “I used to fall like that all the time, but I’m okay, I promise.”

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I won’t.”

After some hesitation, she left. She walked back into the building, safe and unharmed. He got back into the car and Alfred drove them back to the manor.

oooOOOooo

It was easy to slip into the building unnoticed. Well, not unnoticed, the jester did kill the man behind the desk and leave him there. But he died with a smile on his face. They’d all die with a smile on their faces. And this would be fun for the jester too. the jester would have a lot of fun, so much fun, so much fun, a lot of so much fun you see…

The jester waited behind the desk with the lights off. Another girl was there. Not the one the jester wanted, no no not yet. But perhaps she’d join her little friend. The jester would get two. Have even more fun.

The jester grinned, hidden by the dark. But soon the jester wouldn’t be. And it would be so, so much fun.

bentony for the otp questions cuz ik u wanna talk about them and i wanna hear it hehe

you’re the only person i love on this godforsaken earth

coffee shop au: who is the barista, and who frequents the coffee shop?

ben parker has been working at the same coffee shop since he started college, because his manager lets him hang his admittedly bad paintings on the walls with “reasonable prices,” whatever that means, he’s a college student debra please i have loans to pay off. but she’s honestly a great manager, and he has managed to sell some paintings, so really, who’s winning here? 

apparently, who’s winning is the extremely cute guy who just walked in the door and is about an entire foot shorter than ben but looks better in a suit than he ever could, and oh fuck he’s coming over debra please save me i don’t know how to talk to cute boys-

“hi,” cute guy says. 

“uh,” ben says. 

(for some reason, cute guy comes back. again. and again. and again. debra is exhausted. ben’s just happy cute guy likes his coffee, because he’s honestly really bad at making lattes.) 

highschool/college au: who is the straight-a student, and who’s the backrow slacker?

tony stark transfers to ben’s high school senior year. tony stark. richie’s insanely excited about it, and ben doesn’t know how to tell his brother to leave him alone, because clearly he doesn’t want anyone to talk to him. ben also doesn’t know why stark’s apparently flunking every class he’s in, when he has an iq of 280, according to a science journal richie’s subscribed to. ben doesn’t care about any of that when he’s told he has to tutor stark, who shows up to their first session with red-rimmed eyes and wearing a sweater that doesn’t seem like it fits him very well, and asks ben for a hug in a voice that’s quieter than the sound the same sweater makes when it brushes ben’s arm, because clearly ben says yes. 

stark—tony—doesn’t need tutoring. apparently, what he does need, is daily hugs. 

ben’s willing to provide those, even if they make something warm appear in his chest, even if tony says they’re just friends. 

even when tony finally kisses him, and the hugs go hand-in-hand with more of those kisses that just make the warmth in his chest grow. 

rivals to lovers au: who takes their rivalry seriously, and who is half in it just to push the other’s buttons?

ben doesn’t know why tony stark sits behind him during their psych lecture every single day and whispers things to him every single day like they’re friends when they clearly aren’t and he doesn’t even know why stark is taking psych when he’s an engineering major but he really doesn’t like the way the t.a. looks at stark and oh fuck maybe ben isn’t mad at stark at all and maybe he really likes the way stark always talks to him during the lecture because his comments about the professor’s mustache are always way more entertaining than anything he’s learned all year and maybe the way stark’s eyes sparkle when he grins make him look really, really pretty- 

enemies to lovers au: which one switches sides?

listen i have one kink and it’s mob boss ben parker so rival mob bosses antonio carbonell and benjamin parker realizing that they’d be so much more powerful if they just joined forces together and working it out like a business transaction. if there’s occasional fucking on the side, that’s fine, it’s all fine, it’s just a way to destress. it doesn’t matter as long as tony doesn’t catch feelings. 

(he catches feelings. and how can he not, with ben giving him that look and calling him angel in that tone of voice that should be illegal and-)

soulmate au: who is eager to meet their soulmate? who absolutely does not want to meet their soulmate?

tony knows that once he meets his soulmate—benjamin, his arm tells him—his life is supposed to get better. that’s what jarvis said happened when he found ana. 

but howard and maria are soulmates too, and he hears his mamma crying every night in the separate bedroom that she tries to hide from tony. 

so, tony’s not too hopeful that life will get better for him. the stark’s don’t seem to do all that well with the whole soulmate thing.  

single parent au: which one is the single parent? (alt. if they’re both single parents: which one is open to starting a new relationship from the start? which one is never planning on finding love again… until they meet the other and are instantly smitten?)

tony finds out about harley when the kid’s delivered by a social worker declaring tony the next of kin after his mother’s death and informing him that they did a dna test before swiftly removing herself from the premises. so. tony’s got a one-year-old to take care of and no idea what he’s doing. 

luckily, his very hot neighbor seems to have a way with babies. 

(ben really, really doesn’t, he’s just been attending every other maternity class with mary because she’s a terrifying pregnant woman and richie is a weak man who needs support from his brother, apparently.) 

alternatively:

ben doesn’t know how to raise a kid. richard and mary are gone, and peter isn’t speaking anymore, not to anyone, and ben doesn’t know what he’s doing. he knows peter cries himself to sleep every night, knows because peter doesn’t sleep unless he’s in bed with ben, and he knows he’s failing. failing richie, mary, peter. 

and then peter starts talking again. he goes back to school, and he starts talking again. it’s only a few words a day, but more and more the longer he’s in school, and ben doesn’t know what’s happening, because he isn’t doing anything. 

then he meets mr. tony, peter’s kindergarten teacher, during parent week, and everything clicks. 

ben doesn’t know how to thank him enough. tony tells him he can thank him by focusing on himself, and healing, and grieving, and if he needs help, then to give him a call. 

(ben calls him a month later, on the three-month anniversary of the crash, and tony...stays. all night. gets peter to bed. holds ben’s hand. doesn’t let go.)

doctor au: which one is the longsuffering doctor? which one is the patient?

listen. ben is not a doctor. he doesn’t even work at the hospital. he was just bringing may her lunch, because she left it at the apartment like she always does, but for some reason, there’s a really cute guy with. what looks like a burn. on his arm. waving him over, and calling him “doc” and winking at him, and really, how hard is it to pretend to be a doctor? 

(tony figures him out within seconds. but shit, this fake doctor is really, really handsome, and he blushes when tony tells him that, so really, how important is the burn on tony’s arm?)

bodyguard au: who is the bodyguard? who are they protecting? which one is secretly pining for the other?

ben didn’t mean to become a bodyguard, he went to school for art for god’s sake, but his plan to work at the firehouse didn’t work out and he still wanted to help people so...here he is. in the manor of the wealthiest people in manhattan, shaking howard stark’s hand, because apparently he’s now the bodyguard of tony stark.

(tony didn’t think dear old dad was serious when he threatened a bodyguard, but now there’s a very attractive man following him around constantly. tony thinks it’ll work out.)

pirate au: who is the pirate? who is the member of the royal family who did not sign up for this? 

captain stark has been the kingdom’s “greatest” pirate for five years. prince ben doesn’t know what’s so great about him, until he gets kidnapped from a royal banquet due to his own stupidity. (captain stark has really pretty eyes and he just wanted to know where he was going, so is it really his fault?) 

childhood best friends au: which one was super obviously in love with the other the whole time? who was oblivious until they were older?

ben’s family has been working for the royal family since before he was born, so it’s only natural that he grows up with prince tony, shares a bedroom with prince tony when one of them has a nightmare, falls in love with prince tony...gets ripped away from prince tony to serve in the royal military. 

apparently, none of that is natural, according to his fellow soldiers. 

ben doesn’t care, he just wants tony back in his arms. 

send me a ship and i’ll make some aus!

as a child, pokéverse lotor (like all human lotors) loved causing mischief, putting every single other troublemaking little kid on the planet to shame. bored to tears by high school even at the tender age of five, he put every single one of his prodigious IQ points to use on making trouble for his family and for everyone else around him. taking care of him was like taking care of a cat crossed with a raccoon on crack; such was his propensity for creating chaos. literally his entire childhood ages 2 - 10 was just a neverending series of shit he’d pulled, such as the things listed below.

when lotor was seven and in college for the first time, he wasn’t handling his first semester particularly well. he expected the work to be easy, and eventually it would be, but initially it hit him like a ton of bricks and he couldn’t cope with it as well as he thought he could. so to let off some steam, he played a little game: he would see if he could convince his family that they were being haunted by a ghost-type pokémon.

he did so by destroying things with his zoroark’s extrasensory, sometimes in the dead of night, sometimes during the day when no one was around, all the items getting increasingly expensive with each time this happened. cabinets of fine china, wardrobes of expensive clothing, fine furniture—all of it scratched up, smashed, ruined. but one thing aroused his family’s suspicion. and it was that not even keeping their dark-types out of their poké balls on a regular basis seemed to do anything to stop this poltergeist, which was uncharacteristically unafraid of anything the sinclines had to throw at it—and that’s what tipped honerva off to the fact that one of the children in the family was probably pulling this.

she had her confirmation that it was not in fact a ghost when lotor struck in the library. the sinclines take academic studies very seriously, so of the four stories in their manor one entire story—the top floor—is dedicated to just being a library. through zoroark’s extrasensory, lotor toppled every single one of the bookshelves like dominoes, sending all the books scattering on the floor and waking up the entire sincline family with the din at 2 in the morning. however, the extensive rare book section of the library was untouched by the damage. lotor was as much a scholar as the rest of his family, and he was not going to destroy priceless and sometimes sacred historical tomes—such as some of the oldest printed copies of the torah, or the original manuscripts of bach and beethoven—for his own amusement. this was a dead giveaway to honerva that a human was causing this trouble because a poltergeist would have probably caused the most damage to the most precious part of the collection instead of deliberately avoiding it altogether…and so her suspicion immediately turned to her chaotic bastard son. he denied, denied, denied, but she saw through him and grounded him for a whole entire year. he was allowed to use zoroark’s extrasensory to lift the bookcases back into place. however, he had to file each and every one of the thousands of fallen books into the proper place by hand.

when lotor was eight and in college, he was going to have an indoor pool party on his birthday, february 14. however, he got in trouble for swearing at one of his professors for the 987239847th time, so honerva, famous among unovan nobility for being a strict ass mom, canceled the whole damn party. lotor, as anyone might expect, was extremely upset at this, but nobody could have predicted what was coming next. that night, he stayed up until his family was asleep, took off his pajamas and put on his swim trunks…and straight up FLOODED THE HOUSE.

the sincline manor has four stories. he went to three of them, flung open every single bathroom door, plugged every drain, turned on every single sink tap and bathtub tap and showerhead, and let the water pour. honerva found out when she woke in the early hours of the morning to use the restroom, and stepped into the water that had begun to flood her bedroom. she waded through the pouring waves, then flung open the door and saw lotor and his zoroark swimming in the hallway. the two of them had a brief row before she realized her first priority should be to stop the flooding, so she went through the house turning off all the taps—only to discover that the bottom floor had already been completely flooded and the second floor was slowly filling up with water as well. angrily, she turned on lotor and asked him if he realized this would happen, if he knew that eventually the taps wouldn’t be able to be turned off anymore. lotor just sort of looked down and to the side and mumbled, “i…didn’t think that far ahead.”

the sincline family had to evacuate through the windows of their bedrooms while their water-type pokémon swam through the inundated corridors of the first and second floors to turn off all the taps, open the door and let out all the water. the damage to the nearly four hundred year old manor was so extensive that it got on the news; lotor was grounded for the rest of the year, but the sinclines told reporters that it had simply been a freak accident with the plumbing. the truth didn’t come out until many years later when lotor was champion of preuzien, when he confessed to having flooded the house in a public apology and restoration of financial damages. all he can say is, he really wanted that pool party.

but none of that will ever compare to the crowning episode of lotor’s fuckery. when lotor was five, he literally pulled so much fuckshit that he shut down his school for a year. as stated before, school bored him to tears and so he went to extreme lengths to make sure it couldn’t take place. he put rotten cat food in the air vents. he had his pokémon friends cut the legs off all the chairs and desks. he used goodra slime combined with other chemicals to create an industrial strength sticky substance and glued all the doors shut……except for the doors to the school, so that people would go in and be confused by how none of the classrooms would open, and the door to the principal’s office, so he would see the big steaming pile of iridescent garchomp shit on his desk. when the students literally had to attend classes at another location because of that, lotor used a combination of hail, blizzard, ice plate and icy rock to cause driving snowstorms that affected only the area of the school so that nobody could drive in; it didn’t let up for months. honerva homeschooled him for the rest of the semester, so he didn’t quite manage to get out of school, but given she was much more entertaining and intellectually engaging than his teachers due to actually being on the same cognitive level as he, it certainly was a win.

he blew it though in march of the spring semester, when he got a bit too clever and forged the school bully’s handwriting in a letter that blackmailed the school. the letter said that she was the person behind all of this and that she would stop in exchange for acquiescing to her demand that there would be no more homework, quizzes, tests or grades for any student at that school, indefinitely. the school immediately moved to expel the bully, but honerva, who had heard about this due to being on the school board, realized that there was something more to this than met the eye. from what lotor had told her, the school bully was the dumbest kid he had ever met, and never paid attention in any of her classes. so how could she have known how to create a substance from goodra slime that could hold doors shut for literal months on end? working backward from this inference, she discovered the full extent of what her son did, and without missing a beat turned him in to the principal. lotor was expelled instead of his target, the news went nationwide overnight, and he also lost his position as first violin of the opelucid philharmonic orchestra. but he won the PR battle in a certain way: the school’s students all knew him and still know him to this day as a living legend. he also won in another way: having deduced that he had acted out this way because he was bored of school, honerva insisted on homeschooling him until he was ready for college, which he found to be more agreeable to his needs.

that goodra slime concoction never came out of the doors, by the way. they literally had to take down the entire doorframes and rebuild them all over again.

Warning: the research quoted is mostly from the 1990s, so it may be out of date.

Studies of gifted, elementary-aged children actually found that they tend to be liked by their peers, and in one study were actually found to be more popular than their peers (Udvari & Rubin, 1996; Austin & Draper, 1981; Schneider, 1987; Schneider, Clegg, Byrne, Ledingham, & Crombie, 1989). ... For gifted children, it's especially important for them to choose peers who enjoy learning so they feel confident in their own motivation to learn.

The middle and high school years can be quite lonely for some gifted teens. Gifted adolescents often express conflict over their giftedness. They value being intelligent, yet almost always realize that giftedness exacts a social price. 

Over 3,500 Minnesota secondary students responded to a newspaper column question that asked if they would rather be the best looking, most athletic, or smartest student in their class. Respondents were supposed to write an essay to support their answers (Schroeder-Davis, 1999). Although more students favored "most intelligent" (53.8 percent), followed by "most athletic" (37.3 percent) and "best looking" (only 8.9 percent), content analysis of these student essays showed that the students were aware of an anti-intellectual stigma expressed by peers. Twenty-two percent directly alluded to that stigma, and almost none attributed any immediate social benefits to being smartest (Neihart, Reis, Robinson, & Moon, 2001).

A survey conducted by Brown and Steinberg (1990) of 8,000 high school students in California and Wisconsin found that fewer than 10 percent of the high achievers were willing to be identified as part of the "[smart]" crowd, and students often withdrew from debate, computer clubs, and honors classes to avoid being labeled a "geek," "dweeb," or "nerd" (Davis & Rimm, 2003). The percentage was even lower for females than for males.

None of the high-achieving African-Americans surveyed in the Brown and Steinberg study were willing to be considered part of the "[smart]" crowd. This social pressure was confirmed by Ford (1994-95). In her study of gifted African-American girls, peer pressure had a powerfully negative effect on their achievement in school. Over half of the girls in her study indicated they were teased by their peers for their high achievement, and one third were accused of "acting white." These negative experiences caused feelings of alienation and rejection, as well as withdrawal and underachievement for these girls.

Luftig and Nichols (1989) also found evidence that gifted boys hid or masked their giftedness by being funny. In contrast to average adolescents and gifted girls, Luftig and Nichols (1990) found gifted boys ranked as most popular, non-gifted boys and non-gifted girls as second most popular, and finally, gifted girls as least popular of the four groups. Fifteen percent of the successful women in the See Jane Win study considered social isolation to be their most negative experience in childhood. A study of over 1,000 successful women (Rimm, Rimm-Kaufman, & Rimm, 1999) found the theme of a social price to pay common among many who were excellent students. Some women commented that they intentionally did poorly on tests or didn't hand in assignments. However, their backing away from achievement to preserve their social selves was typically temporary, and they, their parents, or a teacher recognized the dysfunction of their brief underachievement.

For example, Martha Aarons, a flutist in the Cleveland Symphony Orchestra, recalled coming home from middle school and crying daily because kids called her "hairy legs" and "brain." It was not an easy time for an all-A student who loved classical music. It was traumatic for her, and it took her years to recover from that sadness. Attendance at summer music camps dissipated the pressure and reassured her there were others like her. She made plenty of friends through her music (Rimm & Rimm-Kaufman, 2001).

Gifted adolescents often express feelings of difference (Swiatek & Dorr, 1998; Rimm et al., 1999; Rimm & Rimm-Kaufman, 2001). Manor-Bullock, Look, and Dixon (1995) suggested these feelings result from the "gifted" label, although gifted women interviewed for the See Jane Win research expressed feelings of difference frequently, whether or not they were in gifted programming. Coleman and Cross (1988) suggested that even when children don't feel different, they sometimes assume that others perceive them as different, and thus, they believe that perception will interfere with their social interactions. The Coleman and Cross study points out that the stigma of giftedness doesn't have to be proven as real if it is assumed by the students to be real. Their beliefs about the stigma will have an effect on their social relationships anyway.

Extreme Giftedness Many studies that have compared social adjustment of moderately gifted students to students with extremely high IQs have concluded that popularity is a much greater problem for students with unusually high intelligence (Austin & Draper, 1981; Feldman, 1986; Gallagher, 1958; Hollingworth, 1942), and that extremely gifted children have much greater social problems, probably related to how far from the norm their thinking experiences are.

Gross (1993) found that for students with IQs of 160+, eighty percent of them reported that they experienced intense social isolation in a regular classroom and were continuously monitoring their social behavior to conform to the expectations of their peer group. That, in combination with their frequently unchallenging curriculum, caused them ongoing emotional stress.

It's also important for parents to value and support their children's talent during this precarious period in their development and not to add to the pressures the child is already feeling. Parents need to be especially careful not to stress popularity and social success. Instead, parents may have to counter peer messages of popularity by pointing out that the emphasis on popularity, as a competitive form of friendship, ends at high school graduation (Rimm, 1988). They will need to support their conscientious students and point out the rewards ahead, including good scholarships and excellent colleges, and explain that once college begins the stress on popularity will fall away and be viewed as immature.

Parents can also encourage the development of positive interests that will ultimately lead them to positive peer groups and social confidence. The See Jane Win research showed that gifted girls who felt negative peer pressure often coped with that pressure with involvement in interests and activities. Scouts, music, horseback riding, religious groups, and sports provided arenas to develop self-confidence and friendship.

About Black Hat and Co.

Name: Black Hat/Unknown

Age: Unknown/Immortal/Eternal 

Gender: Goes by he/him

Species/Race: Unknown; claims to be an eldritch god

Sexuality: Demi-Panromantic/Asexual; Prefers platonic cuddles for intimacy. Does like to bite, scratch, and lick though. Will also use vore as a form of intimacy as well. (Don’t ask. Eldritch Gods have weird ways of showing affection)

Abilities: Unclear/Too many to list; “Think of your worst fears and nightmares, the most unpleasant horrors and the most terrifying blasphemies; Because all this is nothing compared to what I can orchestrate.”

Family: @sisterhat, White Hat (brother)

Relationship Status: Currently has a “mate” named Gen(Zelda Noitare) living with him within the manor.

Black Hat is a self-proclaimed eldritch god, though, from the power he has shown, no one doubts his claims. He is the Supreme Villain, having conquered the world several times over along with countless dimensions. He has also said to have destroyed the same number of dimensions though the only known fact to be confirmed is that he has destroyed a planet. Growing bored of having no challenge from taking over worlds, he decided to settle down and start his business, Black Hat Inc, on earth. Why earth is still unknown.

At parties, he is described to be polite and gentleman-like, especially towards women. He can be seen complementing them, kissing their hand with a bow. When talking business, he is said to be calm and collected... most of the time, always having an answer to everything. Outside of such things, he is described as being manipulative, sadistic, despicable and utterly disgusting. He will not hesitate to hurt you.

However, this statement is being tested as the overlord has seemed to have found himself a mate. He is said to be protective and possessive over her, not allowing anyone to lay a hand on her unless he knows them personally. It is unknown if this girl could be the perfect weakness or the perfect strength for the monster.

Name: Flug Slys

Age: 24

Gender: Goes by he/him

Species/Race: Human/Unknown

Sexuality: Asexual/Bisexual; has never been in a relationship and is unsure what he would like. He is willing to try things though. If he comfortable with it that is.

Abilities: Unknown/Extremely High IQ; Claims to be the greatest mad scientist in the multiverse. Is considered a highly dangerous criminal. 

Family: Unknown; has a cousin that goes by Slug.

Relationship Status: Non

Not much is known about Flug. Very few have seen his face under the bag he wears over his head except for the residence of Black Hat’s manor.  He is a brilliant scientist who’s nervousness sometimes causes his creations to not work as expected, resulting in presentation failures. Flug Slys name means 'aviation accident' or 'plane crash' in Icelandic and has also obtained his driver's and pilot's license. When not in the presence of Black Hat, he is known to be very egotistical and prideful. He also is known to be short-tempered around Demencia and is easily annoyed by the “crazy lizard girl”.  He can also be extremely sassy or salty at times, especially when one claims they have a higher intelligence. He considers himself 505′s dad though the bear seems to think of him as his mother despite Flug proclaiming himself as “daddy”...  Flug has committed 82, 602 crimes and has had his private and commercial licenses revoked because of his crimes. He is considered a highly dangerous criminal, a runaway, and he’s been accused of many violations. These include Falsification and identity theft, stealing planes, not following the aeronautical code, producing fissionable materials, destroying a plane in service, transporting explosive materials, stealing classified documents, etc. Although he respects his boss for finding a mate, he seems to have a distaste for the unusual couple. Especially since one of their main rules to villainy states an overlord should not have a love interest of any kind! And yet his boss, the Supreme Villain of Villains, has suddenly found himself bewitched by this.. inferior creature. What was so special about this young girl anyway? She wasn’t even villain material in the slightest...

Name: Demencia

Age: 18

Gender: Goes by she/her

Species/Race: Human-Gecko Hybrid/Unknown 

Sexuality: Unknown; she seems only interested in Black Hat

Abilities: Superhuman strength, can climb on walls and ceilings, use many forms of weapons, lizard-like abilities, etc.

Family: Unknown

Relationship Status: Non but self-proclaims herself as Black Hat’s girlfriend

Demencia is Black Hat's crazed fan and assassin. Her outfit is inspired by reptiles and she has a love for destruction. She resembles a lizard when she crouches down because of her hair covering her body. She is able to play the electric guitar and love to play in Flug’s lab just to get on his nerves. Besides Black Hat himself, Demencia is also known to play pranks and cause mischief around the manor. Especially when 505 is trying to do housekeeping. He seems to be the main target of her crazy antics. 

She is well aware of the new girl that seems to have tickled Black Hat’s fancy but that won't stop her! Black Hat will come to see that this girl is no match for him and will eventually eat her for good! After all, she’s one of those lower races of hybrids. Not genetically enhanced like Black Hat’s #1 fan~! She can’t even bring herself to hurt a fly! What kind of villain is that?!

Name: 5.0.5

Age: 3 or 5 in bear years

Gender: Goes by he/him

Species/Race: Genetically Enhanced Bear

Sexuality: Unknown; He’s a baby bear leave him alone

Abilities: Night Vision/Unknown; Unless giving bear hugs count as one.

Family: Flug Slys and the rest of the crew

Relationship Status: Non; because he’s a baby bear

505 is the organization's failed experiment that is unable to be killed. He was intended to be an evil creature however, he instead became very loving and kind creature, the complete opposite of Black Hat. He enjoys hugging his friends and love to draw doodles which he tries to show to Black Hat. He is a big blue bear with a single flower sprouting from his head that wilts and grows based on his emotions. It closes when he is asleep and falls apart when under extreme stress. He seems to be the organization's housekeeper and likes to wear a maid outfit while doing his cleaning. He sees Black Hat as his father and Flug oddly enough as his mom despite Flug calling himself 505′s “dad”.

505 enjoys the new girl and already accepts her as part of the family. She even complements the drawings he gives her! He knows Black Hat seems to like having her around so maybe their really good friends! Either way, he is happy to have a new face around the manor~.

Name: Gen Zelda Noitare

Age: 21

Gender: Goes by she/her

Species/Race: Human-wolf Hybrid/ Lobian

Sexuality: Asexual/Straight; loves to cuddle, snuggle, huggle or just sleep on top of someone she trusts

Abilities: Can take the form of a giant blue and white wolf the size of a large school bus (maybe bigger), a regular sized adult wolf, or a wolf pup depending on her emotional state. She possesses some ability to heal others but is capable of seeing other’s dream and possible memories by touching her hands to their head. She has amazing target aim yet she refuses to harm anyone. 

Family: Unknown; was abandoned in a street ally 3 weeks after she was born.

Relationship Status: Is currently Black Hat’s so-called “mate” and has been living with him within the manor for quite sometime

Gen is part of a race of human-wolf hybrids known as Lobians. They are very close to the human race in both DNA and appearance, minus the wolf ears and tail they possess. Throughout the history of the human race, they were hunted in their wolf forms for their fur. The fur of the Lobians is considered one of the softest natural wolves furs known to earth. It was considered highly valuable not only because of the many colors they came in but also because of how durable it was. The fur was thick for warmth but still retained that extra softness to it. Think of the softest stuff animal you have touched or held before. That is how their fur feels or better.  

They were not limited to one country or continent as they could be found wherever wolves were in the world. They were also the cause for the so-called “werewolf” sighting and attacks throughout the world. It is unknown when this race first appeared but the earliest encounter recorded was believed to be in Greek mythology where Zeus cursed Lycaon and his sons into wolves for serving him a meal made from the remains of a sacrificed boy. The public did not know of their existence until the early 20th century and it wasn’t until the mid 20th century, 1966, where rights were passed for them in America to be seen as American citizens. Soon the world followed, yet most people treat the Lobians like animals or see them as an inferior race. 

Gen was no exception. After her mother gave birth to her, she was so disgusted she left Gen in a cardboard box in an ally after being born only a few months at the time. It is unknown if her mother knew who her father was or not. Gen was later found and placed on the doorstep of a foster care. Because it was frond upon to have a Lobian as a child, no one wanted to adopt her. She always woke up hoping someone would come to take her in. Someone had to adopt her at some point, right? But as the years went by, she slowly started to realize she was never going to be adopted. 

She grew up in the foster care all her life. She dealt with bullying in all those years, especially after turning 18. Yet despite this, she remained kind-hearted and sweet in the face of her bleak life. 

Sometime after her 20th birthday, it finally hit her she was never going to understand what having a family was, what being loved by a family felt like. Later that night she had a break down in her room, hiding it from everyone when she finally re-emerged. Though, when she was leaving her room, a few of the teens there saw her and begin to poke fun at her saying "We just got adopted today by our new families. How about you? Oh wait, that's right. You're a hybrid so you'll never be welcomed into a home~." Despite how true their words were, she did not let them see the tears. She doesn’t cry for their satisfaction. Instead, she straightened herself and glared at them before walking off. However, despite her display, deep inside she couldn't take it anymore. She then goes off to find where the sleeping pills were hidden, taking an overdose that night. She lives but she awakens from having a weird dream. Dream of a man in a top black hat...

books 2017 so far

wow, tuv want to talk about why you haven’t kept a monthly book list? (because I am scared of my phone and also writing.) no. 

Reiffen's Choice - SC Butler

Flex- Ferrett Steinmetz

The Good Funeral - Thomas Long and Thomas Lynch

The Watchmaker of Filigree Street - Natasha Pulley

The Portable Veblen - Elizabeth McKenzie

The Invaders - Karolina Waclawiak

Funny Boy - Shyam Selvadurai

Adaptation - Malinda Lo

The Dream of Enlightenment - Anthony Gottlieb

Central Station - Lavie Tidhar

Why Did I Ever - Mary Robison (vg)

Binti - Nnedi Okorafor (vg) 

The Book of Tea - Kazuko Okakura

Fingersmith - Sarah Waters

Unmentionable - Therese O'Neill

The Thrilling Adventures of Lovelace and Babbage - Sydney Padua

IQ - Joe Ide

The Little Virtues - Natalia Ginzburg trans Dick Davis

The Hanging Tree - Ben Aaronovitch

Death's Door - Sandra Gilbert

Holy Anorexia - Rudolph Bell 

Hild - Nicola Griffith (vg)

Sum - David Eagleman

Secondhand Time - Svetlana Alexievich trans Bela Shayevich

Everything is Teeth - Evie Wyld and Joe Sumner

Water Dogs - Lewis Robinson (vg)

Selection Day - Aravind Adiga 

The Wicked Boy - Kate Summerscale

Nicotine - Gregor Hens trans Jen Calleja

Margaret the First - Danielle Dutton

Audition -  Ryu Murakami trans Ralph McCarthy

A Horse Walks into a Bar - David Grossman trans Jessica Cohen

Zakhor - Yosef Yerushalmi

Citizen - Claudia Rankine

Blitzed - Norman Ohler trans Shaun Whiteside

Exorcising Hitler - Frederick Taylor

Being A Beast - Charles Foster

The Open Fields - CS and CS Orwin 

Universal Harvester - John Darnielle

The Mistletoe Murder - PD James

The Radius of Us - Marie Marquardt

Something in Between - Melissa de la Cruz

The Apex Book of World SF 2- Lavie Tidhar ed

Ninefox Gambit - Yoon Ha Lee

Of Fire and Stars - Audrey Coulthurst

Traitor to the Throne - Alwyn Hamilton

Cinnamon and Gunpowder - Eli Brown

Pain - Javier Moscoso trans Sarah Thomas and Paul House 

Suicide in Victorian and Edwardian England - Olive Anderson

The Regional Office is Under Attack - Manuel Gonzalez

The Vanquished - Robert Gerwarth

There is No Good Card For This - Kelsey Crowe

Death, Religion and the Family in England - Ralph Houlbrooke

His Bloody Project - Graham McRae

Violence in Early Modern Europe - Julius R Ruff

Snowblind - Ragnar Jonasson trans Quentin Bates

Today Will Be Different - Maria Semple

Martin Luther - Lyndal Roper

The Young Richelieu - Elizabeth Marvick

History Is All You Left Me - Adam Silvera

Inheritance - Malinda Lo

Reality Is Not What It Seems - Carlo Rovelli trans Simon Cornell and Erica Segre

Long Hidden - Rose Fox and Daniel Jose Older

Sarah Canary - Karen Joy Fowler

Code Name Verity - Elizabeth Wein

Monstress - Marjorie Liu 

This Close to Happy - Daphne Merkin 

The Gin Closet - Leslie Jamison

Bilgewater - Jane Gardam (vg)

Colonial Spirits - Steven Grasse

Fragrant Harbor - John Lanchester

A Cup of Rage - Raduan Nassar trans Stefan Tobler

A Very Long Engagement - Sebastien Japrisot trans Linda Coverdale

A Long Finish - Michael Dibdin

Uncle Silas - Sheridan Le Fanu

Powers of Darkness - Bram Stoker trans Valdimar Asmundsson trans Hans Cornell de Roos

Lincoln in the Bardo - George Saunders

Huntress - Malinda Lo

The Night Battles - Carlo Ginzburg trans Anne and John Tedeschi

Season of Migration to the North - Tayeb Salih trans Denys Johnson-Davies

Life's Work - Willie Parker

The Mothers - Brit Bennett

We Are Okay - Nina LaCour

The Tough Guide to Fantasyland - Diana Wynne Jones

Time Travel - James Gleick

Questions of Travel - William Morris, ed Lavinia Greenlaw

Words on the Move - John McWhorter

Stories of Your Life - Ted Chiang

Teeth - Mary Otto

Teeth - Hannah Moskowitz

We The Animals - Justin Torres

Chronotherapeutics for Affective Disorders - Anna Wirz-Justice et al

Great Granny Webster - Caroline Blackwood

English, August - Upmanyu Chatterjee

The Abyss Surrounds Us - Emily Skrutskie 

Days Without End - Sebastian Barry

The Girl Before - JP Delaney

The Loving Husband - Christobel Kent

Half-Bad - Sally Green

Six of Crows - Leigh Bardugo

The Miniaturist - Jessie Burton

Mr. Bridge - Evan Carroll

Mrs. Bridge - Evan Carroll

Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency - Douglas Adams

The Three-Body Problem - Cixin Liu trans Ken Liu

The Undoing Project - Michael Lewis 

Rest - Alex Soojung-Kim Pang

Plucked - Rebecca Herzing

The Outsiders - SE Hinton

Crooked Kingdom - Leigh Bardugo

Mind Your Manors - Lucy Lethbridge

Blood in the Water - Heather Ann Thompson

Blood Rain - Michael Dibdin

The Dry - Jane Harper

History of Wolves - Emily Fridlund

See Under: Love - David Grossman trans Betsy Rosenberg

Spaceman of Bohemia - Jaroslav Kalfar

Sarong Party Girls - Cheryl Lu-Lien Tan

Thinking Fast and Slow - Daniel Kahneman

The Rituals of Dinner - Margaret Visser

The Water Babies - Charles Kingsley

God's Perfect Child - Caroline Fraser

The Secret History of Wonder Woman - Jill Lepore

Otherbound - Connie Duyvis

Chronotherapy - Michael Terman and Ian McMahan

Emotionally Weird - Kate Atkinson (vg)

Bright Air Black - David Vann 

Out - Natuso Kirino trans Stephen Snyder

The Hero With A Thousand Faces - Joseph Campbell

Dirty Snow - George Simenon trans Marc Romano and Louise Varese

Night Sky With Exit Wounds - Ocean Vuong

And Then You Die - Michael Dibdin 

Medusa - Michael Dibdin 

Saga - Brian Vaughn, Fiona Staples et al 

The Dark Forest - Cixin Liu trans Joel Martinsen

A Line Made By Walking - Sara Baume

My Life With Bob - Pamela Paul

Two Women of London - Emma Tennant

Stoner - John Williams

The Crest on the Silver - Geoffrey Grigson

Crazy Rich Asians - Kevin Kwan

Oranges - John McPhee

Shrinking Violets - Joe Moran 

The Invisibility Cloak - Ge Fei trans Caanan Morse

The Water Kingdom - Philip Ball

The Moviegoer - Walker Percy

The Paper Menagerie - Ken Liu

Tales of the Mighty Code Talkers, vol 1 - Arigon Starr, ed

The Happy Traveller - Jamie Kurtz

Century's End - Enki Bilal and Pierre Christin

Saga vol 2 - Brian Vaughn, Fiona Staples et al

The Little Drummer Girl - John Le Carre

The Day of the Jackal - Frederick Forsyth

Back to Bologna - Michal Dibdin

End Games - Michael Dibdin 

What If? - Randall Munroe 

Taft 2012 - Jason Heller 

Saga vol 3 - Brian Vaughn, Fiona Staples et al

Gentlemen and Amazons - Cynthia Eller 

The Psychopath Test - Jon Ronson

God's Philosophers - James Hannam

Ravished - Amanda Quick

Behind the Scenes at the Museum - Kate Atkinson

The Weapon Wizards - Yaakov Katz and Amir Bohbot

Death's End - Cixin Liu trans Ken Liu

Chemistry - Weike Wang (vg)

Nova Scotia reports 1 new case of COVID-19 as active cases continue to shrink

New Post has been published on https://apzweb.com/nova-scotia-reports-1-new-case-of-covid-19-as-active-cases-continue-to-shrink/

Nova Scotia reports 1 new case of COVID-19 as active cases continue to shrink

Nova Scotia is reporting one additional case of COVID-19 on Saturday as the province’s number of active cases continues to shrink.

The single case brings the total number of cases in the province to 1,049.

READ MORE: Nova Scotia modifies coronavirus testing criteria as province remains at 29 active cases

There have been 58 deaths from the disease in Nova Scotia to date.

“As we prepare to reopen our province safely, I want to continue to thank Nova Scotians for their patience and vigilance. I know this has been difficult,” said Premier Stephen McNeil, in a press release.

“For those who have reopened, I want to acknowledge your strong efforts to do so safely. Public safety will remain the focus of our actions going forward.”

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The recovery of additional people in the same period means the total number of active cases in Nova Scotia has shrunk to 22.

[ Sign up for our Health IQ newsletter for the latest coronavirus updates ]

In total, 969 people are considered to be recovered from COVID-19.

1:58 N.S. university professors to spend summer preparing for online teaching

N.S. university professors to spend summer preparing for online teaching

Six people remain in hospital, three of which are in intensive care.

The QEII Health Sciences Centre’s microbiology lab completed 561 tests on May 22 and is continuing to operate 24 hours a day.

“New case numbers are staying low and we continue to head in the right direction. We can, and should, be proud of how we’ve fared,” said Dr. Robert Strang, Nova Scotia’s chief medical officer of health.

READ MORE: Active cases of COVID-19 continue to decrease in Nova Scotia, 1 more death at Northwood reported

There remain two licensed long-term care homes and unlicensed seniors facilities in Nova Scotia with active cases.

At the Northwood Manor in Halifax there are 12 residents and four staff members with active cases.

One other facility has a resident with an active case.

Questions about COVID-19? Here are some things you need to know:

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Symptoms can include fever, cough and difficulty breathing — very similar to a cold or flu. Some people can develop a more severe illness. People most at risk of this include older adults and people with severe chronic medical conditions like heart, lung or kidney disease. If you develop symptoms, contact public health authorities.

To prevent the virus from spreading, experts recommend frequent handwashing and coughing into your sleeve. They also recommend minimizing contact with others, staying home as much as possible and maintaining a distance of two metres from other people if you go out.

For full COVID-19 coverage from Global News, click here.

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Ethical and sustainable jewellery: KinetIQue reawarded Ethical Accreditation

KinetIQue is the home of the IQ Diamond – the only genuine Hybrid Diamond on the market that tests positive for diamond and that is also tougher than diamond. If you’re looking to avoid the potential purchase of conflict diamonds, the company was set up to offer just such an alternative, with an ethos that supports human rights and environmental sustainability.

Image: KinetIQue featured in Manor / www.kinetique.co.uk

Recently featured in Manor magazine, the brand supports Fairtrade gold and is a Fair-trade Foundation registered jeweller. (Fairtrade gold offers a lifeline to poor and exploited small-sclae miners around the world).

Image: Shamrock Pavé Diamond Necklace / www.kinetique.co.uk

We’re extremely pleased to say that for another year KinetIQue has successfully reattained Ethical Accreditation, following our annual independent audit. This means that the company is highly recommended by The Good Shopping Guide.

Whatever your needs, they offer a range of diamond jewellery, including engagement and wedding rings. You can learn more and purchase their products here. You can also find them on Twitter (@IQDiamond).

The post Ethical and sustainable jewellery: KinetIQue reawarded Ethical Accreditation appeared first on The Good Shopping Guide.

from Shopping http://www.thegoodshoppingguide.com/ethical-and-sustainable-jewellery-kinetique-reawarded-ethical-accreditation/

Expert: A change in Quantity also entails a change in Quality. ― Friedrich Engels No one can define or measure justice, democracy, security, freedom, truth, or love. No one can define or measure any value. But if no one speaks up for them, if systems aren’t designed to produce them, if we don’t speak about them and point toward their presence or absence, they will cease to exist. ― Donella H. Meadows, Thinking in Systems: A Primer If it seems self-serving and pedestrian to chronicle my own slice of heaven called Working as a Precariat USA, then so be it. I have read so much lately on climate science, on the science around the toxic earth, around the political-billionaire-millionaire miscreants, both male and female (Trump commuted this Kosher Millionaire Rabbi, in jail for bank fraud, 27 years, today, so expect other chosen people of the white collar criminal variety to be pardoned, let go, praised), and the on-going Scarlet Letter Outing of Men, therefore,  coming down out of the ether of punditry and mainstream-and-not-so-liberal-media to get my own ground-truthing framed in what is dog-eat-dog predatory capitalism turbo charged seems like sanity to me. I could get all British Lit on my reader by quoting John Donne, since inherently I am an entrenched systems thinker, a giver in the Ishmael sense, and understand the principles tied to cooperative evolution: No Man Is An Island No man is an island, Entire of itself, Every man is a piece of the continent, A part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less. As well as if a promontory were. As well as if a manor of thy friend’s Or of thine own were: Any man’s death diminishes me, Because I am involved in mankind, And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; It tolls for thee. — John Donne And I could get all deep ecology on you, and cite a simple but profound set of laws tied to the notion of biomimicry by Janine Benyus: 9 Basic Principles of Biomimicry Nature runs on sunlight. Nature uses only the energy it needs. Nature fits form to function. Nature recycles everything. Nature rewards cooperation. Nature banks on diversity. Nature demands local expertise. Nature curbs excesses from within. Nature taps the power of limits. But my own little world coming into the Year 2018 (year of the dog) centers around my identity, or part of it, as assigned to me by Capitalists: my age, my gender, my sexuality, my race, my upbringing, my education, my wallet, my political affiliations, my religion, my abilities, my disabilities, my blind-spots, my enlightened self, my weight-height-strength, my IQ’s, my credit report, my military record, my criminal record, my work record, my health record, my belief system, and, well, my Google rating. There is no room in Capitalism for holism, seeing and talking about the “philosophy-ethos-spiritual me”! There’s so much more to us, most human beings, even deplorables, yet, in USA and the Matrix, it all boils down to what you do for a living, and what do you show materially from that living. I am still seething from a sacking, almost two months ago, which I have chronicled here and here and here, and part of that sacking was my questioning vaccine safety. My stories have gone viral, in a sense, tied to the educated and safety seekers looking at the vaccination movement. I am clumped into the realm of a large swath of people and organizations looking at the injuries, incapacitation and deaths caused by the forces of genetics in one’s self and vaccines. I am also connected vis-à-vis WWW to those groups doubting the legality and ethics of forcing people to get shot-up with drugs, from the US Air Force pilots protesting the so-called anthrax vaccine, to nurses against the latest flu shot, and those parents and advocates who do not want to be forced to have children pumped up with untested vaccines – 19 or more by age five (32 by age 15!). Many kids are getting shot up without parental (informed) consent. CDC’s dictum: The CDC has just launched a program that will calculate a catch-up schedule for children who were not vaccinated on schedule. A 5-year-old child who was not previously vaccinated would be required to receive 19 vaccines in one month, including 6 doses of aluminum-containing injections! This catch-up schedule was NOT tested for safety to determine the immediate or long-term risk of neurological or immunological damage. Let me back up. What happened to me, in a nutshell, is my right to free speech, my right to a safe, open and embracing classroom environment, and my right to be heard in regard to a complaint made by Planned Parenthood were ripped from my hands and vocal chords, so to speak, and ripped from myself as a human trying to do good as a social worker and make a living. I was in a class, at Planned Parenthood of the Great Northwest in the city of Seattle, two bastions (sic) of liberalism and supposed respect for diverse opinions. I’ve lived and worked there, Puget Sound, Seattle, and I have chronicled that sometimes nauseating place and the select citizens I call “unpeople” here at DV and other places. It is not the nirvana of liberalism, and it’s a place overcrowded, full of citizens who are homeless, and more precarious than success stories, with the rich and the Amazon and Bill Gates groupies high on their own flatulence. That’s another story. Mine now, as I go to interview after interview since my termination, to get back in the saddle, to get a job to survive, goes like this: I was told I could not finish day two of this almost mindless 16-hour class (we practiced saying vulva and penis in a circle while passing around stuffed animals!), because of the supposed crime of not believing all the news fit to print from the PR/propaganda engines of Big Pharma, Western Medicine and the vaccination makers (I was so much more contrite and reserved in my statements in the classroom of 45 people, four men and 41 women, than maybe the reader can imagine, but it’s true . . . and I have coworker witnesses to attest to it). I was also told (not directly, but through my employer, a non-profit in Portland) by three Planned Parenthood teachers (sic) that my broaching of Chinese traditional medicine and native American and other cultural systems of healing in a brief aside solicited by the teachers was not just NOT allowed but inflammatory and dangerous to the other students. Finally, these three PP people (and I suppose several supervisors behind the scenes) labeled me as a disruptive force to the learning environment, which is obscene since I was the picture of comportment and low-key engagement! I expected some decency from my bosses to get my story and my coworkers’ stories, but instead, I was railroaded out of the job. I did not work for Planned Parenthood, it must be stressed. Imagine the conflict of interest tied to Planned Parenthood making millions off of giving boys and girls and young adults the HPV vaccine, Gardasil, marketed by Merck. Planned Parenthood’s $350 million yearly budget is fed through Big Pharma donations and, of course, taxpayer grants/funding. The sex ed classes Planned Parenthood delivers to my clients and to social workers is funded by public coffers. Planned Parenthood also has an international division, and teamed up with Bill and Melinda, Big Pharma and those killer philanthropists who want the great white hope of their messed up lives to be the every glowing smile of Third World victims of structural violence, agricultural rape, mass drug/vaccine experiments, and a new form of Facebook happy meal eugenics. Planned Parenthood also has a political arm, lobbying for their own special interests, some worthy, other nefarious. Even though I never got into a vaccine debate with Planned Parenthood, really, truthfully, the trainers took a couple of off-the-record anonymous comments written down by me around not appreciating Planned Parenthood taking the side of pharmaceutical hook-line-and-sinker as proof of my heresy and radical view. Hell, how hard is it to surf the internet and find peer-reviewed and millions of anecdotal stories about vaccine injuries and incapacitation and death, tied to the HPV vaccine? There are huge issues tied to the rotten lies of the vaccine makers and distributors here: Vaxxed Movie HPVVaxxed Movie Greater Good Movie Sacrificial Virgins – Not for the Greater Good – Part 1, 2, 3 Sacrificial Virgins. TV3 HPV Documentary Does anyone need Gardasil? Colombia 2017: “Fue el Gardasil” (Gardasil Did It) – Abridged version A hard look at the National Vaccine Injury Compensation Program and the families desperately trying to navigate their way through it. The Vaccine Court looks at the mysterious and often unknown world of the National Vaccine Injury Compensation Program (NVICP), the only recourse for seeking compensation for those who have been injured by a vaccine. The NVICP, better known as the ”Vaccine Court,” however, is not without controversy Medical Doctors Opposed to Forced Vaccinations: Should Their Views be Silenced? Bill Gates $10 Billion Vaccine Scam Mandatory Swine Flu Vaccination Alert The Washington Vaccination Ploy: Puerto Rico And The Zika Quandary Making The HPV Vaccine Mandatory Is Bad Medicine Supreme Court Pulls Up Government Of India Over Licensing And Trials With “Cervical Cancer” Vaccines Readying Americans For Dangerous, Mandatory Vaccinations Judicial Watch HPV Vaccine McCarthyism. What if the Vaccine Paradigm itself is Deliberately Flawed? Did 2014 Mark the Collapse of the Vaccine Establishment? Dr. Gary Null – Archive, Vaccines, Global Research This is the world we are in a nutshell – liberals attacking independent thinkers, radicals on the left like me. The Politically Corrective forces of the liberal class and the big businesses like those outfits run like Planned Parenthood have the power to tell my Portland, Oregon, bosses I am dismissed from a mandatory training, and then, my job as social worker ends in termination with a sham of an investigation. It’s easy to be resentful of the powers that be, in this case, Democratic Party females who wanted me shut up, shut down, out of social work! Two and two put together, in a simple sense, is that my few words voiced in a calm, respectful manner at a Planned Parenthood course (repeat, tax payer funded training) on the Fundamentals of Sex (sex ed) precipitated a termination, and now a bruise on my reputation is growing like a hematoma of gigantic proportions. Does anyone think finding a job, a replacement job, is easy now that I was terminated and now that I have voiced all of this on the worldwide net? Readers must know the particular nature of employment in the Portland, Oregon, area, which is now becoming Califi-cadia, and the fact many people from bigger cities, back east, too, have been coming out here for the evergreens, rivers, snowboarding, beer and (back a few years), more millionaire-affordable-friendly homes and income rentals. The competition for rare jobs with my background, and for someone like me – radical and dissident — is steep. I know a lot of writers who are more or less safe economically or job wise that could never understand and maybe empathize with my predicament. “Damaged goods, and why have you stagnated in this lowly field with so much going for you in your thirties and forties? Graduate degrees and writing awards. What’s up with that? It must be something about you – your big mouth, something.” Variations on that theme. Now in the scheme of things, I am reminded daily, I am not a head of a family in Yemen, or journalist in Myanmar, or working as a teacher in Mexico, or plying my trade as social worker in Honduras, or living the dissident’s life as a Palestinian activist in Gaza, so I should count my lucky stars. All of that goes without saying, for sure, and in the global scheme of things, this is merely a bump in my life inside the United States of Israel’s financial and surveillance hall of mirrors (read Robert Fisk’s smart take on the United States of Israel rather than the cartoon prophecies above linked) Yet, for me to have any traction on my thinking about how screwed up America is, from the towers of the three men who own half of all USA wealth, to the drone shops helping immolate wedding parties and sleeping babies, to the absurdity of the duopoly political class, to the ever-eviscerating communities from shore to shining shore, I have to go personal, in the now, as the idiocy and injustices unfold for me, from my pennyante perspective. I understand how to make those allusions and comparisons to my brothers and sisters in arms in much more dire circumstances. This bizarre situation at a Planned Parenthood training demonstrates the power of the forces of stupidity and lock step thinking running certain parts of America’s grand illusion kabuki show; and for me, a rare male in the business of social worker, this has been a reckoning with an upside-down world of social services run by women, some of whom are as uncaring and dictatorial and unethical as their male counterparts who they dis all the time. Here I am, on a second lawyer listening to me and contemplating the veracity of some wrongful termination suit, looking at whistle-blower laws, and positing possible gender-age-religious discrimination. The first legal outfit I dealt with is a non-profit and stated they were spread too thin to handle my case. “If only you were disabled, African-American, a veteran, homosexual, and living with PTSD and a speech impediment.” In so many words, that was the prognosis. The new lawyer says, “Look, you were terminated for being ‘argumentative’ and ‘aggressive.’ For a white heterosexual man, that’s a no-no. But, if you were a woman, and were ‘combative’, they’d see that as passionate and demonstrable of being a great advocate for her clients, as an honorable thing showing you are willing to be there fully supporting clients. They’d say ‘aggressive’ for a woman would be justified and more akin to being smart, focused, confident and ready to take on challenges and advocate for your clients and a worthy way to make real changes for the female gender. And, one man’s arguing is another woman’s opining. ” This coming from a female lawyer . . . The world according to the felons running the show, whether it’s political, private capital, big business, and big non-profit and big government, well, my mother told me at a young age, 16: “Your mouth and your passion and your sense of justice and your anti-authority character and constant questioning will get you fired . . . expect a lonely path to old age and a rocky series of rites of passage . . . make family important, friendships key, and follow that vision quest and obsession with putting nature right. As long as you continue understanding why you are where you are, why there are no laurels awaiting you, and why the powers that be do not want you in the same room, then you are possibly more realized and actualized than most.” Something along those lines, Mona from British Columbia used to say, but alas, the story is never ending, and the gifts that capitalism and elitism and Empire just keep on giving are those that really give it to us. Daily and second-by-second-by-nanosecond. As the daily diet of perversions and accusations of perversion, sexual harassment, sexual assault, and all things in between rape and coming on to a woman, it is a wonder anyone can think straight about what it means to be men and women working toward justice, toward universal human rights. I’ve read over at the World Socialist Website stories about how the #MeToo movement is a witch hunt, and while perusing the comments sections, I am feeling as if I am living in the 1950s, or in the Trump-Billy Bush-Howard Stern locker-room with the outward misogyny: All of this is being ignored in the campaign over sexual harassment. Class divisions are covered up beneath the claim that all women, regardless of their income, share the same “experience” of being oppressed by men, who, particularly if they are white, enjoy the benefits of the “privileged.” The sexual harassment campaign is right-wing, antidemocratic and politically reactionary. It has nothing to do with the interests of the workers, men or women. Some of WSWS writer Joseph Kishore’s points are well taken, like there has to be a delineation between something said versus something done, and that there has to be a fair airing of accusations, fairness, and of course, innocence before guilt and a fair answering to allegations. But, are there more important things in the world than a Saturday Night Live comic groping women at state fairs as his role as senator? Isn’t this what we have succumbed to, this cult of celebrity? And, are we really all crocodile teary about millionaires and multi-multi millionaires losing jobs in entertainment (who could count a Charlie Rose as a journalist, or a classical conductor as anything more than entertainer?). Lost in the entire defense, of course, is that having these creeps masturbate in front of you is a crime, really, public exposure, to say the least. How many of my clients, homeless, living in shit cities with no public restrooms or toilets, get arrested for public urination, and if seen by someone who complains, it’s three times and you are labeled a sex offender. Lost in this millionaires’ game of exposing genitals and spreading semen, is that who in hell would want their nieces, daughters, wives and sons and brothers put to this test: capitalist men in power, or some form of power stretched down the line far from the corridors of the political and arts and entertainment domains, exposing themselves in front of loved ones? Who wants some actor or director or editor grabbing their loved ones and friends, or mauling girls and women in public or private against their wills? Is this the nature of some of these so-called leftists rebuffing the calling out of the perverts? Any manner of stupidity tied to lecherous behavior in the workplace, and this power dynamic of keeping a job or getting one or a better position based on some male actor’s or journalist’s or CEO’s demented sexual game or worse, sexual assault, should be called out and dealt with. Is there presumed innocence? Come on, in an at-will state, in a world of precarity, we are all guilty, hence the mandatory background-credit-work history-drug-medical history checks, even before employment. The fact that these conservative money-grubbing outfits like PBS or NBC or Uber or Walmart are sacking people before a fair trial or investigation, it does speak to the power of Capitalism. All of that is unethical, and unfair, but I see no massive wave of people defending the rights of the worker, the rights of maids and hotel workers and fast-food workers and restaurant servers or anyone working in you-name-the-field to not only not have to live with sexual harassment and quid pro quo but also with unlivable wages, precarious jobs, wage theft, and lack of say in the workplace. But here, again, blaming the victims, as if women or men ever had the rights and backing to confront bad bosses and bad decisions and harassment and workplace dangers and on and on, but we have the “well if women are going to be Playboy bunnies, then all women are game . . . .” Kim Kardashian is famous for one thing – her opulent and well-televised derriere. Miley Cyrus has a music video where she swings around buck naked on a wrecking ball, Beyonce is applauded for her “daring feminine rights” song, during which she and her backup singers dress like strippers and dance around poles, the Russian group, Pussy Riot, who have done performances in which they use raw chicken parts to simulate masturbation, were invited to visit the US Congress and were given a standing ovation when they did so, rappers make millions with music videos where women are denigrated and used as props to dance around showing their behinds to the camera, hundreds of women in the US have participated in so-called “slut riots” where they stalk down major thoroughfares in their undergarments just to prove they can and they are lauded for their “daring bravery”, and tens of thousands of Americans routinely enroll their daughters in beauty pageants each year, where they will be judged on their physical attributes. And yet, anonymous decades-old allegations with vague references to some sort of “something offensive” (not offensive enough for the accuser to have taken action when the “something” occurred, however), are horrifying and can wipe out careers overnight. This is absurd, and we are also not in some revolutionary moment, some civil rights for women movement stitched into Hollywood’s obvious depravities on many levels. The stinking world I live and work in is all about political correctiveness, about demeaning HR folk, about top-heavy administrations, about supervisors who could care less about turnover of employees, who are there to berate or control. Daily, the stupidity of people in my profession – social services – belies a compliant field and brow-beater middling people in positions of authority. They will fawn over Obama or Hillary. Imagine, calling black youth “super predators” (Clinton, Trump). Imagine, bragging about being a good killer and laughing about using “drones on any of my daughters’ boyfriends that get out of line” (Obama). Imagine Madeline Albright saying a million dead Iraqis as a result of US-imposed sanctions was just the business (as usual) of the United States, LLC (collateral damage in keeping with the USA’s economic security). Imagine the bayonet rape of Libya both figuratively and literally with Qaddafi and the smirk from Mrs. Clinton! I get canned – kicked out of “liberal” Planned Parenthood’s Seattle offices and then fired from a female-run and largely female-staffed non-profit that pays marketing firms to PR their reputation as caring leaders in mental health services? I just mentioned briefly a vaccine and alternative forms of medicine. As brief as three sentences written and thirty spoken words. Sacked, frog-marched out of work, and my young clients, left hanging, many in crisis. We live in an upside-down world, where this Obama gets laughs and giggles joking about using drones on his daughters’ boyfriends if they get out of line, yet, if the great pretender Obama were to mention the bust and butt of Beyonce after her Super Bowl performance, Obama would have been derided, chided or worse, censored. Maybe! I think I started this post around what it means to be a man, a father, a son, a grandson, and, partner/significant other/husband. Man, in the 1980’s, I was teaching Robert Bly, Iron John, and got attacked on all sides of the issues around mentoring boys into men, around the general thesis Bly was impregnating that book with. He talked about the inner boy in a screwed up family may “keep on being shamed, invaded, disappointed, and paralyzed for years and years.” Bly talked about how boys and men in the USA feel like victims in that messed up family. Bly was attempting to close the door to that victimhood. He talked about the inner warrior to defend “their soul houses” from invasions. It was that warrior, for both men and women, people lambasted Bly, yet, come one, look at today, 2017, 13 years after the book was published. Talk about bad people! BAD PEOPLE A man told me once that all the bad people Were needed. Maybe not all, but your fingernails You need; they are really claws, and we know Claws. The sharks—what about them? They make other fish swim faster. The hard-faced men In black coats who chase you for hours In dreams—that’s the only way to get you To the shore. Sometimes those hard women Who abandon you get you to say, “You.” A lazy part of us is like a tumbleweed. It doesn’t move on its own. Sometimes it takes A lot of Depression to get tumbleweeds moving. Then they blow across three or four States. This man told me that things work together. Bad handwriting sometimes leads to new ideas; And a careless god—who refuses to let people Eat from the Tree of Knowledge—can lead To books, and eventually to us. We write Poems with lies in them, but they help a little.” ― Robert Bly, Morning Poems What is it about American Men, about this country’s 70-plus approval of all soldiers, all military, all mercenaries in our armies and navies and air forces and marines? What is it about this country’s women either defending Hillary as the best role model for girls, or those women who voted in the Moore-Jones election, for Moore, of course? What is it about white women and loving Trump, those that do, and those who love Hillary? They have no inner warriors. What is it about the white males holding the purse strings, many of them Jewish, as the Jewish web sites and newspapers and columnists continue to glower over. Reading the Israeli and the Jewish voices in print, I am seeing how an untenable Zionism and Judaism is, more concerted and extreme in xenophobia than the ultra-Christians in this country. I end with this interesting look at father-son: The changing times are evident in the debate about a current piece of legislation that could be the biggest change to labor law since the days when Marcus’s father was working as a carpenter. The Employee Free Choice Act, which was introduced in both the House and the Senate in March, would change labor law from the 1930s in order to make it easier for unions to organize workers. Today, as in the ’30s, there are a number of influential Jewish union leaders supporting the legislation. But unlike in the ’30s, a few Jewish voices have surfaced as among the most influential opponents of the legislation. Marcus is frequently mentioned among the leading voices opposing the free choice act. In a famous phone call discussing the legislation with other business executives, he said, “This is how a civilization disappears.” That echoed the words of another child of poor Jewish immigrants, Sheldon Adelson, the casino magnate and Jewish philanthropist who told The Wall Street Journal that EFCA is “one of the two fundamental threats to society,” along with Islamism. Marcus also has worked closely with the lobbyist leading the anti-EFCA charge, Rick Berman, who has waded into Jewish communal waters to make his argument that the current unions have no connection with the old ones to which Berman’s father belonged. Many on both sides of the current legislation say that a traditional sympathy for labor that existed in the Jewish community has given way to antipathy in a number of very prominent quarters, with sometimes complicated consequences. Amy Dean, who is active in both the labor world and the Jewish community, says she often encounters people “who have this very warm spot for the labor movement, but it’s sort of romantic and historical. They have these warm feelings for the role of the garment unions, but they think it’s not a modern movement that they want to embrace. We have a huge dissonance within the Jewish community about the labor movement.” For Berman, this dissonance has appeared in his own family: His son David Berman, a founder of the rock bands Pavement and the Silver Jews, has vociferously attacked his father’s stance on labor unions. “Jews should always identify with the disadvantaged,” the younger Berman (David) wrote to the Forward. “You cannot ‘graduate’ to a life of self-interest and exploitation.” Berman, Marcus and Adelson appear to have played a role in halting EFCA’s progress through Congress. While passage looked like a sure thing earlier this year, when Barack Obama took office, the bill’s prospects have dimmed as a number of key senators have announced their opposition to it. It is perhaps fitting that the senator whose opposition represented a turning point was Pennsylvania Republican-turned-Democrat Arlen Specter, the child of Jewish immigrant parents. People such as Specter and Marcus do not see the issue of EFCA in Jewish terms, but they acknowledge that they are frequently contending with history when they take up the current legislation or any other labor issues. … This meant that rabbis would often mediate labor disputes between Jewish workers and bosses, and many of the most prominent Jewish business owners at the time — names like Macy and Gimbels — worked closely with unions. Back in 1935, when the National Labor Relations Act was passed, the influential, and heavily Jewish, garment unions in New York City rallied working men and women to provide crucial popular support for the legislation. Historians note that Jews had hardly any presence in groups that opposed the legislation; they were often barred from entering the national business associations. Since that time, of course, the Jewish community has largely followed the route of Marcus out of the tenements and into the business class. The 2001 National Jewish Population Survey found that 36% of Jewish households reported income above $75,000 — twice the percentage in the population at large. … Nowhere is the dissonance on these points more evident than in the rather personal battle being waged by Berman, the leading lobbyist against unions and EFCA in Washington. Berman has long been a lightning rod for criticism, thanks to the work that his firm, Berman and Company, has done on behalf of such corporate interests as the tobacco and alcohol industries. Berman’s recent work against unions — his firm has spent $25 million on advertisements against EFCA — has won him enemies not only within the labor movement, but also within his own rather prominent family. In January of this year, his son David announced in an Internet post that he was leaving his latest music project, the Silver Jews. He took the opportunity to launch an attack on his lobbyist father. “My father is a despicable man,” the younger Berman wrote in the January 22 post on the message board of his record label, Drag City. The first specific charge that Berman levied against his father was that he is a “union buster.” In an e-mail interview with the Forward, David Berman said that his father — and his father’s generation — had become disconnected from the hardship of their grandparents. Both of Rick Berman’s grandfathers worked in the New York garment industry. “My grandparents are good people, raised by good Jews,” the younger Berman wrote to the Forward, “but their children are just living lives of meaningless acquisition. Within two generations, all memory of injustice is forgotten.” What is lost in all of this sadism created by both parties, all the movers and shakers with millions stuffed in pockets, the billionaires like the following have set up empires of shame with their billions upon billions. Like Bill Gates, Michael Bloomberg ($35.5 billion), Mark Zuckerbeg ($33.4 billion), Sheldon Adelson ($31.4 billion), and Shari Arison, like Google co-founders Sergey Brin and Larry Page ($29.2 and $29.7 billion); investors George Soros ($24.2 billion), Carl Icahn ($23.5 billion) and Len Blavatnik ($20.2 billion), and Dell Computer Founder Michael Dell ($19.2 billion);  like Larry Ellison ($54.2 billion), Russ Weiner, the founder and CEO of Rockstar energy drinks, Jerry Reinsdorf, the owner of the Chicago Bulls and the Chicago White Sox sports franchises, and Ken Grossman, a co-founder of the Sierra Nevada Brewing Co. Weiner is the son of prominent conservative radio talk show host Michael Savage (born Michael Weiner); like Seth Klarman, an investor in the Times of Israel, is also on the list, with a net worth of $1.5 billion. Within two generations of those death camps, David Berman states, his family and tribal line have become despicable in many cases, taking advantage of power, tax dodges, military-pharmacy-finance-computing-legal-retail larceny on a very global scale. Those sins of the father, ugh? Daddy Sylvia Plath, 1932 – 1963 You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo. Daddy, I have had to kill you. You died before I had time— Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one gray toe Big as a Frisco seal And a head in the freakish Atlantic Where it pours bean green over blue In the waters off beautiful Nauset. I used to pray to recover you. Ach, du. In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. My Polack friend Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw. It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. And the language obscene An engine, an engine Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. I think I may well be a Jew. The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack I may be a bit of a Jew. I have always been scared of you, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You— Not God but a swastika So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you. You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look And a love of the rack and the screw. And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I’m finally through. The black telephone’s off at the root, The voices just can’t worm through. If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two— The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year, Seven years, if you want to know. Daddy, you can lie back now. There’s a stake in your fat black heart And the villagers never liked you. They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you bastard, I’m through. http://clubof.info/